oolhouse grew larger as the morning passed Everybody
talked in whispers; everybody was mystified beyond belief. All eyes were
turned to Anderson Crow, who stood aloof, pondering as he had never
pondered before. In one hand he held Miss Banks's bloody handkerchief
and in the other a common school text-book on physiology. His badges
and stars fairly revelled in their own importance.

"Don't pester him with questions," warned Isaac Porter, addressing Alf
Reesling, the town drunkard, who had just arrived.

"But I got something I want to say to him," persisted Alf eagerly. Two
or three strong men restrained him.

"Thunderation, Alf," whispered Elon Jones, "cain't you see he's figurin'
something out? You're liable to throw him clear off the track if you say
a word to him."

"Well, this is something he'd oughter know," almost whimpered Alf,
rubbing his frozen ears.

"Sh!" muttered the bystanders, and poor Alf subsided. He was
unceremoniously hustled into the background as Mr. Crow moved from the
window toward the group.

"Gentlemen," said Anderson gravely, "there is somethin' wrong here." It
is barely possible that this was not news to the crowd, but with one
accord they collectively and severally exchanged looks of appreciation.
"I've been readin' up a bit on the human body, an' I've proved one thing
sure in my own mind."

"You bet you have, Anderson," said Elon Jones. "It's all settled. Let's
go home."

"Settled nothin'!" said the marshal. "It's jest begun. Here's what I
deduce: Miss Banks has been foully dealt with. Ain't this her blood, an'
ain't she used her own individual handkerchief to stop it up? It's
blood right square from her heart, gentlemen!"

"I don't see how--" began Ed Higgins; but Anderson silenced him with a
look.

"Of course _you_ don't, but you would if you'd 'a' been a detective as
long's I have. What in thunder do you s'pose I got these badges and
these medals fer? Fer _not_ seem' how? No, siree! I got 'em fer _seein_'
how; that's what!"

"But, Andy--"

"Don't call me 'Andy,'" commanded Mr. Crow.

"Well, then, Anderson, I'd like to know how the dickens she could use
her own handkerchief if she was stabbed to the heart," protested Ed. He
had been crying half the time. Anderson was stunned for the moment.

"Why--why--now, look here, Ed Higgins, I ain't got time to explain
things to a derned idgit like you. Everybody else understands _how_,
don't you?" and he turned to the crowd. Everybod