“Nothing doing. The moment anything comes I’ll take it over to the tavern. Say, is there anything secret about that telegram you sent?”
“No; why do you ask?”
“Well, Mr. Ricketts, a lawyer here, came in about ten minutes ago, and described you, and wanted to know if you had sent a telegram.”
“What did you say to him?”
“I said nobody had sent a telegram, and that I knew nothing of you. He seemed powerful anxious, and offered me a dollar to let him know if you telegraphed anything. I went over to the tavern to tell you about it, but they said you hadn’t been in since breakfast.”
“I suppose you haven’t many chances of picking up an extra dollar in Bleachers?”
“No; I haven’t. Ricketts is always mighty curious about anyone who arrives here, but I never knew him offer a cent for information before.”
“I’m very much obliged to you. You go right over to Ricketts’ office and pick up his dollar, but don’t say I gave you the advice. By the way, wouldn’t you be breaking the rules of the Western Telegraph Company if you divulged the purport of any message that passed through your hands?”
A look of trouble, almost of fear, came over the young man’s face.
“If a telegram is secret,” he said, “the sender usually writes it in cypher.”