"Hallen, if you manage this affair well, you will be famous. They are looking for good men in New York all the while. My work is in the Mansion; if our paths cross, let us work together." So had suggested Oakes. He had known about Hallen, as he knew the history of all police officers, and had thus given hope to the man who had been used to better things. Instantly Hallen had seen that to antagonize Oakes would be foolish; to aid him, and perhaps obtain his advice and friendship, would ultimately redound to his own future credit and, possibly, advancement. For Oakes's work had brought him in contact with police heads in all the large cities. His boldness and genius for ferreting out mysteries were known to them all, and they had paid him the compliment of studying his methods carefully. Hallen had agreed to have Oakes's testimony at the inquest taken at just the proper moment for effect, and had agreed to call Dr. Moore as an expert. Of course, the coroner did what the Chief asked. As Oakes had said: "If you want expert evidence, get it from Moore; if you don't ask him, you won't get it in Mona." The idea of Oakes bringing in his testimony as he did was part of the plan to watch the audience. The planning of the Chief and himself had accounted for the somewhat informal presentation of the evidence that I had noticed. In rural courts, affairs are not conducted as they are in the city, and I had observed a quick swing to affairs, hardly accounted for on the ground of practice. I recognized the hand of Quintus Oakes, and knew that the scene had been carefully manoeuvred. Hallen sat in his office on the evening of the day after the inquest, reviewing the happenings that had crowded so fast in Mona, and thinking, not without misgivings, of the wave of suspicion that was rising to interfere with the affairs of the town. At this moment the editor of the "Mona Mirror" entered--a whole-souled, fat individual, breezy and decidedly agreeable. He was one of the natives, a man of growing popularity and decided education. Dowd was his name, and he hated _that fellow Skinner_, who edited the rival newspaper, the "Daily News." Skinner had "bossed" things in a free-handed fashion until Dowd (a clerk in the post-office until middle life) had decided to enter the field of journalism--less than two years before. Dowd was inexperienced, but he was bright, and he wielded a pen that cut like a two-edged sword; and the love that was lost between the two editors was not worth mentioning. As Dowd entered and found Hallen alone, he took off his hat and overcoat, and laughed sarcastically. He really liked Hallen, and was on intimate terms with him. Hallen looked up. "Well, what's ailing you now?" he said. "Oh, nothing. Only this town is going loony, sure as fate, Hallen. What are you going to do?"