"You're right, Gibson," he said. "There's no need for either of us to try to frighten the other. Forget what I said a minute ago. I said it without thinking. You can't blame me if my nerves are on edge after what I've been through to put you where you are and you know how much I've got at stake in this business."
"No more than I have," said Gibson. "Cummings, I've never told you this because I didn't think it necessary, but on the day I am sworn in as mayor I hope to be married. You can understand better now how well I realize that nothing must happen. I'd rather die right here than have any of this business come out to disgrace her."
Cummings received Gibson's announcement of his intention to be married in silence. John expected Brennan to tip him another wink or smile to him at Gibson's mention of his marriage plans. Instead, he saw Brennan's eyes narrow and his jaw set. Whether the expression of anger and determination that came over Brennan's face was caused by indignation of Gibson's duplicity or by friendship for Consuello, whom Brennan had never seen, John did not know, but a thrill of encouragement swept through him as he realized that he was not alone in the fight to save her.
He saw Brennan signal him to approach. Slipping off the headgear he moved noiselessly and leaned forward so that he could hear what Brennan whispered to him.
"It won't be long now before they'll be leaving," Brennan said. "Slip out without making any noise and bring Benton and the mayor for the picture."
John went quickly to the door, where Murphy was on guard.
"Everything o. k.?" asked Murphy in a hoarse whisper. John nodded and went up and out into the alley. He found the mayor and Benton waiting nervously in the automobile.
"We've got enough to ruin them," he said, anticipating the mayor's eagerness. He climbed into the car and the mayor drove it quietly into the alley, switching off the lights as Brennan had ordered him to do. He stopped the automobile about thirty feet past the door of the saloon. In a minute Benton was setting up his camera on its tripod directly across the alley from the door.
At Benton's request, John stood at the door and flashed on his electric torch long enough for the photographer to get the focus. Although it was less than five seconds that he stood with his back only a foot from the door from which Cummings and Gibson were to emerge, John's imagination created a terrible fear that they would come upon him in the helpless position in which he stood.
"All set," Benton called to him in a sharp whisper. Crossing the alley he saw Benton filling his flashlight gun with flash powder and heard him chanting, softly to himself: