"No, because that wouldn't be true. I know you didn't kill him. But I'm not sure you aren't an accessory before and after the fact."
The district attorney went pale. But he made no attempt to go after his gun. Not against Felix Craft. Not now at any rate. "I'll settle this with you later," he began. "I——"
"You'll never settle anything with anybody," Felix flung the insult with contempt.
"We'll gain nothing by fighting among ourselves," went on the district attorney evenly. "If we don't stick together, we'll hang together, and you can gamble on that. If Slike talks——"
"He'll implicate you and Tuckleton," Larder chipped in swiftly. "We're out of that proposition."
"But we all aided him to escape from jail, so we are all guilty of felony. If Slike should choose to blat about it—" The district attorney left the remainder of the sentence to his comrades' imagination.
"He's right," said Sam Larder suddenly. "We've got to stick together."
"All right," Felix Craft said grudgingly, "I'll wait until we're out of this muss before I ask you any more questions about egging Reelfoot to down Tip O'Gorman, Rale. Afterward I'll get the truth out of you if I have to choke you to death first. Oh, you needn't show your teeth at me, feller. You won't bite."
The district attorney swallowed hard. "You'll find your suspicion is baseless, Felix, baseless and unjust. I had absolutely nothing to do with the murder of Tip O'Gorman. Whoever told you——"
"Nobody told me anything. I——"