"If they get any booze," he said, "they'll take us out of here and string us up.If you've got anything to say that would tend to convince them that you did not kill Paynter I advise you to call the guard and tell the truth, for if the mob gets us they might hang us first and listen afterward--a mob is not a nice thing.Beppo was an angel of mercy by comparison with one.""Could you convince them that you had no part in any of these crimes?" asked the boy."I know that you didn't; but could you prove it to a mob?""No," said Bridge."A mob is not open to reason.If they get us I shall hang, unless someone happens to think of the stake."The boy shuddered.
"Will you tell the truth?" asked the man.
"I will go with you," replied the boy, "and take what-ever you get."
"Why?" asked Bridge.
The youth flushed; but did not reply, for there came from without a sudden augmentation of the murmur-ings of the mob.Automobile horns screamed out upon the night.The two heard the chugging of motors, the sound of brakes and the greetings of new arrivals.The reinforcements had arrived from Oakdale.
A guard came to the grating of the cell door."The bunch from Oakdale has come," he said."If I was you I'd say my prayers.Old man Baggs is dead.No one never had no use for him while he was alive, but the whole county's het up now over his death.They're bound to get you, an' while I didn't count 'em all Iseen about a score o' ropes.They mean business."Bridge turned toward the boy."Tell the truth," he said."Tell this man."The youth shook his head."I have killed no one," said he."That is the truth.Neither have you; but if they are going to murder you they can murder me too, for you stuck to me when you didn't have to; and I am go-ing to stick to you, and there is some excuse for me be-cause I have a reason--the best reason in the world.""What is it?" asked Bridge.
The Oskaloosa Kid shook his head, and once more he flushed.
"Well," said the guard, with a shrug of his shoulders, "it's up to you guys.If you want to hang, why hang and be damned.We'll do the best we can 'cause it's our duty to protect you; but I guess at that hangin's too good fer you, an' we ain't a-goin' to get shot keepin' you from get-tin' it."
"Thanks," said Bridge.
The uproar in front of the jail had risen in volume until it was difficult for those within to make themselves heard without shouting.The Kid sat upon his bench and buried his face in his hands.Bridge rolled another smoke.
The sound of a shot came from the front room of the jail, immediately followed by a roar of rage from the mob and a deafening hammering upon the jail door.
A moment later this turned to the heavy booming of a battering ram and the splintering of wood.The frail structure quivered beneath the onslaught.
The prisoners could hear the voices of the guards and the jailer raised in an attempt to reason with the unreasoning mob, and then came a final crash and the stamping of many feet upon the floor of the outer room.
Burton's car drew up before the doorway of the Prim home in Oakdale.The great detective alighted and handed down the missing Abigail.Then be directed that the other prisoners be taken to the county jail.
Jonas Prim and his wife awaited Abigail's return in the spacious living room at the left of the reception hall.The banker was nervous.He paced to and fro the length of the room.Mrs.Prim fanned herself vigorously although the heat was far from excessive.They heard the motor draw up in front of the house; but they did not venture into the reception hall or out upon the porch, though for different reasons.Mrs.Prim because it would not have been PROPER; Jonas because he could not trust himself to meet his daughter, whom he had thought lost, in the presence of a possible crowd which might have accompanied her home.
They heard the closing of an automobile door and the sound of foot steps coming up the concrete walk.
The Prim butler was already waiting at the doorway with the doors swung wide to receive the prodigal daughter of the house of Prim.A slender figure with bowed head ascended the steps, guided and assisted by the detective.She did not look up at the expectant but-ler waiting for the greeting he was sure Abigail would have for him; but passed on into the reception hall.
"Your father and Mrs.Prim are in the living room,"announced the butler, stepping forward to draw aside the heavy hangings.
The girl, followed by Burton, entered the brightly lighted room.
"I am very glad, Mr.Prim," said the latter, "to be able to return Miss Prim to you so quickly and un-harmed."
The girl looked up into the face of Jonas Prim.The man voiced an exclamation of surprise and annoyance.
Mrs.Prim gasped and sank upon a sofa.The girl stood motionless, her eyes once again bent upon the floor.
"What's the matter?" asked Burton."What's wrong?""Everything is wrong, Mr.Burton," Jonas Prim's voice was crisp and cold."This is not my daughter."Burton looked his surprise and discomfiture.He turned upon the girl.
"What do you mean--" he started; but she interrupted him.
"You are going to ask what I mean by posing as Miss Prim," she said."I have never said that I was Miss Prim.
You took the word of an ignorant little farmer's boy and I did not deny it when I found that you intended bring-ing me to Mr.Prim, for I wanted to see him.I wanted to ask him to help me.I have never met him, or his daughter either; but my father and Mr.Prim have been friends for many years.
