Unfortunately though, the long search had left the young
mechanic without means, and he arrived in Boyd City in a penniless and
starving condition, the night of the great storm winter before last.
You are familiar with the finding of his body by George Udell."
Again Whitley sprang to his feet, and with an awful oath exclaimed,
"How do you know this?"
Dick drew forth a long leather pocket-book, and opening it, took out
a package of papers, which he laid on the table between the two
revolvers.
"There is the story, written by his own hand, together with the
testimony of his grandfather and grandmother, his own sworn statement,
and all the evidence he had so carefully gathered."
Whitley sprang forward; but before he could cross the room, both
revolvers covered his breast.
"Stop!"
The voice was calm and steady, but full of deadly menace.
Whitley crouched like an animal at bay. The hands that held the weapons
never trembled; the gray eyes that looked along the shining barrels
never wavered. Slowly he drew back. "Name your price," he said sullenly.
"You have not money enough to buy."
"I am a wealthy man."
"I know it."
He went back to his seat. "For God's sake, put down those guns and
tell me what you want."
"I want to know where you left Miss Goodrich."
"What if I refuse to tell?"
Dick laid a pair of handcuffs upon the table.
A cunning gleam crept into Whitley's eyes. "You'll put them on yourself
at the same time.
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