An' you're goin' to do it without him gettin' wise that I'm forcin' you.
You'll have to do some actin', an' if you fall down on this job you'll never have to act again! Get goin'!" Maison was careful not to make any noise as he went down the stairs; he was equally careful when he reached the street.
In a short time, Sanderson walking close behind him, he halted at a door of a private dwelling.

He knocked on the door, and a short, squat man appeared in the opening, holding a kerosene lamp in one hand and a six-shooter in the other.
He recognized Maison instantly and politely asked him and his visitor inside.

There Maison stated his business, and the judge, though revealing some surprise that so big a transaction should be concluded at so uncommon an hour, attested the paper made out by Maison, and signed the receipt for ninety thousand dollars written by Sanderson and given to the banker.

Then, still followed by Sanderson, the banker went out.
There was no word spoken by either of the men until they again reached the bank building.

Then it was Sanderson who spoke.
"That's all, Maison," he said.