"I don't want to go back to Madison," came the muffled reply from the pillow. "The governor has treated me like a dog, and I've washed my hands of him."
"Suppose we could arrange matters so the governor would treat you better?"
"You can't," snuffled George; "nobody can. The governor's a brute."
"I think we can make your father see things in a different light," went on Matt; "but the first thing to do is to send back that money."
George jammed his head deeper into the pillow.
"I haven't got it," he whispered.
"You must have done a lot of gambling to——"
"No, I didn't. It was stolen from me. The red-whiskered man with a mole on his face took it."
"How was that? Turn over here, George, so we can hear you."
"That's all there is to it," declared George, lifting his face a little so his words were more distinct. "I met him, and Kinky, and Ross on the train. I thought they were nice, sociable fellows; but that's where I made a mistake. They got on the train at Salt Lake City, and when we reached 'Frisco they got me to come to this hotel. The red-whiskered man had business over in Tiburon—I don't know what it was—and he went over there the next day after we reached 'Frisco, and lost his trunk check. They wouldn't let him have the trunk without the check, and he was awfully worked up. Kinky told Red-whiskers that maybe I had swiped the check, and they all seemed to believe it. Anyhow, Red-whiskers said the trunk was worth more'n ten thousand and they made me turn over that money I'd brought from home. Red-whiskers said that when I found the check, or when he proved his property and made the railroad company give up his trunk, he'd give me back the money. I went over to Tiburon, the next day, myself, and when I got back here, Kinky, Ross, and the other fellow had left. I've been going over to Tiburon every day since, but I couldn't find the check or hear anything about it. And I haven't heard anything about Red-whiskers, either. He and his two pals have stolen the money, that's what they've done. I was an easy mark, and—and—what's the good of living, anyhow?"