silence. Crosby strode among them, looking neither to the left nor
right, and touched Lieutenant Ranson upon the shoulder.

"The colonel's orders, Lieutenant Ranson," he said. "You are under
arrest."

Ranson leaned back against the music-rack and placed his glass upon
the keyboard. One leg was crossed over the other, and he did not
remove it.

"Then you can't take a joke," he said in a low tone. "You had to run
and tell." He laughed and raised his voice so that all in the club
might hear, "What am I arrested for, Crosby?" he asked.

The lines in Crosby's face deepened, and only those who sat near
could hear him. "You are under arrest for attempting to kill a
superior officer, for the robbery of the government pay-train--and
for murder."

Ranson jumped to his feet. "My God, Crosby!" he cried.

"Silence! Don't talk!" ordered Crosby. "Come along with me."

The four troopers fell in in rear of Lieutenant Crosby and their
prisoner. He drew a quick, frightened breath, and then, throwing back
his shoulders, fell into step, and the six men tramped from the club
and out into the night.