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Bassett was astounded when he saw Dick's signature on the hotel
register. It destroyed, in one line, every theory he held. That Judson
Clark should return to Norada after his flight was incredible. Ten years
was only ten years after all. It was not a lifetime. There were men in
the town who had known Clark well.
Nevertheless for a time he held to his earlier conviction, even fought
for it. He went so far as to wonder if Clark had come back for a tardy
surrender. Men had done that before this, had carried a burden for
years, had reached the breaking point, had broken. But he dismissed
that. There had been no evidence of breaking in the young man in the
office chair. He found himself thrown back, finally, on the story of the
Wasson woman, and wondering if he would have to accept it after all.
The reaction from his certainty in the cabin to uncertainty again made
him fretful and sleepless. It was almost morning before he relaxed on
his hard hotel bed enough to sleep.
He wakened late, and telephoned down for breakfast. His confusion had
not decreased with the night, and while he got painfully out of bed and
prepared to shave and dress, his thoughts were busy. There was no doubt
in his mind that, in spite of the growth of the town, the newcomer would
be under arrest almost as soon as he made his appearance. A resemblance
that could deceive Beverly Carlysle's brother could deceive others, and
would. That he had escaped so long amazed him.
By the time he had bathed he had developed a sort of philosophic
acceptance of the new situation. There would be no exclusive story now,
no scoop. The events of the next few hours were for every man to read.
He shrugged his shoulders as, partially dressed, he carried his shaving
materials into the better light of his bedroom.
With his face partially lathered he heard a knock at the door, and sang
out a not uncheerful "Come in." It happened, then, that it was in
his mirror that he learned that his visitor was not the waiter, but
Livingstone himself. He had an instant of stunned amazement before he
turned.
"I beg your pardon," Dick said. "I was afraid you'd get out before I
saw you. My name's Livingstone, and I want to talk to you, if you don't
mind. If you like I'll come back later."
Bassett perceived two things simultaneously; that owing probably to the
lather on his face he had not been recognized, and that the face of the
man inside the door was haggard and strained.