"Probably," the sheriff said, comfortably. "Still I'm not taking any
chances. I'm up for reelection this fall, and that Donaldson woman's
story nearly queered me. I've got a fellow at the railroad station, just
for luck."
Bassett went up the stairs and along the corridor, deep in dejected
thought. The trap of his own making was closing, and his active mind was
busy with schemes for getting Dick away before it shut entirely.
It might be better, in one way, to keep Livingstone there in his room
until the alarm blew over. On the other hand, Livingstone himself had
to be dealt with, and that he would remain quiescent under the
circumstances was unlikely. The motor to the main line seemed to be the
best thing. True, he would have first to get Livingstone to agree to go.
That done, and he did not underestimate its difficulty, there was the
question of getting him out of the hotel, now that the alarm had been
given.
When he found Dick still sleeping he made a careful survey of the second
floor. There was a second staircase, but investigation showed that it
led into the kitchens. He decided finally on a fire-escape from a rear
hall window, which led into a courtyard littered with the untidy rubbish
of an overcrowded and undermanned hotel, and where now two or three
saddled horses waited while their riders ate within.
When he had made certain that he was not observed he unlocked and opened
the window, and removed the wire screen. There was a red fire-exit lamp
in the ceiling nearby, but he could not reach it, nor could he find any
wall switch. Nevertheless he knew by that time that through the window
lay Dick's only chance of escape. He cleared the grating of a broken box
and an empty flower pot, stood the screen outside the wall, and then,
still unobserved, made his way back to his own bedroom and packed his
belongings.
Dick was still sleeping, stretched on his bed, when he returned to
three-twenty. And here Bassett's careful plans began to go awry, for
Dick's body was twitching, and his face was pale and covered with a cold
sweat. From wondering how they could get away, Bassett began to wonder
whether they would get away at all. The sleep was more like a stupor
than sleep. He sat down by the bed, closer to sheer fright than he had
ever been before, and wretched with the miserable knowledge of his own
responsibility.
As the afternoon wore on, it became increasingly evident that somehow or
other he must get a doctor. He turned the subject over in his mind, pro
and con. If he could get a new man, one who did not remember Jud Clark,
it might do. But he hesitated until, at seven, Dick opened his eyes and
clearly did not know him. Then he knew that the matter was out of his
hands, and that from now on whatever it was that controlled the affairs
of men, David's God or his own vague Providence, was in charge.