t suspecting him?" demanded the detective
with almost a touch of asperity.

"You accused me of suspecting Copley last evening and I had to remind
you that he'd probably turn up with a perfectly good alibi--and he did!
If there's a pessimist in human nature sitting around here, it isn't I!"

"Mmph. All right, little sunshine!"

"I don't care anything about suspicion. I want proof. Until I get it,
I try to preserve an open mind."

"Oh. Well, that's an improvement over Mr. Norvallis, I must admit!"
Miss Ocky turned her eyes back to the fire. "What you've told me about
Bates has given me quite a--a shock, Mr. Creighton. I won't drag any
more red-herrings around, but can't we _please_ talk of something else?"

He cheerfully and promptly consented. They talked a while on every
subject under the sun except the death of Simon Varr, and they were
both a trifle disconcerted when a wild shrieking of brakes and a heavy
step on the veranda announced the arrival of Herman Krech, who would
tolerate no other topic until he left at eleven.

It was just short of midnight when Creighton, sound asleep, was roused
by a discreet but persistent tapping on his door. He rolled out of
bed, struck a match, opened the door and discovered Copley Varr,
grinning broadly.

"I've got my father-in-law's blessing!" he announced.

"I congratulate you." The detective blinked. "Excuse me, but I was
with the angels! Did you call me back just to tell me this?"

"No. I thought you ought to know that we were a pair of nuts this
noon. Mr. Graham was holding pat hands in a poker game during the fire
and robbery, and he was presiding at a lodge-meeting in Hambleton the
night--the night before last!"

"With umpty-umph fellow-lodgers to prove it. Um. Touch 'em and they
vanish!"

"What?"

"I mean, I'd like to find a prospect that would stay put for a while at
least. As it is now, the moment I look sideways at any one he promptly
trots out an alibi."

"Like I did to-day! I see. Trying for a detective, eh?"

"Very trying," said Peter Creighton. "Good night!"

He shut the door, and presently rejoined the angels.

_XIX: Among Those Present_

After that midnight report from Copley Varr, ten days passed without
the occurrence of a single distinctive event. They were not empty
days, however, for Peter Creighton, who continued patiently to cast
hither and yon very much like an Indian brave seeking the trail of an
enemy warrior.