George was looking kind of glum and let-down; kind of frowny and thoughtful. Then, Amy Mason crossed to our side of the street, and I introduced her, and George perked himself up again.

“You have a fine sheriff, here,” he said, chapping me on the back. “A very fine officer, Miss Mason. He’s helped me solve a very important case.”

“Indeed?” said Amy. “What kind of case, Mr. Barnes?”

And George told her, adding on that he just wouldn’t have had a case against Ken if it hadn’t been for me.

“I’m sure it wasn’t an easy thing for him to do, either,” he said. “It’s never easy for one officer to incriminate another, even if they are not friends.”

“How true!” Amy said. “And I’m sure it will become even less easy as time goes on. By the way, Sheriff, will you stop by my house this evening? I think I’ve seen a prowler around.”

I said I’d be tickled to death to stop by, and she mustn’t feel like she had to set out no coffee or cake or nothing because I wouldn’t want her troubled.

She said she wouldn’t be troubled at all, sort of tossing her head at me. Then, she went on, and George Barnes and I went on toward the station.

Way up river, the train was whistling for the crossing. George shook my hand and gave me a bee’sass smile, and thanked me again for my help.

“By the way, Nick. It’s just a matter of form, of course, but you’ll be receiving a subpoena within the next day or so.”

“A subpoena?” I said. “Why for will I be receiving one of those?”

“As a prosecution witness against Ken Lacey, naturally! The chief prosecution witness, I should say. We’d certainly never get a conviction without you-”

“But what am I going to testify against him about?” I said. “What’s old Ken supposed to have went and done?”

“‘What’s he supposed to have done?’” George stared at me. “Why—what are you trying to pull, anyway? You know what he’s done!”

“Well, now I reckon I forgot,” I said. “Maybe you wouldn’t mind tellin’ me again?”

“Now you see here!” He grabbed me by the shoulders, teeth gritted. “Don’t you go dumb on me, Corey. If you want money, all right, but—”

“I’m really plumb puzzled, George.” I eased out of his grip. “Why for would I want money?”

“For stating under oath what you’ve already told me privately. That Ken Lacey murdered Cameron Trammel, alias Curly!”

“Huh?” I said. “Now, wait a minute, George. I didn’t tell you nothin’ hike that.”

“Oh, yes, you did! You certainly did tell me that, in so many words. You told me—”

“Well, maybe you got that impression,” I said. “But never mind about that, never mind what I told you. The important thing, I reckon, is what I didn’t tell you.”

“And what was that?”

“This,” I said. “The morning after Ken Lacey left, I saw Moose an’ Curly alive.”