“Telephone?” said Amos. “Why, in the hall.”
Wint got up and went swiftly out into the hall. Amos listened; and he smiled, with a twinkling anticipation in his eyes. He heard Wint ask the operator to locate Jim Radabaugh and get him on the ’phone. Then Wint came back and stood in the doorway, waiting while she signaled for the marshal with the red light that was set on a pole in the heart of the town. Amos did not turn around to look at Wint. Wint did not move.
After a while, the ’phone rang twice. “That’s us,” said Amos, still without turning. “Our ring is two.”
Wint went to the ’phone. Radabaugh, at the other end, said: “This is the marshal. Who’s talking?”
“Wint. Mayor Chase.”
“Oh! All right, Mister Mayor. What’s on your mind?”
Wint said evenly: “I’ve instructions for you. If you are willing to carry them out, all right. If not, resign, and I’ll fill your place to-morrow.”
“You’re the boss,” said Radabaugh amiably. “I do what you say.”
“Either do what I say or resign,” said Wint again. “I want you to get busy and break up the liquor business in Hardiston.”
There was a long silence, and Wint heard the marshal whistle softly under his breath. Then Radabaugh asked: