“Come on, I’ll show you,” offered Fibsy and the two started away together.
“Here you are,” and Fibsy showed the bed of ferns, which, growing closely together, made a dense hiding place.
“A wonder you ever found it,” said Keefe. “How’d you happen to?”
“Oh, I just snooped around till I came to it. I says to myself, ‘Either the murderer flung it away or he didn’t. If he did, why it must be somewheres,’ and it was.”
“I see; and does Mr. Stone think the finding of it here points to either of the Wheelers?”
“Not necess’rily. You see, if the man we’re looking for did the shooting, he’s the one who threw the pistol in this here fern bed. And, you know yourself, it’s more likely a man threw this farther than a woman.”
“Miss Wheeler is athletic.”
“I know, but I’m convinced that Miss Wheeler didn’t do the deed. Ain’t you?”
“Oh, I can’t think she did it, of course. But it’s all very mysterious.”
“Not mysterious a bit. It’s hard sleddin’, but there ain’t much mystery about it. Why, look a-here. If either the father or daughter did it, they both know which one it was. Therefore, one is telling the truth and one isn’t. It won’t be hard to find out which is which, but F. Stone, he’s trying to find some one that’ll let the Wheelers both out.”