“There’s no chance of my keeping company with him; for I dislike the man,” McMurdo answered. “As to being disloyal, if it was any man but you he would not use the word to me twice.”
“Well, that’s enough,” said McGinty, draining off his glass. “I came down to give you a word in season, and you’ve had it.”
“I’d like to know,” said McMurdo, “how you ever came to learn that I had spoken with Morris at all?”
McGinty laughed. “It’s my business to know what goes on in this township,” said he. “I guess you’d best reckon on my hearing all that passes. Well, time’s up, and I’ll just say—”
But his leavetaking was cut short in a very unexpected fashion. With a sudden crash the door flew open, and three frowning, intent faces glared in at them from under the peaks of police caps. McMurdo sprang to his feet and half drew his revolver; but his arm stopped midway as he became conscious that two Winchester rifles were levelled at his head. A man in uniform advanced into the room, a six-shooter in his hand. It was Captain Marvin, once of Chicago, and now of the Mine Constabulary. He shook his head with a half-smile at McMurdo.
“I thought you’d be getting into trouble, Mr. Crooked McMurdo of Chicago,” said he. “Can’t keep out of it, can you? Take your hat and come along with us.”
“I guess you’ll pay for this, Captain Marvin,” said McGinty. “Who are you, I’d like to know, to break into a house in this fashion and molest honest, law-abiding men?”
“You’re standing out in this deal, Councillor McGinty,” said the police captain. “We are not out after you, but after this man McMurdo. It is for you to help, not to hinder us in our duty.”