"All the same, you quit!"
"I sure quit. Somebody shot Douglas and the police knew he'd got a pick on me. They'd got to put the shooting on one of the gang."
"Perhaps it's important the police knew you had a pick on Douglas," Stannard remarked.
"For all that, I didn't use my gun," Bob rejoined.
Margaret pondered. As a rule, Bob was marked by a rather sinister quietness, but now he talked with something like passion. He had stepped forward and a moonbeam touched his face. Margaret thought he knew, but he did not move out of the light. Somehow she felt she must believe his statement. Then Stannard turned to her.
"Perhaps it's strange, but I rather think he speaks the truth."
"If you did not use your gun, who did shoot Douglas?" Margaret resumed, looking at Bob. "I want to know. A trooper's watching the station, and if I shout, the hotel clerk will call him on the 'phone."
Bob's passion vanished and Margaret thought his calm ominous.
"That's another thing! Looks as if Jimmy plugged the fellow. He sort of allowed he done it and he started for the rocks."
"I imagine Bob doesn't know," said Stannard. "Before you arrived he implied that I was accountable and demanded a hundred dollars. In fact, when he didn't get the sum he was much annoyed."