"I thought it looked like one of your jobs," he said, addressing Dillon and Mason jointly. Dillon could not refrain from nudging Mason, and in the same instant he caught Carney's eye. Carney winked quietly, and Dillon smiled, and to hide the smile, self-consciously ducked his head and spat out his tobacco.
"Well," said Fallen, "I'm much obliged to you men." He included McFee officially, and Kouka and Quinn personally in this acknowledgment.
"I'll have the marshal come for them after dinner. I want Mason there and Dillon"--he pointed fiercely and menacingly--"and Mandell and that kid." He was indicating Squeak. "What's your name?" he demanded.
Squeak hesitated, then said: "Davis."
Fallen laughed in his superior, federal way, and said:
"That'll do as well as any."
Then he looked at Archie.
"I don't want him," he said. "He doesn't belong to this gang; he wasn't there. There were only four of them. You can cut him out."
Kouka and Quinn looked at each other in surprise; they were about to protest. In Archie's heart, as he watched this little drama, a wild hope flamed. Carney, too, looked up, showing the first interest he had evinced. Something in his look deterred Fallen, held his eye. He knew Carney and his reputation; his glance plainly implied a question.
"You're wrong on that fellow Mason," said Carney.
Fallen looked at him, then at Mason; then he smiled his superior smile.
"Oh, I guess not," he said lightly. He turned away with his complacent, insulting smile.
"All right," said Carney. "You've got him wrong, that's all. He's been here in town for three weeks. Of course, it's nothing to me--'tain't my business." He plunged his hands in his trousers pockets and walked over to the window.
The men in the chained line shuffled uneasily.
"Do I get out now?" Archie asked.
Kouka laughed.
"Yes--when I'm through with you."
That afternoon Dillon, Mason, Mandell and Squeak were taken to the county jail on warrants charging them with the robbery of the post-office at Romeo.
Gibbs appeared at the jail early that evening, his blue eyes filled with a distress that made them almost as innocent as they must have been when he was a little child.
"I just heard of the pinch," he said apologetically.
"Didn't they send you word last night?" asked Dillon.
Gibbs shook his head impatiently, as if it were useless to waste time in discussing such improbabilities.
"Never mind," he said. "I'll send a mouthpiece."
"Yes, do, Dan," said Mason. "We want a hearing."
"Well, now, leave all that to me, Joe," said Gibbs. "I'll send you some tobacco and have John fetch in some chuck."
Gibbs attended to their little wants, but he had difficulty as to the lawyer. He had, from time to time, employed various lawyers in the city, being guided in his selections, not by the reputed abilities of the lawyers, but by his notions of their pull with the authorities.
Formerly he had employed Frisby on the recommendation of Cleary, the chief of police, with whom Frisby divided such fees, but Frisby's charges were extortionate, and lately, Gibbs understood, his influence was waning. In thinking over the other lawyers, he recalled Shelley Thomas, but Thomas, he found, was on a drunk. At last he decided on Marriott.
"There's nothing to it," he said to Marriott, "especially so far as Mason's concerned; he's a friend of mine. He's in wrong, but these United States inspectors will job him if they get a chance."
Marriott wished that Gibbs had retained some other lawyer. The plight of the men seemed desperate enough. He thought them guilty, and, besides, he wished to go away on his vacation. But his interest deepened; he found that he was dealing with a greater power than he encountered in the ordinary state case; the power, indeed, of the United States. The officials in the government building were unobliging; Fallen was positively insulting; from none of them could he receive any satisfaction. The hearing was not set, and then one evening Fallen mysteriously disappeared. Marriott was enraged, Gibbs was desperate, and Marriott found himself sharing Gibbs's concern.
Dillon and Mandell and Squeak spoke only of proving an alibi; they said that Gibbs would arrange this for them. This disheartened Marriott, confirmed his belief in their guilt, and he shrank from placing on the stand the witnesses Gibbs would supply. And then, one afternoon at the jail, a strange experience befell him. Mason was looking at him, his face pressed against the bars; he fixed his eyes on him, and, speaking slowly, with his peculiar habit of moistening his lips and swallowing between his words, he said:
"You think I'm guilty of this, Mr. Marriott."
Marriott tried to smile, and tried to protest, but his looks must have belied him.
"I know you do," Mason went on, "but I'm not, Mr. Marriott. I've done time--lots of it, but they've got me wrong now. These inspectors will lie, of course, but I can prove an alibi. What night was the job done?"
"The twelfth," said Marriott.
"That was Saturday, wasn't it?"
"Yes."
"Well, that night I was in Gibbs's. There was a mob of sure-thing men in there that night--Ed Dean and the Rat and some others--Gibbs will tell you. I can't subpoena them--they couldn't help; nobody would believe them, and they dassen't show, anyway."
"Are they--" Marriott felt a delicacy in saying the word.
"Thieves?" said Mason. "Yes--you see how it is."
"Of course," said Marriott.
"But," Mason went on, "there was a fellow in there--I don't know his name--a reporter; he put a piece in his paper the next day about Dean.
Dean was kidding him--Gibbs can tell you. I wish you'd see him--he'll remember me, and he can fix the time by that piece he wrote."
Mason paused.
"I've done nearly twenty years, Mr. Marriott," he said presently. "That was all right; they done that on the square; this is the first time they ever had me in wrong. Dillon was with me every time--we worked together--that'll go against me. And them inspectors don't care--they'd just as soon job a fellow as not. All I ask now is a fair show. But those United States courts are a fierce game to put a man up against."
While Mason was talking a great wave of sympathy swept over Marriott; a conviction came to him that Mason was telling the truth.
"But," he said as the thought came to him, "can't Dillon and the others help you?"
"Well," Mason hesitated. "They've got themselves to look after. I'd rather fall myself than to throw them down. You see Gibbs about that reporter."
Marriott was convinced that Mason was not deceiving him; he felt a reproach at his own original lack of faith in the man. As he waited for the turnkey to unlock the door and let him out, a sickness came over him. The jail was new; there were many boasts about its modern construction, its sanitary conditions, and all that, but when he went out, he was glad of the cool air of the evening--it was wholly different from the atmosphere inside, however scientifically pure that may have been. He stopped a moment and looked back at the jail. It lifted its stone walls high above him; it was all clean, orderly, and architecturally not bad to look on. The handsome residence of the sheriff was brilliantly lighted; there were lace curtains at the windows, and within, doubtless, all the comforts, and yet--the building depressed Marriott. It struck him, though he could not then tell why, as a hideous anachronism. He thought of the men mewed within its stone walls; he could see Dillon's long eager face, ugly with its stubble of beard; he could see the reproach in Mason's eyes; he could see the shadowy forms of the other prisoners, walking rapidly up and down the corridors in their cramped exercises--how many were guilty? how many innocent? He could not tell; none could tell; they perhaps could not tell themselves. A great pity for them all filled his breast; he longed to set them all free. He wished this burden were lifted from him; he wished Gibbs had never come to him; he wished he could forget Mason--but he could not, and a great determination seized him to liberate this man, to prevent this great injustice which was gathering ominously in the world, drawing within its coils not only Mason, but all those who, like Fallen and the other officials, were concerned in the business, even though they remained free in the outer world. And Marriott had one more thought: if he could not prevent the injustice, would it taint him, too, as it must taint all who came in contact with it? He shuddered with a vague, superstitious fear.
Marriott found Wales, who recalled the evening at Gibbs's, consulted the files of his newspaper, made sure of the date, and then went with Marriott to the jail and looked through the bars into Mason's expectant eyes. He prolonged his inspection, plainly for the effect. Presently he said:
"Yes, he was there."
"You'll swear to it?" asked Marriott.