MAGISTRATE. It was well I had not gone home. I caught a few words here and there that roused my suspicions.
POLICEMAN. So they would, too.
MAGISTRATE. You heard the same story from everyone you asked?
POLICEMAN. The same story—or if it was not altogether the same, anyway it was no less than the first story.
MAGISTRATE. What is that man doing? He is sitting alone with a hayfork. He has a guilty look. The murder was done with a hayfork!
POLICEMAN (in a whisper). That's the very man they say did the act, Bartley Fallon himself!
MAGISTRATE. He must have found escape difficult—he is trying to brazen it out. A convict in the Andaman Islands tried the same game, but he could not escape my system! Stand aside—Don't go far—Have the handcuffs ready. (He walks up to BARTLEY, folds his arms, and stands before him.) Here, my man, do you know anything of John Smith?
BARTLEY. Of John Smith! Who is he, now?
POLICEMAN. Jack Smith, sir—Red Jack Smith!
MAGISTRATE (coming a step nearer and tapping him on the shoulder). Where is Jack Smith?