“Duty, Colonel Rocket!” exclaims the speculator, turning red with rising wrath.
“That was what I said, sir. Duty with me must always rise even above the courtesy a guest owes to his host. You were kind enough to invite me to your house to-night, Mr. Cereal, and it served my purpose to accept. I have passed a pleasant evening. I thank you for it. But, sir, that shall not stand in the way of my fulfilling the mission which brought me to Chicago.”
“Indeed!”
“And has even taken me to this house.”
“Rocket, have you been too often at the sideboard?” asks the great operator, frowning.
“You see yourself, sir, that I am not under the influence of liquor. My hand is as steady as a die. I am sorry for you, Mr. Cereal—doubly sorry for this charming young lady——”
“Hang it, Rocket, why mince matters? What the devil do you want here?”
“I’m coming to it gradually, sir. Don’t want the shock to be too severe. In the first place you don’t know, because I failed to tell you, that at present I am a sheriff out at Denver.”
“A sheriff!” repeats Dorothy uneasily.
“Denver, eh?” says John, arching his eyebrows.