e previous night made him rein in his
horse and examine it. It was without doubt the saddle-blanket of Dr.
West's horse, lost when the saddle came off, after the Doctor's body
had been dragged by the runaway beast. But a second fact forced itself
equally upon the young officer. It was lying nearly a mile from the
spot where the body had been picked up. This certainly did not agree
with the accepted theory that the accident had taken place further on,
and that the body had been dragged until the saddle came off where it
was found. His professional knowledge of equitation and the technique
of accoutrements exploded the idea that the saddle could have slipped
here, the saddle-blanket fallen and the horse have run nearly a mile
hampered by the saddle hanging under him. Consequently, the saddle,
blanket, and unfortunate rider must have been precipitated together,
and at the same moment, on or near this very spot. Captain Carroll was
not a detective; he had no theory to establish, no motive to discover,
only as an officer, he would have simply rejected any excuse offered on
those terms by one of his troopers to account for a similar accident.
He troubled himself with no further deduction. Without dismounting, he
gave a closer attention to the marks of struggling hoofs near the edge
of the ditch, which had not yet been obliterated by the daily travel.
In doing so, his horse's hoof struck a small object partly hidden in
the thick dust of the highway. It seemed to be a leather letter or
memorandum case adapted for the breast pocket. Carroll instantly
dismounted and picked it up. The name and address of Dr. West were
legibly written on the inside. It contained a few papers and notes,
but nothing more. The possibility that it might disclose the letters
he was seeking was a hope quickly past. It was only a corroborative
fact that the accident had taken place on the spot where he was
standing. He was losing time; he hurriedly put the book in his pocket,
and once more spurred forward on his road.

CHAPTER VII

The exterior of Aladdin's Palace, familiar as it already was to
Carroll, struck him that afternoon as looking more than usually unreal,
ephemeral, and unsubstantial. The Moorish arches, of the thinnest
white pine; the arabesque screens and lattices that looked as if made
of pierced cardboard; the golden minarets that seemed to be glued to
the shell-like towers, and the hollow battlements that visibly warped