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“I don’t want to hear about that side of your wife’s relations, Eliphalet Loop,” interposed Anderson.

“Well,” said Eliphalet patiently, “I kinder figered I might ‘a’ been mistaken about seein’ him that first time, but when the same thing happened ag’in on the night I went over to set up with Jim Hooper’s corpse, why, I jest natcherly begin to think it was kinder funny. What set me thinkin’ harder’n ever was finding’ a man’s hat in my room, hangin’ on the back of a chair. Thinks I, that’s mighty funny–specially as the hat wasn’t mine.”

“What kind of a hat was it?” questioned Anderson, taking out his notebook and pencil. “Describe it carefully, Liff.”

“It was a grey fewdory,” said Mr. Loop.

“The one you been wearin’ to church lately?”

“Yes. I thought I might as well be wearin’ it, long as nobody claimed it,” explained the ingenuous husband of Anna. “It was a couple of sizes too big fer me, so I stuffed some paper inside the sweat-band. I allus hate to have a hat comin’ down on my ears, don’t you? Kinder spreads ’em out.”

“Well, the first thing we’ve got to do, Liff, is to find some one with a head two sizes bigger’n yours,” said Anderson, giving his whiskers a slow, speculative twist.

“That oughtn’t to be hard to do,” said Eliphalet without hesitation. “I wear a five an’ three-quarters. Most everybody I know wears a bigger hat than I do.”

“That makes it more difficult,” admitted Anderson. “Was it bought in Tinkletown or Boggs City?”

“It had a New York label stamped on the sweat-band.”

“Bring it down to my office, Liff, so’s I c’n examine it carefully. Now, when did you next see this man?”

“‘Bout two weeks after the second time–up in our cow-pasture. He was settin’ beside Anna on some rails back of the corn-crib, an’ he had his arm around her–or part way round, anyhow; she’s a turrible thick woman. Been fattenin’ up somethin’ awful in the last two years. I snook up an’ looked at ’em through the blackberry bushes, layin’ flat so’s they couldn’t see me.”

“Was that all you did?”

“What else could I do?” demanded Mr. Loop in some surprise.

“Why, you could have tackled him right then an’ there, couldn’t you?”

“Didn’t I tell you there was two of ’em?”

“Two men?”

“No. Him an’ Anna. You don’t suppose I could lick both of ’em, do you? I bet there ain’t a man in town–‘cept that blacksmith, Bill Kepsal–that c’n lick Anna single-handed. Besides, I ain’t half the man I used to be. I’m purty nigh eighty, Anderson. If I’d been four or five years younger, I’d ha’ showed him, you bet.”

“Umph!” was Mr. Crow’s comment. “How long did they set there?”

“I can’t just perzactly say. They was gone when I woke up!”

“When you what?”

“Woke up. It was gittin’ purty late, long past my bedtime, an’ I’d had a hard day’s work. I guess I muster fell asleep.”

“Was Mrs. Loop up when you got back home?”

“Yes, she was up.”

“What did you say to her?”

“I–I didn’t git a chance to say anything,” said Eliphalet mournfully. “All three of ’em was eatin’ breakfast, an’ I got the most awful tongue-lashin’ you ever heard. ‘Cused me of everything under the sun. I couldn’t eat a mouthful.”

“Served you right,” said Anderson sternly. “Well, did you ever see him ag’in?”

“I ain’t sayin’ as it was the same feller,” qualified Mr. Loop, “but last night I seen a man streakin’ through the potato-patch lickety-split some’eres round nine o’clock. He was carryin’ a bundle an’ was all stooped over. I yelled at him to stop er I’d fire. That seemed to make him run a little faster, so I took after him, an’ run smack into Anna comin’ round the corner of the hen-roost. Soon as I got my breath, I asked her what in tarnation she was doin’ out at that time o’ night.”

“Well, go on. What did she say?” demanded Anderson as Mr. Loop paused to wipe his forehead.