“Yes? Tell me about it.”
“Oh, what’s the use! Everybody’s stickin’ their noses in my business, and it ain’t nothin’ to do with ’em uther.”
“I might help you,” suggested Jordan, seemingly interested.
“Ain’t anybody c’n help me,” sulked Maudlin. “Got the richest man in town ’gainst me, and money’s what makes the mare go.”
The words “richest man” startled Morse, but he only said, “That’s so! But tell me just the same.”
“Aw, it’s only a wench I wanted! A mutt by the name of King butted in on me.”
Jordan Morse mentally congratulated himself that he had struck the right nail on the head the very first whack.
To gain possession of Jinnie’s money meant finding his boy, and that was the dearest wish of his heart.
“You might tell me about it,” he reiterated slowly. “I ought to be able to help you.”
“Naw, you can’t!” scoffed Maudlin. “My pa and me’s tried for a long time, but there ain’t nothin’ doin’ with Jinnie. She’s a sure devil, Jinnie is.”