"You don't think, do you, sir, that either of them could be this Jules
Garrone in disguise?" suggested Frank.
Chief Waller caught his breath.
"Whew; that is a notion, now, ain't it?" he exclaimed. "From what I've learned about that rascal I wouldn't put it past him to be up to some clever dodge equal to that? The bolder the game the less danger of discovery. See here, Frank, you say you was close to these parties; and sure you ought to remember Jules—now, think a bit, and then tell me if you can imagine him playing such a part?"
"Oh! I have been hammering my brain for a long time over that, Chief,"
Frank answered, with a slight smile.
"And what conclusion did you reach, Frank?"
"That neither of them could hardly be Jules," came the ready reply. "I only mentioned the thing to see how it struck you. In the first place, Jules was smaller than either of those men; and he couldn't hardly have grown under prison fare, you know. Then he had black hair, and neither of these have. Besides, Longley wears a mustache, and no convict could grow one in a week. While such eyes as Marsh has I could never, never forget, once I felt them fastened on me."
"Well, I'll have one of my men keep an eye on the gents as long as they stay at the Quality Inn. Going now, Frank? Shake hands again, will you; and remember, anything we can do for you, just ask. This is great news you've brought here today, and it may mean a heap for me."
When Frank went outside and mounted his wheel he never once glanced across the square to where the car of Mr. Marsh stood. True, neither of the parties happened to be visible just then; but how was he to know but what they might be looking out from behind the filmy lace curtains with which Mine Host Barnwell decorated his front parlor windows?
He rode straight home, and reaching his den where he kept all his belongings in the line of sport, took down from the wall a double-barrel shotgun, with which he had had many a day's pleasure in the past.
From a drawer he also gathered up half a dozen shells, carrying Number Ten shot; which Frank calculated would tickle rather than severely injure, if used with discretion, at a certain distance.