He said
he would, and I went off home to rest up after my hard ride.
"Judge Ballard calls that night and says everything is fixed. No use
putting the county to the expense of a trial when Pete has such a classy
perjured alibi as I would give him. Myron Bughalter is to go out of the
jail in a careless manner at nine-thirty that night, leaving all cells
unlocked and the door wide open so Pete can make his escape without
doing any damage to the new building. It seems the only other prisoner
is old Sing Wah, that they're willing to save money on, too. He'd got
full of perfumed port and raw gin a few nights before, announced himself
as a prize-hatchet man, and started a tong war in the laundry of one of
his cousins. But Sing was sober now and would stay so until the next New
Year's; so they was going to let him walk out with Pete. The judge said
Pete would probably be at the Arrowhead by sunup, and if he'd behave
himself from now on the law would let bygones be bygones. I thanked the
judge and went to bed feeling easy about old Pete.
"But at seven the next morning I'm waked up by the telephone--wanted
down to the jail in a hurry.
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