"Yes, those are all his. You can see from their contents. Now, this here note signed William Ashton has the same peculiarities." "Yes, I see that. Do you believe Bannard wrote this letter to his cousin?" "She ain't exactly his cousin, only a half way sort of one." "I know; never mind that now. Do you think Bannard wrote the note?" "Yes, I do. I believe Win Bannard is after that pin, so's he can find them jewels----" "Oh, then you think the pin is a guide to the jewels?" "Well, it must be, as you say so. 'Tenny rate, the murderer wanted something, awful bad. It never seemed like he was after just money, or he'd 'a' come at night, don't you think so?" "Perhaps." "Well, say it was Win, there's nothing to offset that theory. And everything to point toward it. Moreover, there's no other suspect." "William Ashton? Rodney Pollock?" "All the same man," opined Hughes, "and all--Winston Bannard!" "Oh, I don't know----" "How you going to get around that letter? Can't you see yourself it's Bannard's writing disguised? And not very much disguised, at that. Why, look at the capital W! The one in William and this one in his own signature are almost identical." "Why didn't he try to disguise them?" "He did disguise the whole letter, but he forgot now and then. They always do. It's mighty hard, Barlow says, to keep up the disguise all through. They're sure to slip up, and return to their natural formation of the letters here and there." "I suppose that's so. Shall I confront Bannard with this?" "If you like. You're in charge. At least, I'm in with you. I don't want to run counter to your ideas in any way." "Thank you, Mr. Hughes. I appreciate the justice and courtesy of your attitude toward me, and I thank you for it." "But it don't extend to that boy--that cub of yours!" "Terence?" Fleming Stone laughed. "All right, I'll tell him to keep out of your way. He'll not bother you, Mr. Hughes." "Thank you, sir. Shall I go over to the jail with you?" "No, I'd rather go alone. But as to this theory of yours. You blame Bannard for all the details of this thing? Do you think he kidnapped Miss Clyde last Sunday?" "I think it was his doing. Of course, the two people who carried her off were merely tools of the master mind. Bannard could have directed them as well as anybody else." "He could, surely. Now, here's another thing--I want to trace the house where Miss Clyde was taken. Seems to me that would help a lot." "Lord, man! How can you find that?" "Do you know any nearby town where there's an insurance agent named Clement Foster?" "Sure I do; he lives over in Meadville." "Then Meadville is very likely the place where that house is." "How do you know?" "I don't _know_. But I asked Miss Clyde to think of anything in the room she was in that might be indicative, and she told of a calendar with that agent's name on it. It's only a chance, but it is likely that the calendar was in the same town that the agent lives and works in."