“I know nothing of that.”
“All right; give me the warrant.”
“At eight o’clock. I don’t want it served before then.”
“Why?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Sorenson? And Vorse and Burkhardt? They’ve stirred up this charge against the man.” Lucerio making an angry answer, he continued. “Well, everybody knows you jump when they pull the string. I’ll have to serve the warrant, naturally. But I’m going to tell you what I think: you’ve faked the evidence you’ve got; we had the truth from Martinez and Janet Hosmer at the inquest; you’re trying to railroad Weir to the gallows.”
“Mr. Sorenson shall know what you’ve said. As for 212 me”––the Mexican swelled with outraged dignity––“the evidence was placed in my hands. It warrants the engineer’s arrest and trial. You attend to your department and I’ll attend to mine.”
“All to the good, Mr. County Attorney. I’ll arrest him; he won’t make me any trouble on that score. But you won’t find it so easy to prove his guilt. And afterwards, just look out, for if he doesn’t come gunning for you and fill your carcass full of lead, I miss my guess. You won’t be able to hide behind Sorenson, either.”
He left the county attorney at that, the latter unable despite all his efforts to hide his uneasiness and alarm. Madden reaching the street looked at his watch; it was half past five, so he started home for supper.
Some way before him he saw Martinez walking. The lawyer did not stop to converse with any of the loiterers along the street, but moved steadily along. He had come out of Vorse’s saloon and was going towards his office. Just then the sound of an automobile caused Madden to turn his head in time to see Weir speed along but stop with a sudden application of brakes as he caught sight of the attorney.