“He had. Also he heard a terrified cry shortly after. The cry, he thought, was in a man’s voice. Simon P. Groot isn’t wholly lacking in sense of observation.” “A man’s voice in a cry? What could that mean?” “Oh, any one of several hundred unthinkable things,” said Kent patiently. “Wait! She must have attacked some other man, as she did me. She was going to a rendezvous, wasn’t she? Then she and the man she went to meet quarreled, and he killed her by throwing her over the cliff.” “And the handcuffs?” Sedgwick’s hands went to his head. “That, of course, is the inexplicable thing. But don’t you think that was the way she met her death?” “No.” “Then what do you think?” “Never mind that at present. The point is that Simon P. Groot naturally supposed you to have been mixed up in whatever tragedy there was going. You’ve an unfortunate knack of manufacturing evidence against yourself, Sedgwick. The redeeming feature is that the sheriff can’t very well use it to arrest you.” “I don’t see why.” Kent chuckled. “Don’t you see that the last thing the sheriff wants to do is arrest anybody?” “No, I don’t.” “Why, he has the body safely buried, now. You’ll remember that he was in a great hurry to get it buried. Identification is what he dreaded. Danger of identification is now over. If any one should be arrested, the body would be exhumed and the danger would return in aggravated form. No; he wants you suspected, not arrested.” “He is certainly getting his wish!” “For the present. Well, I’m off.” “Why don’t you move your things from the hotel and stay here with me?” suggested Sedgwick. “Getting nervous?” inquired Kent. “It isn’t that; but I think I could make you more comfortable.” Kent shook his head. “Thank you; but I don’t believe I’d better. When I’m at work on a case I need privacy.” “And so you stick to a public hotel! Queer notions you have of privacy.” “Not at all. A hotel is absolutely mine to do with as I please, as long as I pay my bills. I’m among strangers; I’m not interfered with. No house, not even a man’s own, can possibly be so private as a strange hotel.” “Perhaps you’re right,” admitted the other, with a laugh; then, lapsing into pronounced gloom for the first time, he said, “It seems pretty tough that I should be in all this coil and tangle because a crazy woman happened by merest chance to make a call on me.” Kent’s pipe glowed in the darkness and silence before he replied. Then he delivered himself as follows: “Sedgwick”—puff—“try”—puff—“to forget if you can”—puff—puff—“that stuff about the crazy woman”—puff—puff—puff. “Forget it? How should I? Why should I?” “Because”—puff—“you’re absolutely on the”—puff—puff—“wrong track. Good night.”