"We want the list of the folks you unloaded Molly stock to," said Sandy.
Blake looked at his employer who sat glowering at his cigar end, licked his lips and said nothing.
"Speak up," said Sandy.
"There's a fine patch of prickly pear handy," suggested Sam. "Fine fo' restorin' the voice. Last time we chucked a tenderfoot in there they had to peel the shirt off of him in strips." He took the secretary by one elbow, Mormon by the other, both grinning behind his back as he shook with a sudden palsy in the belief that they meant their threat.
"Tell him, you damned fool!" grunted Keith.
"The stubs are in the car at Hereford depot," said Blake. "In the safe."
"Money there too? I suppose you cashed the checks?"
"I deposited them to my own account," said Keith. "Come on, let's get this over with since you are determined to throw away your own and your partners' good money, to say nothing of the girl's. She could bring suit against you, Bourke, with a good chance of winning."
He glanced hopefully at Mormon and Sam. They kept on grinning.
"Round up that chauffeur, Sam, will you?" asked. Sandy. "Tell him we're startin' fo' Herefo'd right off. You an' me can go over those accounts of Molly's same time we attend to the other business, Keith."