“Get evidence against you, and prosecute you.”
“Dat ain’t de way.”
“It will be my way.”
“Wot yer got against me?”
“Nothing. But I intend to see Moriarty have fair play. You want to fight on the square too. You’re not a man to hit a fellow in the dark.”
Peter was not flattering the man. He had measured him and was telling him the result of that measure. He told it, too, in a way that made the other man realize the opinion behind the words.
“Come on,” said Blunkers, good-naturedly.
They went over to the court, and a whispered colloquy took place between the justice and the bartender.
“That’s all right, Mr. Stirling,” presently said the judge. “Clerk, strike Dennis Moriarty’s fine off the list.”
“Thank you,” said Peter to the saloon-keeper. “If I can ever do a turn for you, let me know it.”