“Never mind what I mean, that’s a good fellow; say you’ll take the next train back with me; it will save a lot of, bother!”

“But I strongly object to return to Mount Hope!” said North.

“Be reasonable—­” urged the sheriff.

“This is an infernal outrage!” cried North.

“I’m sorry, John, but make it easy for me, make it easy for yourself; we’ll have a nice friendly trip and you will be back here by the first of the week.”

For a moment North hesitated.  He had so many excellent reasons why he did not wish to return to Mount Hope, but he knew that there was something back of Mr. Conklin’s mild eye and yet milder speech.

“Well, John?” prompted the sheriff encouragingly.

“I suppose I’ll go with you,” said North grudgingly.

“Of course you will,” agreed the sheriff.

He had never entertained any doubts on this point.

It was ten o’clock Saturday morning when North and the sheriff left the east-bound express at Mount Hope and climbed into the bus that was waiting for them.

North’s annoyance had given place to a certain humorous appreciation of the situation.  His plans had gone far astray in the past forty-eight hours, and here he was back in Mount Hope.  Decidedly his return, in the light of his parting with Elizabeth, was somewhat in the nature of an anticlimax.

They were driven at once to the court-house.  There in his office they found Moxlow with the coroner and North was instantly aware of restraint in the manner of each as they greeted him, for which he could not account.

“Sit down, North,” said Moxlow, indicating a chair.

“Now what is it?” North spoke pleasantly as he took his seat.  “I’ve been cursing you two all the way home from Chicago.”

“I am sorry you were subjected to any annoyance in the matter, but it couldn’t be helped,” said Moxlow.

“I’m getting over my temper,” replied North.  “Fire away with your questions!”

The prosecuting attorney glanced at his fellow official.

“You are already acquainted with the particulars of the shocking tragedy that has occurred here?” said Taylor with ponderous dignity.

“Yes,” said North soberly.  “And when I think of it, I am more than willing to help you in your search for the guilty man.”

“You knew of the murder before you left town?” remarked Moxlow casually.

“Yes.”

“But you weren’t on the Square or in the store Thanksgiving night?” said Moxlow.

“No, I dined with General Herbert.”  The prosecuting attorney elevated his eyebrows.  “I must have been on my way there when the crime was discovered; I was returning home perhaps a little after eleven when I met a man who stopped me to tell me of the murder—­”

“You were with Mr. McBride Thanksgiving afternoon, were you not?” Moxlow now asked.

“Yes.”

“What was the hour, can you state?”