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The upper left-hand corner had been torn off, evidently to remove the return card, but so hastily that a part of the card remained. Straightening it out, and holding it up to the light, Harvey read: esleigh, ster, Illinois. Mallory looked over his shoulder, and exclaimed: "That's easy. Hotel Blakesleigh, Manchester, Illinois." "How does that help you?" asked Mattison. Harvey lowered the paper.
As they tiptoed slowly along, edging close to the building, everything was silent. They reached the arched doorway, and were turning in when the glare of a bull's-eye lantern flashed into their eyes. Mattison laughed softly. "That's business," he said. "What are you up to?" growled the man behind the lantern. "Where's Mallory?" was Mattison's answer. The man hesitated, then whistled softly.
Jim was continually surprising his subordinates with his intimate knowledge of the details of management. Mattison had long been accustomed to his ways, but he gave Jim a glance of wonder before he repeated the order to the division chief. And so Jawn was called to Manchester as the nerviest man on the road.
If you had explained to me in the first place, the jury would never have remanded Radnor for trial." "But I thought you would find the real murderer, and then Radnor would be set free. It would be awful to tell that story before a whole room full of people and have Jim Mattison hear it. I detest Jim Mattison!" "Be careful what you say," said Terry. "You may have to take Jim Mattison after all.
"Terry," I said, "you can't blame us for not finding that out. We examined everything when we took away the body, and those marks below were simply not there. Someone has been in since." "So I conclude. Now, Mattison," he added to the sheriff, "come here and show me the marks of Radnor Gaylord's riding boots."
"Mattison would be glad enough to prove it," Radnor said bitterly, and he turned his back and stood staring through the iron bars of the window, while I went out and the jailer closed the door and locked it. All through the funeral that afternoon I could scarcely keep my eyes from Polly Mathers's face.
An embarrassed flush rose to her face as she saw him, but she shook hands in a studiously impersonal way and asked immediately for Radnor. Mattison met the situation with a dignity I had scarcely expected. He called a deputy and turned us over to him; and with the remark that his services were happily no longer needed, he bowed himself out.
That evening after dinner, Jim telephoned for Mattison, the Superintendent, and a long talk ensued in Jim's room at the hotel. Neither he nor Harvey wasted time in recounting the experiences of the day; they had too many plans for the night. As Jim had said, it was necessary to lose the books, and to lose them thoroughly.
With the same caution he reached the floor, and tiptoed back to the window, where he found Mattison waiting on the ladder. "All right," whispered the Superintendent. "Are you ready?" "Yes." Mattison struck a match on his trousers leg, shielded it with his hands, then handed it to Harvey, who kneeled at the door and began to whirl the knob.
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