Free The Silent Hour by Elisabeth Grace Foley Page A

mistaken, and Old Ted was the culprit, in which case he would have probably hurried ahead to steal the money
before Jim arrived. But if we were right, he was undoubtedly in Mr.
Hall’s pay for keeping quiet about when he had really delivered his
message. And if we were right, Mr. Hall would almost certainly try
and get to the ranch himself before Jim did, to keep him from
discovering the theft—the amount required for bail being missing
might give him away. Jim knew how much money was supposed to be in
the safe. Mr. Hall might have taken it all away to cover his
tracks, or he may have simply attempted to stall Jim off and keep
him from opening the safe. What I did not expect was for him
to entirely lose his head.”
    “A busted bank’s enough to drive anybody off
his head,” said Royal.
    “Well, you see,” said Mrs. Meade somewhat
apologetically, “Randall was to have followed Jim much more
closely, but you interfered with that, Andrew—all with the best of
intentions, of course. Randall was armed; he was to serve as a
witness to anything that occurred, as well as forestall any
unpleasantness that might arise. However, I see now that we made
entirely too little allowance for circumstances beyond our control,
and I am very sorry for that. But there wasn’t much time,
you see—and it was my first experience with arranging
anything of this sort, so I hope you will forgive me.”
    Gennaro coughed—he caught Dr. Dunton’s eye,
and then they avoided each other’s glance for a moment after that.
“I’d been watching the house these last two nights,” Gennaro said,
“and I saw Hall get here tonight and go inside. He left his horse
hid in the trees. But then a minute later Jim showed up, so I hung
back to see what was going on. I was sneaking round back to see if
I could listen at a window when the shooting started, so I ran
round and stopped him when he came out the back door.”
    Jim was silent. He had said nothing of that
brief confrontation that must have taken place by the hearthside,
when the man he had believed to be a friend had been revealed as
his grandfather’s murderer, and Mrs. Meade did not expect him
to.
    “Er—what do you suppose has become of Old
Ted?” said Dr. Dunton.
    “I rather think Sour Springs has seen the
last of Old Ted,” said Mrs. Meade. “Randall said he never saw him
again after the commotion started. I fancy he left in a hurry.”
    Andrew Royal grunted. “Got rid of him cheap
if all anybody’s out is the price of Murdock’s horse. Won’t be so
cheap in Hall’s case, though, if all this about the bank turns out
true.”
    “I said to Morris, before he left,” said
Gennaro, “‘I guess Cambert’s keeping his money out of the bank cost
him more in the end.’ He laughed and said, ‘I wasn’t thinking that.
I’m just glad my money’s in the Stockmen’s Associated instead of
the First National.’”
    “And he’s quite right,” said Mrs. Meade.
“Anyone’s money would be safer under a rock than in a bank run by a
man who would murder for it.”
    The sound of buggy wheels was heard outside.
Dr. Dunton looked up, and snapped his bag shut. “I think I will
have some of that coffee,” he said, as he buckled the straps. “Made
strong, I hope, Mrs. Meade?”
    “Oh, yes, Doctor. Quite strong enough to
match the circumstances,” said Mrs. Meade.
    Dr. Dunton picked up his bag and went out,
and Gennaro went with him. A moment after the door had closed
behind them, more footsteps and voices were heard in the house, and
then steps approached and Randall Morris opened the bedroom door.
He stood aside to make way for Frances Ruskin, who halted on the
threshold, white-faced and uncertain, her eyes going half fearfully
to the bed where Jim lay. Jim Cambert turned his head a little on
the pillow and saw her. She took a few slow, hesitant steps into
the room. Then Jim lifted his good hand a little and stretched it
out toward her, with an unmistakable look of love and longing.