The warden went on his way and the guard marched to the convict with a manner which expressed a determination to give No. 279 an earful. He stood over Vaniman, who had dropped back to the chair, and the two of them swapped stares.
“I want to get out—I want to get out!” whimpered Vaniman.
Mr. Wagg nodded.
“What must I do?”
“Whack up with me—fifty-fifty. Haven't I told you times enough?”
“But, I mean, what must I do to help?”
“I don't need any of your help. I only want you to say that you'll lead me to that money.”
Vaniman drew a deep breath. “I will lead you to that money.”
“Some men would make you swear that you know just where the coin is,” proceeded Wagg. “But I'm playing my own hunch in this thing on that point. Furthermore, I have talked with a chap named Bixby.” He looked hard at the ex-cashier. “Bixby tied your little game into knots, didn't he?”
Vaniman admitted that fact by a rueful sag of his chin.