Kerr was at police headquarters when Nick arrived with his prisoner.

His eyes glowed triumphantly when he saw them come in.

“You got him?” he exclaimed.

“Yes,” said Nick, “he surrendered when I told him how strong the evidence was against him.”

“I wonder he hadn’t run away.”

“Well, you see, he didn’t know that a messenger had come in with a telegram just ahead of him.”

Kerr chuckled.

“This will be a great story for the newspaper fellows,” he said. “They’ve been here all the evening till about half an hour ago. I told them to come back later.”

Nick looked thoughtful.

He wondered if it would be necessary to give the honest farmer the shame of having it printed that he had been arrested for murder.

“I suppose the newspaper boys know that I am on the case,” said Nick.

“Oh, yes—everybody knows it.”

“But they don’t know that I went to Mason Creek?”

“Well, I reckon they’ve guessed it. Newspaper reporters are good at that, you know.”

“Do they know that Low was under suspicion?”

“Sure! They got that from the hotel clerk.”

“Humph!”

Nick was a little disgusted.

When he handled a case in his own way, hotel clerks and others were not allowed to tell what they knew, and he took pains that nobody should know too much, anyway, until he got ready to tell them.

“See here, Kerr,” he said, earnestly, “I’d hold the reporters off for a time, if I were in your place.”

Kerr glanced at the clock.

It was not far from midnight.

“They’ll be hungry for news pretty soon,” said he.

“And perhaps I can give them a little more, and a better story, if they wait a bit.”

“Why——”

“Low isn’t the only one.”

“Ah!”

“I want to consult with my assistant before telling about this arrest.”

“You have a clew that you haven’t spoken of, then?”

“Maybe. Just lock Low up without putting anything on the blotter for a little while. Give me an hour to see what I can do.”

“All right, Mr. Carter, if you say so. But what shall I tell the reporters?”

“Nothing. I’ll be back inside an hour.”

Nick whispered a few words to Low, telling him to keep his courage up and his mouth shut, and went away.

He had asked Kerr to wait an hour, without any idea as to what he should or could do.

Nick felt that he had only got to the beginning of the case.

He was certain of Low’s innocence, though he might not be able to convince a jury of it.

It was necessary, then, to find the proof of Low’s innocence, as well as proof that somebody else was guilty.

Who that somebody else was, he could not guess.

He still thought of Claymore, in spite of the alibi that Patsy had found to be sound.

Claymore evidently had not committed the murder, but that he knew more than he had told, Nick was certain.

Could any evidence be got in an hour that would save Low from being published in the papers as a suspected murderer?

Low’s horse and wagon were at the door of the station.

Nick got in and drove to the stable where he had hired a horse.

There he explained what had happened to the horse, paid the damage, and returned the saddle and bridle that he had picked up on the way back with his prisoner.

Then he went to the hotel in the hope of finding Patsy.

He made the round of the rooms on the ground floor without finding him.

As he was passing the desk, the clerk spoke to him.

“Excuse me,” said he, “but aren’t you Mr. Carter?”

“I am,” said Nick.

“There’s a young man waiting here to see you. Your assistant told me to point him out to you as soon as you came in.”

“Where is he?”

“That man sitting near the door with a parcel in his hands.”

Nick went up to the young man.

“Are you waiting for Mr. Carter?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied the young man, rising.

“I am he.”

“Oh! well, sir, I understand you are working on the Judson matter. The man who is supposed to have committed suicide.”

“I have been looking into it a little.”

“Well, sir, I’ve got something here to show you. I showed it to your assistant, and he said it would interest you.”

The young man went to undoing his parcel, and three or four idlers drew near.

“Wait,” said Nick.

He led the young man to the desk and asked for a room.

Shortly afterward, they were in a room alone, and Nick took the parcel.

Unfolding the paper with which it was wrapped, he found a photograph.

It was a clean-cut picture of the Rev. Mr. Judson’s fall from the hotel window.

Nick looked earnestly at the picture.

“How did you happen to get this?” he asked.

“I am an amateur photographer,” was the reply. “I work in the office at the top of the building just across the Street from the hotel. Yesterday I got hold of some new plates that a friend had advised me to use, but I had no time to try them till this afternoon.”

“And you tried them on this scene?” asked Nick, quickly.

“Without meaning to, yes. You see, I knew it would be Sunday before I would have time to take any pictures that I cared about, but I wanted to be sure that the plates were all right.

“So, when there was a dull time in the office work, I got out my camera, which I had with me, and went to the window.

“There isn’t much of a view from here, but I thought I’d take a couple of shots at the roofs, just to test the plates.

“I had the camera all ready, when I accidentally touched the button.

“That made me hot, for I had spoiled a plate.

“I pointed it carefully from the best view I could get from there, and tried again.

“Just as I pushed the button, I heard cries on the street, and, looking down, saw a man lying on the sidewalk, and several others running toward him.

“Of course, I went down to see what was the matter.

“It was Mr. Judson.

“Later I went back, and as soon as possible after supper, while there was yet sunlight, I developed my second plate.

“I didn’t bring that with me, for it wouldn’t interest you. But it came out so good that I thought I might as well see what I had caught on the first plate, when the thing went off before I knew.

“That picture in your hand was what I caught.”

He paused, but Nick said nothing, and the young man added:

“I had heard your name mentioned in connection with the matter, and, as people said it was a case of suicide, I thought I ought to show you what I had caught.”

Nick drew a long breath.

“Well!” he said, “for once the brass band has been useful. I wanted to work unknown, but the fact that I am known to be on the case has brought me a piece of evidence that otherwise I might never have discovered.”

Again he looked at the picture.

“This lets Low out of it,” he murmured.

Kerr’s theory was that Low had made a mad rush for the clergyman as soon as he entered the room, pushed him from the window, and then hurried out and down the stairs.

The amateur photograph showed not only the unfortunate clergyman falling headforemost toward the sidewalk, but above him the forms of two men at the window.

They were not looking out, but rather in the act of dodging back.

These two were outlined very dimly, but the picture was clear enough to show that there were two of them, and that their arms were half-raised, as would be natural if they had just thrown a body away from them.

Unluckily, the faces were not at all distinct.

Try as he would, and Nick used his magnifying glass, he could not make them out to his satisfaction.

While he was still studying it, there came a knock at the door, and Patsy hurried in.

“The clerk told me you were here?” he said. “Well?”

“It’s a good piece of evidence,” responded Nick; “if only this young man had had a little more luck! We could get along without the picture of Judson if we only had a clean-cut picture of the two murderers.”

“That’s all right,” said Patsy, confidently, “I know who they are.”

Nick looked quickly at his assistant.

Then he turned to the photographer.

“Will you leave this with us?” he asked. “I shall see that you are well paid for it.”

“Oh! I don’t care for any pay,” replied the young man. “I shall be glad if it helps you. Good-night.”

He left them, and Patsy made his report.

“I laid for Claymore, as you told me,” he said, “and after chasing him around town for a while, I found at last that he had gone to the office of the oil company. He spent the whole evening there.”

“Well?”

“There was nothing for me to do but stay around. I was pretty sure that any attempt to find out what Claymore was doing would make him suspicious. So I didn’t go into the building even, but stayed outside on the other side of the street.

“It was a dull wait till a while ago.

“Then something happened.

“A man came hurrying up the street and another man after him. I thought I had seen them both before somewhere, from their motions, but I couldn’t see their faces in the dark. I suppose I wouldn’t have bothered to get a closer look, if they hadn’t stopped right in the entrance to the building where Claymore has his office.

“That interested me, and I crossed over.

“One man was holding the other back.

“‘’Tain’t safe to wait any longer,’ said the one who got there first.

“‘And it ain’t half so safe to try to see him here,’ the other answered. ‘Don’t be a fool! You see, his windows are still lighted, and he’s busy. When he gets through, he’ll come, as he said he would. Let him alone now and come back.’

“They talked a little more back and forth, and finally the second man got the first one to go away.

“I didn’t know then what they were talking about, and I don’t know now, but I dropped Claymore for a time and followed those two men.”

“Why?” asked Nick.

“Because I knew them. One was Nat Hamilton, the leader of the gang we had a tussle with in Helena, and the other was his right-hand man, Jack Thompson.”