“Why I can’t say I’ve ever met an Evelyn Starks,” said the man, sporting a wry smile and checking his pocket watch. “I do hope she’s okay. Who would do such an awful thing?"

“I’m sure the good sheriff of this town will catch that wretched fellow,” continued the mustachioed man, winking and spinning around on one heel, revealing a stick of dynamite sticking out of his pants. “Well I’d better be off; I’ve got a train to catch!”

At press time, a man obscuring his face in a cloud of cigar smoke insisted he had nothing to do with the disappearance of several cloth bags with money signs on them.