“Nor I!” “Nor I!” cried several. “Oh, there can’t anything escape him—look at his eye!”
“Gentlemen, distant as the murderer was from his doomed victim, he did not wholly escape injury. This fragment of wood which I now exhibit to you struck him. It drew blood. Wherever he is, he bears the telltale mark. I picked it up where he stood when he fired the fatal train.” He looked out over the house from his high perch, and his countenance began to darken; he slowly raised his hand, and pointed—
“There stands the assassin!”
For a moment the house was paralyzed with amazement; then twenty voices burst out with:
“Sammy Hillyer? Oh, hell, no! Him? It’s pure foolishness!”
“Take care, gentlemen—be not hasty. Observe—he has the blood-mark on his brow.”
Hillyer turned white with fright. He was near to crying. He turned this way and that, appealing to every face for help and sympathy; and held out his supplicating hands toward Holmes and began to plead,
“Don’t, oh, don’t! I never did it; I give my word I never did it. The way I got this hurt on my forehead was—”
“Arrest him, constable!” cried Holmes. “I will swear out the warrant.”
The constable moved reluctantly forward—hesitated—stopped.