ntil I know he's given
himself away."

The convict was sent for. He substantiated the ranger reluctantly. He was
so hemmed in that he did not know how to play his cards so as to make the
most of them. He hated Fendrick. But much as he desired to convict him, he
could not escape an uneasy feeling that he was going to be made the
victim. For Cass took it with that sarcastic smile of his that mocked them
all in turn. The convict trusted none of them. Already he felt the
penitentiary walls closing on him. He was like a trapped coyote, ready to
snarl and bite at the first hand he could reach. Just now this happened to
belong to Fendrick, who had cheated him out of the money he had stolen and
had brought this upon him.

Cass heard him out with a lifted upper lip and his most somnolent
tiger-cat expression. After Blackwell had finished and been withdrawn from
circulation he rolled and lit a cigarette.

"By Mr. Blackwell's say-so I'm the goat. By the way, has it ever occurred
to you gentlemen that one can't be convicted on the testimony of a single
accomplice?" He asked it casually, his chair tipped back, smoke wreaths
drifting lazily ceilingward.

"We've got a little circumstantial evidence to add, Cass." Bucky suggested
pleasantly.

"Not enough--not nearly enough."

"That will be for a jury to decide," Cullison chipped in.

Fendrick shrugged. "I've a notion to let it go to that. But what's the
use? Understand this. I wasn't going to give Blackwell away, but since he
has talked, I may tell what I know. It's true enough what he says. I did
relieve him of the plunder."

"Sorry to hear that, Cass," Bucky commented gravely. "What did you do with
it?"

The sheep owner flicked his cigarette ash into the tray, and looked at the
lieutenant out of half-shuttered, indolent eyes. "Gave it to you, Bucky."

O'Connor sat up. His blue Irish eyes were dancing. "You're a cool
customer, Cass."

"Fact, just the same. Got that letter I handed you the other day?"

The officer produced it from his safe.

"Open it."

With a paper knife Bucky ripped the flap and took out a sheet of paper.

"There's something else in there," Fendrick suggested.

The something else proved to be a piece of paper folded tightly, which
being opened disclosed a key.

O'Connor read aloud the letter:

To Nicholas Bolt, Sheriff, Or Bucky O'connor, Lieutenant of Rangers:

Having come into possession of a little valise which is not mine, I
am gett