"And, anyhow," he concluded, "you'd search this dead man's effects. I'm only asking that you do it now, and in my presence. He had the opportunity to do the killing, and the circumstances must appear suspicious against him to you, though you didn't know him for the dog he was. It's an idiotic idea that this boy of mine, who was on his honeymoon, would stop off to kill a man he didn't know, for a pinch of dust he didn't need."
The Malamute official nodded assent.
"You're talkin' sense, Mister," he agreed. "I reckon Hal Owens thinks the same as I do." He regarded the sheriff of Kalmak inquiringly, who found himself exceedingly confused over this new turn to an affair already finally determined in his own mind. He vouchsafed a nod of acquiescence, but ventured nothing further. "And that being so," the other went on, "why, we'll just naturally take a squint at the corpse and his goods and chattels, and get a line, if so be, on what's what." Having thus spoken, he led the way to where the body of Dan McGrew was lying by the table; and with him went Jim Maxwell; and Jack Reeves and his guard followed them.
The Malamute sheriff, as became his authority, made the examination of the dead man's clothing. He went through the pockets painstakingly, sorting the articles, and laying each in turn on the table, while Jim Maxwell looked on with a close scrutiny that nothing escaped. But the collection of miscellany grew little by little without showing anything in the least significant. No one of the various objects disclosed could by any ingenuity be claimed as evidence that Dan McGrew had perpetrated the crime of which Jack Reeves stood accused. The hope that had sprung up in the young man's breast at Jim Maxwell's utterance quickly died. But Jim himself did not despair. Sure of his enemy's guilt, he was sure, too, that somehow it would be brought to light.
The searcher came at last to a pocket inside the waistcoat. In it was a tiny book, bound in paste-board covers. On the outside of the front cover were printed words and written. The sheriff gave a glance at these, and shouted exultantly:
"We've got him—cuss him!" And then he added, in a tone of disgust: "And to think of him carryin' the goods on him like that!" He handed the book to Jim Maxwell, who read in a glance, with Jack looking over his shoulder:
"The Tacoma Savings Bank, in account with Sam Ward."
Jack's captor, also, who throughout had kept his hold on the prisoner's arm, read, and abruptly took his hand away. His voice revealed how great was the injury done to his dignity:
"The damn' skunk! An' him a-leadin' me on! I wish he'd come to life for five minutes, an' I'd show him that Hal Owens ain't to be made a fool of." And the sheriff's flashing eyes and scowling brows showed that he meant it.
Without a word, Jim Maxwell turned to his son-in-law, and put out his hand, and the two men shook hands joyously, yet with a certain gravity.