voted to the jail-breaking exploit of Mr. Charles
Maxon--which would certainly have been largely featured at any other
time. Some lesser scribe on Barlow's staff had been assigned to this
minor item of news. He had gotten hold of the unfortunate Moody, and
under the caption, "Der Jail Is Oudt" he had written a racy, humorous
account of a Lady-Fair with Knockout Drops, a Resourceful Romeo and a
hoodwinked Jailer. It ended with the statement that Romeo and the Lady
were still missing, and that a ticket agent on night duty at the
railroad station had seen two muffled figures unostentatiously board
the last car of the midnight train without the formality of buying
tickets.

"That means they'll have had to pay on the train," mused Creighton,
"and of course the conductor will remember to what point they bought
transportation when the police get around to asking him. Um. Would a
murderer leave a trail as clear as that? I think not!"

It still lacked half-an-hour of the time set for the inquest.
Creighton was smoking a cigarette and mentally digesting the
information gleaned from the newspaper when Jason Bolt, accompanied by
Krech and Miss Ocky, came swooping down upon him.

"Developments!" said Jason, his face wreathed in smiles. "I've found
out what Norvallis has up his sleeve. Want to know?"

"I certainly do," said Creighton. "How did you find out?"

"Small-town stuff," declared Bolt cheerfully. "You can't keep a thing
dark in the country. Our local Chief of Police is sore as a pup
because Norvallis, when he gave the paper the story yesterday, failed
to give him credit for fixing the hour of the murder by the dry ground
beneath the body. Steiner--that's the chief--came to see me this
morning at the office to make some inquiries about the fire the other
night. He accepted a cigar, got to talking about his troubles--and
didn't hesitate to tell me the county officers' theory when I asked him
what it was."

"Charlie Maxon?" asked Creighton when Bolt paused for breath--and from
the corner of his eye saw Miss Ocky give a little start.

"You've guessed it," admitted Jason a trine disappointedly. "I confess
I don't think much of their case, but Charlie Maxon is their choice.
He broke jail just after ten o'clock and came up here. That is
definitely proved to their satisfaction, at least, by footprints
recognized as his in the soft earth beside Simon's body. They were
identical with some he'd left when he came