"Do you suppose," asked the jeweler, "that Harry King could have had anything to do with this case?"

"Of course it's possible, but, even so, we can easily make sure of him and arrest him when we want him. To approach him now would only be to defeat your own plan, that is if you have one. I confess this startles me. I don't know what to make of it, and there's no use pretending that I do. After all, detective work is the outcome of common sense plus a sort of special intuition and knowledge. I have gotten to a certain point, and now some of my theories are shattered. That is they would be if I had been foolish enough to have formed arbitrary theories that could not be changed. As it is, that's just what I have not done.

I am still open to argument and conviction, and this coin, which you say belonged to Mrs. Darcy a few days before her death, and which now makes its appearance in the hands of a drunken man who has been under suspicion, makes cause for question.

"But, my dear Mr. Kettridge, let us be reasonable. King will not run away, and in his present condition he is likely to pick a quarrel with you if you mention the murder to him. Consider, also, that it may be he came into possession of this coin honestly."

"How?"

"He may have received it in change--here. He's spent enough money in the place I suppose."

"But if he got it here-- Great Scott! you don't suppose that Larch--"

"I don't suppose anything yet, least of all regarding Larch. But consider. This is a public place. A hundred persons--yes, two or three hundred--come in here every day, spend money and receive change.

Now this coin, though to you and me it shows itself at once to be of great antiquity, might easily be pa.s.sed, in a hurry, or to one who had not the full possession of his senses, as a silver half dollar, which it somewhat resembles. In fact, I think I can persuade King that it _was_ a half dollar he dropped."

And, somewhat to the surprise of Mr. Kettridge, the colonel, who had been watching King as the latter sought on the floor for his fallen coins, walked up to the wastral and handed him a fifty-cent piece.

"You dropped that, I believe," said Colonel Ashley, genially enough.

"Thanks, old top! Perhaps I did. Have a drink?"

"No, thank you!"

With a friendly wave of his hand to the colonel, King slipped the half dollar into his pocket with other loose change and turned to the gla.s.s that awaited him.

"You see," said the colonel to Mr. Kettridge. "He doesn't know he had it--he doesn't know he lost it--he doesn't know you have it. Keep it, I beg of you. We may need it."

"But suppose King goes away?"

"He won't. I'll take care of that. I'll telegraph for one of my best men. I have a little more than I can look after personally."

"What do you intend to do?"

"Have King kept in sight. There are some others in this city I need to shadow."

"You don't mean Singa Phut?"

"No, he's in custody. Besides, I've--Well, I guess I won't say what conclusion I've come to regarding him. I might have to change it. He is an interesting study. I haven't yet found a motive for his killing of his partner--if he did it."

"Who else could?"

"There might be many. Just as there might be many ways to account for King's having possession of this coin. He may have come by it in a way that is easily explained, and if we, inferentially, accused him there would be trouble."

"I suppose so. Well, Colonel Ashley, I'll leave the case in your hands. G.o.d knows, for the sake of the family name, I'd like to see Darcy cleared. I don't believe he did it. Here, you keep this coin,"

for the detective had offered it to his companion. "You may need it."

"Yes. I may. And so it is worth a thousand dollars," mused the colonel. "Just about the sum Darcy claimed from his cousin. I wonder--Oh, but what's the use of wondering? I must make _certain_,"

and he put the old Roman coin safely away in his wallet.

The colonel and his friend finished their modest meal, and their more modest potations, of no very strong liquids, and went out, leaving Harry King and his companions to "make a night of it."

Larch, whose face was unusually flushed, was endeavoring to bring the young men to a less boisterous state, for he realized that his better cla.s.s of patrons did not like this sort of thing.

But King was in jubilant mood. He had been released, under heavy bail, it is true, when the hotel keeper gave a pledge for the appearance of the young man when he was wanted. Harry was only held as a witness, so far, but an important one, and because of his known characteristic of suddenly disappearing at times a heavy bond had been required.

Why Larch had gone on this bond did not make itself clear to Colonel Ashley, and he set that down in his little red note book as one of the matters needing to be cleared up.

And so, wondering much, the colonel and Mr. Kettridge, the former with the rare coin, went out into the cool and star-lit night, leaving behind them the sounds of good-fellowship, of that particular brand, in the Homestead.

One of the first places the colonel visited the next day was the jewelry shop. Matters there had nearly a.s.sumed their normal aspect.

Trade was about the same, under the skilful management of Mr.

Kettridge, and the cut gla.s.s and silver gleamed and glistened in the showcases as though the former owner of it all had not been cruelly slain.

"Show you her collection of coins? Certainly," agreed Mr. Kettridge, when the colonel told what he wanted. "As I said, I saw them, and particularly the one we picked up last night, in her safe a week or so before she was killed. I was on for a visit. And I know that a week previous to that she had refused a thousand dollars for this particular one. These coins were one of her hobbies," and he brought from the safe the collection, which was of considerable value to a numismatist.

"There seem to be others besides the Roman coin gone," said the jeweler, "for I now miss many I used to see in her case. But, of course, she may have sold them. I do remember the one King had, though, and I'm sure she never sold that. It was taken close to the time she was killed."

Colonel Ashley, taking advantage of the time when the store was closed for the night, minutely examined the safe, but could find no evidence of its having been tampered with.

"For what started out to be a simple murder case," mused the old detective, as he went back to his hotel that night, "this one bids fair to become quite complicated."

An impulse--it was hardly more than that, and yet it had to do with the matter in hand--sent the detective to police headquarters.

"I think I'll ask Donovan what Singa Phut said when he was arrested and charged with murdering his partner," said the colonel to himself.

"There's an end I haven't developed very much. And I would like to ask that East Indian something about that queer watch."

Donovan was at headquarters, it being his night "on," and he welcomed the detective as some one with whom he might hold converse.

"Have a talk with Singa Phut? Why sure, if it will do you any good,"

said the headquarters man when the colonel had made known his desire.

"I was going to the jail on another matter, anyhow, and I might as well kill two birds as one. They'll let you see him if I'm with you.

Otherwise you'd have to get an order from the prosecutor's office.

Come along."

It was raining when they reached the jail, and the colonel, as he heard the patter of drops, thought of the night he had first come to Colchester.

"There ought to be good fishing after this rain," said the colonel, with a regretful sigh as he thought of his rods and flies.

"Fishin'!" exclaimed Donovan. "Say, that's something I haven't done since I was a kid! I used to like it, though. Well, here we are!

Looks like a party. What d'you s'pose the warden's all lit up for?"

Certainly the gloomy jail was more brightly lighted than usual at night, for the prisoners were locked in their cells and all illumination, save the keepers' lights, put out at nine o'clock.

"We want to see that Dago, you know--Singa Phut," said Donovan, as he nodded to the deputy warden who answered their ring at the steel side door.

"Humph! Little too late," was the answer.

"Too late! What d'you mean? He's gone?"