He snatched up the file again and held it to the light. There was no mistake! Three months ago, while he had lain inert in the hospital above the river, the man he imagined the occupant of a prison-cell had been nominated for the highest office in the Commonwealth, the standard-bearer of the New Ideal! For an instant a keen trepidation darted through him. His hand went up and touched the bandage. Could it be that he was--not himself? Was what he had imagined only the figment of a brain astray? With a fierce effort at self-control he sat down and beginning at the date at which he had left off his reading, began to scan the columns carefully and methodically, missing nothing. For two hours he did this, and at length he came upon a paragraph at which his lowering face lightened with exultation. It chronicled in a dozen words the escape from the Penitentiary of the convict who was under imprisonment for the burglary of the Craig mansion and the shooting of its owner. The circle of evidence closed up. He was certain, now. Craig laughed out loud, a grating laugh of sardonic amusement. Again the cards had fallen Harry Sevier's way. By some lucky chance he had freed himself, and with the effrontery of supposed security had resumed his old place and character, no one the wiser. Now he was actually running for Governor! Well, the higher the pinnacle the more spectacular the fall! The game was his, Craig's, for he held the highest trump! He rang for his secretary. "Bring me the steamer-lists," he said, "and have the servants pack my things. We are going to leave on the Nord-Express at midnight." CHAPTER XLIII THE PITFALL "So you think it incredible, then!" Lawrence Treadwell's glance at Craig was veiled as he replied, dryly: "I am considering the evidence as you present it, that's all. This, it seems to me, is what it amounts to: Mr. Henry Sevier, a reputable citizen and a well known resident of this place, a year ago leaves for a vacation." "In disguise," interrupted Craig. Treadwell shook his head. "There is no evidence of that--it is mere allegation. He was seen here late one afternoon, as usual. There could be no mistake, for he's a characteristic enough individual. He had arranged for the closing of his office, had told his clerk, in fact, that he was going abroad. The same night, at midnight in your own house--two hundred miles away and in another state--a man is arrested, one of a gang of burglars. There were all the usual earmarks--open safe, black mask, an attempt at escape, with the shooting of yourself thrown in." "I identified him an hour later, as soon as I regained consciousness." "As the man who had shot you--yes. Your identification went no further at that time. And since then you have been able to give no evidence." "Until now," said Craig grimly.