The leader of the group sketched a few details of his plan, then said, "I want all of you to go upstairs with me. Keep your guns drawn an' keep still. We'll take Lombard as we go by him. When the fireworks are over with, me an' Vince will wait for Yuma to fetch the law men, an' the rest of you can hide. Now put Jeb down in the vault, then fix the room up as it should be. While you're doin' that I'll tell Lombard the plans, an' then we'll all go up to Bryant's room."
Jeb was still dazed from the ugly blow Sawtell had given him. He was limp and unresisting as the men picked him up bodily, hands and feet tied tightly, and carried him to the living room. They dropped him on the floor and replaced things where they belonged. Sawtell tossed the hunk of firewood to one side, then handed down the chair from its place on the table top. Lonergan kicked the chair toward a wall, while Sawtell stepped to the floor and hauled away the table. It was Vince who opened the trapdoor, then rolled his brother Jeb into the opening. He laughed as he heard Jeb's body strike the hard-dirt floor below. "Don't get intuh no mischief down there," he called; then he closed the door and pulled the rug in place to conceal it.
Meanwhile Wallie was with Lombard at the foot of the stairs. Lombard was grinning and nodded as the others joined the couple. He drew his gun and spun the cylinder to check it. A moment later, after a few last, whispered instructions from Wallie, the five were ready to go upstairs with disaster for the Lone Ranger.
Chapter XXVII
GUNS TALK BACK
The murder-bent quintet went up the stairs like Indians stalking single file through wooded land. Each man carried his gun in his left hand and braced himself with his right against the wall. They stayed as close to that wall as possible to minimize the creaking of the stairs. The only sound was a faint, leathery whisper from the dusty boots. Wallie cursed inwardly at his lack of foresight in not having his men go stocking-footed to the double murder.
Wallie was in the lead, Vince in the rear. In this order they gained the upstairs hall. Any apprehensions Wallie might have had about the squeaking boots were dispelled as he drew close to Bryant's door. A resonant voice, undoubtedly that of the masked man, was speaking. Wallie felt no qualms of guilt or conscience at the cold-blooded ruthlessness of his plans. He hadn't the slightest intention of giving the men who were marked for execution a chance to defend themselves. The code of Western fair play was missing from Wallie's personality. This was to be no duel, but simply the extinction of two men whose deaths had become essential to his plans.