CHAPTER XVIII.
A LAST RESORT.“Search him!” sternly commanded Badger. “We’ll see what that will bring forth. Search him, Conley, and see what you can find!”
The scene was the kitchen of the Badger dwelling.
Fifteen minutes had passed since Patsy was rounded up and brought in there, and the quarter-hour had been devoted to plying him with questions to break down the crafty story he had told, and to which he clung with a tenacity born of conscious desperation.
He now stood with his back to one of the kitchen walls, in the full glare of the lamplight.
His arms were still secured behind him, and his collar and cravat were awry from the throttling he had received.
His face was composed, however, not even pale, and his eyes were keen and bright with that inherent courage and invincible dete
