He convinced himself that from henceforth this was to be his only object--not the girl, nor any attraction she once had for him, but a stern determination to solve this crime, and bring its perpetrators to justice.

If she was involved it could not be helped, she would have to suffer with the rest; his own duty was clear.
Yet how could he begin action?
What clue did he possess which could be followed?
Practically none.

Before morning, that saloon on Wray Street would unquestionably be deserted, except perhaps by its proprietor, and Mike would simply deny everything.

A search of the place would be useless, for Hobart would be too sly a fox to leave any trail.

Two possibilities remained; the police might have some record of the fellow, might know his favourite haunts, even be able to locate his next probable hiding place.