During the night there was little change in Bethel's condition, and in the gray of dawn Miss Barnard went reluctantly home, having been assured by the doctor that the patient was in no immediate danger, and, by Jim and myself, converted to the belief that he might be safely trusted for a short time to our care.

A little later, with the first clear light of the dawn, I left Jim on guard at the bedside, and went to take a survey of the premises.

I was not long in convincing myself that there was little to be discovered outside, and returning to the house seated myself in Bethel's easy-chair.

"Long," I called softly,—somehow since last night I could not bring myself to use the familiar "Jim," as of old.

He came from the inner room looking a mute inquiry.

"Long, you had ought to know something about your own gun; was that wound of Bethel's made at long or short range?"

He looked surprised at first, then a gleam of intelligence leaped to his eyes.

"What do you mean by short range?" he asked.

"Suppose Bethel to have stood on the steps outside, was the gun fired from behind that evergreen just beyond, and close to the gravel walk, or from some other point equally distant?"

He opened the door and glanced out at the tree, seeming to measure the distance with his eye.

"It was further away," he said, after a moment's reflection. "If the scoundrel had stood as you suggest, the muzzle of the gun would have been almost at Bethel's breast. The powder would have scorched his clothing and his flesh."

"Do you think it may have been fired from the gate, or a few feet beyond it?"

"Judging by the appearance of the wound, I should say it must have been from a little beyond the gate."

"I think so too," I said. "I think some one drove to the gate last night with a light buggy, and two small horses. He or they drove quite close to the fence and stopped the horses, so that they were hidden from the view of any one who was nearer the house. The buggy was directly before the gate and so close that it could not have been opened, as it swings outward. The horses were not tied, but they were doubtless well trained animals. A man jumped out of the buggy, and, standing beside it, on the side farthest from the gate, of course, leveled your gun across the vehicle and called aloud for the doctor. Bethel was alone, sitting in this chair by this table. His feet were on this footstool," touching each article as I named it. "He was smoking this pipe, and reading this book. The window was open, and the blinds only half closed. The man, who probably drove close to the fence for that purpose, could see him quite distinctly, and from his attitude and occupation knew him to be alone.

"When Bethel heard the call, he put down the book and pipe with cool deliberation, pushed back the footstool and opened the door, coming from the light to the darkness. At that moment he could see nothing, and leaving the door open he stepped outside, standing clearly outlined in the light from within. Then the assassin fired."

Jim Long came toward me, his eyes earnestly searching my face.

"In Heaven's name, what foundation have you for such a theory," he asked, slowly.

"Excellent foundation," I replied. "Let us demonstrate my theory."

Long glanced at his charge in the inner room, and then said, "go on."

"Suppose me to be Bethel," I said, leaning back in the big chair. "That window is now just as it was last night, I take it?"

"Just the same."

"Well, if you choose to go outside and walk beside the fence, you will be able to decide whether I could be seen as I have stated."

He hesitated a moment, and then said:

"Wait; I'll try it;" and opened the door.

"Long," I whispered, as he passed out, "keep this side of the fence."

"Yes."

He was back in a moment.

"I can see you plainly," he said.

"And, of course, with a light within and darkness outside you could see me still more plainly."

"I suppose so," he assented.

"Now for the second test. I hear my name called, I lay aside my book and meerschaum, push back my footrest, and go to the door. I can see nothing as I open it," I was suiting the action to the word, "so I fling it wide open, and step outside. Now, Long, that spot of blood tells me just about the location of Bethel's head when you discovered him. Will you point out the spot where his feet rested?"

Long considered a moment and then laid two fingers on the step.

"There, as nearly as I can remember," he said.

I planted my own feet on the spot indicated by him.

"Now, please go to the gate. Go outside of it. There are some bits of paper scattered about; do not step where you see any of these."

He obeyed my directions, striding over and around the marked places.

"Now," I called, retaining my position on the door-step, "step about four feet from the gate, and from that distance how must you stand to take aim at me, on this spot?"

He shifted his position a trifle, went through the motion of taking aim, looking down at his feet, then dropped his arms, and said:

"I can't do it; to aim at you there, I would have to stand just where you have left some bits of paper. In any other position the bushes obstruct the sight."

I came down to the gate and swung it open.

"Just what I wanted to establish. Now for the next test," I said. "Mark me, Long; do you see those bits of paper along the fence? Go and look at the ground, where they lie, and you will see the faint impression of a wheel. Just before the gate where the vehicle stood for a moment, the print is deeper, and more easily noticed. I said that the gun was fired across the buggy; you have convinced yourself that aim could be taken from only one position, at this distance. The man must stand where those bits of paper are scattered. Now, look;" I bent down and gathered up the fragments of paper; "look close. Here is a fine, free imprint from the heel of a heavy boot. As there is but one, and that so marked, it is reasonable to suppose that the assassin rested one foot upon the buggy wheel, thus throwing his weight upon this heel."

Long bent to examine the print and then lifted his head to ejaculate:

"It is wonderful!"

"It is simplicity itself," I replied; "the a, b, c of the detective's alphabet. I said there were two horses; look, here is where one of them scraped the fence with his teeth, and here the other has snatched a mouthful of leaves from the doctor's young shade tree. Here, too, are some faint, imperfect hoof-prints, but they are enough to tell us, from their position, that there were two horses, and from their size, that the animals were pretty small."

Long examined the different marks with eager attention, and then stood gazing fixedly at me, while I gathered up my bits of paper.

"I shall not try to preserve these as evidence in the case," I said. "I think we shall do very well without them. They were marked for your benefit, solely. Are you convinced?"

"Convinced! Yes, convinced and satisfied that you are the man for this business."

We returned to the house, each intent on his own thoughts.

The sun was rising in a cloudless sky. It would not be long before curious visitors would be thronging the cottage. After a time I went to the door of the room where Jim had resumed his watch.

"Long," I asked, in a low tone, "do you know any person in Ireton?"

He shook his head.

"Do you know whether this fellow Tom Briggs has any relatives about Trafton?"

He pondered a moment.

"Yes," he said, finally. "He has a brother somewhere in the neighborhood. I don't know just where. He comes to Trafton occasionally."

"What is he like?"

"He is not unlike Tom, but goes rather better dressed."

"Do you know his occupation?"

"A sort of horse-trading character, I think."

I considered for a time, and then resumed my catechism.

"Among the farmers whose horses have been stolen, do you know one who is thoroughly shrewd, cautious and reliable?"

"I think so," after a moment's reflection. "I think Mr. Warren is such a man."

"Where can he be found?"

"He lives five miles northwest of Trafton."

"If you wished to organize a small band of regulators, say six or eight, where could you find the right men, and how soon?"

"I should look for them among the farmers. I think they could be organized, for the right purpose, in half a day's ride about the country."

As my lips parted to launch another question, the outer door opened slowly and almost noiselessly, and Louise Barnard brushed past me and hurried to the bedside.

"Miss Barnard—"

"Don't lecture me, please," she said, hurriedly. "Mamma is better and could spare me, and I could not sleep. I have taken a cordial, and some food. You must let me stay on guard until Dr. Denham arrives. I will resign my post to him."

"Which means that you will not trust to us. You are a 'willful woman,' Miss Barnard, and your word is our law, of course. There is actually nothing to do here just now but to sit at the bedside and watch our patient. And so, if you will occupy that post, Long and myself will take a look at things out of doors."

She took her seat by the bedside, and, beckoning Jim to follow me, I went out, and, turning to see that he was close behind me, walked to the rear of the house.

Here we seated ourselves upon the well platform, where Jim had once before stationed himself to watch the proceedings of the raiding party, and for a full half-hour remained in earnest consultation.

At the end of that time, Jim Long saddled and bridled the doctor's horse, led him softly from the yard, mounted, and rode swiftly away to the northwest.