That same sardonic smile flitted across Blake's face, and faded immediately. O'Toole was under a terrific strain. The man was only forty-five, yet the once brilliant battle flag of red hair had grown thin in spots. His eyes, once clear and snapping, were a washed-out blue.
"Go on," Blake said kindly. "When I got your message it wasn't easy to drop everything and come. I expected something like this."
O'Toole stared at him, hating to say what he knew he had to.
"Wade is planning to marry Dauna Ferrell."
"Dauna?" Blake was plainly puzzled. "Why, Dauna was a tow-headed brat when I left Earth. But if Wade wants her, why not?"
O'Toole shook his head a little impatiently.
"It isn't that he wants her," he said. "I can't explain everything now. Let's just say that Wade is giving up every chance he'll ever have of owning the 'Hope to Horn' line. He's stirring up trouble between Dauna and her father and making a dangerous ass of himself in the bargain."
Blake flicked the long ash from his cigarette.
"He must be a busy man," he admitted. "But where do I fit into this puzzle?"