conscience. You must not talk of dying now—your duty is to your father. If you take your own life it will be a tacit admission of guilt and will only serve to double the burden of sorrow and ignominy which your father is bound to feel when this thing becomes public, as it certainly must if a murder has been done. The only way in which you can atone for your error is to go back and face the consequences with him—do not throw it all upon him; that would be cowardly.”
The girl did not reply; but that the man's words had impressed her seemed evident. For a while each was occupied with his own thoughts; which were presently disturbed by the sound of footsteps upon the floor below—the muffled scraping of many feet followed a moment later by an exclamation and an oath, the words coming distinctly through the loose and splintered flooring.
“Pipe the stiff,” exclaimed a voice which The Oskaloosa Kid recognized immediately as that of Soup Face.
“The Kid musta croaked him,” said another.
A laugh followed this evidently witty sally.
“The guy probably lamped the swag an' died of heart failure,” suggested another.
The men were still laughing when the sound of a clanking chain echoed dismally from the cellar. Instantly silence fell upon the newcomers upon the first floor, followed by a—“Wotinel's that?” Two of the men had approached the staircase and started to ascend it. Slowly the uncanny clanking drew closer to the first floor. The girl on the bed turned toward Bridge.
“What is it?” she gasped.
“We don't know,” replied the man. “It followed us up here, or rather it chased us up; and then went down again just before you regained consciousness. I imagine we shall hear some interesting developments from below.”
“It's The Sky Pilot and his gang,” whispered The Oskaloosa Kid.
“It's The Oskaloosa Kid,” came a voice from below.
“But wot was that light upstairs then?” queried another.
“An' wot croaked this guy here?” asked a third. “It
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