That's mightily careless
of you, ain't it?"
Instinctively a shaking hand clutched at the kerchief. "It don't
cut any ice because a hold-up wears a mask made out of stuff like
this "
"Did I say it was a mask he wore?" the gentle voice quizzed.
Scott, beads of perspiration on his forehead, collapsed as to his
defense. He fell back sullenly to his first position: "You can't
prove anything."
"Can't I?" The sheriff's smile went out like a snuffed candle.
Eyes and mouth were cold and hard as chiseled marble. He leaned
forward far across the table, a confident, dominating assurance
painted on his face. "Can't I? Don't you bank on that. I can
prove all I need to, and your friends will prove the rest.
They'll be falling all over themselves to tell what they
know--and Mr.Dailey will be holding the sack again, while Leroy
and the rest are slipping out."
The outlaw sprang to his feet, white to the lips.
"It's a damned lie. Leroy would never--" He stopped, again just
in time to bite back the confession hovering on his lips. But he
had told what Collins wanted to know.
The curtain parted, and a figure darkened the doorway--a slender,
lithe figure that moved on springs.
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