know, eh?' The bluff appeared to work, for he flushed a little and replied: 'I'll tell you all about it if you will agree to keep it out of the paper.' As I had suspended all dispatches to the Hemisphere pending the discovery of a story worth filing, I readily enough agreed to refrain from publishing his secret to the world. Then he extracted a promise that I should not divulge a word to any one in the village.
"'Ralph Felton is as innocent of that crime as you or I,' asserted Thayer when all the conditions for secrecy had been satisfactorily arranged.
"'That is possible, but why did he refuse to answer the coroner and why did he cut the town?' said I.
"'He had a good reason for wanting to keep dark, and I suppose he ran away to prevent being compelled to testify where he was Memorial Day afternoon and evening.'
"'You know where he was, then?'
"'Yes; he was here at the hotel. I tell you this because I want you to know that he is innocent. Felton is a good friend of mine, and I thought perhaps if you knew how the facts were you might see your way clear to letting him down as easy as possible in the paper.' I assured him that my specialty was setting folks right and then Thayer told off the following story:
"About 2 o'clock on the afternoon of Memorial Day a woman arrived at Raymond on the afternoon train from the south, came to this hotel and registered as 'Isabel Winthrop.' She was superbly dressed and displayed an abundance of jewels. According to Thayer, whose head was completely turned by her appearance, she was magnificently, phenomenally beautiful. You can take that for what it is worth. Thayer assigned her a room and showed her to it. As she passed in she requested him to send a messenger to acquaint Ralph Felton that a lady desired to see him. Finding him was an easy task, as he was at that moment playing poker in a room in the hotel. Felton appeared somewhat surprised when called out, but threw up the game and went to the woman's room. That was the last Thayer saw of him
