CHAPTER X
"I don't believe it!" Anita Richmond exclaimed with conviction and clutched at Fairchild's arm. "I don't believe it!"
"I can't!" Robert answered. Then he turned to the accuser. "How could it be possible for Harry to be down here robbing a dance hall when he 's out working the mine?"
"Working the mine?" This time it was the sheriff. "What's the necessity for a day and night shift?"
The question was pertinent—and Fairchild knew it. But he did not hesitate.
"I know it sounds peculiar—but it's the truth. We agreed upon it yesterday afternoon."
"At whose suggestion?"
"I 'm not sure—but I think it was mine."
"Young fellow," the sheriff had approached him now, "you 'd better be certain about that. It looks to me like that might be a pretty good excuse to give when a man can't produce an alibi. Anyway, the identification seems pretty complete. Everybody in this room heard that man talk with a Cousin Jack accent. And Mr. Rodaine says that he saw his face. That seems conclusive."
"If Mr. Rodaine's word counts for anything."