d aquiline,
the bristling mustache and white imperial, the soft gray slouch hat, or
the military cloak that half concealed the stalwart form of its wearer.

Colonel George Harbison, much astonished and in utter ignorance of the
cause of Mr. Shrimplin's alarm, took that gentleman by the collar and
deftly jerked him into an erect posture.

"My dear sir!" the colonel began in a tone of mild expostulation,
evidently thinking he had a drunken man to deal with. "My dear sir, do
be more careful--" then he recognized the lamplighter. "Well, upon my
word, Shrimp, what's gone wrong with you?" he demanded, with military
asperity.

"My God, Colonel, if he ain't lying there dead--" a shudder passed
through the little man; he was well-nigh dumb in his terror. "And I
stumbled right on to him there on the floor!" he cried with a gasp.

He collapsed again, and again the colonel, whose gloved hand still
retained its hold on his collar, set him on his trembling legs with
admirable expertness.

"I tell you he's dead!" cried Mr. Shrimplin, lost to everything but that
one dreadful fact.

"Who's dead?" demanded the colonel. "Stand up, man, don't fall about
like that or you may do yourself some injury!" for Mr. Shrimplin seemed
about to collapse once more.

"Old man McBride, Colonel--if he ain't dead I wish I may never see
death!"

"Dead!" cried the colonel. "Archibald McBride dead!" He released his
hold on Mr. Shrimplin and took a step toward the door; Shrimplin,
however, detained him with a shaking hand, though he was calmer now.

"Colonel, you'd better be careful, he's lying there in a pool of blood;
some one's killed him for his money! How do we know the murderer ain't
there!" This conjecture was made to the empty street, for Colonel
Harbison had entered the store.

"Why does he want to leave me like that!" wailed Shrimplin, and his
panic threatened a return.

He dragged himself to the door. Here he paused, since he could not bring
himself to enter, for before his eyes was the ghastly vision of that old
man huddled on the blood-stained floor. He heard the colonel's steps
echo down the long room, and when their sound ceased he knew he was
standing beside the dead man. After what seemed an age of waiting the
steps sounded again, and a moment later the colonel's tall form filled
the doorway.

"Andy!" said the colonel.

Mr. Shrimplin turned with a start. At his back within reach of his hand
stood Andy Gilmore. He had been utt