“And me with him,” barked O’Reilly.
“Not a bit of it. Say, young feller, he can go up for a long time right in this country for what he done! More’n he deserves for this trick; but we’ll sort o’ consider his other crimes, see?”
“Listen Sheriff,” I found myself saying. “Some way or another I’ve got a funny idea. Let me talk it over with Penoch and call you back, eh?”
The leonine old man peered at me through puckered eyes.
“Shore,” he commented. “But what’s the secret?”
“I’ll tell you when I’m sure of it myself,” I told him. “Good night, Mr. Curran. I sure hope Shirley won’t take it too hard.”
“She will, for awhile. But when I think o’ what might ’a’ happened if he hadn’t give himself away—say, I ought to be thankful for this night!”
We had no sooner got out the door and into the car than I said:
“Don’t start her for a minute. Penoch, my boy, just how good it was, or ought to be Kennedy with his fingers and a deck of cards?”
“Used to be a wonder!”