“We’ll see,” Wint told him. “Want to stay in jail, or furnish bail?”
“Bail, of course. I can get any one.”
“I’d rather have money.”
“Check any good?”
“I’ll cash it before you leave here.”
Lutcher said amiably that that was all right, and asked the amount. Wint said “Four hundred.” And Lutcher whistled, and protested: “That’s pretty hard.”
“Harder than the bed in the calaboose?”
Lutcher grinned, and wrote. Wint took the check and his hat and left Lutcher with the marshal. He went to the bank, drew the money, and deposited the cash to the city’s account. “Just so there can be no question of stopping payment on that check,” he explained.
Back at his office, he told Lutcher he was free to go. Lutcher, contriving to look dapper and well-dressed in spite of his night, took himself away. Then Wint turned to the marshal.
“Now, Jim, how about it?” he asked. “What’s the case against him?”