"We want justice for Bob Chester," said Mr. Perkins.
"We want you to give him every cent you have in bank except the five hundred dollars you had when Horace Chester died. We want you to sign this paper admitting that you forged the will bequeathing you the ranch in Red Top. We want you to acknowledge you lied when you told Bob his father was insane."
"And if I refuse?"
"You go to jail, and we take the money and ranch."
"But I have no money," whimpered Dardus.
"Lying won't help you. We know every cent you have in bank and where it is. Here's the confession, sign it first."
Glancing from one to another, the storekeeper seemed to seek an avenue of escape.
"Officers, if this man does not sign this paper within two minutes, arrest him," exclaimed Mr. Perkins.
Quickly the detectives moved one to either side of Len Dardus.
"All right, I'll sign," he moaned, sinking into a chair.
And, after reading the words admitting his guilt, he affixed his name.
"Now, tell Bob you lied to him about his father."
