Innes. I come across the valley, along the path from the club-house, and I goes home that way. Down in the creek bottom I almost run into a man. He wuz standin’ with his back to me, an’ he was workin’ with one of these yere electric light things that fit in yer pocket. He was havin’ trouble—one minute it’d flash out, an’ the nex’ it’d be gone. I hed a view of ’is white dress shirt an’ tie, as I passed. I didn’t see his face. But I know it warn’t Mr. Arnold. It was a taller man than Mr. Arnold. Beside that, Mr. Arnold was playin’ cards when I got to the club-house, same’s he’d been doin’ all day.” 

 “And the next morning you came back along the path,” pursued Mr. Jamieson relentlessly. 

 “The nex’ mornin’ I come back along the path an’ down where I dun see the man night befoh, I picked up this here.” The old man held out a tiny object and Mr. Jamieson took it. Then he held it on his extended palm for me to see. It was the other half of the pearl cuff-link! 

 But Mr. Jamieson was not quite through questioning him. 

 “And so you showed it to Sam, at the club, and asked him if he knew any one who owned such a link, and Sam said—what?” 

 “Wal, Sam, he ’lowed he’d seen such a pair of cuff-buttons in a shirt belongin’ to Mr. Bailey—Mr. Jack Bailey, sah.” 

 “I’ll keep this link, Thomas, for a while,” the detective said. “That’s all I wanted to know. Good night.” 

 As Thomas shuffled out, Mr. Jamieson watched me sharply. 

 “You see, Miss Innes,” he said, “Mr. Bailey insists on mixing himself with this thing. If Mr. Bailey came here that Friday night expecting to meet Arnold Armstrong, and missed him—if, as I say, he had done this, might he not, seeing him enter the following night, have struck him down, as he had intended before?” 

 “But the motive?” I gasped. 

 “There could be motive proved, I think. Arnold Armstrong and John Bailey have been enemies since the latter, as cashier of the Traders’ Bank, brought Arnold almost into the clutches of the law. Also, you forget that both men have been paying attention to Miss Gertrude. Bailey’s flight looks bad, too.” 

 “And you think Halsey helped him to escape?” 

 “Undoubtedly. Why, what could it be but flight? Miss Innes, let me reconstruct that 

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