But just
a minute." He turned to the reporter. "Mrs. Thorwald here hasn't seen
Lizzie Lazarus, the squaw. Lizzie has been sitting in my office ever
since noon. Now, Hattie."

Hattie moistened her dry lips.

"It was Jud Clark, all right," she said. "I knew him all his life, off
and on. But I wish I hadn't screamed. I don't believe he killed Lucas,
and I never will. I hope he gets away."

She eyed the sheriff vindictively, but he only smiled grimly.

"What did I tell you?" he said to Bassett. "Hell with the women--that
was Jud Clark. And we'll get him, Hattie. Don't worry. Go on."

She looked at Bassett.

"When you left me, I sat outside the door, as you said. Then I heard him
moving, and I went in. The room was not very light, and I didn't know
him at first. He sat up in bed and looked at me, and he said, 'Why,
hello, Hattie Thorwald.' That's my name. I married a Swede. Then
he looked again, and he said, 'Excuse me, I thought you were a Mrs.
Thorwald, but I see now you're older.' I recognized him then, and I
thought I was going to faint. I knew he'd be arrested the moment it was
known he was here. I said, 'Lie down, Mr. Jud. You're not very well.'
And I closed the door and locked it. I was scared."

Her voice broke; she fumbled for a handkerchief. The sheriff glanced at
Bassett.

"Now where's your Livingstone story?" he demanded. "All right, Hattie.
Let's have it."

"I said, 'For God's sake, Mr. Jud, lie still, until I think what to
do. The sheriff's likely downstairs this very minute.' And then he went
queer and wild. He jumped off the bed and stood listening and staring,
and shaking all over. 'I've got to get away,' he said, very loud. 'I
won't let them take me. I'll kill myself first!' When I put my hand on
his arm he threw it off, and he made for the door. I saw then that he
was delirious with fever, and I stood in front of the door and begged
him not to go out. But he threw me away so hard that that I fell, and I
screamed."

"And then what?"

"That's all. If I hadn't been almost out of my mind I'd never have told
that it was Jud Clark. That'll hang on me dying day."

An hour or so later Bassett went back to his room in a state of mental
and nervous exhaustion. He knew that from that time on he would be under
suspicion and probably under espionage, and he proceeded methodically,
his door locked, to go over his papers. His notebook and the cuttings
from old files relative to the Clark case he burned i