So I am
charged with being Rosalie's father, eh? And deserting her? And
kidnaping her? By jove, I ought to be hung for all this!"
"'Tain't nothin' to laugh at, my friend. You ought to be ashamed of
yourself. I was onto you the day you stopped me in the road an' ast
about her. What a fool you was. Reg'lar dead give-away."
"See here, Mr. Crow, I don't like to upset your hopes and calculations,"
said Barnes soberly. "I did that once before, you remember. That was
years ago. You were wrong then, and you are wrong now. Shall I tell you
why I am interested in this pretty waif of yours?"
"It ain't necessary," protested the marshal.
"I'll tell you just the same. My son met her in New York while he was at
school. He heard her story from mutual friends and repeated it to me. I
was naturally interested, and questioned you. He said she was very
pretty. That is the whole story, my dear sir."
"That's all very purty, but how about the B in your hat?"
"I don't understand. Oh, you mean the political bee?"
"Politics, your granny! I mean the 'nitial that Briggs saw. No; hold on!
Don't answer. Don't say anything that'll incriminate yourself."
"I never had an initial in my hat, and I don't know Briggs. Mr. Crow,
you are as crazy as a loon." He prepared to bring the machine to a
standstill. "I'm going home. You can ride back with me or get out and
walk on, just as you please.
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