"Yes? Tell me about it."

"Oh, what's the use! Everybody's stickin' their noses in my business, and it ain't nothin' to do with 'em uther."

"I might help you," suggested Jordan, seemingly interested.

"Ain't anybody c'n help me," sulked Maudlin. "Got the richest man in town 'gainst me, and money's what makes the mare go."

The words "richest man" startled Morse, but he only said, "That's so!

But tell me just the same."

"Aw, it's only a wench I wanted! A mutt by the name of King b.u.t.ted in on me."

Jordan Morse mentally congratulated himself that he had struck the right nail on the head the very first whack.

To gain possession of Jinnie's money meant finding his boy, and that was the dearest wish of his heart.

"You might tell me about it," he reiterated slowly. "I ought to be able to help you."

"Naw, you can't!" scoffed Maudlin. "My pa and me's tried for a long time, but there ain't nothin' doin' with Jinnie. She's a sure devil, Jinnie is."

Jordan's blood tingled in antic.i.p.ation.

"Is that the girl's name?" he queried.

"Yes, she's a niece of a cobbler up the track yonder, and as pretty a little minx as walks Paradise Road. If I had 'er I'd fix her. I'd beat her till she minded me, I c'n tell y' that!"

"I believe beating's the way to subdue most women," said Morse, lighting a cigarette. But as he said this, a slight smile pa.s.sed over his face. He thought of Molly Merriweather in connection with the man's logic.

"It's the way pa done to my stepmother," observed Maudlin presently.

"She was a onery woman as ever you see, but pa one day just licked her, and then licked 'er every day till now she don't dast but mind 'im.... I'd do that with Jinnie if I had 'er."

Morse watched rings of smoke curl upward in the summer air, breaking among the branches of the trees.

"Why don't you steal 'er?" he demanded at length.

Bates' lower jaw fell down, showing discolored teeth. He stared at his inquisitor in consternation. Then he dropped back into his former slovenly att.i.tude.

"I never thought o' that," said he.

"I'll help you," offered Morse, carelessly, brushing ashes from his coat lapel.

Maudlin turned his eyes slowly from their straight ahead position until they came directly upon the handsome face of the other man. Then the two looked long and steadily at each other.

"What're you drivin' at?" blurted Bates.

"Only that I'm also interested in getting Jinnie away from Grandoken.

The fact is I hate King, and I think it's a good way to get even with him."

He refrained, however, from mentioning he was Jinnie's relative.

"D'you have me in mind when you come here?" questioned Bates.

"No! But I felt sure there'd be some young buck round here who'd fallen in love with the girl before this. And I found you without asking----"

"I'd make her beg me to marry her after I'd had 'er a week or two,"

interrupted Maudlin, with dilating pupils. "How could we steal 'er?"

"Just steal 'er, I said," replied Morse.

"And I said, 'How?'"

Morse waited a minute until Bates repeated once more, "How, mister?"

then he asked:

"Can you run a motor car?"

"No, but my pa can."

"My G.o.d! You musn't mention this to any one, not even your father.

I'll run the car myself. You go to the cobbler and by some excuse get the girl in the car--after that I'll see to her."

Bates narrowed his eyes.

"No, you won't see to nothin'," he growled surlily. "I don't take a step till I know I get 'er. I'll marry 'er all right, but she's got to want to marry me first."

"I don't care what you do with 'er," replied Morse morosely. "Marry 'er or not, just get her, that's all!"

"The cobbler's got a vixen of a wife," complained Maudlin at length.

"Persuade her to go somewhere, can't you?" snapped Morse.

"Yes, that's easy," drawled Maudlin, wobbling his head.

For a long time they sat talking and planning, until at length Morse put his hand in his pocket and handed the other man some money.

Maudlin tucked it away with a grin.

"Easy cash, eh? What'd you say the dame's name was?"

"Merriweather--Molly Merriweather. She's companion to Mr. King's mother."

"Jinnie fiddles all the afternoon.... Mebbe she won't go."

"Yes, she will. Tell her Miss Merriweather wants her to arrange a surprise for Theodore King. Tell 'er Miss Merriweather wants her to play."

Bates laughed evilly.

"That'll fix the huzzy. Anything about that d.a.m.n fiddle'll fetch 'er every time! When I get 'er I'll bust it up for kindlin' wood."