He’ll hang quick
enough now we’ve caught him in a . . .
“Okay, Miss Manton,” Fielder said. “Take a good look at him. Just forget everythin’ except what you saw in Mr. Billingham’s office. This man’s life depends on your memory. Is that the man you saw?”
Gadsby dragged his gaze from the face of the marshal’s daughter and found himself looking into the dark eyes of the other girl — a girl so beautiful in her own way, but so different from the other. Fielder’s daughter appealed to him. In spite of her attitude toward him, there was a warmth and vital magnetism about her. Miss Manton was remote-looking, withdrawn, and there was a marble coldness about her beauty.
But at least they had one thing in common — they were both perfect strangers to him.
Then the tall girl’s low, well-modulated voice reached him and sent a shock through his whole body.
“There isn’t any doubt about it, Marshal. This is the man who killed Mr. Billingham.”