Isa Blagg broke off, looking to Kiddie for comment.
"Well?" said Kiddie. "Go on. What's your theory? You mentioned the name of Nick Undrell a while back. Have you arrested him?"
"Nick's vamoosed," resumed the sheriff; "an' that goes against him. He was sure in Laramie Saturday night—even in Brierley's saloon. He knew about Sanson T. Wrangler's pile o' money bein' fixed up in the safe. He wasn't anyways friendly disposed to Sanson T. neither. Thar's a heap of evidence pointin' straight to Nick Undrell. It's in Nick's methods ter wear a black face-mask an' leave his victim helplessly gagged. I allow as Jim Thurston declares he met Nick at Three Crossings Sunday evenin'; but Jim's a pard of Nick's, an' his unsupported word ain't worth a whole lot, anyway."
Rube Carter leant forward. He was deeply interested in this case of burglary with violence.
"Say, now, sheriff," he interposed, "didn't you look for footprints and finger-marks?"
Isa shook his head.
"Never knew a clean boot make a print on a soft pile carpet," he answered. "As fer finger-marks—Sanson T. Wrangler's ready ter swear in court as the criminals both wore gloves, fully provin' that they wasn't novices in the burglary business."
He turned again to Kiddie.
"Knowin' as you're kinder int'rested in the moral regeneration of Nick Undrell, Kiddie," he went on, "I've hesitated ter issue a warrant for the man's arrest. I concluded that before goin' to extreme measures I should be wise ter take your advice. I'm here now for that purpose."
Kiddie smiled.