“I didn't call for any” the gambler replied, and eyed her sternly. She quivered under his glance, and he turned to Mrs. Pennycook. “Would you oblige me, Mrs. Pennycook, with a few minutes of your valuable time--where Miss Pickett can't hear us talk? Miss Pickett, you can go right on readin' the postal cards.” “I'm a respectable woman--” Mrs. Pennycook began. “Well, it ain't ketchin', I guess” he retorted. “I ain't afraid.” “What do you want? If you've got anything to say to me, speak right out in meeting.” “Not here” the gambler answered. “It'll keep.” He walked out of the post-office and waited until Mrs. Pennycook came by. “Mrs. Pennycook, ma'am.” She tilted her nose and glanced at him scornfully, but did not stop. “It's about Joe” the gambler called after her. If he had struck her she could not have stopped more quickly. She turned, facing him, her chin trembling. “I thought you'd stop” he assured her. “Nothin' like shakin' the bones of a family skeleton to bring down the mighty from their perch. Bless you, Mrs. Pennycook, this thing o' bein' respectable must be hard on the constitution. Havin' been low an' worthless all my life, I suppose I can't really appreciate what it means to a respectable lady with a angelic relative like your brother.” The drawling words fell on the gossip like a rain of blows. Her eyelids grew suddenly red and watery. “It ain't a man's trick to hammer you like this, Mrs. Pennycook,” the gambler continued, almost sadly, “but for a lady that's livin' in a glass house, you're too fond o' chuckin' stones, an' it's got to stop. Hereafter, if you've got somethin' to say about Donna Corblay you see that it's somethin' nice. You gabbed about her mother when she was alive, and the minute I saw you streakin' it over to Miss Pickett I knew you were at it again. Now you do any more mud-slingin', Mrs. Pennycook, and I'll tell San Pasqual about that thug of a brother o' yours. He's out o' San Quentin.” “But his time wasn't up, Mr. Hennage,” wailed Mrs. Pennycook. “He got fifteen years.” “He served half of it and was paroled.” Mrs. Pennycook bowed her head and quivered. “Then he'll be around here again, blackmailing poor Dan an' me out of our savings.” She commenced to cry. “No, he won't. I'll protect you from him, Mrs. Pennycook. I want to make a bargain with you. Every time you hear any of the long-tongued people in this town takin' a crack at Donna Corblay because they don't understand her and she won't tell 'em all her business, you speak a good word for her. Understand? And the first thing tomorrow mornin' I want you to get out an' nail that lie that Donna Corblay kissed the feller that saved her from them tramps last night. It's a lie, Mrs. Pennycook. I was there, an' I know. I ordered O'Rourke out o' town for circulatin' that yarn. Suppose this town knew your twin brother was a murderer an' a highwayman? Would they keep still about it?” “No” faltered Mrs. Pennycook.