went to a chair and sat down. He felt sick, and his knees were
trembling. Something had happened, a search for Clark room by room
perhaps, and the discovery had been made.

He was totally unable to think or to plan. With Dick well they could
perhaps have made a run for it. The fire-escape stood ready. But as
things were--The murmuring among the crowd at the foot of the stairs
ceased, and he looked up. Wilkins was on the staircase, searching
the lobby with his eyes. When he saw Bassett he came quickly down and
confronted him, his face angry and suspicious.

"You're mixed up in this somehow," he said sharply. "You might as well
come over with the story. We'll get him. He can't get out of this town."

With the words, and the knowledge that in some incredible fashion Dick
had made his escape, Bassett's mind reacted instantly.

"What's eating you, Wilkins?" he demanded. "Who got away? I couldn't get
that tongue-tied bell-hop to tell me. Thought it was a fire."

"Don't stall, Bassett. You've had Jud Clark hidden upstairs in
three-twenty all day."

Bassett got up and towered angrily over the sheriff. The crowd had
turned and was watching.

"In three-twenty?" he said. "You're crazy. Jud Clark! Let me tell you
something. I don't know what you've got in your head, but three-twenty
is a Doctor Livingstone from near my home town. Well known and highly
respected, too. What's more, he's a sick man, and if he's got away, as
you say, it's because he is delirious. I had a doctor in to see him an
hour ago. I've just arranged for a room at the hospital for him. Does
that look as though I've been hiding him?"

The positiveness of his identification and his indignation resulted in a
change in Wilkins' manner.

"I'll ask you to stay here until I come back." His tone was official,
but less suspicious. "We'll have him in a half hour. It's Clark all
right. I'm not saying you knew it was Clark, but I want to ask you some
questions."

He went out, and Bassett heard him shouting an order in the street. He
went to the street door, and realized that a search was going on, both
by the police and by unofficial volunteers. Men on horseback clattered
by to guard the borders of the town, and in the vicinity of the hotel
searchers were investigating yards and alleyways.

Bassett himself was helpless. He stood by, watching the fire of his own
igniting, conscious of the curious scrutiny of the few hotel loungers
who remained, and expecting mome