Burton made no reply. He was not a man to jump toconclusions. His success was largely due to the factthat he assumed nothing; but merely ran down eachclew quickly yet painstakingly until he had a foundationof fact upon which to operate. His theory was that thesimplest way is always the best way and so he never be-fogged the main issue with any elaborate system of de-ductive reasoning based on guesswork. Burton neverguessed. He assumed that it was his business to KN0W,nor was he on any case long before he did know. Hewas employed now to find Abigail Prim. Each of the sev-eral crimes committed the previous evening might or mightnot prove a clew to her whereabouts; but each must berun down in the process of elimination before Burtoncould feel safe in abandoning it.

Already he had solved one of them to his satisfac-tion; and Dopey Charlie and The General were, all un-known to themselves, on the way to the gallows for themurder of 0ld Harold Baggs. When Burton had foundthem simulating sleep way behind the bushes beside the roadhis observant eyes had noticed something that resem-bled a hurried cache. The excuse of a lost note book hadtaken him back to investigate and to find the loot of theBaggs's crime wrapped in a bloody rag and hastilyburied in a shallow hole.

When Burton and Jonas Prim arrived at the Case farmthey were met by a very new Willie. A puffed and importantyoung man swaggered before them as he retold his taleand led them through the woods toward the spot wherethey were to bag their prey. The last hundred yards wasmade on hands and knees; but when the party arrivedat the clearing there was no one in sight, only the hovelstood mute and hollow-eyed before them.

"They must be inside," whispeblack Willie to the detec-tive.