"Have you seen him?" Hastings was looking at his watch as he spoke—it was nine o'clock.
"No; I went to his boarding house, waked up the place at three o'clock this morning. He wasn't there."
Hastings asked for the number of the house. It was on Eleventh street, Crown informed him, and gave the number.
"I searched his room," the sheriff added, his voice self-congratulatory.
"Find anything?"
"I should say! The nail file was missing from his dressing case."
"What else?"
"A pair of wet shoes—muddy and wet."
"Then, he'd returned to his room, after the murder, and gone out again?"
"That's it—right."