“Well,” Carhart hesitated,—“I hope he will.”
“But it’s foolhardy, Paul. You won’t gain anything. Just the sight of you walking into the Frisco House office may mean gun play. If it was Bourke, it would be different; but these Durfee men are mad. The Commodore was never treated this way in his life before. And you’re a little nervous yourself, Paul. Be careful what you do. He’ll have lawyers around him—and he’s redhot, remember that.”
“I can’t quite agree with you, Tiffany. I think he’ll talk to me. But there’s one thing I’ve got to do first, and you can help me there.”
“For God’s sake, then, let me get into the game. I can’t stand this looking on—fretting myself to death.”
“I want you to take charge here for a day while I go after my firewood. I came pretty near being held up altogether for want of it. Bourke cut me off before Peet could get it through.”
“Where can you get it?”
“There’s a lot waiting for me off north of here.”
Tiffany grunted. “North of here, eh?”
Carhart nodded.
“And you have to work so delicate getting it that you can’t trust anybody else to do it?”