"You _ought_ to have a gun," he said in a puzzled voice. "I loaned it last winter to Milt Cupples, an' he--" "Who the devil are you?" "I'm the marshal of Tinkletown, an' my name is Crow--A. Crow. I made a mistake, takin' up this case. Go on in and see Mrs. Loop if you feel like it. I won't say a word to anybody--" "Get down on your knees, Mr. Crow, here beside me, an'--" "Oh, Lordy, Lordy! You shorely ain't going to shoot, Mister!" "I don't want you to pray. I want you to keep still. Don't make a sound--do you hear?" "I've got a wife an' children--" "Shut up! Look! She's put out the light. Keep your eyes skinned, old man! He must be near. Don't make a sound. My partner's in that rain-barrel at the corner of the house. If we can get him between us, he won't have any more chance than a snowball in--Look! There he is, sneaking across the yard! By golly, we've got him at last." What happened in the next fifteen seconds was a revelation to the most recent addition to the forces of the International Society of Sleuths. He witnessed the quick, businesslike methods of two of the craftiest men in the craftiest organization in the world--the United States Secret Service. Two words were spoken. They came, loud and imperative, from a point near the house. "Hands up!" The skulking figure in the yard stopped short, but only for a fraction of a second. Then he made a wild spring toward the front gate. A shot rang out. The man at Anderson's side leaped forward through the hedge. Mr. Crow was dimly conscious of a mishap to his erstwhile captor. He heard him curse as he went sprawling over a treacherous vine. Mr. Crow did not waste a second's time. He leaped to his feet and started pellmell for home. With rare sagacity he avoided the highway and laid his course well inside the hedgerow. He knew where he could strike an open stretch of meadowland, and he headed for it through the brambles. He heard shouts behind him, and the rush of feet. If he could only get clear of the cussed bushes! That was his thought as he plunged along. Down he went with a crash! * * * * * As the marshal tried to rise, a huge object ploughed through the hedge beside him, and the next instant he was knocked flat and breathless by the impact of this hurtling body. The next instant two swift, ruthless figures came plunging through the hedge, and he found himself embroiled in a seething mix-up of panting, struggling men. Presently Crow sat up. The steady glare of a "dark-lantern" revealed a picture he was never to forget. A single figure in a kneeling position, hands on high, was crying: "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" Over him stood two men with pistols levelled at the white, terrified face. [Illustration: _Over him stood two men with pistols levelled at the white, terrified face_]