“Now turn about—your back toward the office door—so.” The door was flung open, and the robber appeared standing sideways, his gun in his hand, pointing at the day operator, who was just out of Alex’s sight.
“Now what you are to do is to read off letter by letter what this young shaver in here sends on the wire. You are a tab on him. You understand?”
In a trembling voice Jones responded in the affirmative.
“And the first one of you who appears to do anything not straight and aboveboard gets daylight through his head,” he added, raising his voice for Alex’s benefit. Then, addressing his partner, he said: “Give the kid the message, Bill.”
The tall man leaned over the counter and tossed the blank on the table before Alex.
“Who will I send it to first?” asked Alex.
“The sheriff, Watson Siding.”
“All right. But first, you know, I have to call him,” explained Alex, somewhat nervously, now that the critical moment had come. “His call is WS.”
Therewith he began slowly calling, that Jones might read off each letter as he sent it, “WS, WS, WS, BX.”
“WS, WS—”