"Into the bank?" questioned Major coldly.
"Yes," replied Ferret, looking back and forth from Major to the body on the floor. "It couldn't be that he had a friend somewhere around, could it?"
"You mean—" Major's tone was harsh.
"I mean you!" exclaimed Ferret. "You're kind of protecting him, aren't you, right now? Sort of anxious to make me hold back, aren't you? Well, here goes—"
Major's hand caught Ferret's wrist. The upturned light showed a steely glint in Major's eyes. Ferret tried to avoid the glance. He realized that he had said too much.
"You rat!" hissed Major. "I get your game now. You're the one that's done the double crossing. Now that The Shadow is dead, you want to make it look like you hate the sight of him.
Maybe you figure that if a few shots were heard it would do some good. Trying to queer the game, eh?"
"Honest, Major" — Ferret's voice was protesting — "honest, you've got me wrong. I— I shouldn't have said what I did. You — you're right, Major!"
He was quailing before Major's indignant glare. It had come to a showdown, and Major was proving his superiority. These abrupt accusations had come as an outgrowth of The Shadow's craftsmanship; but in the crisis, the odds were unequal. Ferret was forced to yield.
"No more out of you!" growled Major.