The masked man stepped back a pace and drew his gun. He held it at a hip, the muzzle pointing at the stomach of the other. "You saw how Lonergan died," he said softly. "It wasn't easy to watch."
Wallie glanced at the gun, then at the masked man's face. He saw something in those steady eyes behind the mask that made him almost feel the frightful drilling of a slug in the pit of his stomach. "I—I didn't know anything about it," he said. "Mort an' Vince planned it by themselves an'—"
"Yuh damned squealer!" yelled Vince.
"Go on."
"Rangoon bossed the job—"
"You'd o' done it yer ownself," bellowed Vince, "if yuh hadn't been so damned yeller. All of us all the time had tuh take orders from you while you strutted around in fancy clothes!"
"That's what I wanted to know," the masked man said, holstering his weapon.
"That's a confession," shouted Bryant, "an' I heard it. I'll witness that in court."
"But wait," fairly shouted Wallie. "You've nothin' to gain by hangin' us! It'll just mean that Penelope dies too! You don't understand."