We sat back in our seats aware of the importance of d**k Stocker’s identification. It meant the clearing up of a mystery that had interested the nation for several months. Bailey B. Austin had walked out of his office in Detroit one day late in August and vanished. No worthwhile clue had been found. A conspicuous figure in his home state, he was widely known; many would have recognized him had he been seen, but no one had reported it. Many false clues had been investigated only to result in nothing. And now, sitting in the superintendent’s office at park headquarters in Death Valley, we had come at last upon the solution of the mystery involved in his disappearance. A solution, however, which left us entangled in a still deeper mystery. The man had been murdered; his recovered body, stolen
