which is the tightening snare. A
menacing missive! There will come another on Wednesday next."

"Think so?" says Old Hickory.

"I am positive," says the Doc. "One more. We will allude to it for
the present, if you choose, as the fifth bouquet. And this fifth token
will be red, blood red! Mr. Ellins, you are a marked man!"

"The blazes you say!" snorts Old Hickory. "Well, it won't be the first
time. Who's after me now, though?"

"Five desperate men," says the Doc, countin' 'em off on his fingers.
"Four have given evidence of their subtle daring. The fifth is yet to
appear. He will come on Wednesday next, and then--he will find that
his coming has been anticipated. I shall be here in person. Now, let
me see--there is a room connecting with this? Ah, very well. Have
three policemen in readiness there. I think it can be arranged so that
our man will walk in among them of his own accord. That is all. Give
yourself no uneasiness, Mr. Ellins. For a week you will be
undisturbed. Until then, Sir, au revoir."

With that he bows dignified and motions Piddie to lead the way out. I
slides out too, leavin' Old Hickory sittin' there starin' sort of
puzzled and worried at the wall. And, honest, whether you took any
stock in the Doc's yellow forecast or not, it listens kind of creepy.
Course, with him usin' all that highbrow language, I couldn't exactly
follow how he gets to it; but there's no denyin' that it sounds mighty
convincin'.

And yet--well, I can't say just what there was about Bingstetter that
got me leery; but somehow he reminds me of a street faker or a museum
lecturer. And it does seem sort of fishy that, just by gazin' at a
bunch of flowers, he could dope out all this wild tale about five
desp'rate men. Still, there was no gettin' away from the fact that he
had hit it right about the bouquets appearin' reg'lar every Wednesday.
That must mean something. But why Wednesdays? Now, what was there
that happens on Wednesday that don't----

Say, you know how you'll get a fool hunch sometimes, that'll seem such
a nutty proposition first off that you'll almost laugh at yourself for
havin' it; and yet how it'll rattle around in your bean persistent,
until you quit tryin' to get rid of it? Well, this one of mine strikes
me about as I'm snugglin' down into the hay that night, and there was
no gettin' away from it for hours.

I expect I did tear off a few chunks of slumber between times; but I
was wi