“How about the back door?” asked Sleepy.
They went around to the back and found the door sagging open. Kelsey swore softly and led the way inside, where they lighted matches to guide them. And they found just what Honey Bee had found—a man roped to a chair and gagged. It was Warner, the cashier, his eyes blinking foolishly at the light of Kelsey’s match, whilst Ralston took a pocket-knife and severed the lariat rope which bound him.
Warner was apparently unhurt. After they untied the gag he worked his jaw painfully, rubbed his lips and managed to get back a measure of his speech.
Sleepy found a lamp, which he lighted, and the three men watched the cashier stretch his arms and legs, grimacing as the returning circulation pained him.
“You better send a wire to Old Man Ludlow,” he said huskily. “Palace Hotel, San Francisco. The bank has been cleaned out.”
“Cleaned out, Warner?” asked Kelsey.
“Look at the vault door.”
It was wide open. The sheriff did not investigate. Sleepy stepped over and peered inside. It was an old-fashioned vault with the ordinary combination. Time locks had not come to Pinnacle City yet.
“How many in the gang?” asked Kelsey.
“One,” Warner spat painfully and rubbed his lips. “One man, Sheriff. I was working tonight. I used the back door. When I unlocked it and stepped outside, this man confronted me with a gun and forced me back inside.