Blair was cowed. He knew the detective would shoot if he hesitated. With a muttered oath he flung the weapon upon the bed.
Frank had had a narrow escape. He wondered why the desperado had not allowed him to retire before attacking him. That was what Bull had intended to do; but, acting upon a sudden impulse, he did not wait for what would have been a more favorable opportunity.
“Now,” said Hare, when the other discarded his knife, “you are my prisoner.”
“What for?”
“For robbing Monte Murphy and leaving him to die.”
Bull’s eyes seemed to grow as large as saucers as he looked wonderingly at the detective. How had the latter gained his knowledge?
That query puzzled the villain. Blair determined to present a bold front. That was not easy. Like every other bully, he was at heart a great coward.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said.
“In court I will be more explicit,” remarked Frank.
Bull was an old offender. He had twice been convicted of burglary. At best he would get a long term, and that would practically mean imprisonment for life, as he was past fifty years of age.