“Don't stall, Bassett. You've had Jud Clark hidden upstairs in three-twenty all day.”
Bassett got up and towered angrily over the sheriff. The crowd had turned and was watching.
“In three-twenty?” he said. “You're crazy. Jud Clark! Let me tell you something. I don't know what you've got in your head, but three-twenty is a Doctor Livingstone from near my home town. Well known and highly respected, too. What's more, he's a sick man, and if he's got away, as you say, it's because he is delirious. I had a doctor in to see him an hour ago. I've just arranged for a room at the hospital for him. Does that look as though I've been hiding him?”
The positiveness of his identification and his indignation resulted in a change in Wilkins' manner.
“I'll ask you to stay here until I come back.” His tone was official, but less suspicious. “We'll have him in a half hour. It's Clark all right. I'm not saying you knew it was Clark, but I want to ask you some questions.”
He went out, and Bassett heard him shouting an order in the street. He went to the street door, and realized that a search was going on, both by the police and by unofficial volunteers. Men on horseback clattered by to guard the borders of the town, and in the vicinity of the hotel searchers were investigating yards and alleyways.
Bassett himself was helpless. He stood by, watching the fire of his own igniting, conscious of the curious scrutiny of the few hotel loungers who remained, and expecting momentarily to hear of Dick's capture. It must come eventually, he felt sure. As to how Dick had been identified, or by what means he had escaped, he was in complete ignorance; and an endeavor to learn by establishing the former entente cordiale between the room clerk and himself was met by a suspicious glance and what amounted to a snub. He went back to his chair against the wall and sat there, waiting for the end.
It was an hour before the sheriff returned, and he came in scowling.
“I'll see you now,” he said briefly, and led the way back to the hotel office behind the desk. Bassett's last hope died when he saw sitting there, pale but composed, the elderly maid. The sheriff lost no time.
“Now I'll tell you what we know about your connection with this case, Bassett,” he said. “You engaged a car to take you both to the main line to-night. You paid off Clark's room as well as your own this afternoon. When you found he was sick you canceled your going. That's true, isn't it?”