d 'a' seen into the room if the blind wasn't
down."

"Sure enough," agreed Sanborn. "If the murderer had give him an invite
to a grand-stand seat. But prob'ly he didn't."

"No, but it was hot that night. A man roomin' at the Wyndham might
come out to get a breath of air, say, an' if he had he might 'a' seen
somethin'."

"Some more of them _ifs_, son. What are you drivin' at, anyhow?"

"Olson. Maybe it was from there he saw what he did."

Sanborn's face lost its whimsical derision. His blue eyes narrowed in
concentration of thought. "That's good guessin', Kirby. It may be
'way off; then again it may be absolutely correct. Let's find out if
Olson stayed at the Wyndham whilst he was in Denver. He'd be more apt
to hang out nearer the depot."

"Unless he chose the Wyndham to be near my uncle."

"Mebbeso. But if he did it wasn't because he meant the old man any
good. Prove to me that the Swede stayed there an' I'll say he's as
liable as Hull to be guilty. He could 'a' throwed a rope round that
stone curlycue stickin' out up there above us, swung acrost to the fire
escape here, an' walked right in on Cunningham."

Lane's quick glance swept the abutment above and the distance between
the buildings.

"You're shoutin', Cole. He could 'a' done just that. Or he might have
been waitin' in the room for my uncle when he came home."

"Yes. More likely that was the way of it'--if we're on a hot trail
a-tall."

"We'll check up on that first. Chances are ten to one we're barkin' up
the wrong tree. Right away we'll have a look at the Wyndham register."

They did. The Wyndham was a rooming-house rather than a hotel, but the
landlady kept a register for her guests. She brought it out into the
hall from her room for the Wyoming men to look at.

There, under date of the twenty-first, they found the name they were
looking for. Oscar Olson had put up at the Wyndham. He had stayed
three nights, checking out on the twenty-fourth.

The friends walked into the street and back toward the Paradox without
a word. As they stepped into the elevator again. Lane looked at his
friend and smiled.

"I've a notion Mr. Olson had a right interestin' trip to Denver," he
said quietly.

"I'll say he had," answered Sanborn. "An' that ain't but half of it
either. He's mighty apt to have another interestin' one here one o'
these days."

CHAPTER XX

THE BRASS BED

The rough riders gravitated back to the fire esc