"Hm! Nobody saw that scrap," he reflected swiftly. "They'll think we got left at this station or some other one, when they find we're gone. Well, I sure bit off more than I could chew this time--if we hadn't gone over, that devil would have choked the life out of me!" He bent over Slosson again, and this time made a more careful search. He could find no serious injury, and as he worked, Slosson's stertorous breathing became regular and deep. The man's coma had passed into a drunken sleep. Jimmy Wren laughed softly. He removed Slosson's coat, emptied it of everything, and then rolled it up and put it under the head of its owner. Stiff and sore, he dragged himself to his feet. "Sleep hearty!" he admonished his unconscious enemy. "And if I ever hit you again, it'll be with a crowbar--'and let no mournful yesterdays disturb thy peaceful heart!' Pleasant dreams." Gaining the track, he took up his slow and painful way toward the town. CHAPTER V Tom Windsor reached Indianapolis on Sunday, spent a few hours with his family, and the same evening boarded a train for Evansville. It was the same train from which Armstrong and Robert Dorns alighted. Windsor's business in Evansville was slight but highly important. One who knew the reputation of Tom Windsor, would have visualized an altogether different type of man. He possessed a long, hard jaw; no mistake about that! For the rest, his appearance gave no indication of undue rigidity; quite the contrary, in fact. His cheerful smile was much in evidence, and he wore an air of alert optimism. He was a man of many friends, always in demand as a speaker at Rotarian or "uplift" banquets, and shared with Will Ross the distinction of being the most popular pall-bearer in southern Indiana. Reaching Evansville toward noon, Windsor took his way at once to the hotel where he had a particular errand. He had relatives in Evansville, but was seeing no one this trip. He was keenly on the scent of the final bit of evidence that he desired to establish his case against Armstrong. In this case he was entirely ready to suspect anything and every one, particularly after learning in New York what a network of intrigue underlay the Armstrong-Macgowan battle. Windsor intended to be nobody's tool. He went direct to the office of the hotel manager, whom he knew very well personally. He met with an uproarious welcome, and an offer of a quart of rye. All roads led to the river towns, from the earliest days of prohibition in the state. Windsor waved aside the offer with his usual smile. "Judge Sanderson'll get you yet, Norman, and up you'll go! But to-day I want another sort of favor. I'm going to lunch in your esteemed hostelry, and my time is short--I want the next train back to Indianapolis. While I'm lunching, will you look up your registers for last July? I believe a man named Wren was here, between the first and fifteenth, and I must verify the fact."