"Did, eh? All right; it's your roast; not mine. But I'm going to pull one chestnut out of the fire for you, even if I do get my fingers burned. This Miss Rich-folks has had only one day here in Brewster, but she's used it in getting mighty chummy with the Stantons. Did you know that?"
"What!" ejaculated Smith.
"Jesso," smiled Starbuck. "She had her luncheon with 'em to-day, and for an hour or so this evening the three of 'em sat together up in the Hophra inside-veranda parlor. Does that figure as news to you?"
"It does," said Smith simply; and he added: "I don't understand it."
"Funny," remarked the ex-cow-man. "It didn't ball me up for more than a minute or two. Stanton fixed it some way—because he needed to. Tell me something, John; could this Miss Rich-garden help Stanton out in any of his little schemes, if she took a notion?"
Smith turned away and stared at the blackened square of outer darkness lying beyond the office window.
"She could, Billy—but she won't," he answered.
"You can dig up your last dollar and bet on that, can you?"
"Yes, I think I can."
"H'm; that's just what I was most afraid of."