"Bet I do," said Mason.
"Let's have a look at it," said Kenna. Mason hesitated.
"Ye better let me see it, or——" There was a note of threat for the first time. Mason drew his revolver, somewhat bewildered. Before the informer knew what move was best, Kenna reached out and took the weapon.
"I hear ye got twenty-five dollars from the Widdy."
"Yeh." And Mason began to move nervously under the cold glitter in Kenna's eyes.
"I want ye to donate that to the orphan asylum. Here, Jack!" Kenna called to the clerk, "Write on a big envelope 'Donation for the orphan asylum. Conscience money.'"
"What does it say?" inquired Bill, for he could not read. The clerk held out the envelope and read the inscription.
"All right," said Bill, "now, Mason, jest so I won't lose patience with you and act rough like, hand over that twenty-five."
"I ain't got it, I tell you. It's all gone."
"Turn out your pockets, or I will."