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Updated: June 16, 2025
Miss Lentaigne made occasional raids on the gallery in order to see that the fine old-fashioned furniture did not rot. Neither she nor her brother thought of using the room. For Frank Mannix the white tie which is worn in the evening was still something of a novelty and therefore a difficulty.
Rathburn recognized the voice of Mannix, and a moment later the deputy stepped between them. "What's the idea?" he asked coolly. "This gentleman you just called Carlisle seems to have appointed himself a reception committee to welcome me into the enterprising town of High Point," drawled Rathburn, with a laugh.
It was his scheme, anyway; he proposed it when he hit this country a year ago." "And the other man " suggested Mannix. "Mike Reynolds," cried Sautee. "But he was only in on the truck driver deal and last night. Let The Coyote go, Mannix " Then Sautee, in a frenzy of fear, an easy prey to the seriousness of the situation and his shattered nerves, told everything.
The elderly gentleman had a red, blotched face, a thick neck, and swollen hands, with hair on the backs of them. He wore a shabby coat, creased under the arms, and trousers which bagged badly at the knees. Mannix, had the elderly gentleman happened to be a small boy in Edmonstone House, would have felt it his duty to impart to him something of the indefinable quality of tone.
"Step up here, Mannix, an' listen to what this fellow has to say," was Rathburn's reply. "Men," he called in a loud voice, "I'm lookin' to you to give your mine boss an' your deputy sheriff a fair deal." There was a murmur among the men. Mannix, after a moment of hesitation, stepped forward. Rathburn swung on Sautee.
Indignation, though a passion of a harassing nature, does not actually prevent sleep in a man of seventeen years of age who is in good general health. Mannix coiled himself up on one of the sofas which line the corridors of the Irish mail steamers. He was dimly conscious of seeing the old gentleman who had hustled him trip over the gun case which lay at the side of the sofa. Then he fell asleep.
"I haven't got anything on you, Rathburn yet." Rathburn smiled. "I reckon you're a sheriff after my own heart," he said enigmatically, and moved on. Mannix looked back after him for a moment, then continued on his way.
His gun was in his holster. "We've got you, you outlaw!" he cried as he flung himself from the saddle and strode up to Rathburn, Mannix, and Sautee. Rathburn's eyes had narrowed until they were slits through which his cold, hard gaze centered upon Carlisle. His attitude had changed. Even his posture was suddenly different. There was a long breath from the men behind Mannix. It was a tense moment.
Mannix, the deputy, looked out. "Let me in," said Sautee briefly. "There's been another robbery." Mannix swung the door wide and stepped aside. He wore an ulster over his night clothes, and his bare feet were thrust into slippers. He scowled at the mines manager as he shut the door. "More of the company's money gone?" he asked with a touch of sarcasm in his voice. Sautee nodded.
If I'd known you were touchy about guns down here I'd have worn mine in my shirt." One of the other men from the car had joined the deputy. He was looking at Rathburn keenly. Mannix turned to him. "Look like him?" he asked. The man nodded. "About the same size and height." "This man was drivin' a truck up here that was stopped this morning," said the deputy sternly to Rathburn.
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