“I suppose you think you’re going to get me roiled, you old fool!  You’ve got another guess, then.  You can’t get my nanny!  But I do think you might tell me what’s been going on.  Even a guilty man has his curiosity.  Did you get the money I left for you?”

Pete’s jaw sagged; his eye expressed foggy bewilderment.

“Money?  What money?  I thought they got it all when they arrested you?”

“Oh, don’t be a gloomy ass!  The money I left with Old Man Taylor; the money you got down here for preliminary expenses on the mine.”

“Mine?” echoed Pete blankly.  “What mine?”

“Old stuff!” Stanley laughed aloud.  “Go to it, old-timer!  You can’t faze me.  When you get good and ready to ring off, let me know.”

“Well, then,” said Pete, “I will.  Here we go, fresh.  And you may not be just the best-pleased with my plan at first, son.  I’m not going to bail you out.”

“What the hell!” said Stan.  “Why not?”

“I’ve thought it all out,” said Pete, “and I’ve talked it over with the sheriff.  He’s agreed.  You have to meet the action of the Grand Jury, anyhow; you couldn’t leave the county; and you’re better off in jail while I go back to New York to rustle money.”

“Oh—­you’re going, are you?”

“To-night.  You couldn’t leave the county even if you were out on bond.  The sheriff’s a square man; he’ll treat you right; you’ll have a chance to get shut of that insomnia, and right here’s the safest place in Pima County for you.  I want a letter to that cousin of yours in Abingdon.”

“’Tisn’t Abingdon—­it’s Vesper.  And I’m not particularly anxious to tell him that I’m in jail on a felony charge.”

“Don’t want you to tell him—­or anybody.  I suppose you’ve told your girl already?  Yes?  Thought so.  Well, don’t you tell any one else.  You tell Cousin Oscar I’m your pardner, and all right; and that you’ve got a mine, and you’ll guarantee the expenses for him and an expert in case they’re not satisfied upon investigation.  I’ll do the rest.  And don’t you let anybody bail you out of jail.  You stay here.”

“If I hadn’t seen you perform a miracle or two before now, I’d see you damned first!” said Stan.  “But I suppose you know what you’re about.  It’s more than I do.  Make it a quick one, will you?  I find myself bored here.”

“I will.  Let me outline two of the many possibilities:  If I don’t bail you out, I’m doin’ you dirt, ain’t I?  Well, then, if Zurich & Gang think I’m double-crossin’ you they’ll make me a proposition to throw in with them and throw you down on the copper mine.  That’s my best chance to find out how to keep you from goin’ to the pen, isn’t it?  And if you don’t tell Vesper that you’re in jail—­but Vesper finds it out, anyhow—­that gives me a chance to see who it is that lives in Vesper and keeps in touch with Cobre.  And I’ll tell you something else:  When I come back I’ll bail you out of jail and we’ll start from here.”