Part 34 (1/2)

”About Jake Kilroe now,” said Billy, sitting down at the table and snicking open the box of cartridges, ”about Jake Kilroe--what does the marshal want me to do?”

”Get evidence against him,” was the smooth reply. ”Enough to convict him, of course.”

”Of course. Not enough to convict him would help us very little.

Yeah. Any suggestions, Judge?”

”What kind of suggestions?” the judge inquired with just a trace of impatience.

”How I'm to start in--what do you guess? I don't know much about Jake, y'understand. For instance, where does Jake get his liquor in the first place?”

”How should I know?”

”I dunno. Thought maybe you might. Judges are supposed to know a lot.

But if you don't, you don't, that's all.”

Judge Driver sat up a trifle straighter in his chair. He looked at Billy with some suspicion. It could not be humanly possible that Billy was joking with him, yet----

”I guess I'd better start in this afternoon,” continued Billy briskly.

”There's nothing like a quick start. And the marshal would like it too. Suppose you and I, Judge, go down to Jake's and see what we can see.”

”I thought you were going somewhere else,” demurred Judge Driver.

”What makes you think so?”

”That note-- You said you had to go some place in a hurry.”

”Did I? Well, I am. I'm going down to Jake Kilroe's, and you're going with me, huh?”

”Look here,” said the judge, the light of desperation in his eyes, ”you don't have to go down to Kilroe's now. That can wait. The marshal ain't in such a fright of a hurry as all that. Go on and do whatever you have to do. I didn't mean--I don't want this to interfere with your personal business, and I'm sure the marshal wouldn't. He'll understand. I know he will. You go on and do whatever you have to do, Bill.”

”I will,” murmured Billy. ”I will. Where are you going, Judge?”

”Oh, I guess I'll be drifting along, Bill,” smiled the judge, half-turning on his way to the door. ”You don't need me any longer.”

”Yes, I do too,” Billy declared fretfully. ”You come on back and set down. I've got something here I want to read you.”

Involuntarily the judge's eyes strayed to the wastebasket. He came back and sat down.

On the table between the extra six-shooter that Billy had finished loading and the box of cartridges was a small leather-bound book.

Billy picked up this book and turned to the index. He ran his finger down the page till he came to that which he sought.

”'Morality, rules of, where consonant with those of law,'” he read aloud, and turned back to page twenty-eight.

Judge Driver stared at Billy Wingo in some amazement. What on earth was the sheriff driving at. Rules of morality? Well!

”This book,” said Billy, glancing across at the judge, ”is a copy of the grounds and maxims of the English laws, by William Noy, of Lincoln's Inn, Attorney General, and a member of the Privy Council to King Charles the First.”

”What in G.o.d's name,” demanded the now thoroughly amazed judge, ”has that to do with me?”