Taylor was in earnest conversation with his barkeeper.
He looked up on hearing footsteps, and when he saw the policeman, he started.
Tompkins appeared not to notice this, but walking up to where he was standing, said, carelessly:
"What's the matter, Jemmie? What's the hitch between you and the folks at the excise office?"
"Didn't know there was any," was the quick reply. "I run this saloon on the square; and so far as I know, there's no chance for any one to find fault."
"You're all right, for anything I've ever seen to the contrary, but something's up and you're wanted at the excise office at once."
"At once, eh?"
"Yes, they want to question you, I suppose, and if you'll take my advice, you'll get around there with the least possible delay."
"I'll go this very minute. Jerry, give Mr. Tompkins whatever he calls for," and snatching up his hat, which was lying on the bar, Taylor left the saloon.
"What is it to be, sir?" asked Jerry, when they were alone.