"Well, there's the murder thing, and then there's this thing about you havin' some powerful and secret enemies that are tryin' to do you dirt without even comin' out in the open about it. Maybe them two things are mixed together, and maybe again they ain't. If they ain't, we've got two jobs on our hands." "And, if they are?" Prale asked. "Then it looks to me, boss, like the gang that's after you is tryin' to hang this murder on you after havin' had somebody croak that Shepley guy." "I've thought of that, Murk. But it doesn't look possible," Prale said. "If my enemies merely wanted to hang a murder charge on me, as you have suggested, I think they would have planned better and would have made the evidence against me more conclusive. It would mean that there would be a lot of persons in the secret; the men who plan murder do not like to take the entire town into confidence about it." "Well, that sounds reasonable," Murk admitted. "And why Rufus Shepley?" "Because you had that spat with him in the lobby of the hotel, and it could be shown that you had a reason for knifin' him," Murk said, with evident satisfaction. "Nobody could have known I was going to have that quarrel with Shepley, because I had no idea of it myself when I entered the hotel lobby," Prale said. "After I left the hotel, I met Farland and then walked down to the river and met you--and you know the rest. How could they have contemplated hanging that crime on me when they did not know but that I had a perfect alibi? I think we're on the wrong track, Murk." "Well, boss, how about your fountain pen?" Murk asked. "How come it was found beside the body?" "That is one of the biggest puzzles in the whole thing, Murk. I cannot remember exactly when I had the pen last. I cannot imagine how it got into Shepley's room and on the floor beside his body. That fountain pen of mine is an important factor in this case, Murk, and it has me worried." "It seems to me," Murk said, "that if I had any powerful enemies after my scalp, I'd know the birds and be watchin' out for them all the time, to see that they didn't start anything when I was lookin' in the other direction." "But, Murk, I haven't the slightest idea who they are," Sidney Prale declared. "I don't know why I should have enemies that amount to anything, and that is what makes it so puzzling. How can I work this thing out when I don't even know where to start? I wish Jim Farland would come." Jim Farland did, at that moment. Murk let him in, and the detective tossed his hat on a chair, sat down in another, lighted one of his own black cigars, and looked at Sidney Prale through narrowed eyes. "Well, Jim?" Prale asked. "I talk when I've really got something to say, but I'm not going to make general conversation and muddle your brains with a lot of scattered junk," Jim Farland replied. "I'll say this much--things are looking much better for you."