The Cross-Cut Part 40

"Had n't we better--?"

But a noise from without cut off the conversation. Stamping feet sounded on the steps, the k.n.o.b turned, and Sheriff Bardwell, snow-white, entered, shaking himself like a great dog, as he sought to rid himself of the effects of the blizzard.

"h.e.l.lo, Mason," came curtly.

"h.e.l.lo, Bardwell, what 'd you find?"

The sheriff of Clear Creek county glanced toward Anita Richmond and was silent. The girl leaped to her feet.

"Don't be afraid to talk on my account," she begged. "Where's Harry?

Is he all right? Did he come back with you?"

"Yes--he's back."

"And you found Maurice?"

Bardwell was silent again, biting at the end of his mustache. Then he squared himself.

"No matter how much a person dislikes another one--it's, it's--always a shock," came at last. Anita came closer.

"You mean that he 's dead?"

The sheriff nodded, and Fairchild came suddenly to his feet. Anita's face had grown suddenly old,--the oldness that precedes the youth of great relief.

"I 'm sorry--for any one who must die," came finally. "But perhaps--perhaps it was better. Where was he?"

"About a mile out. He must have rushed his horse too hard. The sweat was frozen all over it--n.o.body can push a beast like that through these drifts and keep it alive."

"He did n't know much about riding."

"I should say not. Did n't know much of anything when we got to him.

He was just about gone--tried to stagger to his feet when we came up, but could n't make it. Kind of acted like he 'd lost his senses through fear or exposure or something. Asked me who I was, and I said Bardwell. Seemed to be tickled to hear my name--but he called it Barnham. Then he got up on his hands and knees and clutched at me and asked me if I 'd drawn out all the money and had it safe. Just to humor him, I said I had. He tried to say something after that, but it was n't much use. The first thing we knew he 'd pa.s.sed out. That's where Harry is now--took him over to the mortuary. There isn't anybody named Barnham, is there?"

"Barnham?" The name had awakened recollections for Fairchild; "why he's the fellow that--"

But Anita cut in.

"He 's a lawyer in Denver. They 've been sending all the income from stock sales to him for deposit. If Maurice asked if he 'd gotten the money out, it must mean that they meant to run with all the proceeds.

We 'll have to telephone Denver."

"Providing the line's working." Bardwell stared at the other sheriff.

"Is it?"

"Yes--to Denver."

"Then let's get headquarters in a hurry. You know Captain Lee, don't you? You do the talking. Tell him to get hold of this fellow Barnham and pinch him, and then send him up to Ohadi in care of Pete Carr or some other good officer. We 've got a lot of things to say to him."

The message went through. Then the two sheriffs rose and looked at their revolvers.

"Now for the tough one." Bardwell made the remark, and Mason smiled grimly. Fairchild rose and went to them.

"May I go along?"

"Yes, but not the girl. Not this time."

Anita did not demur. She moved to the big rocker beside the old base burner and curled up in it. Fairchild walked to her side.

"You won't run away," he begged.

"I? Why?"

"Oh--I don't know. It--it just seems too good to be true!"

She laughed and pulled her cap from her head, allowing her wavy, brown hair to fall about her shoulders, and over her face. Through it she smiled up at him, and there was something in that smile which made Fairchild's heart beat faster than ever.

"I 'll be right here," she answered, and with that a.s.surance, he followed the other two men out into the night.

Far down the street, where the rather bleak outlines of the hotel showed bleaker than ever in the frigid night, a light was gleaming in a second-story window. Mason turned to his fellow sheriff.

"He usually stays there. That must be him--waiting for the kid."

"Then we 'd better hurry--before somebody springs the news."

The three entered, to pa.s.s the drowsy night clerk, examine the register and to find that their conjecture had been correct. Tiptoeing, they went to the door and knocked. A high-pitched voice came from within.

"That you, Maurice?"

Fairchild answered in the best imitation he could give.

"Yes. I 've got Anita with me."

Steps, then the door opened. For just a second, Squint Rodaine stared at them in ghastly, sickly fas.h.i.+on. Then he moved back into the room, still facing them.

"What's the idea of this?" came his forced query. Fairchild stepped forward.

"Simply to tell you that everything 's blown up as far as you 're concerned, Mr. Rodaine."

"You needn't be so dramatic about it. You act like I 'd committed a murder! What 've I done that you should--?"

"Just a minute. I would n't try to act innocent. For one thing, I happened to be in the same house with you one night when you showed Crazy Laura, your wife, how to make people immortal. And we 'll probably learn a few more things about your character when we 've gotten back there and interviewed--"

He stopped his accusations to leap forward, clutching wildly. But in vain. With a lunge, Squint Rodaine had turned, then, springing high from the floor, had seemed to double in the air as he crashed through the big pane of the window and out to the twenty-foot plunge which awaited him.

Blocked by the form of Fairchild, the two sheriffs sought in vain to use the guns which they had drawn from their holsters. Hurriedly they gained the window, but already the form of Rodaine had unrolled itself from the snow bank into which it had fallen, dived beneath the protection of the low coping which ran above the first-floor windows of the hotel, skirted the building in safety and whirled into the alley that lay beyond. Squint Rodaine was gone. Frantically, Fairchild turned for the door, but a big hand stopped him.

"Let him go--let him think he 's gotten away," said grizzled Sheriff Mason. "He ain't got a chance. There 's snow everywhere--and we can trail him like a hound dawg trailing a rabbit. And I think I know where he 's bound for. Whatever that was you said about Crazy Laura hit awful close to home. It ain't going to be hard to find that rattler!"