But Dick was not unhappy--not troubled in spirit--only perplexed in mind. The Beatitudes have blessings for all but the wicked; and he who suffers most, being still innocent and pure, has most blessings. In spite of all the appearances, real and constructive, which were arrayed against him, his spirit did not falter. If what was external and beyond himself discouraged him, there was no loss of power in his soul. He had faith in the truth, and was satisfied that even his good name would be vindicated. He tossed upon his bed all night long--not in misery and self-reproach, but as he who invents a machine, and is troubled to make one part harmonize with another. He did some tremendous thinking. He was struggling to solve a problem: to read the meagre hieroglyphical facts which the murder case presented. Twenty times, during the five hours he lay upon his bed, he drew up before him the naked facts, divesting them, as well as he could, of the opinions and prejudices with which they had been clothed. They bore fearfully upon himself. He could not invest the myth of Dr. Bilks’s baby with even the semblance of reality. The story of the child and the mother was too flimsy to be believed. If he could ascertain beyond the possibility of a doubt where the doctor had spent the hours between nine and two on the night of the murder, the case would be almost made out. But the people of Poppleton usually slept after nine o’clock, and no one had yet been found except Hubbard, who was out at the time. The rope and the weight did not at first appear to possess much significance to him. Buckstone might have used them as cable and anchor to moor the boat, and lost them overboard. They might have been employed for another purpose, which suggested itself to the thinker. When he rose in the morning, even before the sun was up, he hastened to the house of Mr. Bangs, the deputy sheriff. The official was not up, but anything relating to the murder was enough to draw him from his bed, even in the middle of the night. “You are up early, Mr. Birch,” said the deputy sheriff, as he joined the visitor in the parlor. “I did not sleep a wink last night,” replied Dick. “I am sorry for that.” “No doubt I shall sleep better when this business assumes a more definite shape.” “We were all a good deal surprised, Mr. Birch, when you swore that you were not with Buckstone that night.” “I know of no good reason why you should have been surprised. I can only say now, as I said then, I am not the person who was with Buckstone.” “I hope for your sake you were not. If you hadn’t denied it, nobody would have thought it was not all right.” “You are entitled to the benefit of your own opinion, Mr. Bangs. So far as I appear to be implicated in anything which I deny, I am willing to wait till the truth comes out.” “That’s all any of us can do.” “I intend to inquire into this matter till I get at the truth, either with or without your assistance.”