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He was clear-cut, dominant, inexorable. He levelled his pencil at the general. "It SEEMS to you! General, let me ask you: If your country's safety were at stake, would you hesitate to throw reinforcements into the breach?" "Hardly." "All right. It's settled. Take care of your red tape AFTERWARDS." He wheeled to the detective. "Jerome, this is a sketch of the compartments of Dr. Holcomb's safe.
Twenty-four of the injured were lying in Holcomb's dry-goods store at one time, where they received every attention before being removed to more comfortable places. A list of the names followed, whereby it appeared that of the seventeen dead, one was the barkeeper; and among the forty-seven wounded, were the captain, chief mate, second mate, and second and third clerks; also Mr.
Steve admitted the thrust lightly. "Got time to hear all about it, captain?" "Go ahead." The range-rider told it, the whole story, so far as it could be related by him. Such details as his modesty omitted Holcomb's imagination was easily able to supply. The Texan paced up and down the room with the long, light, military stride.
On the latter vessel were the military governor of Texas, with his staff, and the men and guns of Holcomb's battery. The navy lost 29 killed, 31 wounded, and 92 captured. So ended this inauspicious New Year's day. The transports made the best of their way to New Orleans with the news.
What we must do is to extricate our friends and close it. Afterward we may have time for more leisurely investigation. But we must remember, above all things, that black case of Professor Holcomb's! It holds the secrets. "Now I must ask you all to step out of this room. This library, you know, is the Blind Spot."
Morrison looked at it carefully, tucked it in a fly-specked screen behind the bar, and with a satisfied air said: "Let's see you hain't had no supper, hev ye? Supper's most ready I'll go and tell the old woman you're here." "No I ain't stoppin' for supper," replied Bergstein, paying for his glass. "I'm going up to Thayor's place now; this feller Holcomb's expectin' me."
"Over to look at some timber on the West Branch." "I heard voices," Blakeman said, "full half an hour ago" and he pointed in the direction from which Holcomb had come "and did you see anybody?" "Yes," said Holcomb, after a moment's thoughtful hesitation, "I did." "Whom?" "Mrs. Thayor and the doctor, out for a walk." "Of course," said Blakeman, looking queerly into Holcomb's eyes.
Holcomb was now suffering under the latter a subtle anger that would undoubtedly have meant serious injury to the immaculate Sperry had he been unlucky enough to have crossed his path at the moment. As Blakeman, little by little, unfolded more of the doctor's villainy, Holcomb's muscles relaxed and his indignation, which had risen by degrees until it boiled within him, now settled to reason.
The banker put out his left hand and covered Holcomb's burned fist tenderly, his gaze still fixed on the leaping flames, but neither spoke. The situation was too intense for words. During this utter destruction not a man among the gang employed had put in an appearance. This fact, in itself, was alarming; nor had one outside of these come to the rescue.
That's the only way out sometimes, and that's what would happen every time if I had my way." Holcomb made no reply. No good could come to the hide-out by stirring up his case. All his friends said he was dead; that is, to strangers some of whom might be sheriffs. The talk now entered another channel one more to Holcomb's liking.
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