“But why should he? That is absurd. Perhaps the smugglers are using him as a cat’s-paw in some manner--but he’s rich. There’s no need. These men take the risks they must for profit.” “Miss Lee,” he said, “you--er--challenged me to investigate this affair. I promised to do so.... I have set about it in an orderly manner.” “So I imagine,” she said, a trifle wearily. “I have started with the compound itself--with the fact that we know there exists a wholesale traffic in liquor, from which a huge profit is derived. This is compounded of many small elements. I think we may take it as fact that the hunchback, Peewee Bangs, is an element; that his hotel is another element; that Deputy Jenney is a rather important ingredient. For myself, I am satisfied numerous citizens of Gibeon are involved--in the distribution and marketing of the liquor. I am quite certain, for instance, that the business of taking photographs is not the sole means of livelihood followed by Lancelot Bangs.... He is, I believe, a cousin to the proprietor of the Lakeside Hotel.... These things are present in the compound, but they could not, joined together, cause the result we see. The principal ingredient is missing.” “And what is that?” “A daring, ruthless intelligence. Able leadership. The brain capable of conceiving of bootlegging as an industry, and not as a matter of petty retailing.” Carmel Lee was impressed. Evan Pell possessed the quality of holding interest, of seeming to speak from sure knowledge. “I think you are right so far. What we need is to find this intelligence.” “I rather fancy I have found him. In fact, I have had little doubt as to his identity for a considerable time.” “Abner Fownes?” She shrugged her shoulders. “I dislike him--he is insufferable--but the idea is absurd. Bumptious little men like him, secure in their wealth and position, do not jeopardize it.” “That,” said Evan, “is dependent upon their security. What would you say if I were to tell you Abner Fownes has been on the brink of bankruptcy for months? What would you say if I told you this rum running commenced only after his finances became tangled? What would you say if I told you the major part of the profits from this liquor business went to maintain Abner Fownes in the character he has assumed, and keep his imperiled business out of the hands of his creditors?” “I would say,” she said, “that you are crazy.” “Nevertheless,” he said, “I am convinced of the fact.” “But he has no brains. Look at him. Observe him.” “Miss Lee, it takes a man of tremendous resolution and of very keen intelligence to invent for himself a character such as he has exhibited to Gibeon for years.... If the world supposes you are a nincompoop--a vain figurehead--a puppet set up by other men--you are little in danger of arousing suspicion as to yourself. When a man is commonly admitted to be a fool, he is safe. Fownes has been at infinite pains to prove himself a fool.”