Old Byron’s eyes widened even more. “Ain’t no one working the Silver Tombstone...”
“We were prospecting it.”
“Yeah, but she don’t touch our mine.” The old watchman shook his head doggedly. “Gotta report this to the boss.”
“Mike Henderson? He’s in California.”
“Who says so?”
“You mean he’s back?”
“Talked to him less’n an hour ago.”
“Here?”
“What’s wrong about that? He lives here, don’t he?”
Johnny nodded. “All right, rouse him out.”
“Oh, he ain’t gone to bed yet.” Byron gestured with his head, then stepped aside smartly so neither Johnny nor Sam would be able to reach the shotgun.
Johnny and Sam exchanged glances, then started for a door that was apparently indicated. Johnny opened it and stepped out into the open air. He drew a deep breath. Awhile back he had given up hope of ever breathing fresh air again.
“Straight ahead,” ordered the watchman.
Chapter Seventeen
Johnny started down a flagged walk, turned a corner around a darkened building and saw straight ahead a neat-looking cottage, with lighted windows.
“Oh, Mr. Henderson!” the watchman called.
The door of the cottage opened, framing Mike Henderson, fully dressed, in the lighted doorway.
“What is it?” he called testily.
“Here’s a couple of fellas just come up from the mine. Claim they broke through from the Silver Tombstone...”
Johnny stepped into the light from the doorway and Mike Henderson suddenly recognized him.
“I’ll be a monkey’s uncle!”
“Me, too,” said Johnny.
“Byron,” said Mike Henderson, “stay out here.”
“Shore will, Mr. Henderson.” The old watchman patted the stock of the shotgun. “Yell if you want me.”
Henderson stepped out of the doorway. “Come in, boys. I think we ought to have a little talk — about things.”
“Why not? It’s only four-five a.m.”
Henderson chuckled. “They never get you down, do they?”
“I’ve been down,” Johnny said sagely. “But now that I’m up, nothing will ever get me down again.” He winked at Sam Cragg, who was more cheerful than he had been in days. They had come through a trying ordeal — and Johnny Fletcher was his old, chipper self. That was good enough for Sam.
Johnny and Sam walked into Mike Henderson’s cottage and Henderson followed and closed the door. Inside the living room he went to a table at which he had evidently been working and threw a newspaper over some papers and drawings.
“All right,” he said then. “Let’s have the story.”
“You won’t believe it,” said Johnny.
“I won’t believe what? Joe Cotter and Danny Sage were here last night. I didn’t believe them, but I’m willing to believe you... now.”
“What’d they tell you?”
“Let’s have your story first.”
Johnny crossed to a big Morris chair, dropped in it and stretched out his legs. “You tell me.”
“Now wait a minute,” said Henderson. “You came out of my mine — trespassing...”
“Well,” said Johnny, “you may have something there. Okay, I’ll tell you the story. Joe Cotter and Danny Sage made a deal.”
“What do you mean — a deal?”
“Why, the last time I saw both of them they were exchanging bullets...”
“When was that?”
“Around four yesterday afternoon.”
“They were shooting at each other? Where...?”
“Over at the Silver Tombstone. To make a long story short, Danny Sage drove Sam and me out to the mine. We’d hardly got there when Joe Cotter showed up...”
“Alone?”
Johnny hesitated. “No, he had someone with him.”
Henderson nodded in satisfaction. “All right, I was just wondering if you were going to tell me a story... As a matter of fact, Joe Cotter stopped here and picked up Helen.”
“But he didn’t bring her back.”
Mike Henderson picked up a celluloid draftsman’s rule and began toying with it. “What happened at the Silver Tombstone?”
“Nothing special. Joe Cotter and Danny began shooting at each other, that’s all. And Danny wanted to protect us, so he let us down into the mine. And forgot to pull us up again.”
“You and—” Henderson nodded toward Sam Cragg.
“And Helen Walker.”
“Helen Walker went down into the mine with you?”
“She’s there yet.”
“No, I’m not,” said the voice of Helen Walker.
Johnny Fletcher sprang to his feet and faced Helen Walker, coming out of a bedroom.
“Holy Mother!” breathed Sam Cragg.
Johnny stared at her. It was Helen Walker, all right; Helen Walker wearing pajamas and dressing gown and as fresh as though she’d just enjoyed a good night’s sleep.
Johnny seated himself and weariness flowed into his body.
“I quit,” he said.
Sam Cragg was breathing hoarsely and his eyes threatened to pop from his head. Then he suddenly began growling and moved uneasily toward the door.
Mike Henderson came toward Johnny Fletcher and stood over him, his feet wide apart.
“Now let’s have the real story.”
“You tell me,” Johnny said heavily. “You and...” he inclined his head toward her, “...Helen.”
“My story’s simple enough,” said Helen Walker. “I just walked over to the elevator shaft and rode up to the surface.”
Johnny groaned, “Oh, stop it!”
“That’s the truth.”
“...The elevator just happened to be there... and it just happened to go up when you stepped into it?”
“Not exactly. Danny Sage was on the elevator and Joe Cotter operated the winch.”
“I’ll believe that part,” Johnny said. “Danny and Joe got together. But you said you just walked over to the elevator shaft... Just like that!”
“It wasn’t hard, once I got my bearings. The map is quite accurate.”
Johnny sat up. “What map?”
“The map of the mine — the shafts and all that.”
“You had that map all the time?”
“In my purse. Along with a pencil flashlight.”
“Goddamit!” cried Sam Cragg. “Goddamit to hell.”
Johnny held up a chiding finger. “There’s a lady present, Sam... I think.” He turned back to Helen. “Of course you didn’t know you had the map — and the flashlight, when you were still with us...”
“Oh, I knew all the time that I had them.” Helen smiled pleasantly. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t stray away from you. I left you, deliberately.”
Johnny got up from the chair. Mike Henderson stepped forward and held out a hand.
“Sam!” Johnny said sharply.
Sam advanced upon Henderson. The latter backed away. “Byron!” he yelled at the top of his voice.
Heels clicked upon the macadam outside. “I’m comm’,” cried the voice of Old Byron, the watchman.
The door slammed open. By that time Sam Cragg was beside it. Byron charged in and Sam reached out and took the shotgun from him as easily as if it had been a toy and Byron a child. The old watchman cried out in chagrin.
Laura Henderson appeared from the bedroom. She too, was in negligee and wearing a dressing gown. “Do we have to have these scenes in the middle of the night?” she asked.
“This one’s over now,” Johnny replied. “You can go back to bed.”
“It isn’t over yet, Fletcher,” Mike Henderson said, darkly. “Maybe I can’t prevent your walking out of here, but where’re you going to go? The desert isn’t big enough to hide you and in the morning Joe Cotter will be on your trail. Joe Cotter and some of Danny Sage’s relatives. They can trail a tarantula across the desert. You’re a murderer and...”