He got up silently, stepped stealthily into the room, closing the door behind him. He tried to fasten it and discovered that the lock was broken. For some time he stood, wondering, and then, giving it up, he made his way cautiously around the room, searching for Braman's cot. He found that, too, empty, and he decided that some one had broken into the building during Braman's absence. Moving away from the cot, he stumbled against something soft and yielding, and his pistol flashed into his hand in sinister preparation, for he knew from the feel of the soft object that it was a body, and he suspected that it was Braman, stalking him. He thought that until he remembered the broken lock, on the door, and then the significance of it burst upon him. Whoever had broken the lock had fixed Braman. He knelt swiftly and ran his hands over the prone form, drawing back at last with the low ejaculation: "He's a goner!" He had no time or inclination to speculate over the manner of Braman's death, and made catlike progress toward the crevice in the partition. Reaching it, he dropped on his hands and knees and peered through. A wooden box on the other side of the partition intervened, but above it he could see the form of the deputy. The man was stretched out in a chair, sideways to the crevice in the wall, sleeping. A grin of huge satisfaction spread over Trevison's face. His movements were very deliberate and cautious. But in a quarter of an hour he had pulled the board out until an opening was made in the partition, and then propping the board back with a chair he reached through and slowly shoved the box on the other side back far enough to admit his body. Crawling through, he rose on the other side, crossed the floor carefully, kneeled at the drawer where Judge Lindman had concealed the record, pulled it out and stuck it in the waistband of his trousers, in front, his eyes glittering with exultation. Then he began to back toward the opening in the partition. At the instant he was preparing to stoop to crawl back into the bank building, the deputy in the chair yawned, stretched and opened his eyes, staring stupidly at him. There was no mistaking the dancing glitter in Trevison's eyes, no possible misinterpretation of his tense, throaty whisper: "One chirp and you're a dead one!" And the deputy stiffened in the chair, dumb with astonishment and terror. The deputy had not seen the opening in the partition, for it was partly hidden from his view by the box which Trevison had encountered in entering, and before the man had an opportunity to look toward the place, Trevison commanded him again, in a sharp, cold whisper: "Get up and turn your back to me--quick! Any noise and I'll plug you! Move!" The deputy obeyed. Then he received an order to walk to the door without looking back. He readied the door--halted. "Now open it and get out!"