"He leaped from behind that tree to this one over here. It must be thirty feet. How perfectly amazing!"
By this time the good Marshal was noticeably impressed. There was no denying the fact that his voice shook.
"Now who's lying?" he cried out.
She took no offence. Instead she pointed down the dark sidewalk. It seemed to him that her arm was six feet long. He was fascinated by it.
"Now he is climbing up the tree—just like a squirrel. Look!"
Anderson felt the cold perspiration starting out all over his body.
"I—I swear I can't see anybody at all," the Marshal croaked weakly.
"Run over to that tree and look up, Mr. Crow," she whispered in great agitation. "He is sitting on that big limb, looking at us—his eyes are like little balls of fire. Send him away, please."
Haltingly the Marshal edged his way toward the tree. Coming to its base, he peered upward. He saw nothing that resembled a human figure.
"Be careful!" called out the Veiled Lady. "He is about to swing down upon your head. Hurry! There! Didn't you feel that?"