ront yard, the--"

"Last I saw of him he was beating it down the street about two hours
ago, and you were giving him the run of his life. I don't believe the
rascal will ever dare come around here again. The chances are he's still
running."

The Marshal muttered something under his breath, and shot a pleading
look at Harry.

"Yes, sir," continued Harry solemnly, "I'll bet my head he'll never be
seen in these parts again."

"If he hadn't got such a start of me," said Anderson, regaining much of
his aplomb, "I'd 'a nabbed him, sure as you're alive. He could run like
a whitehead. I never seen such--"

"Shall we go upstairs, gentlemen, and relieve the pressure on Miss
Hildebrand? She is, I may say, the principal mourner, poor lady."

"Miss Who?"

"Gentlemen, the lady up there is no other than the celebrated actress,
Juliet Hildebrand. The Veiled Lady and she are one and the same. Before
we retire from this spot, let me explain that Mr. Snooks, the deceased,
was run over by her automobile an hour or so ago. His back was broken. I
merely put an end to his suffering. Now come--"

"Mister Snooks?" inquired Anderson quickly. "Well, that solves one of
the mysteries that's been botherin' me. An'--an' you say she's the big
actress whose picture we see in the papers every now an' again?"

"The same, Mr. Crow. She has done me the honour to accept a play that I
have been guilty of writing. She came up here to go over it with me
before putting it into rehearsal, and incidentally to enjoy a month's
vacation after a long and prosperous season in New York."

"Do you mean to say you've knowed all along who she was?" demanded
Anderson. "Been comin' up here to see her every night or so, I suppose."

"More or less."

"That settles it!" said the Marshal sternly. "You are under arrest, sir.
Have you got anybody to bail you out, er are you goin' to spend the
night in the lock-up?"

"What's the charge, Mr. Hawkshaw?" inquired Harry, amiably.

"Practisin' without a dicense."

"Practising what?" asked Harry.

"Jokes!" roared Anderson gleefully, and slapped him on the back.

* * * * *

Again the Marshal slapped the culprit's back. "Yes, sir, the joke's on
me. I admit it. I'll set up the seegars for everybody here. Sim, send a
box of them 'Uncle Tom' specials round to my office first thing in the
mornin'. Yes, sir, Harry, my boy, you certainly caught me nappin' good
and plenty. Tain't often I git-