"Back to perform a solemn duty, Moreton," said Warden. "I have the evidence I spoke to you about. It's too bad, but we are all bound to see that justice is done. I don't like to take this step, for Lawler is a distinguished citizen despite some mighty bad habits, and I don't like to be the one to charge him with that crime."
"Uh-huh," grunted Moreton; "I can see that you're about ready to break down an' bawl right out in meetin'. But I wouldn't do no more fourflushin' in here—it ain't healthy. Where's your evidence?"
Warden laid Della Wharton's written statement on the desk at the sheriff's hand. He watched while Moreton read; he saw Moreton's face whiten; saw his hand tremble a little as he folded the paper and put it into a pocket.
Then he looked straight at Warden.
"I don't believe a damned word of it, Warden!" he said, his eyes blazing. "If that woman was in that cabin with Lawler durin' the storm she kept it mighty quiet. An' Lawler didn't say a word about it when I rode over to see him a couple of months ago!" He glared at Warden. "Where's that Wharton woman, now?"
"She'll get to town this afternoon," Warden said.
"Well, she'll have to swear to this, Warden. I can't afford to act on this—mebbe it ain't her signature."
"Meaning that I forged it?" smiled Warden.
"Meanin' what you damned please!" snapped Moreton. "I ain't actin' in this case till that woman swears she seen what she claims to have seen."
"She'll swear to it," said Warden, confidently. "Meantime, I'd advise you to have a talk with Keller. Ask him who brought Della Wharton to the hotel, and what time she got there." Warden smiled. "I'll see you later, Sheriff."