The Argosy, Vol. 90 No. 1 — page 59: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE MAN WHO MUST BE HANGED. ered him with a stick he took for a gun. But the tale was so thin McRae knew no jury would listen to it. Besides, the man was revolting! His appeal would give the prosecution no trouble. McRae spent his force on something that did not immediately concern the prosecu- tion; he wanted to know what defense could be made—in case he should be taken for Rawley Lord. So, the Sunday morning following Pinhead’s arrest, he quizzed the deputy sheriff who had been bound and gagged with the murdered Kahokia officer. This Westerner was a very laconic person, who might know more than he had told. On one cheek was a scar, still raw and wide open. ‘Where did you get that, Joe?” asked McRae, though he knew it had happened at Kahokia, the night of the jail-break. ‘“‘ Mex,” replied the former deputy. “Oh, it was a Mexican that cut you! . It must have been that Mexican who made a row and gave Schwartz the chance to break for liberty.” The former deputy nodded assent. “Schwartz said it was Rawley Lord who cut you,” remarked McRae, whose eyes had narrowed eagerly. “If he should be caught you’d be put on the stand again, Joe.” ; When Joe did not reply, the district at- torney resumed: “Well, you’re sheriff yourself, now. Do you think they'll ever get Lord?” ‘““Nope. Too much talking been done.” “Lord is better stuff than the others, don’t you think?” “Nope. Worse. Talks too much.” ‘““ Wait a moment,” urged McRae. “ You were in the jail that night. If Lord should be arrested, would you have anything to testify?” “ Yep—for defense.” “How sor” eagerly replied Lord. “ You don’t think he was in the conspiracy?” ‘““Nope. But I can’t prove it—bad egg, anyhow. ° Let him hang.” “You think you could clear him of be- ing in the conspiracy?” ‘Tf you wanted to let him go anyhow— maybe. Wha’s matter with you? Going to resign?” . 53 McRae started. ‘‘ Why sop” ‘““ And take his case? You seem to want him cleared.” McRae felt alarmed. It was not merely that the Kahokia officer should have per- ceived this bias of his. His conscience troubled him. If he could have been sure that the former deputy would clear him, he would have made powerful personal efforts to have Lord brought back, by way of atoning for his own fault in virtually help- ing him to escape. He went to church that morning—for he was a very religious man—and during the service waS most uneasy, feeling that he had done wrong that night at the Robert- son ranch. Those eyes, that voice, had somehow found their way to his soul, overcoming his conscience. It seemed to him now that he had come within a narrow margin of. being accessory after the fact. At times he felt that he ought to make a great effort to recapture Rawley Lord. Perhaps he should ask the county to offer a larger re- ward. District attorneys might do such things. He felt very uneasy in church. Of course if he ever had to face Rawley Lord in a court-room he would do his duty, though he had to call on a jury to hang him until he was dead. But if the bandit were never captured, would he, the district at- torney, not have defrauded the State? He worried about this till the organ be- gan a voluntary. They had a wonderful organist at that church; and McRae was easily swayed by music. It might be said he lived two lives; one of faithful, fine- spun, conscientious toil, the other of musi- cal passion. As he was coming out of church, a mes- senger who had been waiting on a wheel, gave him a note. McRae started. He knew Rawley Lord’s handwriting; he had a specimen at his office, with the portrait on the theater bill. The note read: I am now on my way to your office, where I wish to see you as soon as possible. I have a disguise for the street, and hope not to be arrested. As McRae finished reading, he heard chimes—mellow and exquisite bells—from oO comicbooks CO