Jake Blue had been staring toward the War-Bonnet, deep in thought, and Sleepy’s question seemed to jar him awake.
“The Swede? He’s in jail. Where’d you think he was?”
“In jail,” said Sleepy.
“Then what in —— did you ask fer?” Mr. Blue growled.
“You can’t hook that killin’ onto the Swede.” This from Hashknife.
“Can’t I?” The sheriff grew very indignant. “Well, mebbe I ain’t goin’ t’ try very hard.”
He stepped off the sidewalk as if to leave, but turned and added—
“’F I was you I’d be hopin’ that it was hooked onto the Swede.”
With this parting shot, the sheriff crossed the street and went into the Paris restaurant, banging the door behind him.
“You made him mad,” observed Skelton seriously. “He was only tryin’ to git a job for this Hagen feller.”