At the opposite end, upon Mother Earth's green carpet, was the stage, lighted dimly by means of subdued spot lights and a few auxiliary stars on high.
There was no scenery save that provided by Nature herself.

An orchestra of violins broke through the constant hum of eager voices.
Anderson Crow's heart was inside the charmed inclosure, but his person was elsewhere.

Simultaneously, with the beginning of the performance of "As You like It," he was in his own barn-loft confronting Andrew Gregory and the five bewhiskered assistants from New York City.

Gregory had met the detectives at the Inn and had guided them to the marshal's barn, where final instructions were to be given.

For half an hour the party discussed plans with Anderson Crow, speaking in low, mysterious tones that rang in the marshal's ears to his dying day.
"We've located those fellows," asserted Mr.Gregory firmly.