"I guess you are right; yes, I guess we had better try and find Mr.
North," said the coroner. "Suppose you go after him, Mr. Conklin. Don't
send--go yourself," he added.

Again Langham dragged himself forward; the coils of this hideous thing
seemed to be tightening themselves about John North. Langham's face
still bore traces of his recent debauch, and during the last few minutes
a look of horror had slowly gathered in his bloodshot eyes. He now
studiously avoided Gilmore's glance, though he was painfully aware of
his presence. The gambler coolly puffed at a cigar as he leaned against
the casing of the long window at Doctor Taylor's back; there was the
faint shadow of a smile on his lips as he watched Langham furtively.

"I doubt if North will be found," said the latter. "I doubt if he is in
Mount Hope," he continued haltingly.

"What?" It was Moxlow who spoke.

"This morning I received a brief communication from him; it was written
late last night; he informed me that he should leave for the West on the
Chicago express. He inclosed the keys to his rooms."

Marshall Langham glanced at Gilmore, who seemed deeply absorbed. The
coroner fidgeted in his seat; dismay and unspeakable surprise were
plainly stamped on Colonel Harbison's face; Moxlow appeared quite
nonplussed by what his partner had last said.

"I was aware that he contemplated this trip West," said Langham quickly.
"He had asked me to dispose of the contents of his rooms when he should
be gone."