“I feel it is necessary for me to take a short rest. Recent excitement in Manti has left me very nervous and unstrung. I shall be away from Manti for about two weeks, I think. During my absence any pending litigation must be postponed, of course.”
The letter was signed by Judge Lindman, and postmarked “Dry Bottom.”
Corrigan got up after a while and stuffed the letter into a pocket. He went out, and when he returned, Braman had gone out also—to supper, Corrigan surmised. When the banker came in an hour later, Corrigan was still seated at his desk. The banker smiled at him, and Corrigan motioned to him.
Corrigan’s voice was silky. “Where were you last night, Braman?”
The banker’s face whitened; his thoughts became confused, but instantly cleared when he observed from the expression of the big man’s face that the question was, apparently, a casual one. But he drew his breath tremulously. One could never be sure of Corrigan.
“I spent the night here—in the back room.”
“Then you didn’t see the Judge last night—or hear him?”
“No.”
Corrigan drew the Judge’s letter from the pocket and passed it over to Braman, watching his face steadily as he read. He saw a quick stain appear in the banker’s cheeks, and his own lips tightened.
The banker coughed before he spoke. “Wasn’t that a rather abrupt leave-taking?”