faced the desk and
the lobby. He had the key of Dick's room in his pocket, but he knew that
if he wakened he could easily telephone and have his door unlocked.
But that was not his only anxiety. He had a sudden conviction that
the sheriff's watch was connected with Dick himself. Wilkins, from a
friendly and gregarious fellow-being, had suddenly grown to sinister
proportions in his mind.

And, as the minutes went by, with the sheriff sitting forward and
watching the lobby and staircase with intent, unblinking eyes, Bassett's
anxiety turned to fear. He found his heart leaping when the room
bells rang, and the clerk, with a glance at the annunciator, sent boys
hurrying off. His hands shook, and he felt them cold and moist. And all
the time Wilkins was holding him with a flow of unimportant chatter.

"Watching for any one in particular?" he managed, after five minutes or
so.

"Yes. I'll tell you about it as soon as--Bill! Is Alex outside?"

Bill stopped in front of them, and nodded.

"All right. Now get this--I want everything decent and in order. No
excitement. I'll come out behind him, and you and Bill stand by. Outside
I'll speak to him, and when we walk off, just fall in behind. But keep
close."

Bill wandered off, to take up a stand of extreme nonchalance inside the
entrance. When Wilkins turned to him again Bassett had had a moment to
adjust himself, and more or less to plan his own campaign.

"Somebody's out of luck," he commented. "And speaking of being out of
luck, I've got a sick man on my hands. Friend of mine from home. We've
got to catch the midnight, too."

"Too bad," Wilkins commented rather absently. Then, perhaps feeling that
he had not shown proper interest, "Tell you what I'll do. I've got some
business on hand now, but it'll be cleared up one way or another pretty
soon. I'll bring my car around and take him to the station. These hacks
are the limit to ride in."

The disaster to his plans thus threatened steadied the reporter, and he
managed to keep his face impassive.

"Thanks," he said. "I'll let you know if he's able to travel. Is
this--is this business you're on confidential?"

"Well, it is and it isn't. I've talked some to you, and as you're
leaving anyhow--it's the Jud Clark case again."

"Sort of hysteria, I suppose. He'll be seen all over the country for the
next six months."

"Yes. But I never saw a hysterical Indian. Well, a little while ago an
Indian woman named Lizzie Lazarus