Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/204

On the wrong trail, eh? Well, who didn’t take the wrong path occasionally in this business? Where was the superman so good that he never erred?

On the wrong trail. Chan sat deep in thought. Jaynes had been outside that window—the stub of the small cigar, which he had evidently forgotten, was proof enough. But it was not he who had pushed up the screen and entered, leaving the imprint of fingers on the white sill. Some one else had done that. Who? Who else had been——

Suddenly Charlie smote his forehead a resounding blow. “Haie—I have been complete and utter idiot. I move too fast, without proper thought. Everybody seeks to hurry me—even my own family. And I was not built for hurry. Hurry is the wind that destroys the scaffolding.” He turned to Hettick. “What has become of finger-print record of beach-comber, taken at station last night?”

“Oh,” replied Hettick. “I’ve got that here.” He produced a manila envelope from his pocket and removed a glass plate. “Do you think——”

“I think, yes—a little late, but still I think,” said Charlie. He took the plate from the unresisting hand of his brother officer and hurried to the window. “Come quickly,” he called. “Your glass—look! What is your decision?”

“They are the same,” Hettick announced.

Triumph shone brightly in Charlie’s little eyes. “At last I arrive somewhere,” he cried. “Smith, the beach-comber, was in this room last night! Am I for ever on wrong trail, or do I have my lucific moments?”