And he done it all just about as
well. He was one of them universal experts. He could blow a safe as neat
as you'd ask. And if it come to a gun fight, he was greased lightning
with a flying start. That was Jack Hollis."
The sheriff paused to draw breath.
"Perhaps," said Elizabeth Cornish, white about the lips, "we had better
go into the living room to hear the rest of the sheriff's story?"
It was not a very skillful diversion, but Elizabeth had reached the point
of utter desperation. And on the way into the living room unquestionably
she would be able to divert Terry to something else. Vance held his
breath.
And it was Terry who signed his own doom.
"We're very comfortable here, Aunt Elizabeth. Let's not go in till the
sheriff has finished his story."
The sheriff rewarded him with a flash of gratitude, and Vance settled
back in his chair. The end could not, now, be far away.
CHAPTER 12
"I was saying," proceeded the sheriff, "that they scared their babies in
these here parts with the name of Jack Hollis. Which they sure done.
Well, sir, he was bad."
"Not all bad, surely," put in Vance.
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