Here Scanlon paused and took a few pulls at the pipe to assure himself that the tobacco was still burning. Campe said nothing during the silence, and the big man took occasion to go on.
“As you never volunteered anything,” said he, “I didn’t think it was my place to ask questions. So I’ve watched the thing move along, and all the time it got tighter and tighter, and sharper and sharper; and now, to-night, I feel that I can’t draw another full breath until I tell you what I think, and what you ought to do.”
“Well?” said Campe.
“In a civilized community,” said Scanlon, “the first thing a man does, when pestered as you’re being, is to call in the police. That you’ve kept so close, both with me and the police, shows that you’ve got a secret on your hands—something that you’re not anxious to spread around.”
“Well?” asked the young man once more.
“I’m not trying to pry into your affairs,” spoke Scanlon. “I don’t want to know the object of the parties at the inn. And I’m not advising you to consult the police, if you think you ought not to do so. But what I am wanting you to do is to carry your idea regarding me a step further.”
“I hardly think I understand you,” said the other, looking at Scanlon searchingly.
“You will in a minute,” spoke the big man. “I was called in to help, wasn’t I? Good! But, willing and all as I was, I wasn’t the right party. I can handle small matters that are set down plainly for the eye to see, but what you really want is a man that’s capable of putting the hook into those that the eye can’t see, and one, at the same time, not having anything to do with the police.”
Campe smiled faintly.
“That is an ideal combination,” said he. “But where is such a person to be found?”