For one fleeting instant he was tempted to tell the maid that the man whom the family had supposed was Miss Dow's husband was lying unconscious at a farmhouse not a great way from the Monarch Inn, and that there was no trace of Miss Dow. Now this letter! His head whirled when he thought of it.
"Is there any question but that Miss Dow did elope with Mr. Mason and not some other man?" he asked.
"It was Mr. Mason, all right," the girl responded. "I knew there was to be an elopement and helped arrange for Miss Dow to go," she added, confidentially. "It was Mr. Mason, I know."
Then Hatch rushed away and telephoned to The Thinking Machine. He simply couldn't hold this latest development until he saw him again.
"We've made a mistake," he bellowed through the 'phone.
"What's that?" demanded The Thinking Machine, aggressively.
"Miss Dow is in Chicago with her husband--family has received a letter from her--that man out there with the smashed head can't be Mason," the reporter explained hurriedly.
"Dear me, dear me!" said The Thinking Machine over the wire. And again: "Dear me!"
"Her maid told me all about it," Hatch rushed on, "that is, all about her aiding Miss Dow to elope, and all that. Must be some mistake."
"Dear me!" again came in the voice of The Thinking Machine. Then: "Is Miss Dow a blonde or brunette?"