knew him. He wasn't any great loss. It was at the Clark ranch.
I don't believe a conviction would be possible, although they would try
for one. It was circumstantial evidence."

"And I ran away?"

"Clark ran away," Bassett corrected him. "As I've told you, the
authorities here believe he is dead."

After an even longer silence Dick turned.

"I told you there was a girl. I'd like to think out some way to keep
the thing from her, before I surrender myself. If I can protect her, and
David--"

"I tell you, you don't even know you are Clark."

"All right. If I'm not, they'll know. If I am--I tell you I'm not going
through the rest of my life with a thing like that hanging over me.
Maggie Donaldson was sane enough. Why, when I look back, I know our
leaving the cabin was a flight. I'm not Henry Livingstone's son, because
he never had a son. I can tell you what the Clark ranch house looks
like." And after a pause: "Can you imagine the reverse of a dream when
you've dreamed you are guilty of something and wake up to find you are
innocent? Who was the man?"

Bassett watched him narrowly.

"His name was Lucas. Howard Lucas."

"All right. Now we have that, where does Beverly Carlysle come in?"

"Clark was infatuated with her. The man he shot was the man she had
married."

XXV

Shortly after that Dick said he would go to his room. He was still pale,
but his eyes looked bright and feverish, and Bassett went with him,
uneasily conscious that something was not quite right. Dick spoke only
once on the way.

"My head aches like the mischief," he said, and his voice was dull and
lifeless.

He did not want Bassett to go with him, but Bassett went, nevertheless.
Dick's statement, that he meant to surrender himself, had filled him
with uneasiness. He determined, following him along the hall, to keep a
close guard on him for the next few hours, but beyond that, just then,
he did not try to go. If it were humanly possible he meant to smuggle
him out of the town and take him East. But he had an uneasy conviction
that Dick was going to be ill. The mind did strange things with the
body.

Dick sat down on the edge of the bed.

"My head aches like the mischief," he repeated. "Look in that grip and
find me some tablets, will you? I'm dizzy."

He made an effort and stretched out on the bed. "Good Lord," he
muttered, "I haven't had such a headache since--"

His voice trailed off. Bassett, bending over the army kit bag i