"Yes, indeed," declared the district attorney in a loud voice. "I'm always glad to see Bill Wingo. Bill Wingo, you bet."
Billy Wingo's gray eyes narrowed. "Not quite so loud," he reproved the district attorney. "No need to disturb the neighbors."
"Why, no, of course not." The grimy soul of the district attorney capered with joy. What luck! Here was his enemy, and there was his enemy's enemy in the very next room. It would make a cat laugh. It would indeed.
"Arthur," said Billy, "I've been hearing bad reports of you. I understand you've decided to have Miss Walton arrested. Is that correct?"
"Correct, sure. Sorry, but the law's the law, you know."
"You remember what I said I'd do to you."
The district attorney dismissed this with a simple wave of the hand. "Oh, that. A mere bluff."
"It may not be quite as mere as you seem to think. Let me argue with you, Arthur. Suppose I can prove that Dan Slike was at Miss Walton's the night Rafe Tuckleton was murdered. Would that help any?"
"You can't prove it."
"Oh, yes, I can. When he was there, he stole her hat, besides some other stuff, and inside the sweatband of the hat he stuffed the folded upper half of the front page of the Omaha Bee. The other half of the newspaper was found at the Walton ranch house by Shotgun Shillman. He has it now, and when Slike was caught, he was wearing Miss Walton's hat, and inside the sweatband was this particular folded upper half-page I'm telling you about. This evidence is in the possession of Guerilla Melody right now. When this comes out at the trial, why wouldn't that show that Slike was in the vicinity when Tuckleton was killed? And being in the vicinity, why——"