"Bailed out," growled Hicks.

"Bailed out! Why, who----?"

"I don't know, an' don't give a damn. Someone that's got more money
than brains. I wouldn't trust you as far as I could throw a bull by
the tail, an' you needn't think I've forgot the poke in the jaw you
give me. I'll git you yet."

Hedin paused upon the steps of the police station and glanced across
the street where a light burned in the office of Hiram P. Buckner,
attorney-at-law. Buckner held the reputation of being by far the most
able lawyer in the vicinity, and Hedin's first impulse was to retain
him. He crossed the sidewalk and paused abruptly as he remembered that
Buckner was McNabb's attorney. Of course, the prosecution of his case
would be in the hands of the state, but--why jeopardize his own case by
employing a man who stood at the beck and call of the very man who was
pushing his prosecution? He turned and proceeded slowly toward his
hotel, and as he passed down the street a man stepped from the office
of the attorney and followed. He was a large man, muffled to the ears
in a fur coat. He followed unnoticed, into the hotel and up the
stairs, and when Hedin entered his room and switched on the light the
man stepped across the threshold and closed the door behind him. He
turned and faced Hedin, throwing back the collar of his coat. Hedin
gasped in amazement. The man was old John McNabb, and to his utter
bewilderment, Hedin caught a twinkle in the old Scot's eye.