“I haven’t looked inside—nothing seems to be disturbed, as it would were the men safe-blowers. In their hurry to get away it would seem, if they had come to get into the safe, they would have left something behind—tools, or something of that character.”
“Let’s have a look at the safe. Open it!” Corrigan seemed to be suspicious, and with a pulse of trepidation, the Judge knelt and worked the combination. When the door came open Corrigan dropped on his knees in front of it and began to pull out the contents, scattering them in his eagerness. He stood up after a time, scowling, his face flushed. He turned on the Judge, grasped him by the shoulders, his fingers gripping so hard that the Judge winced.
“Look here, Lindman,” he said. “Those men were not ordinary robbers. Experienced men would know better than to crack a safe in a courthouse when there’s a bank right next door. I’ve an idea that it was some of Trevison’s work. You’ve done or said something that’s given him the notion that you’ve got the original record. Have you?”
“I swear I have said nothing,” declared the Judge.
Corrigan looked at him steadily for a moment and then released him. “You burned it, eh?”
The Judge nodded, and Corrigan compressed his lips. “I suppose it’s all right, but I can’t help wishing that I had been here to watch the ceremony of burning that record. I’d feel a damn sight more secure. But understand this: If you double-cross me in any detail of this game, you’ll never go to the penitentiary for what Benham knows about you—I’ll choke the gizzard out of you!” He took a turn around the room, stopping at last in front of the Judge.
“Now we’ll talk business. I want you to issue an order permitting me to erect mining machinery on Trevison’s land. We need coal here.”
“Graney gave notice of appeal,” protested the Judge.
“Which the Circuit Court denied.”
“He’ll go to Washington,” persisted the Judge, gulping. “I can’t legally do it.”