Bassett was astounded when he saw Dick's signature on the hotel

register. It destroyed, in one line, every theory he held. That Judson

Clark should return to Norada after his flight was incredible. Ten years

was only ten years after all. It was not a lifetime. There were men in

the town who had known Clark well.

Nevertheless for a time he held to his earlier conviction, even fought

for it. He went so far as to wonder if Clark had come back for a tardy

surrender. Men had done that before this, had carried a burden for

years, had reached the breaking point, had broken. But he dismissed

that. There had been no evidence of breaking in the young man in the

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office chair. He found himself thrown back, finally, on the story of the

Wasson woman, and wondering if he would have to accept it after all.

The reaction from his certainty in the cabin to uncertainty again made

him fretful and sleepless. It was almost morning before he relaxed on

his hard hotel bed enough to sleep.

He wakened late, and telephoned down for breakfast. His confusion had

not decreased with the night, and while he got painfully out of bed and

prepared to shave and dress, his thoughts were busy. There was no doubt

in his mind that, in spite of the growth of the town, the newcomer would

be under arrest almost as soon as he made his appearance. A resemblance

that could deceive Beverly Carlysle's brother could deceive others, and

would. That he had escaped so long amazed him.

By the time he had bathed he had developed a sort of philosophic

acceptance of the new situation. There would be no exclusive story now,

no scoop. The events of the next few hours were for every man to read.

He shrugged his shoulders as, partially dressed, he carried his shaving

materials into the better light of his bedroom.

With his face partially lathered he heard a knock at the door, and sang

out a not uncheerful "Come in." It happened, then, that it was in

his mirror that he learned that his visitor was not the waiter, but

Livingstone himself. He had an instant of stunned amazement before he

turned.

"I beg your pardon," Dick said. "I was afraid you'd get out before I

saw you. My name's Livingstone, and I want to talk to you, if you don't

mind. If you like I'll come back later."

Bassett perceived two things simultaneously; that owing probably to the

lather on his face he had not been recognized, and that the face of the

man inside the door was haggard and strained.




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