“True enough. And you didn’t see it as it was?”
“See what? Did you?”
Kent’s quiet smile sidled down from the corner of his mouth.
“Suppose,” he said, “you give me the fullest possible character sketch of our impulsive friend, the sheriff.”
Half an hour was consumed in this process. At the end of the time Kent strolled back to the Square where Simon P. Groot had been discoursing. There he found the ornate wagon closed, and its ornate proprietor whistling over some minor repairs that he had been making. An invitation to take a ride in Kent’s car was promptly accepted.
“Business first,” said Kent. “You’re a seller. I’m a buyer. You’ve got some information that I may want. If so, I’m ready to pay. Was any of your talk true?”
“Yep,” replied Simon P. Groot austerely. “It was all true but the frills.”
“Will you trim off the frills for ten dollars?”
“Fair dealing for a fair price is my motto; you’ll find it in gilt lettering on the back of the wagon. I will.”
“What were you doing on Hawkill Cliffs?”