“Mr. Weir consents,” he stated. “Mr. Martinez, if you will go to your office and bring the necessary forms and your seal we can make the transfers and statement and wind the matter up.”
An hour later Judge Gordon had signed the deeds, stock certificates from his safe and bills of sale spread before him, passing the ownership of lands, cattle and shares in companies to Pollock for equitable division between Weir and the Dent heirs if found. The old Mexican servants were called in and witnessed his shaky signatures to the papers.
At the statement regarding the Dent shooting and Weir fraud, which Pollock had dictated to Martinez with 218 Gordon’s assistance, he staggered to his feet while the pen dropped from his hand.
“I can’t sign it, I can’t sign it; they would kill me!” he groaned.
The two aged servants stared at him wonderingly.
“My dear Judge, they’ll never know of it until it’s too late for them to do anything––if they ever know,” came the easterner’s words, in smooth persuasiveness.
Judge Gordon brushed a hand over his eyes.
“Give me a moment,” he muttered.
He stood for a time motionless. Then he walked across the room and opened a door and entered an inner chamber.
“He won’t live a year after this,” Pollock whispered to his companions.