"You appeared with the kit-bag! That disconcerted me terribly. It
proved what I had not perceived--that you two young Englishmen,
tenderfeet both of you, had realised what you were doing, had
seriously faced the responsibility of resurrecting the dead. The
letter to the cashier, the twenty-dollar bill I found in my coat-
pocket--these were as scorpions. But I hadn't the nerve to own up. So
I carried the money to the bank and deposited it to your account."
"Then you bought a six-shooter."
"Yes; I meant to try another world. I had had enough of this one. I
couldn't go back to my wallow."
"What restrained you?"
"The difficulty of finding a hiding-place. If my body were discovered,
I knew that it would be awful for you."
"Thanks."
"It's easy to find a hole, but it's not easy to pull a hole in after
one--eh? Still, I thought I should find some wild gulch on the Santa
Barbara trail, amongst those God-forsaken foothills. The buzzards
would pull the hole in within forty-eight hours."
"Ah! the buzzards." I shivered, seeing once more those grim sextons of
the Pacific seaboard.
"I found the right place; and just then I saw the stage crawling up
the grade. Immediately the excitement of a new sensation gripped me. I
had a taste of it when I opened your safe. It seized me again,
relentlessly. If I were successful, I might begin again; if I failed,
I could shoot myself without imposing an atrocious remorse upon you.
Well, the pluck of that driver upset my plans--the plans of an
amateur. I ought to have held them up on the upgrade."
"And after you failed----"
"Ah! after I failed I had a lucid interval. Don't laugh! I was hungry
and thirsty. The most pressing need of my nature at that moment was a
square meal. I walked to a hotel, and was nailed. Your brother's
letter to the cashier saved me. I realised dimly that I had become
respectable, that I looked--for the deputy sheriff told me so--an
English gentleman--Mr. Johnson, your friend. That's about all."
"All?" I echoed, in dismay.
"The rest is so commonplace. I got a small job as clerk in a fruit-
packing house. It led to better things. I suppose I am my father's
son. I failed to make a living, spoiling canvas, but as a business man
I have been a mild success."
"And what are you doing now?"
"I buy and sell claret. Any other question?"
"Yes. How did you open our burglar-proof safe?"
Johnson laughed.
"My father was a manufacturer of safes," he answered. "I know the
tricks of my trade."