Sprague said, “Don’t waste words talking with him.”
“If you birds want to charge him with compounding a felony, or being an accessory after the fact,” Sergeant Holcomb said, “I’ll take him into custody with the greatest of pleasure.”
Mason struck a match and held it to Sheriff Barnes’ cigarette, then lit his own. The conversation came to an abrupt standstill. After a few moments Mason said to Sprague, “Are you going to take him up on that, Sprague?”
“I think I am,” Sprague snapped, “but I’m going to get some evidence first.”
“I don’t think you’ll find much here in my office,” Mason pointed out.
Holcomb said, “I’ll take him down to headquarters, if you fellows say the word.”
Sheriff Barnes turned to face them. “Now listen,” he said, “you boys have been kicking me around because I gave Mason a break. I still don’t see any reason why we should be stampeded into going off half cocked. Personally, I’m not going to get antagonistic until I find out a few things.” He turned to Mason and said, “Did you know that the gun which killed Fremont C. Sabin was taken from a collection at the public library in San Molinas?”
“What if it was?” Mason asked.
“And the librarian, Helen Monteith, went through a marriage ceremony with a man who gave the name of George Wallman, and whom neighbors identify absolutely as being Fremont C. Sabin?”
“Go ahead,” Sergeant Holcomb said sarcastically, “give him all the information you have, and when he gets done he’ll laugh at you.”