And, strange to say, with the major newspapers and police of two countries making an exhaustive search, there was not one tangible clue leading to the murderer or murderers. The newspapers talked of "clues." The police of many communities talked of "clues." They issued statements to the effect that shortly there would be new developments. Jimmy, the veteran newspaperman, took this all for exactly what it was worth. He knew that most of it or all of it was "dope." The reporters had run out of facts and were having recourse to vague speculations. Strange too, Jimmy wondered that in a story so replete with color and glamour, that this should be the situation. The story was less than three days old; that is a long time counted in editions. Many editions had gone to press. City, state and Federal police were actively on the job. And now, when Jimmy was reading the Sunday papers, nearly sixty hours had elapsed since the news of the first death had come to Justice Higginbotham's camp and the police had not a single shred of evidence linking the murders to any one. Professor Brierly's name did not have a prominent part in any of the stories he had read. Jimmy knew why. Professor Brierly was averse to being quoted unless he had something definite to say. He never gave an opinion unless it was an opinion based on fact that one could "go to court with." The first flaming headlines had featured Professor Brierly necessarily, since it was he who had pointed out the fact that two of the deaths were murders. * * * * * Jimmy, late that Sunday afternoon, went once more to the camp of Justice Higginbotham. The large, comfortable cottage, with its graceful furniture, its books, its meager, comfortable furnishings, was a house of death, dread and horror. Its inhabitants were afraid of one another. The opening of a door, any untoward noise, the ringing of the telephone, caused most of them to jump and look about apprehensively. In sheer bravado, they, one at a time, went out of the house either to walk about the rough ground, or to go to Lentone. A visit to the police station there bore no fruit. Brasher was red-eyed, haggard and in a vicious humor. Boyle had closed up after his first talk with Brasher and he now refused to add anything to what he had already told him, or to retreat an inch from his position. With Brasher's permission, Jimmy tried to interview him. Boyle was not now the suave, smooth, modern type crook. He had had ample time to realize fully the dangerous position he was in. He knew that this was not a case of an ordinary murder, or of the murder of one gangster by another. He knew that the nation was aroused over these murders, and that he would stand very little chance before a jury unless he could build up a stronger defense than he possessed, or find a more plausible alibi.