"About Jake Kilroe now," said Billy, sitting down at the table and snicking open the box of cartridges, "about Jake Kilroe--what does the marshal want me to do?"

"Get evidence against him," was the smooth reply. "Enough to convict him, of course."

"Of course. Not enough to convict him would help us very little.

Yeah. Any suggestions, Judge?"

"What kind of suggestions?" the judge inquired with just a trace of impatience.

"How I'm to start in--what do you guess? I don't know much about Jake, y'understand. For instance, where does Jake get his liquor in the first place?"

"How should I know?"

"I dunno. Thought maybe you might. Judges are supposed to know a lot.

But if you don't, you don't, that's all."

Judge Driver sat up a trifle straighter in his chair. He looked at Billy with some suspicion. It could not be humanly possible that Billy was joking with him, yet----

"I guess I'd better start in this afternoon," continued Billy briskly.

"There's nothing like a quick start. And the marshal would like it too. Suppose you and I, Judge, go down to Jake's and see what we can see."

"I thought you were going somewhere else," demurred Judge Driver.

"What makes you think so?"

"That note-- You said you had to go some place in a hurry."

"Did I? Well, I am. I'm going down to Jake Kilroe's, and you're going with me, huh?"

"Look here," said the judge, the light of desperation in his eyes, "you don't have to go down to Kilroe's now. That can wait. The marshal ain't in such a fright of a hurry as all that. Go on and do whatever you have to do. I didn't mean--I don't want this to interfere with your personal business, and I'm sure the marshal wouldn't. He'll understand. I know he will. You go on and do whatever you have to do, Bill."

"I will," murmured Billy. "I will. Where are you going, Judge?"

"Oh, I guess I'll be drifting along, Bill," smiled the judge, half-turning on his way to the door. "You don't need me any longer."

"Yes, I do too," Billy declared fretfully. "You come on back and set down. I've got something here I want to read you."

Involuntarily the judge's eyes strayed to the wastebasket. He came back and sat down.

On the table between the extra six-shooter that Billy had finished loading and the box of cartridges was a small leather-bound book.

Billy picked up this book and turned to the index. He ran his finger down the page till he came to that which he sought.

"'Morality, rules of, where consonant with those of law,'" he read aloud, and turned back to page twenty-eight.

Judge Driver stared at Billy Wingo in some amazement. What on earth was the sheriff driving at. Rules of morality? Well!

"This book," said Billy, glancing across at the judge, "is a copy of the grounds and maxims of the English laws, by William Noy, of Lincoln's Inn, Attorney General, and a member of the Privy Council to King Charles the First."

"What in G.o.d's name," demanded the now thoroughly amazed judge, "has that to do with me?"

"I want to read you something," persisted Billy. "You know that our laws were practically taken from the English laws. Our grounds and maxims are the same as theirs. What's good law with them is good law with us, and _vice versa_. You're a judge. You know that as well as I do. Don't you?"

The judge nodded. "I suppose so."

"It says here," resumed Billy Wingo, "in section thirty-three under Moral Rules, that the 'law favoreth works of charity, right and truth, and abhorreth fraud, covin, and incertainties which obscure the truth; contrarities, delays, unnecessary circ.u.mstances, and such like. Deceit and fraud should be remedied on all occasions.' How about it? Don't you agree with Mr. William Noy?"

"He's right; but there's nothing new about it. I knew it already."

"Then you'll understand me, perhaps, when I tell you that I intend to get to the bottom of everything that has gone on here this afternoon."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that there has been more 'fraud, covin, and incertainties which obscure the truth' scattered round in this room to-day than by right there should have been. I don't mind a little. Human beings are odd numbers, anyway. You've got to take all that into consideration."

"I don't understand you."

"Then, too," pursued the unheeding Billy, "'contrarities, delays, unnecessary circ.u.mstances, and such like,' I despise. They give me a bad taste in my mouth. Don't they you?"

"They would any one," acquiesced the judge, and made to rise. "Well, now you've read me what you wanted to, I won't keep you any longer. I know you must be in a hurry to get away. We'll let the Kilroe business wait over a few days."

"Sit down, Judge," Billy Wingo murmured softly, his hand resting as if by chance on the b.u.t.t of the six-shooter lying on the table. "Sit down, do."

The judge hesitated. Then with the well-known hollow laugh, he sat down. He looked at Billy Wingo. The latter looked at him in silence for a s.p.a.ce.

"Judge," he remarked suddenly, "deceit and fraud should remedied on all occasions. Tell me why you put that letter in the fire?"

The judge continued to sit perfectly still. It might be said that he was frozen to his chair. Then slowly, almost imperceptibly, his right hand began to steal upward under the tail of his coat.

"I wouldn't, Judge," continued Billy, "I just wouldn't if I were you."

The judge's hand hung straight by his side. "You're getting in pretty deep, Bill," he observed with a cold smile.

"But not as deep as you are already," said Billy Wingo, with an even colder smile. "You haven't answered my question yet--about the burning of the letter. Why, Judge, why?"

"Give it any name you like," replied the jurist carelessly. "I don't feel like answering any more questions."

"Yet a li'l while back you didn't mind answering any questions I felt like asking. Was it to gain time, Judge--to gain time till Skinny Shindle came in and did his part with the note from Miss Walton? Was it, Judge, was it? Dumb, huh? Aw right, perhaps you'd rather tell me why Simon Reelfoot acted about the same way, except Simon was special careful to make us mad besides--mad when it wasn't necessary to make us mad if Simon was playing a straight game, but necessary enough if Simon wanted to gain more time. Yeah, Simon sure beat around the bush time and again before he came to the point. I expect you were delayed getting here, huh, Judge? Simon kept looking out of the window alla time, I remember."

Billy Wingo felt silent and contemplated the judge. The latter stared back, his face impa.s.sive.

"Be advised," said the judge suddenly. "You can't buck us alone. You should know that."

"I should--maybe," returned Billy Wingo. "But I feel like taking a gamble with you. So instead of going to Kilroe's, we'll do what the letter said and go out to Walton's to-day."

The judge lifted his eyebrows. "We?"

"We," confirmed Billy calmly. "You're going with me."

"No," said the judge.