Briefly, he went into details. Unhesitatingly, enthusiastically, Detective Graney agreed with him.
It was a little past three o’clock when they found Quick Rich in the back room of a hang-out whose sentry they and the policeman on the beat had succeeded in suppressing without any alarm being given. One other man was present and Campbell seized and disarmed him while Graney jammed a pistol into Rich’s midriff and took from his coat a .38 automatic with its barrel powder stained.
“It’s no good, Quick,” the detective said, when the handcuffs were on. “We know all about the killing. The Pearl turned you in.”
“So she was there, was she?” raved Angelo. “If I’d seen her, I’d ’a’ made a double job of it. Well, I got him anyway, the whelp! Waving his hand at her every day in the grand stand in front of five thousand people—and her waving back! And the nerve to take her out and make a fool of me to the whole gang! And Pearl—just because we had some words—kidding him along, with his big hat and cowboy clothes and red handkerchief!”
“You identified him by his red handkerchief, of course, just as he was heading into the side door of The Monaco,” Pres suggested mildly.
“Sure I did! They told me he was the only one of that wild-West crowd that ever wore one. Who are you?”
“Mr. Campbell,” said Detective Graney unctuously, “is a guy from Texas that used to be a Roughrider. And him and me is going to do some more roughridin’—with a certain know-it-all gent to be rode—along about court time in the mornin’.”
“Moore was right at that, in a way,” murmured the ex-ranger as the patrolman left to ring for the patrol. “‘Look for the woman;’ that’s as good a rule in some killin’s in Texas as it is here in the East. And I followed his hunch and did the same thing. But down in my part of the country we use words some different. When we say women, we usually don’t mean ladies.”
Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the September 20, 1925 issue of The Popular Magazine.