"Do you mean to tell me there ain't been any man slew in this house?" he inquired slowly.
"Up to the hour of going to press," said the city editor of the Banner, "no human remains have been unearthed."
"Then, where in thunder is the feller who's been foolin' around Mrs. Smith's front yard, the—"
"Last I saw of him he was beating it down the street about two hours ago, and you were giving him the run of his life. I don't believe the rascal will ever dare come around here again. The chances are he's still running."
The Marshal muttered something under his breath, and shot a pleading look at Harry.
"Yes, sir," continued Harry solemnly, "I'll bet my head he'll never be seen in these parts again."
"If he hadn't got such a start of me," said Anderson, regaining much of his aplomb, "I'd 'a nabbed him, sure as you're alive. He could run like a whitehead. I never seen such—"
"Shall we go upstairs, gentlemen, and relieve the pressure on Miss Hildebrand? She is, I may say, the principal mourner, poor lady."
"Miss Who?"
"Gentlemen, the lady up there is no other than the celebrated actress, Juliet Hildebrand. The Veiled Lady and she are one and the same. Before we retire from this spot, let me explain that Mr. Snooks, the deceased, was run over by her automobile an hour or so ago. His back was broken. I merely put an end to his suffering. Now come—"