Simrall beckoned for the guard to bring Hall down.
Simrall's humor had not improved with the prospect of his expedition turning out a failure. The prisoners in jail had guyed them as they went poking into the empty cells, not willing to take the deputy sheriff's word that no records had been hidden there. This deputy was a loyal Damascus man. When Simrall had tried to make him tell what he knew about the removal of the records, he had hinted darkly that they had been shipped out of the county on Number Six that afternoon.
"Dr. Hall, you've got a name of bein' a purty shrewd kind of a man," Simrall addressed him, puffing and mopping his hot face. "Throwin' a bluff seems to be your long suit, but I want to tell you now you're goin' past the limit of this game. We've got one more place to look for the record books of this county, and if we don't find them there you and me we'll have a little session off to the side between ourselves. We're not goin' back without them records. If they've been shipped out of this county, you'll answer for it."
"They haven't been sent out of the county; I can assure you on that point," Hall replied.
"You'll have to tell us what you've done with them, Hall. You can't stall around this way any longer. But we'll take a look in your office as we go by."
Simrall appeared to be in earnest, but it was hard to tell how far he would go to get what he wanted out of Hall, for he was not a convincing sort of man. Hall did not feel himself in any danger, although Simrall added two men on horseback, who carried ropes on their saddles, to his picked gang of six as they started down Custer Street toward the railroad. There were trees along the
