you. Something
horrible has happened. I just stopped to tell Judy about it."

The marshal stopped, and gazed upon Alf with mild interest. He nodded
carelessly to Mrs. O'Ryan in the upstairs window, and addressed the
following significant remark to Alf:

"I guess I've got Jake's motive purty well established, Alf. You needn't
ask me what I've unearthed, because I won't tell you. It's a nice day,
ain't it, Judy?"

Before Mrs. O'Ryan could affirm or deny this polite bit of information,
Alf cried out:

"You don't mean to say you _know_ about it?"

"The rain yesterday and day before has brought your lilacs out splendid,
Judy," said Anderson, ignoring him.

"I was up to your house before eight o'clock, and your wife said you'd
gone out in the country to practise your new Decoration Day speech,
Anderson. How in thunder did you find out about Jake?"

Marshal Crow turned upon the speaker with some severity. "See here, Alf,
are you tryin' to act like Newt Spratt?"

That was a deadly insult to Alf.

"What do you mean?" he demanded hotly.

"Nothin'--except that Newt had the same kind of an idee in his head that
you seem to have got into yours. Next time you see Newt you tell him I
been laughin' myself almost sick over the way I fooled him,--the blamed
iggoramus." Having planted a seed that was intended to bear the fruit of
justification, the venerable marshal decided that now was the time to
prepare himself against anything further in the shape of surprise. So he
linked arms with Alf and started off down the street.

"Now, see here, Alf," he began, somewhat sternly. "I won't stand for any
beatin' about the bush from you. You got to tell me the whole truth an'
nothin' but the truth, and if your story hangs together and agrees with
what I've already worked out,--I'll see that you get fair treatment
and--"

Alf stopped short. "What in sassafras are you talkin' about? What
story?"

"Begin at the beginnin' and tell me where you was last night, and _early
this morning_, and where and when you last saw Jake Miller."

The marshal's manner was decidedly accusative, although tempered by
sadness. Something in his voice betrayed a great and illy concealed
regret that this life-long friend had got himself so seriously entangled
in the Jacob Miller affair.

"Where was I last night and this morning?" repeated the astonished Alf.

"Percisely," said Anderson, tightening his grip on Alf's arm.

"In bed," said Alf succinctly.