“Very well,” returned Kent. “There will be no arrest, then?” “Not just now.” A peculiar smile slid sidewise off a corner of the scientist’s long jaw. “Nor at any other time,” he concluded. He threw in the clutch, leaving Schlager with his hand in his hair, and the crowd, which might so easily have become a mob, to disperse, slowly and hesitantly, having lacked the incentive of suggested flight on the part of the suspects to be spark to its powder. When the car had won the open road beyond the village Sedgwick remarked: “Queer line the sheriff is taking.” “Poor Schlager!” said Kent, chuckling. “No other line is open to him. He’s in a tight place. But it isn’t the sheriff that’s worrying me.” “Who, then?” “Gansett Jim.” “What did the sheriff mean by asking Gansett Jim where he was the night of the murder?” “Murder?” said Kent quizzically. “What murder?” “The murder of the unknown woman, of course.” “I don’t know that there was any murder.” “Oh, well, the death of the unknown woman, then.” “I don’t know that there was any unknown woman.” “Quit it! From what you do know, what do you think the sheriff meant?” “What do _you_ think?” “I think that Gansett Jim killed her and is trying to turn suspicion on me.” “Humph!” “But if the sheriff knows where Gansett Jim was at the time of the killing, he can’t suppose me guilty. I wonder if he really does believe me guilty?” “If he does, he doesn’t care. His concern is quite apart from your guilt.” “It’s too much for me,” confessed the artist. “And for me. That is why I am going back to the village.” “But I thought you were frightened.” “If I stayed away from everything that alarms me,” said Kent, “I’d never have a tooth filled or speak to a woman under seventy. I’m a timid soul, Sedgwick; but I don’t think I shall be in any danger in Annalaka so long as I’m alone. Here we are. Out with you! I’ll be back by evening.” CHAPTER VII—SIMON P. GROOT DOES BUSINESS To his surprise, Kent, turning into the village Square, found the crowd still lingering. A new focus of interest had drawn it to a spot opposite Sterrett’s store, where a wagon, decorated in the most advanced style of circus art, shone brilliant in yellow and green. Bright red letters across the front presented to public admiration the legend: SIMON P. GROOT SIMON PURE GOODS