The Dago Duke crossed his legs leisurely.
"No—you don't have to, but I believe I would if I were you. The fact is, Doc, I dropped in merely to make a little deal with you."
"Blackmail!" she cried furiously.
"In a way—yes. Strictly, I suppose, you might call it blackmail."
"You're broke again—you want money!"
The Dago Duke shuddered.
"Oh, Doc! how can you be so indelicate as to taunt me with my poverty; to suggest, to hint even so subtly, that I would fill my empty pockets from your purse?" He looked at her reproachfully.
"What do you want, then?"
The Dago Duke's voice took on a purring, feline softness which was more emphatic and final than any loud-mouthed vehemence—
"What do I want? I want you to tell the officers that you passed two men riding on a run from Dubois's sheep-camp—two Indians or 'breeds' in moccasins—and I want you to do it quick!"