“Said this wasn’t Amos’s doing at all. Said it was his own idea, that he had given the orders, that he meant to carry them through. Said, even if it were Caretall’s move, it was a good thing, and he was for it.” Kite snarled: “He’s damnably moral, all of a sudden.” And Chase felt a surge of resentment at the other’s tone, and countered: “He’s right, you know. Booze is dirty business.” “It’s my business,” Kite snapped, stamping to his feet; and if Routt had not intervened, the old feud between Kite and Chase might have been revived, then and there. But Routt had no notion of permitting a break between these strange allies. He said cheerfully: “Sit down, Kite. We’re not talking about booze. We’re talking about Amos Caretall. We’re not trying to settle the moral issue. We’re trying to settle Amos Caretall’s hash. Question is, how are we going to do it?” “That’s right,” Chase agreed. Caretall’s name was like an anchor, to which he could make fast his disturbed thoughts. So long as he was opposing Amos, he could not go wrong. Kite sat down, thinking; and he asked: “You say Wint told you Amos had nothing to do with this, Chase?” “Yes. He probably thinks that’s true. Caretall got around him, somehow.” Routt said: “Caretall’s a shrewd man, he can get around other men. He knows the trick of it.” Kite said nothing. He was thinking over what Chase had said. Routt continued: “What we want to do is to go out and get him.” Chase suddenly found the atmosphere of this room unbearable; he wanted to get out in the air. So he got up, and said harshly: “I’m with you on that. I’ll do anything I can against Amos. Let me know what you decide.” Routt said: “Don’t run away. Let’s talk things over.” But Chase told him he had business elsewhere; and Kite made no objection to his going. When he was gone, Routt told Kite: “He’ll have to be handled carefully. He’s naturally a dry man, you know.” Kite said thoughtfully, as though he were considering another matter: “Yes, that’s so.” “I’ve been figuring on what you suggested--getting a handle to control Wint,” Routt told him. “You know, I think there’s a way.” “To get something on Wint?” “Yes. He’s not such a terribly upright young man. Any one’s foot is apt to slip.” “You mean his has slipped?” Kite asked eagerly. Routt only grinned. “I’ll let you know what I mean, in good time,” he said. Kite grunted. It was evident that his mind was busy with another angle of the situation. A little later, still abstracted, he took himself away. While he walked home, he turned over and over in his thoughts his new idea. CHAPTER VI EVERY MAN HAS HIS PRICE