“But I’m quite selfish; I’m seeking entertainment. And your peppery affairs promise it. Do you give me permission to take a hand?”
“Gladly.”
“Then as a beginning I’ll go to town. Saurez, you say, was the old Mexican’s name? And give me the facts again as you know them about the affair of your father and the man Dent in the saloon.”
Pollock listened closely as Steele Weir repeated the story.
“That’s all I know, and it’s meager at best,” the engineer concluded.
“Pity you didn’t get to read the deposition, which would have increased your fund of information. More unfortunate it is that you haven’t the paper itself. But we’ll do the best we can without it for the present. Kindly have some one drive me in to San Mateo.”
“Atkinson, the superintendent, is going there for me. I thought he might pick up something of Martinez’ whereabouts.”
“Where does Judge Gordon live?”
“I can’t tell you that. But you can easily learn when you reach town.”
“Well, the Judge used to handle company matters, you know.” The smile on Pollock’s lips was inscrutable. “I used to have frequent conferences with him when I was here at the inception of our project. He is very shrewd in certain ways, but he impressed me as being 208 not exactly––what shall I say?––‘cold steel’, for instance.” And still wearing the thin smile, he went out.