He managed to articulate the words:
"Doc Clancy—an old enemy to our family—sandy mustache—thumb missing from right hand!"
These were the last words Ralph Vincent ever spoke, for the next moment he fell back and his soul fled to its Maker.
What lay upon the bed now was a heap of senseless clay.
"Heaven save us! but this is awful!" groaned Ben, the servant. "Who committed this terrible crime, Master Van?"
"A man named Doc Clancy; that is what uncle stated with his dying breath. Do you know or have you ever heard of such a person, Ben?"
Van turned his gaze full upon the servant as he spoke, but one glance in old Ben's eyes told him plainly that he knew nothing whatever about the murderer.
"You had better go and rouse some of the neighbors, Ben," spoke up Van, after a pause. "I will wait here till you come back."
"Yes, sir," and old Ben was off like a shot.
In less than half an hour a dozen or more people were gathered at the scene of the tragedy.