It was at the house of a deputy sheriff, who had built several strong cells in his cellar, for occasions similar to the present. And it not infrequently happens that when a detective has captured a particular prisoner it is a decided benefit to be able to keep the capture a profound secret for a while.
The place afforded the means of keeping the capture a secret.
Fortunately the deputy was at home, and I soon had Stanton locked up in one of the cells.
"Well," said I, as I entered the cell with the false detective, "here you are, in a safe place, where the dogs won't bite you."
"What do you intend doing with me?" the rascal tremblingly asked me.
"Whatever I think you may deserve having done with you," was the grim reply.
"Howard, I—I—didn't think any one was in that saloon, or may be I wouldn't a-given that signal," he faltered.
"You know you lie!"
He winced.
He saw he could not fool or bamboozle me in the slightest degree.