Browning chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1941-1953, 1944-01-07

tHe "HdIl ABOUT ten-tnlIIy o CLOCK.
The launch was waiting. and we
went out to the Orizaba immedi-
ately."
"And the others?" Lombardo
looked at Dwight.
"Sam Chatfield, his daughter FL
sa, and went down to the wharf
together" Dwight replied.
what was the time, senor?"
1--WE left the hotel at eleven-forty-
five," Dwight answered, screwing
up his eyes in an effort to recall
the exact hour.
"Are these all who were going
aboard? Was Senior Barton one Of
your"
"Oh, yes-Reed Barton" Dwight
said. Reed was waiting with his
bag on the wharf when we arrived"
"He went ahead of you, them"
eyes. He'd gone around to his
hotel to get his things together
for the fishing cruise, and it was ar
ranged that he meet US at the
wharf"
"Ah, SOP said Lombardo, his
sensitive eyebrows lifting slightly.
perhaps Senior Reed Barton should
explain"
II don't know what time it was"
Reed Barton replied to Lombardo's
question. He had come to head
quarters in response to a telephoned
request which found him at his no.
| &o1 TLo{GolI eNil fhof che
was beginning to tire, and didn't l
think I'd better go get my things
and meet them down at the wharf.
We were dancing, you know, at the
Belmar. She would go down with
her father, and it wasn't necessary
for me to go back to the Belmar
for her."
"What time do you think it was?"
pressed Lombardo.
| whats time, Senior Lombardo,
when there are no appointments to
keep"
WAS there anyone else, senior, on
the wharf when you were?' asked
Lombardo.
mot soul, until the rest of the
party came down."
"Was the launch waiting?"
mo, sir; it arrived from the yacht
few minutes before my friends
reached the wharf"
Lombardo lifted his eyebrows,
| pursed his thick lips and seemed to
stare beyond the walls of his office.
Reed Barton's gaze, which had been
fixed during the questioning upon
the chief, dropped to the varied as
sortment of objects on the desk.
saw it come to rest upon the ugly
weapon that presumably had slain
Rumble.
what are you doing with my fish
ing knife, senor?" he asked, leaning
forward to pick it up.
"Ah, so? 1t is your knife" asked
Lombardo crafty.
Eyes" He turned it about in his
fingers, searching for marks of iden-
LITIGATION. Eyes, it's mine. How do
you happen to have it," He looked
at Lombardo, and, before the latter
had time to answer, the realization
broke over him. "Oh, l see! So
that's it! My knife killed Rumble!"
Eyes, senor," said Lombardo
grimly. "You admit it's yours. 1t
seems the only thing I can do now,
senior, is to lock you up again"
"But I didn't kill him." protested
Reed Barton, the color going from
his face. Il swear I didn't. don't
understand about the knife, though,
even if it is mine"
Rogers suddenly got to his feet,
dominating the rest of us who still
sat about the desk.
"Senor Lombardo," he said sharp
ly, "if l give you my word that
Reed Barton will submit to arrest at
any time you desire within the next
day or two, will you let him 60 free
now?"
ut is an unusual request, Sc
nor" began Lombardo.
There are several things that yet
need investigation. l promise you
the name of the murderer-or the
person of Reed Barton"
Lombardo shrugged his shoulders.
He glanced at Doctor Cruz. There
was the merest flicker in the hard
eyes of the medico legista behind
the screen of cigarette smoke. Lom-
bardo stood up.
"Okey," he said.
1t was a long day crowded with
activity. The sequence of tragic
events over the past few days served
to drive US for mutual comfort into
compact group. First Chesebro,
then Sam Chatfield, and now George
Rumble. The mere fact that Rum
BILE, the sartorial as well as social
misfit among us, had been one in
our sequence of tragedy, lifted him
with all his faults to a permanent
place in our hearts. He had become
one of the tragic elect.
But do you make anything of it
all, Hunt?" l asked that evening aft
er dinner at the rancho. "It's so
mixed up; there are so many points
| that conflict ~ We sat ODce moro