"In that crowd," he returned slowly, "there was too much excitement already. These here saw me pick it up, and we talked about it—talked about it slow and cold. We didn't want to be mobbed ourselves, even by the cops; we didn't want to be taken for the murderer—you understand? So we closed in around this gun, y'see, and we kept it close, till now." He grinned sheepishly. "Besides," he added, "our savings has been lost in the Tri-State Trust, and we was kind o' waitin' for somethin' of this kind," he pointed to the advertised reward, "thinking maybe we could even up somehow, y'see."
"I see," returned the assistant, grimly. "I see that you had no right to wait an instant when you got this thing in your fist." He waved his hand. "Never mind that now, but tell me who did the killing. Did you know the man?"
The ten men shook their heads.
"We seen no man," one blurted out, "a hand—that's all I see."
"That's all we see," assented the spokesman, looking to his fellows for affirmance, "a hand and a shot. It was all so quick. We asked everybody; nobody seen anything—just a hand and a shot, that's all."
The assistant frowned.
"Do you suspect who did it?" he interrogated.
Blankly they shook their heads.
The d. a. d. a. shot out a forefinger.
"Tell me about that mass meeting of the savings depositors held the night before the murder?" he demanded, at a venture.