|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 38
"If any feller thinks--" Moran relapsed into maudlin, hysterical
protestations of innocence, calling upon the Deity to bear witness that
he was innocent and had no knowledge whatever of how Blake came to his
death.
Eventually silence fell upon all. Slavin cogitated awhile, then he
turned to Brophy. "Who else was in, Billy? Out av town fellers I mean,
fwhin this racket occurred betune these tu? Thry an' think now!"
Brophy pondered long and presently reeled off a few names. Slavin heard
him out and shook his head negatively. "Nothin' doin' there!" he
announced finally, "Mr. Gully was in, yuh say? Did he see anythin' av
this row?"
"Cudn't help it, I guess," replied Brophy. "He just come inta th' office
for his grip while it was a-goin' on. He beat it out quick for th'
East-bound as had just come in. Said he was runnin' down to Calgary. He
ain't back yet. Guess he wudn't want to go gettin' mixed up in anythin'
like that, either--him bein' a J. P."
Slavin looked at Yorke. "Let's have a luk at that gun av Moran's!" he
remarked. "Fwhat is ut?"
Yorke handed the weapon over. "'Smith and Wesson' single-action," he
said. "Just that one round gone."
"Nothin doin' agin'," muttered Slavin disappointedly. He broke the gun
and, ejecting the shells put all in his pocket. He then turned to Moran.
"D----d good job for yu'--havin' this alibi, Mister Windy!" he growled,
"don't seem anythin' on yu' over this killin'--as yet! But yez are goin'
tu get ut fwhere th' bottle got th' cork for this other bizness, me man!"
And he proceeded to formally charge and warn his prisoner.
"Give us a room, Brophy!" he said, "a big wan for th' bunch av us--an'
lave a shake-down on th' flure for this feller!"
Preceded by the landlord the trio departed upstairs, escorting their
prisoner. Alone in the room they discussed matters in lowered tones;
Slavin and Yorke not forgetting to compliment Redmond on his presence of
mind--or, as the sergeant put it: "Divartin' his attenshun."
The big Irishman scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I must go wire th'
O.C. report av all this. Sind Gully comes back on th' same thrain wid
Inspector Kilbride to-morrow. Thin we can go ahead--wid two J.P.s tu
handle things. Yuh take charge av Mr. Man, Ridmond! Me an' Yorke will
go an' eat now, an' relieve yuh later."
CHAPTER VIII
"The Court is prepared, the Lawyers are met,
The Judges all ranged, a terrible show!"
As Captain Macheath says,--and when one's arraigned,
The sight's as unpleasant a one as I know.
THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS.
"Orrrdher in Coort!" rang out Sergeant Slavin's abrupt command. It was
about ten o'clock the following morning. The hotel parlour had been
hastily transformed into a temporary court-room. A large square table
had been drawn to one end of the room and two easy chairs placed
conveniently behind it. Fronting it was a long bench, designed for the
prisoner and escort. In the immediate rear were arranged a few rows of
chairs, to accommodate the witnesses and spectators.
The sergeant's order, prompted by the entrance of the two Justices of the
Peace, was the occasion of all present rising to attention, in customary
deference to police-court rules. One of the newcomers, dressed in the
neat blue-serge uniform of an inspector of the Force, was familiar to
Redmond as Inspector Kilbride, who had been recently transferred to L
Division from a northern district. He had close-cropped gray hair and a
clipped, grizzled moustache. Though apparently nearing middle-age he
still possessed the slim, wiry, active figure of a man long inured to the
saddle.
The appearance of his judicial confrere fairly startled George. He was a
huge fellow, fully as tall and as heavy a man as Slavin, though not so
compactly-built or erect as the latter. Still, his wide, loosely-hung,
slightly bowed shoulders suggested vast strength, and his leisurely
though active movements indicated absolute muscular control. But it was
the strangely sombre, mask-like face which excited Redmond's interest
most. Beneath the broad, prominent brow of a thinker a pair of deep-set,
shadowy dark eyes peered forth, with the lifeless, unwinking stare of an
owl. Between them jutted a large, bony beak of a nose, with finely-cut
nostrils. The pitiless set of the powerful jaw was only partially
concealed by an enormous drooping moustache, the latter reddish in colour
and streaked with gray, like his thinning, carefully brushed hair. His
age was hard to determine. Somewhere around forty-five, George decided,
as he regarded with covert interest Ruthven Gully, Esq.,
gentleman-rancher and Justice of the Peace for the district.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|