Afterward it was proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was
innocent."

Osborne laughed once more; nevertheless a shade of doubt darkened the
brightness of his humor.

"You're right there," admitted he. "Things like that have happened, but
they are so few that we can't figure on them. This case," and his jaw
set, "is sewed up. Young Burton is the man, and I think, when all is
done and settled, you'll admit it yourself."

Ashton-Kirk nodded, and a glint of humor appeared in the keen eyes.

"You can always be depended upon to run close to form, Osborne," said
he. "However, when all is done and settled, we shall see what we shall
see." Then as he and Scanlon started through the lobby, he said over his
shoulder: "In the meantime it would be well for you not to lose sight of
those two clues I gave you last night. They may prove very useful."

Osborne grinned and waved a hand.

"All right," said he. "I'll put them away in camphor. They'll be good
and safe there."

As Ashton-Kirk and Bat emerged from the hotel, the big athlete turned to
his friend with serious eyes.

"How much of what you've just been saying to him is right, and how much
is just bluff to cover a place where you miscued?" asked he.

"What I gave him are the facts," replied Ashton-Kirk. "A confession is
not always conclusive, as I have just shown. There are circumstances
under which a man may confess, because he fears to have the real truth
come out. And there are indications in this case which rather hold that
guilt lies in another direction than young Burton."

"Do you believe, in spite of his confession, that he is innocent?"

"I believe nothing--as yet I am merely searching for the truth."

They were standing beside the investigator's car as they talked; and
now Ashton-Kirk gestured his friend to get in. But Bat shook his head.

"No," said he. "There is plenty of motion in a motor car, but it's not
the kind of motion I want. I'm for a walk. And I'll like as not see you
in the morning."

He strode away down the street, and for a moment the investigator stood
gazing after him; then he opened the door, got in, and the car drove
away.

Bat Scanlon walked for hours, thinking, thinking; and out of it all he
got only what the first few moments told him. If young Burton had
confessed to a thing of which he was not guilty, it must be as
Ashton-Kirk said: fear that the real truth might come out. But fear of
what? There could only be one thing: th