“You shut your foul mouth and listen.  You throw me off.”

“Give me a cigar, then.  Thanks.  I await your pleasure.”

“Zurich warned me that Stanley’s partner, this old man Johnson, had gone East and would in all probability come here to bring proposals from Stan.  He came yesterday, bearing a letter of introduction from Stan.  The fear that I would not close with his proposition had the poor old gentleman on needles and pins.  But I fell in with his offer.  I won his confidence and within the hour he had turned himself wrong side out.  He made me a map, which shows me how to find the mine.  He thinks I am to go to Arizona with him in a week—­poor idiot!  Instead, you are to get him into jail at once.”

“How?”

“The simplest and most direct way possible.  You have that Poole tribe under your thumb, have you not?”

“Bootlegging, chicken-stealing, sneak-thieving, arson, and perjury.  And they are ripe for any deviltry, without compulsion.  All I need to do is to show them a piece of money and give instructions.”

“Get the two biggest ones, then—­Amos and Seth.  Have them pick a fight with the man Johnson and swear him into jail.  They needn’t hurt him much and they needn’t bother about provocation.  All they need to do is to contrive to get him in some quiet spot, beat him up decently, and swear that Johnson started the row without warning; that they never saw him before, and that they think he was drunk.  Manage so that Johnson sees the inside of the jail by to-morrow at luncheon-time, or just after, at worst; then you and I will take the afternoon train for Arizona—­with my map.  I have just returned from informing my beloved uncle of Stanley’s ignominious situation, and I told him I could go to the rescue at once, for the sake of the family honor.  I thought the old fool would throw a fit, he was so enraged.  So, good-bye to Nephew Stanley!”

“Look here, Mr. Oscar; that’s no good, you know,” remonstrated Pelman.  “What’s the good of throwing Johnson into jail for five or ten days—­or perhaps only a fine?  He may even have letters from Stan to some one else in Vesper, some one influential; he may beat the case.  He’ll be out there in no time, making you trouble.  That old goat looks as if he might butt.”

Mitchell smiled.

“That’s only half my plan.  The jailer is also one of your handy men.  I’ll furnish you plenty of money for the Pooles and for the jailer—­enough to make it well worth their while.  Contrive a faked rescue of Johnson.  The jailer can be found trussed up and gagged, to-morrow about midnight.  Best have only one of the Pooles in it; take Amos.  He shall wear a mask and be the bold rescuer; he shall open the cell door, whisper ‘Mitchell’ to Johnson, and help him escape.  Once out, without taking off his mask, Amos can hide Johnson somewhere.  I leave you to perfect these details.  Then, after discarding his mask, Poole can give the alarm.  It is immaterial whether he rouses the undersheriff or finds a policeman; but he is to give information that he has just seen Johnson at liberty, skulking near such-and-such a place.  Such information, from a man so recently the victim of a wanton assault at Johnson’s hands, will seem a natural act.”