it’s location Moran knew that indicated the cabin in which he sat.
It had been smuggled inside the prison walls to another man—a boyhood friend less fortunate in his efforts to evade capture than was the man who drew the map. On his release he had found the cabin and found that letter telling where and under what new name to find his friend—the friend who had changed both name and mode of life and whose money had enabled both to break away from the wild outlaw days of youth. A quarter century later Nash had gained knowledge and possession of these documents while settling up this man’s estate.
“I ran away and came out here the minute he handed them to me,” she said. “I wrote to Kinney from the train, telling him to meet me here. I mailed another which will explain everything to my father when he gets home.”
Moran turned to where Flash was sniffing at the door.
“I’m half way tempted to open the door and let him go,” he said. “Nash will never trouble anyone again if Flash gets out of this house tonight.”
The girl shivered slightly.
“Not that way,” she said.
