ringly: "There is
no--the original record is in my desk--you've seen it."

"Bah!" The big shape backed away--two or three feet, whispering back at
the Judge. "Open your mouth and you're a dead man. I've got you covered!"

Cowering on his cot the Judge watched the big shape join the other at the
safe. How long it remained there, he did not know. A step sounded in the
silence that reigned outside--a third shape loomed in the doorway.

"Judge Lindman!" called a voice.

"Y-es?" quavered the Judge, aware that the big shape in the room was now
close to him, menacing him.

"Your door's open! Where's Ed? There's something wrong! Get up and strike
a light. There'll be hell to pay if Corrigan finds out we haven't been
watching your stuff. Damn it! A man can't steal time for a drink without
something happens. Jim and Bill and me just went across the street,
leaving Ed here. They're coming right--"

He had been entering the room while talking, fingering in his pockets for
a match. His voice died in a quick gasp as Trevison struck with the butt
of his pistol. The man fell, silently.

Another voice sounded outside. Trevison crouched at the doorway. A form
darkened the opening. Trevison struck, missed, a streak of fire split the
night--the newcomer had used his pistol. It went off again--the
flame-spurt shooting ceilingward, as Levins clinched the man from the
rear. A third man loomed in the doorway; a fourth appeared, behind him.
Trevison swung at the head of the man nearest him, driving him back upon
the man behind, who cursed, plunging into the room. The man whom Levins
had seized was shouting orders to the others. But these suddenly ceased as
Levins smashed him on the head with the butt of a pistol. Two others
remained. They were stubborn and courageous. But it was miserable work, in
the dark--blows were misdirected, friend striking friend; other blows went
wild, grunts of rage and impotent curses following. But Trevison and
Levins were intent on escaping--a victory would have been hollow--for the
thud and jar of their boots on the bare floor had been heard; doors were
slamming; from across the street came the barking of a dog; men were
shouting questions at one another; from the box-car on the railroad tracks
issued vociferous yells and curses. Trevison slipped out through the door,
panting. His opponent had gone down, temporarily disabled from sundry
vicious blows from a fist that had worked like a piston rod. A figure
lo