The sheriff seems to allow you a pretty
free hand--possibly because I assured him that you were not physically
fit to--er--ride a horse. Since I saw that bank-book of yours, I've
been thinking more about your case. If I were you I would hire the
best legal talent in El Paso, and fight that case to a finish. You can
pay for it."
"You mean for me to hire a lawyer to tell 'em I didn't kill Sam Brent?"
"Not exactly that--but hire a lawyer to _prove_ to the judge and jury
that you didn't kill him."
"Then a fella's got to pay to prove he didn't do somethin' that he's
arrested for, and never done?"
"Often enough. And he's lucky if he has the money to do it. Think it
over--and let me know how you are getting along. Miss Gray will be
interested also."
"All right. Thanks, Doc. I ain't forgittin' you folks."
Andover waved his hand as he swung the car round and swept out of town.
Pete watched him as he sped out across the mesa.
Sheriff Owen was standing in the livery-stable door across the street
as Pete turned and started toward him. Midway across the street Pete
felt a sharp pain shoot through his chest.
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