“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.”
“The Court is prepared, the Lawyers
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.