"Ha, ha!" he said. "So _that_ hurts, eh? Well, here's more of the
same kind. We got Barney Owen drunk last sight, and he admitted that
he'd signed all of Sanderson's papers--the papers that were supposed to
have been signed by your brother. Why didn't Sanderson sign them?
Why? Because Sanderson couldn't do it.
"Owen, who knew your brother in Arizona, signed them, because he knew
how to imitate your brother's writing. Get that! Owen signed a bank
receipt for the money old Bransford had in the bank. Owen got it and
gave it to me. He was so drunk he didn't know what he was doing, but
he could imitate your brother's writing, all right."
"You've got the money?" gasped the girl.
Again Dale laughed, mockingly. "Yep," he said, "I've got it. Three
thousand two hundred. And I've got four thousand that belongs to that
four-flusher, Square Deal. Seven thousand." He laughed again.
"Where is Sanderson?" questioned the girl.
"In jail, over in Okar." Dale paused long enough to enjoy the girl's
distress.
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