“See that trap . . . see that ‘T’ mark in chalk? That’s where a man puts his feet when the hangman straps his legs. The rope hangs from that beam, Frog!”
The man’s face was livid as he shrank back.
“You . . . can’t . . . hang—me,” he breathed. “I’ve done nothing!”
“You’ve killed a man,” said Elk as he pulled the doors to and locked them. “You’re the only fellow we’ve got, and you’ll have to suffer for the lot. Are them beans growin’?”
The prisoner raised his shaking hand to his lips.
“I’ll tell you all I know,” he said huskily.
Elk led him back to his cell.
An hour later, Dick was speeding back to his headquarters with considerable information. His first act was to send for Joshua Broad, and the eagle-faced “tramp” came cheerfully.
“Now, Mr. Broad, I’ll have your story,” said Dick, and motioned the other to be seated.
Joshua seated himself slowly.