a dead stop in my operations and suspicions, or to tell myself that Carson Wildred was the most cold-blooded, and, at the same time, the cleverest scoundrel who had ever walked the earth. 151 152CHAPTER XVIIA Disappointment 152 A Disappointment "You seem surprised, Mr. Stanton!" exclaimed the inspector. "I am surprised," I echoed, "and I intend to explain why presently. Meanwhile, I suppose you are trying to get on the track of the second man who lived in that tent?" "That's what we are doing, sir–hard at it." "You will never find him," I said. "No, sir? May I ask what makes you so sure of that?" "Simply because my opinion is that he does not exist–never did exist." The inspector's jaw dropped. "But–but Mr. Carson Wildred―" he began, when I turned on him and cut him short. "Did your experience never show you a case where a man, himself a criminal, invented proofs and clues for the purpose of putting the police upon the wrong track?" 153He too started from his chair, forgetting to set down his glass of whisky. "Good heavens, sir, you don't mean to accuse―" 153 "I don't accuse. I am not yet in a position to do that. I only suggest, and should be myself a criminal if I did not try to throw such light upon the matter as I can. Sit down again, inspector, and let me tell you what I know, and what I suspect." He sat, or rather dropped into his lately-deserted chair, and his horrified expression, his drooping attitude, went far towards showing me what an exalted position Carson Wildred occupied in the esteem of the neighbourhood. "I can't seem to realise it, Mr. Stanton," ejaculated the inspector. "Such a man as Mr. Wildred! So respected, so charitable, has
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