"That will suit me," replied Enoch, "if you can drag yourself from
Agnew and poker that long."
"I'll make a superhuman effort," returned Curly.
The conference, which took place under the cedar near the Ida, did not last long.
"Curly," said Enoch, lighting his pipe, "I haven't made up my mind yet, whether I want you to give me the information about Fowler and Brown or not."
"What's the difficulty?" demanded Curly.
"Well, there's a number of personal reasons that I don't like to go into. But I've a suggestion to make. You say you're trying to get money together with which to retain a lawyer and carry out a campaign, so you aren't in a hurry, anyway. Now you write down in a letter all that you know about the two men, and send the letter to me, I'll treat it as absolutely confidential, and will return the material to you without reading it if I decide not to use it."
Curly puffed thoughtfully at his cigarette. "That's fair enough, Judge. As you say there's no great hurry and I always get het up, anyhow, when I talk about it. I'd better put it down in cool black and white. Where can I reach you?"
"No. 814 Blank Avenue, Washington, D. C.," replied Enoch.
Curly pulled an old note book out of his hip pocket and set down the address:
"All right, Judge, you'll hear from me sometime in the next few weeks.
I'll go back now and polish Agnew off."