ay their
hands on the man who left this print. Off hand, I should say that
finding the man who did it and fixing the guilt definitely should
be rather easy."

He stopped, shook his head in some perplexity, and murmured:

"There is something about the whole devilish business that just
won't fit, won't fit into all the known facts, won't fit into
observation and experience; won't fit--" The rest was too low for
Jimmy to hear.

Professor Brierly refused the offer of the pilot of the plane that
was gently rocking near the wharf. Getting into McCall's boat with
its owner, they got under way, followed by Jimmy Hale and his
youthful pilot, Harry Stoy.

Chapter IX

As they approached the camp, Jimmy was amused to see the
occupation with which Matthews was employed. He was still teaching
young Thomas Van Orden how to dive. From a distance Jimmy saw with
approval that Tommy had progressed rather well in the art. The
youngster made a fairly creditable dive. Matthews was lifting him
aboard the cruiser, when the youngster saw the approaching boat.

"Hey, Pop!" he yelled, his shrill treble ringing across the water.
"Lookit me dive." He jumped, landing in a flat "belly whopper"
causing a splash grossly disproportionate to his small form.
Matthews, with a grin dove after him and the lesson for the time
being was over. Tommy was sent into the house, where he was
followed by his adoring mother.

Matthews jerked his thumb toward the porch and said to Professor
Brierly:

"You've got company, sir. He had to see you, so he's waiting. You
can hear him from here."

The "him," they could hear was Detective Brasher, slumped in a
deep wicker chair, head thrown back, sound asleep, his snores
causing a discordant note on the peaceful scene.

At the touch of Jimmy's hand on his shoulder, he awakened. He
smiled sheepishly as his eyes fell on the group standing about him
and dragged himself out of his chair.

"'Scuse me, Professor; I been busy with this and ain't had much
sleep. I found something that'll interest you. Mr. Matthews said
you'd be along pretty soon, so I waited. Here, Professor--" He
leaned over and, from behind the chair he had occupied on their
arrival, he took a coiled rope. He dropped it with a soft plop at
Professor Brierly's feet.

"What do you think of this, Professor?"

Professor Brierly almost pounced on the loose coils at his feet.
He carefully unwound it. There was nearly a hundred yards of wash
line.