"I shall wait in the railway station until morning if necessary.
But not here."

The coroner led the way to the cosy little room off the office.
She followed with the sheriff. The men looked worn and haggard in
the bright light that met them, as if they had not known sleep or
rest for many hours.

"The assistant district attorney was here until eleven, but went
home to get a little rest. It's been a hard case for all of us--a
nasty one," explained the sheriff, as he placed a chair in front
of the fire for her. She sank into it limply.

"Go on, please," she murmured, and shook her head at the nervous
little woman who bustled up and inquired if she could do anything
to make her more comfortable.

The sheriff cleared his throat. "Well, it happened last night. All
day long we've been trying to find out who he is, and ever since
eight o'clock this morning we've been searching for the woman who
came here with him. She has disappeared as completely as if swallowed
by the earth. Not a sign of a clew---not a shred. There's nothing
to show when she left the inn or by what means. All we know is that
the door to that room up there was standing half open when Burton
passed by it at seven o'clock this morning---that is to say, yesterday
morning, for this is now Wednesday. It is quite clear, from this,
that she neglected to close the door tightly when she came out,
probably through haste or fear, and the draft in the hall blew it
wider open during the night. Burton says the inn was closed for