"Well, people here are asking whether Texas is in the United States or Mexico," Alaire said, lightly, "Sometimes I hardly know." After a moment she continued: "Since you know everything and everybody, I wonder if you ever met a David Law?"
Ellsworth nodded. "Tell me something about him."
"He asked me the same thing about you. Well, I haven't seen much of
Dave since he grew up, he's such a roamer."
"He said his parents were murdered by the Guadalupes."
The Judge looked up quickly; a queer, startled expression flitted over his face. "Dave said that? He said both of them were killed?"
"Yes. Isn't it true?"
"Oh, Dave wouldn't lie. It happened a good many years ago, and certainly they both met a violent end. I was instrumental in saving what property Frank Law left, but it didn't last Dave very long. He's right careless in money matters. Dave's a fine fellow in some ways—most ways, I believe, but—" The Judge lost himself in frowning meditation.
"I have never known you to damn a friend or a client with such faint praise," said Alaire.
"Oh, I don't mean it that way. I'm almost like one of Dave's kin, and I've been keenly interested in watching his traits develop. I'm interested in heredity. I've watched it in Ed's case, for instance. If you know the parents it's easy to read their children." Again he lapsed into silence, nodding to himself. "Yes, Nature mixes her prescriptions like any druggist. I'm glad you and Ed—have no babies."
Alaire murmured something unintelligible.