denying it and putting the proving of the game up to me, he took the bit
in his mouth at something Waterbury said.

"I don't know all the facts. They came out in the paper afterward. But
Crimmins and Waterbury had a scrap, and the trainer was fired. He was
fired when you went to the stable to say good-by to Sis. He was packing
what things he had there, but when he saw you weren't on, he kept it
mum. I believe then he was planning to do away with Sis, and you offered
a nice easy get-away for him. He hated you. First, because you turned
down the crooked deal he offered you, for it was he who was beating the
bookies, and he wanted a pal. Secondly, he thought you had split about
the dope, and he laid his discharge to you. And he hated Waterbury. He
could square you both at one shot. He poisoned Sis when you'd gone.

"Every one believed you guilty, for they didn't know the row Crimmins
and Waterbury had. But Waterbury suspected. He and Crimmins had it out.
He caught him on Broadway, a day or two later, and Crimmins walloped him
over the head with a blackjack. Waterbury went to the hospital, and came
next to dying. Crimmins went to jail. I guess he was down and out, all
right, when, as you say, he heard from his brother that Waterbury was
at Cottonton. I believe he went there to square him, but ran across you
instead, and thought he could have a good blackmailing game on the side.
That wife game was a plot to catch you, kid. He didn't think you'd dare
to come North. When you told him about your lapse of memory, then he
knew he was safe. You knew nothing of his showdown."

Garrison covered his face with his hands. Only he knew the great, the
mighty obsession that was slowly withdrawing itself from his heart. It
was all so wonderful; all so incredible. Long contact with misfortune
had sapped the natural resiliency of his character. It had been