“Good dinner? I ain’t had breakfast yet!”
“First-class,” said the sheriff cordially. “Won’t your friend come too?”
“Ah, señor, you eshame me that I am not so hospitabble, ees eet not?” purred Monte, as he followed Jeff into the tonneau.
The sheriff reddened and Billy choked.
“Nothing of the sort,” said the sheriff hastily, lapsing into literalness. “You were quite within your rights. For that matter, I know you were at your own bank, dealing, when the crime was committed. I am holding you for the present as a possible accessory; and, if not, then as a material witness. By the way, Monte, would you mind if I sent some men to look through your place? There is a matter of some thirty thousand dollars missing. Lake asked us to look for it. I have papers for it if you care to see them.”
“Oh, no, señor!” said Monte. He handed over a key. “La casa es suyo!”
“Thank you,” said the sheriff, with unmoved gravity. “Anything of yours you want ’em to bring, Bransford?”
“Why, no,” said Jeff cheerfully. “I’ve got nothing there but my saddle, my gun and an old football suit that belongs to ’Gene Baird, over on the West Side; but if you want me to stay long, I wish you’d look after my horse.”
“I too have lef’ there my gun that I keep to protec’ my leetle house,” observed Monte. “Tell some one to keep eet for me. I am much attach’ to that gun.”
“Why, yes, I have seen that gun, I think,” said the sheriff. “They’ll look out for it. All right, Billy!”