“I suppose you hear from him by every mail.”

“There has been nothing to-day.”

Something in her voice or her face made him look at her closely.

“Has he written at all?”

“The first day he got there.  Not since.”

He went away soon, and not after all with the feeling of going for good.  In his sceptical young mind, fed by Clare’s malice, was growing a comforting doubt of Dick’s good faith.

XXVII

When Wilkins had disappeared around the angle of the staircase Bassett 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.