N the face of a crisis a man will exhibit courage or cowardice. And Barrett Rollins, accused at the eleventh hour of a crime with which he had apparently had no connection, played his rôle well.
He did not bluster; he did not shrink. Instead, he seemed suddenly cool—although one might have noticed an occasional biting of his lips, a twitching of his huge, muscular hands, a furtive glance from the corners of his little eyes.
For Rollins was cornered. The chain of evidence woven so cleverly by circumstance around the other principals in the drama had suddenly wound itself about him. With Scammon’s accusation, loose ends of the story seemed to meet—or almost so. But Rollins played his hand gamely. For the first time in the course of the case he won the sincere admiration of Commissioner Hall and of Denson, the lawyer.
So cool was he, in fact, so seemingly contemptuous of Scammon’s charge, that Hall could not bring himself to believe that the man was guilty. The idea was too preposterous; too far-fetched. And yet Scammon’s voice had carried conviction of knowledge, Scammon’s whole demeanour had implied verity. And instead of allowing himself to lose control Rollins merely shrugged.
“Damned nonsense!” was all he said.
Carroll had not changed his expression.
“For your sake, Rollins, I hope so.”
“I didn’t ask for any soft stuff from you, Carroll. An ass of your type would most likely believe this crook’s story.”
“Ye-e-s, he most likely would.” Carroll turned back to Scammon. “Now listen here, Lefty—if you can prove the charge you’ve just made you’re in a fair way to get clear of this murder charge. Burglary you’re in for, whether or no. Take my advice and come clean with the whole story. Are you willing?”
The expression of the little fellow was almost pitiful.
“Sure I am, sir. As I said, sir, I wasn’t squealin’ on no pal—s’long’s Rollins was on the force I knowed he’d see me safe through some way. But maybe I’d better tell all of it like it happened.”
“D’yuh mean,” growled Rollins interrogatively, “that you’re gonna sit there an’ listen to his drivel?”
“Yes, I guess we’d better. They’ve all had a chance to talk except Scammon. Go ahead, Lefty.”
The little man passed a nervous hand across his lips.
“All th’ beginnin’ of my story goes pretty well with what this fly cop,” indicating Donaldson, “said. Only one thing is different; th’ man who came to me with the proposition was Chief Rollins yonder. He said that Hamilton had some papers in his safe which he wanted. He seemed to know all about what they were an’ all.
“He said he wanted me to get a coupla good yeggs an’ work the house. Wanted to make it look like th’ real thing, see; so’s when they found th’ stuff was gone they’d think it had just been took accidentallike wit’ th’ rest of th’ swag. Th’ thing looked pretty easy, ’specially after I managed to strike up an acquaintance wit’ this here guy. I t’ought he was th’ butler, see? Well, he comes across elegant. I was a boob for not knowin’ he was too easy, but how was I to know they was lookin’ for just this kind of a move?
“Him an’ Red Hartigan an’ Pal Conover was to divide what they got. I was to get th’ things Rollins wanted an’ meet him out yonder by that bush, y’ see about fifty or sixty feet beyond th’ porch door. Of course, havin’ th’ butler fixed, it looked easy. An’ there wasn’t no chancst for me to do Rollins dirt, ’cause he had th’ goods on me for another little job of mine, an’ he said he’d send me up if I didn’t come across fair an’ square. Oh, I ain’t even squealin’ on him now because I want to—th’ chief has always treated me right; but murder I won’t face for no man.
“All what th’ butler—Donaldson—says about th’ robbery happened just like that. I got down t’ th’ front hall an’ out into th’ garden. It was pretty bright, an’ I didn’t have no trouble spottin’ th’ bush Rollins was hid behind, see? I had th’ packet in me pocket—an’ I had my gun out.”
“You had your revolver in your hand?”
“Sure, a .38 special wit’ one of the butt plates busted. I had took it out when I got t’ th’ bottom of th’ front stairs, because there was two fellers quarrellin’ hell bent for ‘lection in th’ room yonder, an’ I wasn’t takin’ no chances if they should of happened to run up on me—y’see, they don’t usually ask no questions of burglars—they shoot.
“Anyway, I creeps along slow an’ easy, gun out an’ th’ papers in my pocket, until I gets t’ th’ bush. There was Rollins lyin’ in there comfy an’ easy. As I get there he grabs me.