Again Rathburn sat on the edge of the bunk and smoked and thought. After a time he went to sleep. The opening of his cell door woke him. It was Mannix.
“Come to let me out, sheriff?” inquired Rathburn sleepily.
The deputy looked at him keenly, opened the cage, and motioned to him to follow. Rathburn went with him out into the little office. It was broad day. Mannix picked up a pistol from his desk and extended it to Rathburn.
“Here’s your gun, Rathburn. You can go,” he said, pressing his lips close together.
“Well, now, sheriff, that’s right kind of you,” Rathburn drawled, concealing his astonishment.
“Don’t thank me,” snapped out Mannix. “This gentleman asked me to set you loose.”
For the first time Rathburn looked squarely at the other man in the office––a thin man, with a cropped mustache, beady eyes, and a narrow face.
The man was regarding him intently, and there seemed to be an amused expression in his eyes. He turned away from Rathburn’s gaze.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting the gentleman,” said Rathburn agreeably.