They all turned and stared at the dusty, bewhiskered little man who entered so unceremoniously. Spur marked his two low-hung guns and longed for the presence of the twins.
“Who are yuh?” old Miser squealed.
“Me—I’m Jack-twin Allen.”
“I’ve heard of you, Mr. Allen. You did some work for my bank once,” Raine said.
“Is my word good?” Allen asked.
“I would take it,” Raine replied promptly.
“Then, Miss Reed, yuh can believe me when I say yuh don’t have to sign that paper,” he said, smiling at the girl.
She flushed and looked in bewilderment from one face to the other.
“I don’t understand! Every one—Mr. Raine, dad’s old friend, the doctor—every one says I must sign or lose everything!”
Spur Treadwell cocked his ears and listened for the coming of the McGill twins. He saw that old Miser Jimpson had grown pale, that One-wing was fidgeting. All knew that the end had come for them, unless they could stop this man’s tongue or have the twins stop it for them.