Phil shook his head. “No,––I don’t think so!” he answered.
“Well, old man Morrison of the O.K. Company is a decent head and these continual robberies are bleeding him white. He told me all about it this morning.
“I have made arrangements to quit the Court House for a while and take a job with him as warehouseman, just to see what I can fasten on to.”
“Won’t they get suspicious if they know you are on the job?”
Langford laughed. “Good Lord, no! I have been in a dozen jobs in this town in as many months. Besides, nobody ever thinks of me as a Sherlock Holmes. I’m just languishing for a little excitement anyway.”
“You won’t forget then to call me in to lend a hand if there is any scrapping going?” said Phil.
“Would you really come in on it?”
“You bet!”
“All right! This old burg will have something to wake it up one of these days.”
Their attention was distracted by the rattle of gravel 118 on the window at which they were sitting. Langford shook his fist at a disappearing figure.