Blackwell. What would I be talking to him about, if I wasn't reading the
riot act to him? Ain't it likely too that he would be sorry for what he
did while he was angry at your father for butting in as he was having
trouble with his wife? And after he had said he was sorry why shouldn't I
hit the road out of there? There's no love lost between me and Luck
Cullison. I wasn't under any obligations to wrap him up in cotton and
bring him back this side up with care to his anxious friends. If he chose
later to take a hike out of town on p.d.q. hurry up business I ain't to
blame. And I reckon you'll find a jury will agree with me."

She had to admit to herself that he made out a plausible case. Not that
she believed it for a moment. But very likely a jury would. As for his
subsequent silence that could be explained by his desire not to mix
himself in the affairs of one with whom he was upon unfriendly terms. The
irrefutable fact that he had saved the life of Cullison would go a long
way as presumptive proof of his innocence.

"I see you are wearing your gray hat again? What have you done with the
brown one?"

She had flashed the question at him so unexpectedly that he was startled,
but the wary mask fell again over the sardonic face.

"You take a right friendly interest in my hats, seems to me."

"I know this much. Father took your hat by mistake from the club. You
bought a brown one half an hour later. You used Father's to manufacture
evidence against him. If it isn't true that he is your prisoner how does
it come that you have your gray hat again? You must have taken it from
him."

He laughed uneasily. She had guessed the exact truth.

"In Arizona there are about forty thousand gray hats like this. Do you
figure you can identify this one, Miss Cullison? And suppose your fairy
tale of the Jack of Hearts is true, couldn't I have swapped hats again
while he lay there unconscious?"

She brushed his explanation aside with a woman's superb indifference to
logic.

"You can talk of course. I don't care. It is all lies--lies. You have
kidnapped Father and are holding him somewhere. Don't you dare to hurt
him. If you should--Oh, if you should--you will wish you had never been
born." The fierceness of her passion beat upon him like sudden summer
hail.

He laughed slowly, well pleased. A lazy smoldering admiration shone in his
half shuttered eyes.

"So you're going to take it out of me, are you?"

A creature of moods, th