Swallowing my disgust, and feeling that I, even I, a bank burglar, was contaminating myself in the same atmosphere with these treacherous rascals, I said good night and hurried away, glad to get rid of them. But I saw them again, and sooner than I had hoped, for I never wanted to look on their faces after that night. But this feeling wore off in time.
Billy Matthews sought me out a week later, and said, with considerable earnestness, that I must meet Jack McCord, who had news for me of the utmost importance; that I must meet him at the Metropolitan Hotel, and if he wasn’t there, to wait until he came. Not daring to disregard this word, which amounted to a command, I went to the hotel, where McCord appeared a few minutes later. Calling me aside, he whispered, “You’re a very lucky man, White, and you’ll realize before we get through that it is a Godsend you came to know us fellers.”
“Why?” I asked; “what’s in the wind? Some one from New Hampshire here?”
“No; but a crook in that Ohio Bank job has squealed on you, and there’s a Cadiz sheriff in town with a complete description of you and Eddie Hughes, who escaped with you.”
This was startling though not unexpected news, as I knew that Utley had no love for me. No doubt he had tried to get further clemency in prison by squealing on Hughes and me. I asked McCord if there was anything further he could tell.
“Yes; Utley told the sheriff that the man with Hughes was called George, but the last name he did not know. He described an overcoat ‘George’ wore that was left in the Scott House in Pittsburg.”
At this I smiled, and McCord wondering why, I told him.
“Again you were in luck,” he went on, “for the next day after the coat was called for by your friend, a Cadiz sheriff was at the hotel inquiring for an overcoat with a peculiar-shaped tear in the skirt.”
“It certainly looks as if the trail were getting hot,” said I, not a little worried. “Where is this sheriff?”
“I don’t know, but Radford has an appointment with him this afternoon.”