"I don't mind, Jimmie boy. I know it couldn't have been very bad."

"It wasn't. She--well, she sneered at you for thinking of marrying
me--a poor man--and--"

"As if money counted, Jimmie boy!" cried the girl fondly.

"I know. But it angered me, I admit. However, nothing more came of
that. And as for her finding fault with me about my electric lathe,
and about the money she owed me--well, that was a sort of periodic
disagreement."

"Tell the colonel all about it."

"I will. And are you sure your father--"

"Dad's with me in this--with me and you! He'd have come to see you
himself to-day, but I said I wanted to see you first. He'll be along
soon. So you see, Jimmie boy, things aren't so bad as they seem,
though I hate it that you should be in this horrible place."

"It is horrible, Amy. But now that I know you--you haven't given me
up--"

"Don't _dare_ say such a thing, Jimmie boy!" and the girl's eyes
sparkled with a new light.

"Well, it won't be so horrible from now on. And is the colonel really
going to take my case?"

"Really and truly! I told him he _had_ to if he wanted to fish in
dad's trout stream," and she laughed--a strange sound in that gloomy
place.

Then they talked about many things. James Darcy had read much of
Colonel Ashley's achievements in detective work, and the very magic of
the name was enough to give a prisoner courage.

Soon it was time to leave, after Kenneth had conferred briefly with his
client. The prisoner went back to his little cell with a happier look
on his face than when he had left it.


As for Colonel Ashley, after he had revived Amy from her faint at the
stream, he had told Shag to take apart the fishing rod.

"For, Shag, I guess I won't be needing it for a week or so," said the
old detective, and there was a mingling of two emotions in his voice.

"Uh, ah!" murmured Shag, as, carefully, he put away the delicate rod
and reel. "It's either fishin' or detectin' wif de colonel, dat's whut
it suah am! Fishin' or detectin'! De colonel ain't one dat kin carry
watermelons on bof shoulders!"

Returning from his fishing trip with the one, lone specimen, Colonel
Ashley, having escorted Amy Mason to her automobile, went back to the
hotel with Shag.

"I might have known how it would be, Shag," he remarked, almost
mournfully. "I might have known I'd run into something when I came
here for rest."

"Dat's right, Colonel. Yo' suah might! But who does yo' s'pect did
dish yeah killin'?"

"It's too early yet to tell, Shag, and you know I don't make any
predictions. I want to get a few more facts."

This the colonel proceeded to do. First having had himself accredited
as working in Darcy's behalf by being introduced by the accused man's
lawyer, the detective paid a visit to the jewelry store. The place was
in charge of Thomas Kettridge, a half uncle to Mrs. Darcy.

The place had been opened for business again after the funeral, and
customers came in, carefully avoiding the place where a dark stain
could be seen in the floor--a stain made all the more conspicuous
because of the light-colored boards about it.

The colonel made a careful examination of the premises, and had
described to him the exact position of the body, being told all that
went on that tragic morning.

It was after this, and following some busy hours spent in various parts
of the city, that the defective sent to one of his trusted men in New
York this telegram:


"Spotty Morgan's vacation is over. Have him spend a few days with you
until I can invite him to my country place."


"I hate to do it, after what he did for me," mused the colonel with a
sigh. "But business is business from now on. I'm officially in the
case, and I wasn't before."

Having sent the somewhat cryptic message, the old detective sat in his
room and took from his pocket a little green book.

"Well, old friend, I guess I'm not going to have much use for you from
now on," he remarked dolefully. He glanced to where his rods and flies


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