One by one, at separate times, covering the other with a revolver, Stangeist had permitted them to read a document that was addressed to the district attorney.

It was a confession, complete in every detail, of every crime the four together had committed, implicating Stangeist as fully and unreservedly as it did the other three.

It required no commentary! If anything happened to Stangeist, a stab in the dark, for instance, a bullet from some dark alleyway, a blackjack deftly wielded, as only Australian Ike, The Mope or Clarie Deane knew how to wield it--the document automatically became a DEATH SENTENCE for Australian Ike, The Mope, and Clarie Deane! It was very simple--and, evidently, it had been effective, as witness the renewal of their operations in the murder of Roessle that afternoon.
Fear and avarice had both probably played their part; fear of the man who would with such consummate nerve fling his life into the balance to turn the tables upon them, while he jeered at them; avarice that prompted them to get what they could out of Stangeist's brains and leadership, and to be satisfied with what they COULD get--since they could get no more! Satisfied?
Jimmie Dale shook his head.

No; that was hardly the word--cowed, perhaps, for the moment, would be better.

But afterward, with a document like that in existence, when they would never be safe for an instant--well, beasts in the cages had been known to get the better of the man with the whip, and beasts were gentle things compared with Australian Ike, The Mope, and Clarie Deane! Some day they would reverse the tables on the Indian Chief--if they could.