The district attorney obeyed with caution. Not that he expected Billy. But then, he did not quite know what to expect. That it would be something to trouble him he was positive. He was not disappointed. It was a trio of the Tuckleton outfit, to wit, the foreman, Jonesy, and two punchers, Ben Shanklin and Tim Mullin. All three were in the worst of tempers.
"Look here, Rale," Jonesy began without preliminary, "you've fooled with us long enough, and we're sick of it."
"We want action," rapped out Ben Shanklin.
"You can't come any of this high and mighty stuff over me," said the district attorney, with an eye that flickered in spite of himself. "I don't know what you're talking about, but if you want anything, you'll have to ask for it in the right way, and maybe you'll get it and maybe you won't."
"Is that so?" fleered Jonesy. "We'll see about that. What have you done in Rafe's case?"
"We hope to land the murderer very soon. We have several clues. We——"
Jonesy banged his fist down on the table with a force that made the windows dance. "Shut up! You and your 'we's!' Rafe's murderer is that damn niece of Walton's, and you know it. You had her in the jug and you turned her loose. The evidence was insufficient to hold her on, you said. You said at that time you had evidence against Bill Wingo and expected to catch him soon. You haven't caught him, and we want to know what the evidence against him is. What is it? C'mon! Spit it out!"
"Now look here," temporized the district attorney, "I can't tell you——"
"You bet you can't," interrupted the angry Shanklin. "'Cause why?' Cause you haven't any evidence against him! The only evidence you've got is against Hazel Walton, and you've got enough of that to put her over the jumps."
"Lemme do the talkin', Ben," directed Jonesy. "Look here, Rale, either you tell us what evidence you got against Bill Wingo, or you issue a warrant for Hazel Walton's arrest. One or the other. Take your choice."