"Yes, and I've got a couple of dandy cells down at the county jail!" the sheriff said. "They're all cleaned and waiting for you. Hot and cold water, and eats three times a day. I've stopped raiding gambling dens for the moment and am taking up another line of work."
He glared at Mamie Blanchard, who was standing close to the table and glaring back at him.
"Sit down, Miss Blanchard!" Verbeck said. "We are going to have a short conversation. And kindly do not attempt any foolish move. I dislike to fight a woman, but at times it seems to be necessary."
Mamie Blanchard sat down. Verbeck could tell, by glancing at her face, that she had regained her composure—that she was clever, dangerous, a woman to be watched closely.
"Well, what is it?" she demanded.
"I don't suppose you'll do as I ask, but I am going to give you a chance," Verbeck said. "I want some information about the Black Star."
"I don't know anything about him. I was in his old gang, as you are aware. I supposed you had come to arrest me for that. He didn't see fit to include me in his new organization, because you knew me, I suppose."
"That statement is not at all clever of you," said Verbeck. "You are talking to men who know better. You helped engineer his escape, didn't you?"
"Since you know, I did. That is, I got the sheriff to raid the gambling house, and decoyed him to the little cottage. The Black Star gave me that much to do because I needed money. But that is all."
"You mean your work for him is done?" Verbeck asked.