When Eric left the officer, he was a badly puzzled man to be sure. Instead of having solved the mystery it was assuming even darker proportions, and the chances seemed equally divided.
Was Joe guilty or not?
If, as these men agreed, he was at a certain place just as the solemn midnight hour rang out, how could he have been at the bal masque—it was at that hour of unmasking the Spanish bull fighter and his consort, the Lady of Cards, drove away in another vehicle and yet—that man possessed the stalwart figure of Joe Leslie—Eric believed he would know it anywhere—he had answered to the name of Joe, while his companion was Marian.
The difficulties in the way might have daunted a less persevering officer than Darrell.
They only spurred him on to renewed exertions. He gloried in a puzzle.
To a man of his nature it was the most pleasurable work in the world, studying the intricacies of a mystery, grasping a thread in the labyrinthine maze, following it along inch by inch, until the whole thing resolved itself into a solved problem.
Then, when the end came, how proud he would be to survey his work.
He began to give Joe the benefit of the doubt. This was one point gained.
It is a rule in American courts never to adjudge a man guilty until he has been proven so—the law looks upon him as innocent, and all efforts of the prosecutor are directed toward proving the charges.
In some other countries the opposite is the case and the accused has to prove his innocence.