The oblique reference to his origin, as always, infuriated the half-breed. "Damn yu, what have my private affairs to do with it?" he screamed. "Look here--"
But the object of his wrath was looking at Leeson, watching the fellow's stealthy attempt to draw his gun behind the back of another man. He waited until the weapon was out and then fired. Leeson's pistol bumped on the board floor, while its owner stared dazedly at his perforated wrist, the throbbing agony of which brought a stream of curses to his trembling lips. The gunman, blue smoke eddying round him, swept the room with a glance, and every man grew rigid under the menacing, cold eyes.
"Another trick like that an' yu take the long hop to hell, Raven," he warned.
"I didn't tell the fool to fire. Yo're takin' a high hand, but yore neck ain't outa the noose yet. We're four to one, I reckon, an' if it comes to a showdown--"
"This town'll need a nice new graveyard."
The saloon-keeper gave a gesture of impatience. "Yu've told us a lot we knew afore," he said. "What's yore point?"
"Just this, Raven," Green said meaningly. "Yu an' this fella I'll call Sudden the Second both had the same wrong description o' my hoss, an' every crime he committed around here has been to yore benefit."
"Then I oughta be mighty obliged to yu--Sudden," the saloon-keeper sneered.
There was laughter at this, but it was by no means general and Raven began to realize that he was losing ground. He stood up.
"All these hints an' suspicions don't prove anythin'," he said. "Yo're just ryin' to blind yore own trail. If Potter could on'y speak--"
"Potter won't ever speak again," interrupted a new voice, that of the little doctor, who had just come in.
Green turned quickly. "Shore o' that?" he asked.
"I think I know a corpse when I see one, seh," Pills returned stiffly. "Potter's as dead as Pharaoh."
"Sorry, doc, I warn't doubtin' yore ability, but it may make a difference," the late marshal smiled. "I'm hopin' yu'll do me a favour."
The medico, who was already busy bandaging Leeson's wound, looked up with a whimsical grin. "So long as you make work for me instead of the undertaker I can't very well refuse," he said.
The job finished, he listened to Green's whispered instructions, nodded his head, and went out.
CHAPTER XXVI
In the dance-hall men waited, wondering what new development the doctor's errand portended. Muttering voices, shuffling feet, and an occasional hoarse laugh accentuated the silence. Curious eyes travelled from one to the other of the principal actors. Raven, leaning back in his chair, lit a cigar and affected an air of derision. Actually, he was uneasy. He knew that Green's indictment had damaged him, that some of his supporters now had doubts, and, for all his hatred, cursed him for coming back.
He looked at Green, lounging easily against the wall, gun dangling from his right hand. Certainly he appeared the least concerned of any; but for all this seeming indifference he was on the alert--not a movement escaping him. He knew perfectly well that most of those present were still hostile, that in their eyes he was an outlaw; only the production of the real criminal would exonerate him, and he was taking no chances of another treacherous attempt to shoot him down. What secret the dead banker had left behind he did not know, but he was gambling that it referred to Raven. If it did not, he lost, and--
The return of the doctor stilled all tongues. Green took the envelope the little man handed to him and held it up.
"A while ago," he said, "Potter asked me to take charge o' this, makin' me promise that nobody should see or hear of it till the breath was out of his body. That's all I know about it. I'm askin' the doc. to open it."
Utter silence reigned as Pills tore off the outer cover, disclosing another. "It says, 'Not to be opened until I am dead,' and is signed and dated," he informed them. "Come here, Inky."
The bank-clerk, whose baptismal name of Binks had thus been corrupted, shuffled forward. "That's old Potter's fist shore 'miff," he pronounced. "An' that's his private seal."
Pills nodded his satisfaction. "Having proved the authenticity of the document, is it the wish of the meeting that I make known the contents?" he enquired.
Cries of "Let her rip, doc," and "Spill the beans," came from all parts of the room; curiosity had the men by the ears. Raven alone appeared not to share it, a sneer of indifference masking his real feelings. Carefully Pills split the second envelope, drew out a folded paper, and began to read:
" 'I, Lemuel Potter, write this statement in order that, should I die, the designs of a scoundrel may be frustrated. I have deposited it with Marshal Green, believing him to be an honest man.'"
Several of the audience laughed at this, and even Green himself could not repress a clipped smile. A sharp word from the doctor restored the quiet.
" 'Years ago I was head cashier in an Eastern city bank. Bitten with the get-rich-quick mania, I speculated and got into difficulties. To meet my losses I forged cheques--I was always clever with my pen--hoping, as many a poor fool has done, that the luck would change. I got deeper in the mire. When discovery became imminent I determined to rob the bank and fly. The night watchman caught me rifling the safe; I struck harder than I intended and--killed him. For many months I dodged from place to place, a hunted fugitive, and eventually I came to Lawless and began my life anew. I thought I had escaped punishment, but alas! it was only about to commence. An old news-sheet, containing an account of the crime and a portrait, put one man here in possession of my secret, and from that moment existence became a hell. This soulless devil forced me to participate in the crimes prompted by his lust for power. To commit these with impunity, he hit upon the idea of masquerading as a notorious outlaw and made me obtain a description of this fellow's horse. In the hope of tripping him I altered one detail. He did the deeds of violence attributed to Sudden, and shot Anthony Sarel. Secure in his knowledge that I dare not betray him, he boasted to me of his acts. His manner lately has been sinister, threatening, and I know that he will kill me when I have served my purpose. The mortgage on the Double S ranch is a forgery he compelled me to fabricate. The name of this fiend is Seth Raven, and may the curse of a wretch he has driven to despair follow him to hell--and after.
" 'Lemuel Potter.' "
A long, breathless pause followed as the doctor's voice died out, and all eyes turned to the man sitting on the platform. Hunched in his seat, Raven had listened to the terrible indictment with the face of a stone image, cold, impassive. Now he stood up and--laughed.
"Well, boys, afore yu string me up let me give yu a word of advice--never do another fella a good turn," he said, and his voice was easy, confident. "What yu've heard is a pretty good specimen o' gratitude--white man's gratitude--an Injun wouldn't V done it." He paused for a moment on the sneer. "I never knew Potter was a murderer, but when he come here he told me a hard luck story, an' feelin' sorry for him, I gave him a hand. Without it, he'd 'a' been--nothin'. Of late he's been puttin' on frills, dunno why, but I can guess." He looked meaningly at Green. "I had to call him down once or twice. He took it bad an' here's the result--that pack o' damn lies."
"Yu suggestin' Potter got hisself killed a-purpose to spite yu?" Renton asked sarcastically.
"No, Renton, I ain't," was the quiet reply. "Here's how I figure it: Potter an' Green put their heads together an' dope out that precious confession. Then, one fine night, Potter slides out with the bank funds. When he's clear away, the marshal produces this paper, which ruins me an' clears him. Later, they meet somewheres an' divvy up. It's a good scheme, but the banker overlooks a bet; he don't see that with him dead it's twice as safe an' profitable for his pardner. Think it over; why, it's 'money from home' for--Mister Sudden."