"You were saying—about me——?" said Molyneux smoothly.
"I want your help—no, not your help, but simply justice from you, that's all. I want you, for example, to muzzle the Prophet."
"I don't control the Prophet. The Editor's a friend of mine but I've got little influence with him. Don't ask impossibilities, Major."
Hector knew that Molyneux lied. But, again, he had to accept the assertion.
"I believe you could point out this to him. His campaign goes too far when it publishes such an item as this about Demon George, the American outlaw. It's really that item I came to see you about."
"Have you got it there? Read it."
"No, I won't read it. It's just the worst of the series on that particular subject. You know what they all amount to: 'This outlaw, who killed four men in Texas five years ago, has appeared in town. He has been recognized. Broncho is in a panic. Yet the Mounted Police don't arrest him. Why? They must have descriptions, etc., etc. They ought to have done so as soon as he entered the district. The truth probably is that they have not even discovered his presence. Asleep at the switch, as usual. Or they think it wiser to avoid his guns. This could not have happened before the change in command.' That's about the sum total of it all."
"Do you want to know what I think of that, Major Adair?" asked the politician abruptly. "While I don't agree with all that dirty stuff about your being afraid of this outlaw and so on—I consider that item and those that accompanied it justified. In fact, I suggested it myself. Again, understand, I had nothing to do with the dirty side; but I suggested the publication. Men who knew Demon George came to me and told me he was in town. I waited to see if you were sharp enough to spot him. Days passed and you took no action, when you ought to have jugged him at once. Then I gave the facts to the Prophet, advising them to send a reporter up to you to see if you knew of that man's presence. The reporter was told to say nothing, I believe, but just to sound you out. He saw you personally. You knew nothing. That convinced the Editor you were asleep. So he published that attack. I think, in the main, it was deserved. Why, even now, that bird is still in town, letting on as if he owns it and everyone was afraid of him. The paper opened your eyes. But you've done nothing yet. That's what I call inefficiency."
The politician had thrown down his cards with a vengeance!
"So that's how the land lies?" said Hector. It was his turn now. "Listen to me, Mr. Molyneux. I believe you're sincere but I'm going to show you just where you went wrong, sir. Take this in a friendly spirit, please. As a prominent man here, it was your duty to advise me of this man's arrival. Had it been necessary, I could then have arrested him. As it is, you send—or your Editor friend sends—a reporter and he more or less asks me if there are any sensational arrests in prospect or any distinguished criminals in town. We don't give such information, Mr. Molyneux, unless the net is already so closely round our man that publication can do no harm. Naturally, I sent the reporter away. Immediately you jump at conclusions and the Prophet publishes the news of Demon George's arrival and says I'm asleep—either way, with bad effect. Demon George is told that his presence is known and so warned to make his getaway if he wants to. Or it makes him perky, encourages him to stay on here in defiance of me and perhaps, eventually, to break the law. Supposing he gets away? Then the Prophet is delighted. An outlaw has escaped, but that doesn't matter, because they can say 'I told you so!' and go for me again. Supposing he stays and breaks the law? An innocent party suffers! Wouldn't it have been better for you to have advised me of this man's presence, so that his capture might be assured?"