“I suppose you hear from him by every mail.”
“There has been nothing to-day.”
Something in her voice or her face made him look at
her closely.
“Has he written at all?”
“The first day he got there. Not since.”
He went away soon, and not after all with the feeling
of going for good. In his sceptical young mind,
fed by Clare’s malice, was growing a comforting
doubt of Dick’s good faith.
When Wilkins had disappeared around the angle of the
staircase Bassett went to a chair and sat down.
He felt sick, and his knees were trembling.
Something had happened, a search for Clark room by
room perhaps, and the discovery had been made.
He was totally unable to think or to plan. With
Dick well they could perhaps have made a run for it.
The fire-escape stood ready. But as things were—
The murmuring among the crowd at the foot of the stairs
ceased, and he looked up. Wilkins was on the
staircase, searching the lobby with his eyes.
When he saw Bassett he came quickly down and confronted
him, his face angry and suspicious.
“You’re mixed up in this somehow,”
he said sharply. “You might as well come
over with the story. We’ll get him.
He can’t get out of this town.”
With the words, and the knowledge that in some incredible
fashion Dick had made his escape, Bassett’s
mind reacted instantly.
“What’s eating you, Wilkins?” he
demanded. “Who got away? I couldn’t
get that tongue-tied bell-hop to tell me. Thought
it was a fire.”
“Don’t stall, Bassett. You’ve
had Jud Clark hidden upstairs in three-twenty all
day.”
Bassett got up and towered angrily over the sheriff.
The crowd had turned and was watching.
“In three-twenty?” he said. “You’re
crazy. Jud Clark! Let me tell you something.
I don’t know what you’ve got in your head,
but three-twenty is a Doctor Livingstone from near
my home town. Well known and highly respected,
too. What’s more, he’s a sick man,
and if he’s got away, as you say, it’s
because he is delirious. I had a doctor in to
see him an hour ago. I’ve just arranged
for a room at the hospital for him. Does that
look as though I’ve been hiding him?”
The positiveness of his identification and his indignation
resulted in a change in Wilkins’ manner.
“I’ll ask you to stay here until I come
back.” His tone was official, but less
suspicious. “We’ll have him in a
half hour. It’s Clark all right.
I’m not saying you knew it was Clark, but I
want to ask you some questions.”
He went out, and Bassett heard him shouting an order
in the street. He went to the street door, and
realized that a search was going on, both by the police
and by unofficial volunteers. Men on horseback
clattered by to guard the borders of the town, and
in the vicinity of the hotel searchers were investigating
yards and alleyways.
