"I—I don't understand this—but I'll go along with you," said Mamie Blanchard.
"I thought you would," the sheriff returned.
He said nothing more as they walked down the street. He took her into his private office and offered her a chair at one end of his desk. He closed the door, telling the stenographer that he was not to be disturbed for the present.
"Now kindly tell me the meaning of this," said Mamie Blanchard. "I—you almost frightened me!"
"What do you know about the Black Star?" Kowen asked.
"Why, I read this morning that he escaped from your jail last night. You should be more careful."
Sheriff Kowen's face turned purple with wrath, but he controlled himself and bent toward her across the desk.
"And the cell he formerly occupied is now empty," he said. "Are you anxious to inhabit it for a time?"
"What do you mean, sir?" asked Mamie Blanchard.
"You tipped me off about that gambling house. It was nothing more or less than a trap whereby the Black Star could get a gang of his men into the jail and free him. You know it, and I know it, and it won't do you any good to try to bluff me!"