calculated, carried out with relentless precision. Four Wednesdays,
four floral threats!"

"Threats?" says Mr. Ellins, sittin' up prompt.

"You failed to read them," says the Doc. "That is what comes of
neglecting minor details. But fortunately I came in time to decipher
this one. Observe the fateful number,--thirteen. Note the colors
here,--brown, golden, pink. The pink of the mallow means youth, the
goldenrod stands for hoarded wealth, the brown for age. And all are
bound together by wire grass, which is the tightening snare. A
menacing missive! There will come another on Wednesday next."

"Think so?" says Old Hickory.

"I am positive," says the Doc. "One more. We will allude to it for
the present, if you choose, as the fifth bouquet. And this fifth token
will be red, blood red! Mr. Ellins, you are a marked man!"

"The blazes you say!" snorts Old Hickory. "Well, it won't be the first
time. Who's after me now, though?"

"Five desperate men," says the Doc, countin' 'em off on his fingers.
"Four have given evidence of their subtle daring. The fifth is yet to
appear. He will come on Wednesday next, and then--he will find that
his coming has been anticipated. I shall be here in person. Now, let
me see--there is a room connecting with this? Ah, very well. Have
three policemen in readiness there. I think it can be arranged so that
our man will walk in among them of his own accord. That is all. Give
yourself no uneasiness, Mr. Ellins. For a week you will be