"He said: 'It was the fellow—the man with the blue cross on his left arm.'" As Oakes spoke, his voice became metallic and incisive, while his quick eyes suddenly swept the audience.
There was a shuffling of feet, a turning of bodies, and a man of weak nerves cried out: "The blue cross on the left arm!"
The negro made a lunge forward, swung both arms into the room, and cried out: "Oh, Gawd! Oh, Gawd!" then dropped on the other side of the wall.
The Chief of Police stood up and pointed to the window.
"Catch that coon," he cried.
The tumult which followed was a relief, but the crowd lost sight of the negro. No one had ever seen him before, and he escaped—at least for the time being.
The jury brought in a verdict "that Mr. Mark came to his death at the hands of a party or parties unknown."
As Dr. Moore and I discussed matters later, we could but agree that the identity of Quintus Oakes had apparently been well hidden in that of Charles Clark, the agent, and that our first day in Mona had been a memorable one.