"Look at that and tell me what you have to say," and Mr. Pinkerton laid before him the sworn deposition of Daniel Moriarity, in which all the facts that Mr. Pinkerton had been relating were set forth, Wittrock did not show a trace of feeling other than amusement, as he read the long and legally worded document, and passing it back to Mr. Pinkerton with a gesture of disdain, he said:
"So on the strength of that cock-and-bull story you mean to hold me for that robbery?"
"Partly so."
"There isn't a word of truth in it. That man, Moriarity, is a noted liar."
"Ah!" said Mr. Pinkerton, quickly, "you know Moriarity?"
"That is—I mean—yes, I sort of know him," stammered Wittrock, in confusion; "I have heard of him."
"You are in desperate straits, Mr. Wittrock," said the detective. "In such desperate straits that you are doing the worst possible thing—denying all that is proved true. We have you safe and secure, and enough evidence against you to send you to Jefferson City for a long term of years. You can lighten your sentence by one thing."
"You don't catch me that way, I am not to be taken in by soft words, and all the traps you set for me won't make me confess that I had anything to do with the robbery. You've arrested me without cause, and if there is any law in the land I'll make you suffer for it," and Wittrock walked excitedly around the room.
Mr. Pinkerton did not reply to this, but touching a bell, told the man who opened the door to bring in the other prisoners.
Wittrock had resumed his seat, his head bowed forward and eyes cast down, but hearing the door opening, he glanced up and saw Weaver and Haight, followed by two detectives, ushered into his room.