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It was disclosed that Ketchel, although he had hinted strongly he was retiring permanently from the ring though only 23 years of age, was secretly, through Mizner, arranging a match—which would have been worth a fortune—with popular Billy Papke. This disclosure led to conjectures that certain forces were out to block the champion's career.

Then suddenly the ranch cook, Daisy Johnson, came forward with some information that put a new twist in the mystery. The attractive blonde revealed that the farm hand who had vanished had been her ardent admirer and had berated her for being even pleasant to the champion, whose romantic reputation made him jealous. This man was known on the ranch as Hurd, but Daisy Johnson said his true name was Walter Dipley, an ex-sailor and adventurer. Questioned further, she said that on his arm he bore a singular tattoo acquired in Hong Kong. It was a romantic design featuring the name of his sweetheart ... "Daisy."

Shields swiftly had this information appended to the Dickerson posters. But as time went by the case remained as far from solution as it was when the ranch hands had found the dying champ. The elusive "gunman from St. Louis" evaporated. The mob from Broadway was grilled by experts, but nothing developed beyond the facts already known. The famous Wilson Mizner used all his ingenuity to dig up evidence.

It was to be a storm in the Ozarks that produced the key.

A man named Thomas Haggard, living alone in a modest cottage in the back country, was roused late one night by a knock at his door. A rain-drenched stranger, a rifle under his arm, stood on the porch appealing for shelter. Haggard took him in. The stranger was uncommunicative. As he sat before the fire, he removed his dripping shirt, exposing heavily tattooed arms. When Haggard showed his visitor to a bunk, he was puzzled and alarmed to note that the man slid the rifle under the blankets. Haggard waited until his visitor appeared to be asleep. Then he slipped out and raced to the cabin of his brother, a short distance through the woods. They discussed the peculiar actions of the wayfarer. Both brothers had seen the posters. They notified the sheriff.

A posse surrounded the cabin in the clearing. The arrest was without incident. The man with the rifle was sound asleep.

Sheriff Shields found a large amount of money on the suspect—much more than the man could account for. But of far greater significance was the discovery of a diamond stickpin in his purse. Then, through a check of serial numbers, it was established that the rifle he carried was the weapon Stanley Ketchel's brother sent from Michigan a few days before the champion died.

Walter Dipley admitted his identity and that he had harbored an overpowering rage at Ketchel, whom he believed a rival over the affections of Daisy. Evidence continued to mount to a point where there could be no question of what had happened—Dipley had ambushed the champion with his own gun, shot him, robbed him and fled.

The gambling conspiracy had played no part whatsoever in the murder, but had Sheriff Shields allowed himself to put all else aside in pursuing that "obvious" motive, the murder of Stanley Ketchel most likely never would have been solved.

Dipley was indicted and found guilty of first degree murder. He drew a sentence of life imprisonment in the Missouri State Penitentiary—for a knockout blow inspired by jealousy that ended the career of a world's champion.