lot.... Isn't that enough?"

He smiled complacently, seeing a compliment. "He was easy--but he got to
be a nuisance."

"Making trouble?"

"No.... Scared."

"I _see_," she nodded, wisely. "Lost more than he had, was that it? And
then helped himself to what he didn't have?"

"I'm not supposed to know where it came from. None of my business."

"Of course not"--her tone was rank flattery. "Wants you to take care of
him. Threatens to squeal. I know.... So you've got to hide him out."

"You are a wise one. Where'd you get it?"

"I didn't always sell cigars for a living.... He isn't apt to break
loose and spoil this thing, is he?"

"Too scared to show his face.... If we can pull this across he can show
it whenever he wants to--I'll be gone."

So Ovid Nixon was here--in town. It was as she had reasoned. If here, he
was somewhere in the building Mr. Peaney occupied as a bucket shop.

"It's understood we divide--if I introduce my farmer to you--and show
you how to get it."