“John Tracy, Denver, Col.”

“He came in on a night train,” continued the clerk.  “He only remained to breakfast and went away shortly afterward.”

“Have you any idea which way he went?” inquired Manning.

“No, I cannot tell you that.  He left the hotel shortly after breakfast in a hack.  He did not return after that, but sent the hackman here to pay his bill and to obtain his valise.  He acted very strange while he was here, and I felt somewhat suspicious of him.”

“Can you tell me the name of this hackman?” now asked Manning.

“I think his name is Davids,” answered the clerk, “but I will ask the baggage-man about him; he can, no doubt, tell me who he is.”

The baggage-man was summoned and he distinctly remembered the occurrence, and that the driver’s name was Billy Davids, who was well-known throughout the city, particularly among the sporting fraternity.

Thanking both of these men for the information which they had given him, the detective, forgetting all about his breakfast, hastened to the office of the chief of police, and acquainting him with what he had heard, expressed his desire to see this hackman at once.

The chief, who knew the man, at once volunteered to accompany him, and they left the office together in search of the important cab-driver.  It being yet quite early in the morning, they went directly to the stable, and here they found Billy Davids in the act of harnessing his horses and preparing for his day’s work.

“Good morning, Billy,” said the chief, good-naturedly.  “You are making an early start, I see; are you busy?”

“No, sir,” answered Mr. Davids; “I can take you gentlemen wherever you want to go.”

“Not to-day, Billy; but I have a friend here who wants to talk to you, and you may find it to your interest to tell him what he wishes to know.”

Manning stepped forward and stated, in as few words as possible, what he desired, and at length displayed the inevitable photograph.

Davids recognized it at once, as a “party” who had engaged him to take himself and a woman from the hotel, to a resort some distance from the city, known as the “Half-way House.”  He performed this duty, and later in the day, after waiting several hours, the man had given him ten dollars and sent him back to the hotel to pay his bill and to obtain his valise.  After performing this service, he returned to the Half-way House, and waited there until dark, when Duncan came out alone, and was driven to the Northern Pacific depot.  Arriving here, he paid the hackman quite liberally and dismissed him, saying that he was going to leave town on the next train westward.

“Have you any idea where he was going?” asked Manning.

“I think he went to Minneapolis, for he asked me if that road would take him there, and I saw him get aboard the train for that city;” answered the driver.