“Hu-u-m-m! I presume you know where Mr. McGraw may be found at present. Is he liable to communicate with you?”
Mr. Hennage was on guard. “Well, I ain't sayin' nothin'” he replied evasively. It was in his mind to discover, if possible, the details of the business which this man of vast emprise could have with a penniless desert rat like Bob McGraw.
“Is this McGraw a friend of yours, Mr. Hennage?” pursued Carey.
“Well,” the gambler fenced, “I've loaned him money.”
“Ever get it back?” Carey smiled a thin sword-fish smile.
“Certainly. Why do you ask?”
“You consider McGraw honest?”
“Sure shot—between friends. Yes.”
Carey turned his head slowly and gazed at the gambler in mean triumph. “Well, I'm sorry I can't agree with you” he said. “Your friend McGraw robbed me of fifteen hundred dollars on the San Pasqual-Keeler stage a few days ago.”
The fact that Carey had been a victim of Bob McGraw's felonious activities was news to Mr. Hennage, but he would not permit Carey to suspect it.