“What's it all about, anyway?” quizzed Polycarp, hungering for the details which had thus far been denied him. “De Garmo sees red whenever anybody mentions your name, Kenneth—but I never did hear no particulars.”
“No?” Kent was turning toward the door. “Well, you see, Fred claims he can holler louder than I can, and I say he can't.” He opened the door and calmly departed, leaving Polycarp looking exceedingly foolish and a bit angry.
Straight to the hotel, without any pretense at disguising his destination, marched Kent. He went into the office—which was really a saloon—invited Hawley to drink with him, and then wondered audibly if he could beg some pie from Mrs. Hawley.
“Supper'll be ready in a few minutes,” Hawley informed him, glancing up at the round, dust-covered clock screwed to the wall.
“I don't want supper—I want pie,” Kent retorted, and opened a door which led into the hallway. He went down the narrow passage to another door, opened it without ceremony, and was assailed by the odor of many things—the odor which spoke plainly of supper, or some other assortment of food. No one was in sight, so he entered the dining room boldly, stepped to another door, tapped very lightly upon it, and went in. By this somewhat roundabout method he invaded the parlor.
Manley Fleetwood was lying upon an extremely uncomfortable couch, of the kind which is called a sofa. He had a lace-edged handkerchief folded upon his brow, and upon his face was an expression of conscious unworthiness which struck Kent as being extremely humorous. He grinned understandingly and Manley flushed—also understandingly. Valeria hastily released Manley's hand and looked very prim and a bit haughty, as she regarded the intruder from the red plush chair, pulled close to the couch.
“Mr. Fleetwood's head is very bad yet,” she informed Kent coldly. “I really do not think he ought to see—anybody.”
Kent tapped his hat gently against his leg and faced her unflinchingly, quite unconscious of the fact that she regarded him as a dissolute, drunken cowboy with whom Manley ought not to associate.
“That's too bad.” His eyes failed to drop guiltily before hers, but continued to regard her calmly. “I'm only going to stay a minute. I came to tell you that there's a scheme to raise—to 'shivaree' you two, tonight. I thought you might want to pull out, along about dark.”
Manley looked up at him inquiringly with the eye which was not covered by the lace-edged handkerchief. Valeria seemed startled, just at first. Then she gave Kent a little shock of surprise.