y--the things of, perhaps, significance."

"Tell me. Significance is what I'm after."

"Well, you know Mr. Withers spent almost the whole day in here before the
night of the murder. Once he went out. That was in the late afternoon to
get some lunch. While he was out--understand, while he was out--in came
the gold-tooth fellow.

"It was bad luck. I kept him as long as I could, but he was hurried,
nervous. Half an hour, forty minutes maybe, after the gold-tooth fellow
had gone, in came Withers again, out of breath, complaining that he had
picked the man up just outside here and followed him, only to lose him
when the gold-tooth fellow went through Casey's store to the avenue.

"I showed Withers the ring the fellow had pawned for a hundred dollars.

"'Yes, yes!' he said; 'that's one of my wife's rings.'

"And he was all cut up.

"Now, here is what I have to tell." Abrahamson lowered his voice and,
leaning low on his elbow, thrust his face far over the counter toward
Braceway. "It is only an idea, but--it is an idea. I bet you I would not
tell anybody else. Such things might get a man into trouble. But I like
you, Mr. Braceway. I confide in you. Mr. Withers and that man with the
beard and the gold tooth--something in the look of the eyes, something
in the build of the shoulders--each reminded me of the other, a little.
And they were at no time in here together. Just an idea, I told you.
But----"

He spread out his hands, straightened his back, and smiled.

Braceway was, undisguisedly, amazed.

"You mean Withers was the----"

"S--sh--sh!" Abrahamson held up a protesting hand. "Not so loud, Mr.
Braceway. It is just an idea for you to think over. I study faces,
and all that sort of thing, and ideas sometimes are valuable--sometimes
not."

"By George!" Braceway put into his expression an enthusiasm he was far
from feeling. "You've done me a service, a tremendous service, Mr.
Abrahamson."

He thought rapidly. Three months ago! Where had George Withers been then?
Three months ago was the first of February. He started. It was then that
Withers had gone to Savannah. At least, he had said he was going to
Savannah. And two months ago? He was not certain, but when had George
left Atlanta, ostensibly for Memphis?

Inwardly, the detective ridiculed himself. He would have sworn to the
innocence of Withers. In fact, he was swearing to it all over again as
he stood there in the pawnshop. Abrahamson's "idea" was out of the