aw you away
from the gates. Then if you went in to see about it I'd either kill you
if I had to, or slip out if you give me the chance. You just stay right
here, whatever happens. Keep under shelter and keep your horses right
by you. We got him bottled up and we won't draw the cork till the
sheriff comes. I'll tell 'em to do the same way at the other end. I
won't take any gun with me and I'll stick to the big main road. That way
Bransford won't feel no call to shoot me. Likely he's 'way up in the
cliffs, anyhow."

"Ride the sorrel horse then, why don't you? He isn't lame enough to hurt
much, but he's lame enough that Bransford won't want him." Thus Mr.
Griffith, again dissimulating. Every detail of Mr. Long's plan
forestalled suspicion. That these measures were precisely calculated to
disarm suspicion now occurred to Griffith's stubborn mind. For he had a
stubborn mind; the morning's coffee had cleared it of cobwebs, and it
clung more tenaciously than ever to the untenable and thrice-exploded
theory that Long and Bransford were one and inseparable, now and
forever.

He meditated an ungenerous scheme for vindication and, to that end,
wished Mr. Long to ride the sorrel horse. For Mr. Long, if he were
indeed the murderer--as, of course, he was--would indubitably, upon some
plausible pretext, attempt to pass the guards at the farther end of the
trip, where was no clear-eyed Griffith on guard. What more plausible
that a modification of the plan already rehearsed--for Long to tell the
wardens that Griffith had sent him to telegraph to the sheriff? Let him
once pass those warders on any pretext! That would be final betrayal,
for all his shrewdness. There was no possibility that Long and Bransford
could complete their escape on that lame sorrel. He would not be allowed
to get much of a start--just enough to betray himself. Then he,
Griffith, would bring them back in triumph.

It was a good scheme: all things considered, it reflected great credit
upon Mr. Griffith's imagination. As in Poe's game of "odd or even,"
where you must outguess your opponent and follow his thought, Mr. Rex
Griffith had guessed correctly in every respect. Such, indeed, had been
Mr. Long's plan. Only Rex did not guess quite often enough. Mr. Long had
guessed just one layer deeper--namely, that Mr. Griffith would follow
his thought correctly and also follow him. Therefore Mr. Long switched
again. It was a bully game--better than poker. Mr. Long enjoyed