"What's the matter with you?" exclaimed Dick Cronk, jerking his arm
away.
"I want you, David Jenison, for murder in--"
There was a roar of laughter from the assembled crowd of performers.
"Come off!" grinned Dick Cronk. "You're off your base, you rube. Let
go my arm!"
"None of that now," said the detective. "I've got your picture here.
The jig's up, young feller. It's no--"
"My picture?" ejaculated Dick in surprise. "Let's have a look at it. I
never had my picture taken in my life."
The man held out a small solar print of a daguerreotype that David
Jenison sat for the year before at college. While the marshal, in some
trepidation, regained his grip on the prisoner's arm, the crowd of
performers looked at the picture with broad grins on their faces.
"Wash up, Jacky," said Grinaldi, stifling a laugh.
"Let the rubes see what you really look like," added Signor Anaconda.
Dick Cronk proceeded to scrub away the make-up. When he lifted his
face for inspection, the two officers glared at him in positive
consternation.
"I guess I'm not the guy you're after," said Dick coolly. "A blind man
could see that I don't look like that picture.
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