ell out of you if you
don't. Talk English--like this: 'Throw up your 'ands!' 'Ear me?"

Anita swerved swiftly and went to her feet. Harry looked up at her
wildly, his mustache bristling like the spines of a porcupine.

"Did you 'ear 'im sye it?" he asked. "No? Sye it again!"

"Throw up your 'ands!" came the answer of the beaten man on the ground.
Anita ran forward.

"It's a good deal like it," she answered. "But the tone was higher."

"Raise your tone!" commanded Harry, while Fairchild, finishing his job
of tying his defeated opponent, rose, staring in wonderment. Then the
answer came:

"That's it--that's it. It sounded just like it!"

And Fairchild remembered too,--the English accent of the highwayman on
the night of the Old Times Dance. Harry seemed to bounce on the
prostrate form of his ancient enemy.

"Bill," he shouted, "I 've got you on your back. And I 've got a right
to kill you. 'Onest I 'ave. And I 'll do it too--unless you start
talking. I might as well kill you as not.--It's a penitentiary offense
to 'it a man underground unless there 's a good reason. So I 'm ready
to go the 'ole route. So tell it--tell it and be quick about it. Tell
it--was n't you him?"

"Him--who?" the voice was weak, frightened.

"You know 'oo--the night of the Old Times dance! Didn't you pull that
'old-up?"

There was a long silence. Finally:

"Where's Rodaine?"

"In Center City." It was Anita who spoke. "He 's getting ready to run
away and leave you two to stand the brunt of all this trouble."

Again a silence. And again Harry's voice:

"Tell it. Was n't you the man?"

Once more a long wait. Finally:

"What do I get out of it?"

Fairchild moved to the man's side.

"My promise and my partner's promise that if you tell the whole truth,
we 'll do what we can to get you leniency. And you might as well do
it; there 's little chance of you getting away otherwise. As soon as
we can get to the sheriff's office, we 'll have Rodaine under arrest,
anyway. And I don't think that he 's going to hurt himself to help
you. So tell the truth; weren't you the man who held up the Old Times
dance?"

Taylor Bill's breath traveled slowly past his bruised lips.

"Rodaine gave me a hundred dollars to pull it," came finally.

"And you stole the horse and everything--"

"And cached the stuff by the Blue Poppy, so 's I 'd get the blame?"
Harry wiggled his mustache fiercely. "Tell it or I 'll pound your '