“Did you hear any talking after the blow?”

“I didn’t hear Pat’s voice again.”

“Did you hear any voice?”

“I heard somebody muttering.  The voice sounded like Dr. Jarvis’.  I’ve been to the hospital, and I know the doctor.”

“Did you look over the wall?”

“No; it’s too high there.  I ran around to the gate on St. Nicholas avenue and tried to see in; but I couldn’t.  There were too many trees between me and the garden.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I went home.”

“Did you say anything about what you had heard?”

“Not that night.”

“When did you first speak of it?”

“This morning.”

“To whom?”

“To Mr. Deever.  He was in the saloon, and he told me that his brother was missing.”

“Well,” cried Deever, who could keep silence no longer, “what do you think of that?”

“It is important evidence.”

“You remember,” Deever continued, “that when I went to ask Jarvis where my brother was, he admitted having quarreled with him, but said that it ended in words.  Now we know that it ended in blows.”

“What time was it when you heard that blow?” asked Nick of Klein.

“Must have been about half-past seven,” Klein replied.

“How do you know?”

“When I walked up the avenue I saw the clock on the church up by One Hundred and Fiftieth street.  It was a quarter of eight.”

“That fits the case exactly,” Deever exclaimed.  “It was a little after half-past seven when Burns saw Jarvis coming in from the garden.”

“That is true.”

“Will you arrest Jarvis now?”

“I will not,” said Nick.  “The evidence is not yet sufficient.”

Deever made an impatient gesture.

“Remember,” said Nick, “that an accusation of murder leaves an indelible stain.  We cannot move too carefully.”

“You will let him escape.”

“His escape is utterly impossible,” said Nick.  “He is watched.”

“A good many men have been watched and have got away.”

“Nobody ever got away from the man who is watching Jarvis,” said Nick, quietly; and that praise was not too high, for the person in question was Nick’s famous assistant, Chick.

“And now,” said Deever, “may I ask what more you need in the way of evidence?”

“I need proof of your brother’s death.”

“In short, we must find the body.”

“Exactly.”

“Very well,” sneered Deever, “I suppose I must do it myself.  I’ve got nearly all the evidence thus far.”

“By all means do it,” said Nick, with his calm smile, “if you can.”

Deever stared at him for more than a minute without speaking.  Then he said: 

“Colton, why do you treat this case as you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t seem to want to go ahead with it.”

“I don’t want to go ahead with it any faster than the facts will justify.  If you had had more experience in such matters you would know the folly of arresting a man first and getting facts to warrant the arrest afterward.  As I say, I want more facts, and you must help me to get them.”