"Come in," Darrel shouted, as he let the handkerchief fall upon his face again.
The district attorney, a constable, and the bank clerk, who had been injured the night of the robbery, came in.
"He is not guilty," said Trove, rising quickly.
"I command ye, boy, be silent," said Darrel, sternly.
"Have ye ever seen that hand," he added, approaching the clerk, and pointing at a red mark as large as a dime on the back of his left hand.
"Yes," the clerk answered with surprise, looking from hand to handkerchief. Then, turning to the lawyer, he added, "This is the man."
"Now," Darrel continued, rolling up his sleeve, "I'll show where thy bullet struck me in the left arm. See, there it seared the flesh!"
They saw a star, quite an inch long, midway from hand to elbow,
"Do you mean to say that you are guilty of this crime?" the attorney asked.
"I am guilty and ready for punishment," Darrel answered. "Now, discharge the boy."