It was necessary, then, to find the proof of Low’s innocence, as well as proof that somebody else was guilty. Who that somebody else was he could not guess. He still thought of Claymore, in spite of the alibi that Patsy had found to be sound. Claymore evidently had not committed the murder, but that he knew more than he had told, Nick was certain. Could any evidence be gotten in an hour that would save Low from being published in the papers as a suspected murderer? Low’s horse and wagon were at the door of the station. Nick got in and drove to the stable where he had hired a horse. There he explained what had happened to the horse, paid the damage, and returned the saddle and bridle that he had picked up on the way back with his prisoner. Then he went to the hotel in the hope of finding Patsy. He made the round of the rooms on the ground floor without finding him. As he was passing the desk, the clerk spoke to him. “Excuse me,” said he, “but aren’t you Mr. Carter?” “I am,” said Nick. “There’s a young man waiting here to see you. Your assistant told me to point him out to you as soon as you came in.” “Where is he?” “That man sitting near the door with a parcel in his hands.” Nick went up to the young man. “Are you waiting for Mr. Carter?” he asked. “Yes,” replied the young man, rising. “I am he.” “Oh! well, sir, I understand you are working on the Judson matter. The man who is supposed to have committed suicide.” “I have been looking into it a little.” “Well, sir, I’ve got something here to show you. I showed it to your assistant, and he said it would interest you.” The young man went to undoing his parcel, and three or four idlers drew near. “Wait,” said Nick. He led the young man to the desk and asked for a room. Shortly afterward, they were in a room alone, and Nick took the parcel. Unfolding the paper with which it was wrapped, he found a photograph. It was a clean-cut picture of Reverend Mr. Judson’s fall from the hotel window. Nick looked earnestly at the picture. “How did you happen to get this?” he asked. “I am an amateur photographer,” was the reply. “I work in the office at the top of the building just across the street from the hotel. Yesterday I got hold of some new plates that a friend had advised me to use, but I had no time to try them till this afternoon.” “And you tried them on this scene?” asked Nick quickly. “Without meaning to, yes. You see, I knew it would be Sunday before I would have time to take any pictures that I cared about, but I wanted to be sure that the plates were all right. “So, when there was a dull time in the office work, I got out my camera, which I had with me, and went to the window. “There isn’t much of a view from here, but I thought I’d take a couple of shots at the roofs, just to test the plates. “I had the camera all ready, when I accidentally touched the button. “That made me hot, for I had spoiled a plate.