He had looked up and met the steady eyes of the sheriff, and the surprise of it had driven the blood from his heart. A revolver thrust into his face could not have shaken him more than that serene smile. Collins took him by the arm with a jovial laugh meant to cover their retreat, and led him into one of the curtained alcove rooms. As they entered he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Leroy and Neil were still intent on their game. Not for a moment, not even while the barkeeper was answering their call for liquor, did the sheriff release Scotty from the rigor of his eyes, and when the attendant drew the curtain behind him the officer let his smile take on a new meaning. “What did I tell you, Scotty?” “Prove it,” defied Scotty. “Prove it—you can’t prove it.” “What can’t I prove?” “Why, that I was in that—” Scotty stopped abruptly, and watched the smile broaden on the strong face opposite him. His dull brain had come to his rescue none too soon. “Now, ain’t it funny how people’s thoughts get to running on the same thing? Last time I met up with you there you was collecting a hundred dollars and keep-the-change cents from me, and now here you are spending it. It’s ce’tinly curious how both of us are remembering that little seance in the Pullman car.” Scotty took refuge in a dogged silence. He was sweating fear. “Yes, sir. It comes up right vivid before me. There was you a-trainin’ your guns on me—” “I wasn’t,” broke in Scotty, falling into the trap. “That’s right. How come I to make such a mistake? Of cou’se you carried the sack and York Neil held the guns.” The man cursed quietly, and relapsed into silence. “Always buy your clothes in pairs?” The sheriff’s voice showed only a pleasant interest, but the outlaw’s frightened eyes were puzzled at this sudden turn. “Wearing a bandanna same color and pattern as you did the night of our jamboree on the Limited, I see. 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. Scotty, 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.