This self-satisfied, if not boastful, allusion to a scene in which this strange being had played so unworthy, if not unjustifiable, a part, sent a thrill of revulsion through Mr. Byrd. Drawing hastily back with an instinct of dislike he could not conceal, he cast a glance through the thicket of trees that spread beyond the open door, and pointedly asked: "Was there no way of satisfying yourself of the guilt of Craik Mansell, except by enacting a farce that may lead to the life-long remorse of the woman out of whose love you have made a trap?" A slow flush, the first, possibly, that had visited the hardy cheek of this thick-skinned detective for years, crept over the face of Frank Hickory. "I don't mean she shall ever know," he sullenly protested, kicking at the block upon which he had been sitting. "But it _was_ a mean trick," he frankly enough admitted the next moment. "If I hadn't been the tough old hickory knot that I am, I couldn't have done it, I suppose. The storm, too, made it seem a bit trifling. But---- Well, well!" he suddenly interjected, in a more cheerful tone, "'tis too late now for tears and repentance. The thing is done, and can't be undone. And, at all events, I reckon we are both satisfied _now_ as to who killed Widow Clemmens!" Mr. Byrd could not resist a slight sarcasm. "I thought you were satisfied in that regard before?" said he. "At least, I understood that at a certain time you were very positive it was Mr. Hildreth." "So I was," the fellow good-naturedly allowed; "so I was. The byways of a crime like this are dreadful dark and uncertain. It isn't strange that a fellow gets lost sometimes. But I got a jog on my elbow that sent me into the right path," said he, "as, perhaps, you did too, sir, eh?" Not replying to this latter insinuation, Mr. Byrd quietly repeated: "You got a jog on your elbow? When, may I ask?" "Three days ago, _just_!" was the emphatic reply. "And from whom?" Instead of replying, the man leaned back against the wall of the hut and looked at his interlocutor in silence. "Are we going to join hands over this business?" he cried, at last, "or are you thinking of pushing your way on alone after you have got from me all that I know?" The question took Mr. Byrd by surprise. He had not thought of the future. He was as yet too much disturbed by his memories of the past. To hide his discomfiture, he began to pace the floor, an operation which his thoroughly wet condition certainly made advisable. "I have no wish to rob you of any glory you may hope to reap from the success of the plot you have carried on here to-day," he presently declared, with some bitterness; "but if this Craik Mansell _is_ guilty, I suppose it is my duty to help you in the collection of all suitable and proper evidence against him." "Then," said the other, who had been watching him with rather an anxious eye, "let us to work." And, sitting down on the table, he motioned to Mr. Byrd to take a seat upon the block at his side.