Then Oakes stooped forward and said loudly enough for us all to hear, but right in the negro's ear: "Boy, you ran because you have a scar on your left arm!"
We were on our feet in an instant.
"The murderer," we cried.
The negro made a frantic effort to rise, but the arm closed on his neck and Oakes's right hand came down on his right wrist.
Joe's left hand went to the arm at his neck, but he was powerless.
In a voice as firm as a rock, clear and emotionless, Oakes cried out: "Don't move, boy! Don't try to run."
And then he said to us: "This boy is not the murderer; he is only a scared, unfortunate negro, and I will prove it."
The meaning of the words came to the boy gradually, and he became limp in the chair. Oakes relaxed his hold.
"Now, boy, if you try to run, we will bore you," and Chief Hallen drew his revolver and put it before him on the table.
"Now, Joe, show us your arm!" commanded Oakes.