“Not a confession, surely!” exclaimed Young.

“Well, if he gets drunk enough, yes.  But not the kind of confession that would be any use to us.  What a man babbles when the wine is in and the wit is out, wouldn’t be much use in a court of law.  But if you can get him to tell anything about where he got that queer coin—­the one that used to be in Mrs. Darcy’s collection—­so much to the good.  But be foxy about it, Jack.”

“I will!  What I came to see about is whether you want me to follow him out of town.  He’s been cutting a pretty wide swath since he got out on bail, and he’s been having some pretty sporty times.”

“And you’ve been with him; is that it?”

“To the best of my ability, yes,” admitted Jack, as he patted Chet, when the dog, that evidently had met him before, slid over to have his ears pulled.

“I have great faith in your ability, Jack.  The point is to stick to King.  You managed to make friends with him?”

“That wasn’t hard.  But I’ll need a little money if I’m to keep up his pace.  That’s why I came to you.”

“Perfectly right, Jack.  Mason so thoroughly believes in the innocence of Darcy, and he sticks by his daughter’s engagement so well, that he’d supply twice as much cash as was necessary to sift this to the bottom.  So here’s some to enable you to keep up to King’s pace.”

“Of course it’s none of my business, Colonel, but I’d like to know a little bit about how the wind blows.  Do you really suspect him of the murder?”

“Jack, I don’t know!” was the frank answer, as Chet went back to his place by the gas log.  “His having that odd coin was what put me on his trail again, and I sent for you to shadow him, as I had too many other irons in the fire.  And you’ve done well.  I guess there isn’t much that Harry has done since that night about a week ago, when I saw him in the Homestead, that you don’t know about.”

“I guess not, Colonel.”

“But, with it all, I’m not much nearer than I was at first.”

“How about Spotty?”

“He won’t say a word.”

“You tried the third degree on him, of course?”

“I—­er—­I did and I didn’t,” the colonel answered, lamely.  “You see, you can’t go too far with a man when he has saved your life.”

“But he may know all about it.”

“Possibly.”

“How about young Darcy?”

The colonel did not answer at once.  It was not until he had gone to a closet and taken from it a package which he placed on a tabarette, on which, near him, rested a box of cigars, that he spoke.  Then he said: 

“If I could find out why Singa Phut used this watch I’d be in a better position to answer,” and from the package the detective took the timepiece which he had kept after Donovan had given it to him to examine.

“You mean you’re not sure about Darcy?”

“Well, I thought I was.  At first I had my doubts.  Then, when I had looked over the ground and talked with Miss Mason and him, I was willing to take up his case just because I believed he had nothing to do with the murder.”