Bill stopped in front of them, and nodded. “All right. Now get this--I want everything decent and in order. No excitement. I'll come out behind him, and you and Bill stand by. Outside I'll speak to him, and when we walk off, just fall in behind. But keep close.” Bill wandered off, to take up a stand of extreme nonchalance inside the entrance. When Wilkins turned to him again Bassett had had a moment to adjust himself, and more or less to plan his own campaign. “Somebody's out of luck,” he commented. “And speaking of being out of luck, I've got a sick man on my hands. Friend of mine from home. We've got to catch the midnight, too.” “Too bad,” Wilkins commented rather absently. Then, perhaps feeling that he had not shown proper interest, “Tell you what I'll do. I've got some business on hand now, but it'll be cleared up one way or another pretty soon. I'll bring my car around and take him to the station. These hacks are the limit to ride in.” The disaster to his plans thus threatened steadied the reporter, and he managed to keep his face impassive. “Thanks,” he said. “I'll let you know if he's able to travel. Is this--is this business you're on confidential?” “Well, it is and it isn't. I've talked some to you, and as you're leaving anyhow--it's the Jud Clark case again.” “Sort of hysteria, I suppose. He'll be seen all over the country for the next six months.” “Yes. But I never saw a hysterical Indian. Well, a little while ago an Indian woman named Lizzie Lazarus blew into my office. She's a smart woman. Her husband was a breed, dairy hand on the Clark ranch for years. Lizzie was the first Indian woman in these parts to go to school, and besides being smart, she's got Indian sight. You know these Indians. When they aren't blind with trachoma they can see further and better than a telescope.” Bassett made an effort. “What's that got to do with Jud Clark?” he asked. “Well, she blew in. You know there was a reward out for him, and I guess it still stands. I'll have to look it up, for if Maggie Donaldson wasn't crazy some one will turn him up some day, probably. Well, Lizzie blew in, and she said she'd seen Jud Clark. Saw him standing at a second story window of this hotel. Can you beat that?” “Not for pure invention. Hardly.” “That's what I said at first. But I don't know. In some ways it would be like him. He wouldn't mind coming back and giving us the laugh, if he thought he could get away with it. He didn't know fear. Only time he ever showed funk was when he beat it after the shooting, and then he was full of hootch, and on the edge of D.T.'s.”