d encourage you to let Maxon rot in jail just to humor
your quixotic notions about gossip and a woman's name? I sympathize
with your difficulty, but that's as far as I can go. There are two
things I've never done and never expect to do knowingly--let an
innocent man suffer unjustly or a guilty one escape!"

"At this point there was loud applause from the gallery!" murmured Miss
Ocky in her soft, amused drawl, and brought him to earth. "Go on,
Leslie, and do your duty. It can't be helped."

"Very well," said Mr. Sherwood unhappily, and got off the rock.
"Nothing more you want to ask me, is there?"

"N-no," answered the detective, a bit subdued by Miss Ocky's rebuke.
"Yes--one thing. What did this confounded monk look like?"

"Well, I can't help you much there. I got the impression that he wore
a mask--as Miss Copley did when she saw him on the trail. He was
dressed from head to foot in black. He even wore black gloves; it was
an odd thing that made me notice that. Have you ever seen a man
straighten up from some completed task and stand looking down at it,
nodding his head and rubbing his hands together as if to say, 'Well,
there's a good job over and done with'? That's what this fellow did as
he stood above Simon--"

"_Oh!_" gasped Miss Ocky, and collapsed limply on the bowlder, her face
ashen. "Oh!"

"What is it?" snapped Creighton, wheeling upon her. "What is the
matter?"

"It's all so ghastly--so--so cold-blooded!" she managed to stammer.
"Don't mind me. I'm all right."

"Um," said Creighton, eyeing her doubtfully. "You come into the house
and get a rest before dinner! Good-day, Mr. Sherwood!"

He carried his point without much difficulty. He hovered over Miss
Ocky until he had her safely in the house and on her way to her room,
and for once her militant spirit seemed burned out. He reproached
himself bitterly for having let her listen to Sherwood, though nobody
could have foreseen that the noodle-pated idiot would start
embroidering his story with graphically gruesome tidbits! Why hadn't
he kept his fat head shut? Serve him right if Norvallis jumped _him_
next and put him in the jug for political prestige! For a few minutes
Creighton was almost cheerful as he pondered that possibility.

Fortunately for his peace of mind, Miss Ocky reappeared for dinner and
impressed him as having entirely regained her composure. She was her
usual gently mocking, always slightly cynical and amusing se