At this Carroll did look startled.
“You say that was Morrison’s daughter? Great heavens! The devil’s in this whole thing, Lang!”
“That’s what I think. And now, come out with it. Why did you give me that faked tale about Rockett? What did you want Morrison to tell you before he died? What was his secret? Were you after his Yuma Oil?”
“Oh, I’ll tell you, all right,” said Carroll. “I meant to, anyway. We can’t talk here, though.” He looked vaguely about the noisy hotel lobby.
Lang led him up to his room.
“What has that girl told you?” Carroll asked cautiously.
“Enough for me to check what you say. I’ve got to have the truth this time, Carroll. You’ve lied to the limit, so far. Suppose I put the whole matter into the hands of the police?”
“Oh, you couldn’t do that. You’re implicated almost as deep as any of us, you know. Besides,” he added, without boastfulness, “the bulls have found me hard to catch before now. But I’ll hand you the straight goods. I knew I must. There’s only us two left in it now, and we’ve got to come to an understanding.”
“We’ve got a long way to go. Proceed,” said the doctor.
“Well, of course we handed you a ghost story when you came on the Cavite, but we had to tell you something. And then you let us go on thinking you were Long, so that squares that.