"The man must have air," he declared. "Your aid here." Looking up
his eyes met Clymer's, and the latter came swiftly into the cage,
followed by Rochester, and the deputy marshal slammed the door shut
behind them.

"Step out this way," he said, as Clymer aided the physician in
lifting the burglar, and he led them into the ante-room whence
prisoners were taken into the cage.

Stretching his burden on the floor, Stone tore open the man's shirt
and felt his heart, while Clymer, spying a water cooler, sped across
the room and returned immediately with a brimming glass.

"Here's water," he said, but Stone refused the proffered glass.

"No use," he announced. "The man is dead."

"Dead!" echoed the deputy marshal. "Well, I'll be - say, doctor,"
but Stone had darted out of the room, and he turned open-mouthed to
Clymer. "If it wasn't Doctor Stone I would say he was crazy," he
declared.

"Tut! Feel the man's heart and convince yourself," suggested
Clymer tartly, and the deputy marshal, dropping on one knee, did so.
Detecting no heart-beat, the officer passed his hand over the dead
man's unshaven chin and across his forehead, brushing back the
unkempt hair. Under his none too gentle touch the wig slipped
back, revealing to his astonished gaze a head of short cropped, red
hair.