"Probably," the sheriff said, comfortably. "Still I'm not taking any

chances. I'm up for reelection this fall, and that Donaldson woman's

story nearly queered me. I've got a fellow at the railroad station, just

for luck."

Bassett went up the stairs and along the corridor, deep in dejected

thought. The trap of his own making was closing, and his active mind was

busy with schemes for getting Dick away before it shut entirely.

It might be better, in one way, to keep Livingstone there in his room

until the alarm blew over. On the other hand, Livingstone himself had

to be dealt with, and that he would remain quiescent under the

circumstances was unlikely. The motor to the main line seemed to be the

best thing. True, he would have first to get Livingstone to agree to go.

That done, and he did not underestimate its difficulty, there was the

question of getting him out of the hotel, now that the alarm had been

given.

When he found Dick still sleeping he made a careful survey of the second

floor. There was a second staircase, but investigation showed that it

led into the kitchens. He decided finally on a fire-escape from a rear

hall window, which led into a courtyard littered with the untidy rubbish

of an overcrowded and undermanned hotel, and where now two or three

saddled horses waited while their riders ate within.

When he had made certain that he was not observed he unlocked and opened

the window, and removed the wire screen. There was a red fire-exit lamp

in the ceiling nearby, but he could not reach it, nor could he find any

wall switch. Nevertheless he knew by that time that through the window

lay Dick's only chance of escape. He cleared the grating of a broken box

and an empty flower pot, stood the screen outside the wall, and then,

still unobserved, made his way back to his own bedroom and packed his

belongings.

Dick was still sleeping, stretched on his bed, when he returned to

three-twenty. And here Bassett's careful plans began to go awry, for

Dick's body was twitching, and his face was pale and covered with a cold

sweat. From wondering how they could get away, Bassett began to wonder

whether they would get away at all. The sleep was more like a stupor

than sleep. He sat down by the bed, closer to sheer fright than he had

ever been before, and wretched with the miserable knowledge of his own

responsibility.

As the afternoon wore on, it became increasingly evident that somehow or

other he must get a doctor. He turned the subject over in his mind, pro

and con. If he could get a new man, one who did not remember Jud Clark,

it might do. But he hesitated until, at seven, Dick opened his eyes and

clearly did not know him. Then he knew that the matter was out of his

hands, and that from now on whatever it was that controlled the affairs

of men, David's God or his own vague Providence, was in charge.




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