“Doctor Fairbain was waiting for me instead. He said that Mr. Hawley was called suddenly out of town.”
The eyes of the sheriff turned to Fairbain, whose face grew redder than usual, as he shifted his gaze toward Keith.
“That was a lie,” he confessed, lamely. “I—I was told to say that.”
“Just a moment, Sheriff,” and Keith stood before them, his voice clear and convincing. “My name is Keith, and I have unavoidably been mixed up in this affair from the beginning. Just now I can relieve the doctor of his embarrassment. Miss Hope Waite and I have been associated together in an effort to solve this mystery. This evening, taking advantage of the remarkable resemblance existing between herself and Miss Maclaire, Miss Hope decided upon a mask—”
“What's that,” Waite broke in excitedly. “Is Hope here?”
“Yes, has been for a week; we've had all the police force of Sheridan hunting you.”
The old man stared at the speaker, open-mouthed, and muttered something about Fort Hays, but Keith, paying little attention to him, hurried on with his story.
“As I say, she decided upon impersonating Christie here, hoping in this way to learn more regarding Hawley's plans. We had discovered that the two were to meet after the evening performance at the stage door of the Trocadero. I escorted Hope there, dressed as near like Miss Maclaire as possible, and left her inside the vestibule waiting for 'Black Bart' to appear. At the head of the alley I ran into Fairbain, told him something of the circumstances, and persuaded him to escort Miss Christie back to the hotel. He was not very hard to persuade. Well, Hawley came, and Hope met him; they went out of the alley-way together arm in arm, talking pleasantly, and turned this way toward the hotel. The doctor and I both saw and heard them. I was delayed not to exceed two minutes, speaking a final word to Fairbain, and when I reached the street they had disappeared. I have hunted them everywhere without finding a trace—I have even been through the resorts. She has not returned to the hotel, and I burst in upon you here hoping that Miss Maclaire might have some information.”
She shook her head, and Waite, glaring impotently at the two of them, swore sharply.
“Good God, man! my girl! Hope, alone with that damn villain. Come on, Sheriff; we've got to find her. Wait though!” and he strode almost menacingly across the room. “First, I want to know who the devil you are?”