"But that's Darcy, all right," O'Leary assured him. "Same eyes, and same
mole on his neck. Just read him that letter from Collins, Mr. Carter."
At the name of Collins the prisoner winced visibly. For some time he had
realized that Collins might betray him; and he had thought seriously of
ending that scoundrel's career.
Carter followed up the advantage quickly.
"I think this is Mr. Thorn of Union City?" he inquired politely.
"That's my name," said the man, "and I live in Union City, as I told the
officer."
"I've just come from Union City," replied Carter quietly, "and happen to
know that you are a respected citizen of that place. Don't suppose you
ever heard of J. C. P. Collins of Nevada County, California?"
"I was a miner in California several years, but I don't remember anybody
by the name of Collins."
"It's singular then that Collins should call you his old pal and address
you as 'Dear Thorn alias Darcy.'" And Carter presented Collins' letter.
"You're wanted, Thorn, alias Darcy, for the murder of William F.
Cummins." The sheriff looked at the prisoner so sternly that the man
wilted. "Collins has owned up, and you might as well do the same.
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