"My personal interest in him would be no excuse for your allowin' a guilty man to go free and unpunished," he observed judicially. "If you believe that Nick Undrell committed this burglary, then by all means issue your warrant and have him arrested. There are circumstances in the case, however, which do not seem to me to support your suspicions. Let us examine them. You suspect Nick because he knew of the money and where it was kept. He wasn't the only one who knew. Sanson T. Wrangler had publicly boasted of his readiness to meet his liabilities, and every man in the crowded saloon must have known just as much as Nick. I allow that Nick's an old offender; but it ain't fair to condemn him on mere supposition, simply because the victim in this case is alleged to have been gagged by a man wearing a mask. I'm not saying that Nick didn't do it, mind you; but you've got to prove that Jim Thurston was lying when he said he saw Nick along at Three Crossings on Sunday evening—a good seventy miles away from the scene of the crime."
Kiddie paused for a moment.
"Were Sanson's shirt-sleeves buttoned at the wrist, or were they rolled up?" he asked abruptly.
"Rolled up t' the elbow," Isa answered quickly. "His arms was bare."
"And the bag or cloth, with the chloroform in it, was drawn down over his hat, I suppose?" pursued Kiddie.
"No. His hat was hangin' up, back of the door. But you're right about the bag. It was like a big nightcap. He'd pulled it off."
"You smelt the sickly sweet smell about the room when you entered, did you, Isa?"
"Can't say as I did. Guess it had evaporated by then."
"Dare say," nodded Kiddie. "Y'see it was at least twelve hours afterwards, and—say, now, don't you reckon twelve hours a precious long time for a man to lie insensible after only one dose of chloroform?"
"Dunno," said the sheriff, "I'm ignorant of the effects an' uses of them outlandish drugs."