“It would seem a very desirable thing to communicate with North,” suggested Moxlow.

“I guess you are right; yes, I guess we had better try and find Mr. North,” said the coroner.  “Suppose you go after him, Mr. Conklin.  Don’t send—­go yourself,” he added.

Again Langham dragged himself forward; the coils of this hideous thing seemed to be tightening themselves about John North.  Langham’s face still bore traces of his recent debauch, and during the last few minutes a look of horror had slowly gathered in his bloodshot eyes.  He now studiously avoided Gilmore’s glance, though he was painfully aware of his presence.  The gambler coolly puffed at a cigar as he leaned against the casing of the long window at Doctor Taylor’s back; there was the faint shadow of a smile on his lips as he watched Langham furtively.

“I doubt if North will be found,” said the latter.  “I doubt if he is in Mount Hope,” he continued haltingly.

“What?” It was Moxlow who spoke.

“This morning I received a brief communication from him; it was written late last night; he informed me that he should leave for the West on the Chicago express.  He inclosed the keys to his rooms.”

Marshall Langham glanced at Gilmore, who seemed deeply absorbed.  The coroner fidgeted in his seat; dismay and unspeakable surprise were plainly stamped on Colonel Harbison’s face; Moxlow appeared quite nonplussed by what his partner had last said.

“I was aware that he contemplated this trip West,” said Langham quickly.  “He had asked me to dispose of the contents of his rooms when he should be gone.”

“Did he tell you where he was going, Marshall?” asked Moxlow.

Langham raised his bloodshot eyes.

“No; he seemed in some doubt as to his plans.”

“For how long a time have you known of Mr. North’s intention to leave Mount Hope?” asked Moxlow.

“Only since yesterday, but I have known for quite a while that he planned some radical move of this sort.  I think he had grown rather tired of Mount Hope.”

“Isn’t it true that his money was about gone?” questioned Moxlow significantly.

“I know nothing of his private affairs,” answered Langham hastily.  “He has never seemed to lack money; he has always had it to spend freely.”

“It would appear that Mr. North is our star witness; what do you think, gentlemen?” and Moxlow glanced from one to another of the little group that surrounded him.

“At any rate he is a most important witness,” emphasized the coroner.

“North took the Chicago express as he had planned,” said Gilmore quietly.  “The bus driver for the United States Hotel, where I breakfasted, told me that he saw him at the depot last night.”

“I think we’d better wire North’s description to the Chicago police; I see no other way to reach him.”  As he spoke, Moxlow turned to the sheriff.  “You get ready to start West, Mr. Conklin.  And don’t let there be any hitch about it, either.”