Jenkins received him with smiling cordiality. "I'm very glad to see you, Mr. Delafield--oh, I beg your pardon!--Mr. Bancroft. I always think of you as--ah, by the other name--and I sometimes forget in speaking." "You'd better not forget again," Bancroft interposed. "And, speaking of forgetting, there is a little matter concerning you that I'm willing to let drop out of my memory. You know, of course, about the case of José Maria Melgares. Doubtless you know, also, how Melgares happened to steal Curtis Conrad's horse; and you could tell to a cent--to a jury, if necessary--how much money was given to Melgares in the rear of the Blue Front saloon to induce him to undertake the theft. I take it, however, that you would not care to have it brought into court, as a conviction on a charge of conspiracy would be sure to follow. I have all the evidence in my possession--quite enough to convict. I got it from Melgares' wife in the first place, and I have since secured his affidavit. But I have stopped her mouth, and his, and nobody else knows anything about it. I am quite willing to forget it myself if you will show equal courtesy concerning--certain other matters." Jenkins grinned and licked his lips. "Really, my dear Mr. Delafield--excuse me--my dear Mr. Bancroft--I don't know what you are driving at! I suppose you mean that Melgares has been saying that I hired him to steal Conrad's horse. The thing is as false as it is absurd. If it were to come into court I should deny it absolutely, exactly as I do now. And the word of Rutherford Jenkins would stand for considerably more with a jury than that of a Mexican horse-thief." "You are probably the only man in the Territory, Mr. Jenkins, who holds that opinion. Unless you take a more reasonable view of the matter I shall feel it my duty to see the district attorney as soon as I get home." "See him, and be damned!" Jenkins broke out. "If you do, Curtis Conrad shall know before the week is out that you are Sumner L. Delafield." Bancroft's eyes fell, but his reply came quickly enough: "Well, and what is that to me?" "I guess you know what it will mean to you," Jenkins answered with a sneer. He did not know himself what it would mean to the banker, but he felt sure that it would answer quite as well to make pretence of knowledge. He watched his antagonist furtively in the momentary silence that followed.