“What?”
“Sure—it’s shut,” grinned Johnson. “He come out of the door all right. It’s wide open, and not hurt, either.”
“Who let him out? Where’s the key? You had it, O’Grady.”
“I did not—you handed it to the girl, yourself. She locked him in all right; I heard her do it,” replied O’Grady quickly.
“That explains it,” said Scott, shortly. “She came over here and let him out. Might have expected it, I suppose, with a flighty youngster and a smooth talker like Pachuca.” He turned away in the direction of the house.
“He’s mad!” murmured Johnson, admiringly. He liked a little excitement himself.
“Mad? He’s jealous, the fool!” Matt offered, disgustedly.
“Jealous? Who of? The greaser?”
“Sure. Good-looking, Juan is, and a winner with the dames.”
“Scott’s one of them woman haters. What d’ye mean—jealous?”