"Snap's killin' mad," he concluded. "Reckon when he heard o' this he started to fetch the boys, an' them four jaspers held him up an' are ridin' herd on him. Bart don't want no interference."
Lounging in a chair by the side of the Judge, with Martin, and several of his men, Bartholomew could not keep the gloating satisfaction out of his eyes. Nevertheless, from time to time he glanced expectantly at the door, and the prisoner smiled grimly --Bartholomew was wondering what had become of his foreman. A rap on the judge's table stopped the humofconversation.
"Well, sheriff, what is the charge against the prisoner?" Lufton asked.
Tyler rose, puffing out his chest in a hopeless attempt to appear dignified. The sheriff was very satisfied with himself. "There's a right smart o' charges, Judge," he stated. "Attemptin' to kill Mister Martin here, robbin' the bank an' shootin' the manager, murderin' Philip Masters, breakin' gaol--"
"Well, well, I reckon that'll do to go on with," Lufton interrupted. "We'll take the bank robbery and the murder. If he's guiltyofthem we can let him off the rest."
The bitter witticism sent a rippleofmerriment round the room, and the makerofit permitted himself a thin-lipped smile. "The court will deal with the robbery first," he decided. "Call your evidence, sheriff."
Rapson, the banker, stepped forward and gave his accountofthe raid. Questioned by the Judge, he admitted that the robbers' faces were so hidden that he could not see them, but in clothes, height and build the man who shot at him might have been the accused. Further, Severn had drawn out his money just before the robbery took place, and the notes handed to him did not include those he was trying to cash when arrested, which were partofthe plunder. Lufton looked severely at the prisoner.
"You want to put any questions?" he asked.
Severn stood up. "Shore," he said, and turned to the witness. "Yu certain the man who downed yu was not smaller than me?"
"Quite," returned the banker. "Looking at you now I have an impression he was even bigger."
Severn nodded. "So that, as yu couldn't see his face, it might 'a' been any fella as big as me, or a bit bigger." His eyes roamed round the room. "Mister Bartholomew, for example?"
The witness protested volubly. The suggestion was absurd. Mr. Bartholomew had been most kind, and he had five thousand dollars deposited in the bank.
"Which he wouldn't lose if he robbed yu," Severn pointedout. "An' if I was goin' to, why should I trouble to draw my money?"
"Why did you?" asked the Judge.
The foreman explained, handing up the warning he had received. Lufton glanced at it superciliously and passed it to the jury. They scanned it in turn, and then one of them remarked sourly :
"Yu kept this mighty dark, didn't yu?"
Bent jumped up. "Severn showed it to me an' Ridge of the XT," he volunteered. "We didn't know what was back of it any more than he did, but we both drawed our balances out. Anybody think we done the robbery?"
"Nobody's suggesting that anyone but the accused did the stealing, sir," remarked the Judge.
Though this pompous remark may have impressed someofthe audience, it only drew an impudent grin from the prisoner. "That's where yo're wrong, Judge," he said. "I'm suggestin' that the rnan sittin' beside yu, Bartholomew, oughta be standin' here instead o' me, an' I've got evidence to prove it."
A shuffling of feet and craningofnecks proclaimed the sensation this statement evoked. In response to a nod from Severn, the saloon-keeper handed to him the book and notes taken from the Bar B ranch. Bartholomew answered the accusation with a scornful laugh.
"Trot out yore proof," he cried.
Severn held up the account book. "That yores?" he asked.
The rancher stared surprisedly. "I reckon it is, though howyu--"
"The writin' in it would be yores, too?"
"O' course. What's that gotta do with it?"
"I'm tellin' yu. When the White Masks run off one o' my outfit, they left a notice behind sayin' what I had to do to get him back. Here's the notice, an' it's written on a page taken outa that book, as yu can see by the number on it, an' the handwritin' is the same."
There was hardly a sound in the room as he passed the book and the paper up to the Judge, who examined them and looked inquiringly at Bartholomew. The rancher, who had been doing some quick thinking, had his reply ready.
"I missed that book 'bout a month or so ago," he began. "I reckon it was stole by a fella named Darby who had a grudge against me, an' is now ridin' for the Lazy M. The writin' is a pretty good imitation o' mine."
"Which yu didn't recognise when I showed yu the notice at the time I brought Shadwell in," Severn reminded him. "Bah ! I scarcely looked at it," Bartholomew lied.
"As for the book bein' stole, that's correct; I took it from theBar B ranch-house last night--there's another charge for yu, sheriff," pursued the prisoner smilingly. "An' at the same time, in a locked drawer o' yore desk, Bartholomew, I found these. Rapson will tell us what they are."
He handed the rollofbills to the banker, who compared them winh a list he took from his pocket. "I paid these to the prisoner when he drew out his money," Rapson said.
Bartholomew and the Judge were whispering together. Then the latter looked at the prisoner.
"Well," he sneered. "What's your point?"
Severn saw that he was fighting a hopeless battle, but it was not in the man's nature to give in.
"It oughtn't to need explainin'," he said acidly. "That book an' the notice prove that Bartholomew is chief o' the White Masks. When they raided the Lazy M an' abducted Miss Masters, they took my bills an' substituted stolen ones to implicate me. I might as well add, Judge, that I broke outa gaol to get them things, an' T returned o' my own free will." A whimsical smile hovered on his lips. "I had to make a devilofa row to get back into gaol again."
Some of the spectators, remembering the sceneofthe morning, guffawed at the recollection. Bartholomew leant back in his chair and also laughed.
"Mighty smart, Severn," he said. "Yu oughta be writin' books, not stealin' 'em." He looked round the room. "Well, boys, yu better take an' string me up for collarin' my own coin."
The Judge, jury and a number of those present smiled widely at the joke, but there were some who looked dubious. Bartholomew evidently noticed this, for he directed a meaning glance at the jury, and immediately Muger, who was acting as foreman, spoke.
"See here, Judge," he said. "All this jaw ain't gettin' us nowhere. The jury don't want to hear no more about the robbery; this fella's found with the goods on him; it's an open an' shut case."
"If you have come to a decision on that charge, gentlemen, we can get on with the murder," Lufton said.
"Whose murder--mine?" asked Severn sarcastically. "It amounts to that, yu know, because the man who could prove I had nothin' to gain by Masters' death ain't here. I mean Judge Embley."
"He is under grave suspicionofbeing your accomplice," Lufton said severely. "And the fact that he is not to be found bears it out. He got you your present job?"
"It was through him I met Masters," Severn admitted.
"And soon after you go to the Lazy M, your employer disappears," the Judge went on. "How did you get the rifle he was known to have taken with him?"
If he had hoped the abrupt question would discompose the accused he was disappointed; Severn told a plain storyofthe slayingofIgnacio and the findingofthe weapon.