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Page 99
"No. We had to draw lots. I ain't saying who drew the red ball."
"Maybe you drew it yourself."
"Maybe I did and maybe I didn't. What I want to know is: What are we
to do? The crowd don't like Styles much, and I can tell you
confidentially, that for two pins we would throw him over--that is, if
you will stand by us."
"You want to elect a new leader?"
"Yes. But with the understanding that the crowd is to be let in on the
ground floor after this. No more working in the dark. Even yet we
don't know why those murders were committed, and yet it looks as if all
of us might suffer, unless you pull us through O.K."
"Didn't Styles tell you why?"
"No, although he hinted at something."
"Well, I'll tell you, Pink, and you can tell the rest. Barry Langmore
had some dealings with Styles about patents and mortgages. One day
Styles drank a little too much, and went to Langmore to pay a bill. He
had two packages of money with him, each for several thousand dollars.
One package was good money and the other was our own brand. Styles
also had some loose bills with him. He paid part of a mortgage and
also something on an invention. When he went away, he saw that he had
made a mistake and given Langmore the counterfeit bills. He went back
the next day, but Langmore had gone away, on a short vacation. When he
came back Styles went to him and they had a pretty stormy scene.
Langmore had tried to pass a bill, and learned it was a counterfeit.
Styles pretended that he didn't know the money was bad, but Langmore
wouldn't believe him. Some of the money had gone to Mrs. Langmore,
too. Styles begged to get the money back and offered Langmore his
rights in an invention if only Langmore would keep quiet. Langmore
said he would think it over, but I am inclined to think he communicated
with the police instead, although I have no proof. Anyway, we made up
our minds that Langmore knew too much, and so did his wife.
Then--well, they were found dead, that's all."
"And you say you didn't commit the deed?"
"I did not."
"Then Styles must have done the job, since there was no one else."
"Didn't he tell you that he can prove an _alibi_! That he was over to
Stony Hill at the time the deed was done?"
"Yes, but if that is true, then you are guilty. You got that poison
from Henry Bloom, and he told Tom Ostrello that he let you have it.
There is where you blundered. Ostrello and others are on your track.
You can't escape unless you can prove an _alibi_, too."
Again John Watkins shrank back as if struck a blow.
"Who--who told this--who says--" he began hoarsely.
"Matlock Styles."
"Then he can go to perdition! I'll not stand up for him a minute
longer. Yes, I got the poison, but I gave it to him. I can prove it
by the old woman who works for him, if I have to wring her neck to make
her speak. She heard me tell him how to use it. He trusts her,
because he has her where the hair is short. She killed a child years
ago, when she ran a baby farm. And then about that _alibi_--" The
secret service man laughed bitterly. "So that's his game, if it comes
to a showing of hands? Well, I can put a spoke in his wheel. He was
at Stony Hill, was he? Well, so was I. I can prove that, too."
There was a pause, during which the secret service man took another
drink of liquor. He was plainly very nervous. With great
deliberation, Adam Adams drew from one pocket a pistol, and from
another a pair of handcuffs.
"The scene is ended, Mr. Watkins," he said coolly. "I want you to slip
on those and come with me." And he threw the handcuffs on the table,
and leveled the pistol at the fellow's head.
The man staggered and threw up his hands, half expecting a shot. He
suddenly began to tremble, as if with the ague.
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