Eagen’s laugh startled them.
“He brought it back to give it up an’ himself, too?” he jeered. “He brought it back, sheriff, because he an’ that rat of a Doane planned this thing. Coyote got away with the money an’ came back here to divvy up with Doane. Didn’t Doane make the same kind of a proposition to me? Didn’t he tell me he was short in his accounts, an’ it could be covered up if the bank was robbed, for then he could say more money was took than really was? I’ll say he did. An’ I was goin’ to see if he’d go through with it, an’ then I was going to wise you up so we could get him cold.”
With knitted brows the sheriff stared at Eagen, then looked at the white-faced Doane.
“Tell him I’m tellin’ the truth!” shouted Eagen at the shaking bank cashier. “You can’t get out of it.”
There was a tense moment.
Doane shook his head weakly; he was a picture of guilt.
“He got scared I wouldn’t go through with the play, sheriff,” Eagen continued. “Thought maybe I’d make off with all the kale. So he framed it with Rathburn, an’ I caught ’em about to divide it here.”
“He lies!” screamed Doane. “I didn’t frame it with Rathburn. I can prove it. That man”––he 247 pointed a shaking finger at Eagen––“has come to me with threats and made me take securities I knew were stolen. There’s some of them in the bank now. Some of the stuff he took from the stage driver yesterday is there! He’s pulled job after job–––”
Eagen, recovering from his amazement at the man’s outbreak, leaped and drove his powerful fist against Doane’s jaw, knocking him nearly the length of the room, where he crashed with his head against the stones of the fireplace. Eagen turned quickly. His eyes were blazing red.
“You’re the man!” he yelled wrathfully. “You’re the yellow Coyote–––”