walk. They were actively disappointed when the Marshal emerged
empty-handed.

"Was he too much fer you?" was Alf's scathing inquiry.

"How many times have I got to tell you, Alf, that I'm able to deduce
these cases without your assistance? Now, this is a big case, and you
leave it to me to handle. When I get ready to act, you'll hear something
that will make your hair stand on end. Hold on, Newt! Don't ask any
questions. Don't----"

"I wasn't going to ask any questions," snapped Newt. "I was going to
tell you something."

"You was, eh? Well, what was you going to tell me?"

"Mort Fryback went by here a couple of minutes ago an' he says for you
to come into his store right away."

Anderson frowned. "I bet he's confessed."

"Who? Him? What's he got to confess?" demanded Alf.

"Never mind, never mind," said the Marshal quickly. "I'll step in and
see him now."

Leaving his "reserves" standing in front of the Grand View, Mr. Crow
hurried into Fryback's hardware store.

Mort was pacing--or, strictly speaking, stumping--back and forth behind
the cutlery counter. His brow was corrugated with anxiety. The instant
he saw the Marshal he uttered an exclamation that might have been
construed as either relief, dismay or wrath. It was, as a matter of
fact, inarticulate and therefore extremely difficult to classify.
Anderson, however, deduced it as dismay. Mr. Fryback came out from
behind the counter, stumped over to the stove, in which there was a
crackling fire and, after opening the isinglass door, squirted a
mouthful of tobacco juice upon the coals. Whereupon it became possible
for him to articulate.

"I been lookin' everywhere fer you," said he, somewhat breathlessly.
"Where you been?"

"'Tendin' to business," retorted Anderson. "What's the matter?"

Mr. Fryback took the precaution to ascertain that there were no
listeners in the store. "Somebody--some woman, you c'n bet on that--told
my wife last night that I poisoned old Mike."

"Well, you did, didn't you?"

"Of course I did. That is, I hired Charlie Brubaker to do it. But she
says I did it with my own hands, and--my gosh, Anderson, I never went
through such a night in my life as last night." He mopped his brow.
"You'd think I was a murderer. Course, I denied it. I swore he wasn't
dead, and that I'd increase the reward to a hundred dollars just to show
her. What I want you to do, right away, is to have a new set of bills
printed, offerin' a hundred dollars re