“That’s the talk!” cried Lockwood. “I’ll see you through. Don’t be afraid. That river gang would never lay any information against you. They’re scared themselves of—why, look here!” he exclaimed, as a flash of opportune memory came back to him. “I believe I’ve got it! Did you carry an automatic pistol the night of that killing?”
“No, I had a .38 Smith & Wesson.”
“Then I’ll bet you never shot anybody. It seems that you were all drunk. You don’t know what happened. But here’s what I heard on Bob’s boat.” He repeated the snatches of accusation and recrimination he had overheard.
“That’s right! Bob did have an automatic. He gave it to me afterward. But I never knowed that it was an automatic bullet that killed Jeff,” said Jackson. “Lord! if that’s only so! I’d be a free man again. I’ve felt the rope around my neck for three years.”
“I’m sure it’s so. Bob gave you the automatic afterward, you said. He’d have sworn that you’d had it all the time.”
“I’ll kill him for that!” Jackson burst out hotly.
“No, we don’t want him killed. But you can bluff him now; you’ve got the cards. He’s got no hold over you. Tell him so. Get it all over.”
“Bob was expectin’ me to blow for him to-day,” said Jackson. “If I don’t call him, he’ll sure come after me.”
“Call him up to-night, then. Do you know where he is? Is it far?”
“Not so very far. I could make him hear. But say! If I’m goin’ to meet Bob’s gang, you’ve got to come with me. There’s liable to be shootin’.”