The Spoilers of the Valley Part 57

"I saw Hannington's horse painted. I know who did it and I'm going to lay information."

Phil gaped.

As Jim was proceeding outside, Phil ran after him and laid hold on his arm.

"Wait a bit, old man! Let me get this right," he said slowly. "Do you mean to say you are going to play informer for a thousand dirty dollars?"

"Why not? I'm the only man who saw it done. There are mighty few in town who wouldn't do the same thing if they knew what I know. Besides, the fellow who did it darned-well deserves all that he gets. I've no love for him, and I need the money. Good-bye, Philly! I'll see you anon."

He went downstairs, opened the front door cautiously and, finding few people about, he hurried along the block and down the back lanes to the rear of _The Advertiser_ building. He sneaked unseen into Ben Todd's private office. There was no one inside. Ben, evidently, was in the bas.e.m.e.nt in the printing shop.

The editor's desk was littered as usual with newspapers, scribbled sc.r.a.ps of paper, cuttings, paste-pots and such paraphernalia of the making of a country newspaper.

Jim closed the door, sat down in Todd's chair and took up the telephone receiver. He called for DeRue Hannington and got him without difficulty.

"Hullo!--is that Mr. Hannington?"

"Mr. DeRue Hannington speaking."

"Are you busy?"

"Not too much so! Who is they-ah?"

"Could you come down to _The Advertiser_ office right away--Mr. Todd's place--something important in regard to what you are so worked up over?"

"Why, yes,--certainly! Of course, I can come."

"Be here in ten minutes."

"Yes! Who is calling?"

"Never mind! Come and see, and come quick!"

And Jim rang off.

In two or three minutes Ben Todd, the editor, came in, long of legs and hunched of back, trailing his arms like an ape, his handsome bearded face lit up in pleasantness and his keen brown eyes searching Jim curiously.

"h.e.l.lo, Jim! Glad to see you! The boys must have miscued. I heard you had fallen off the water wagon."

"And can't a fellow climb back again as easily as he fell off?"

"Some can, but you generally take your own sweet time, my Wayward Boy.

Still, I'm glad to see you. What brought you in?"

Jim swung round in the chair. "I want you to act as umpire for me in a little matter. Are you willing?"

"Of course I am! What is it?"

"Why,--here comes the other fellow," said Jim, as the handle of the door turned and the gaudy, resplendent and immaculate Percival strutted in, bringing with him an odour of pomade and scented soap.

Ben Todd looked over in surprise.

"Aw,--good day, gentlemen! Someone 'phoned me beastly hurriedly."

"Sit down, Mr. Hannington--Mr. DeRue Hannington," invited Ben. "Guess you were the one who 'phoned, Jim?"

"Yes!" acknowledged Jim, becoming alert. And he wasted no time beating about.

"You wish to know the name of the man who Union-Jacked your cayuse?"

"The name of the boundah who painted my mare!--you just jolly-well bet your boots I do, sir!"

"Well,--I know it."

"Yes--yes!"

"Does your offer of a thousand dollars still hold good?"

"Till midnight, to-night;--certainly!"

"Good! Make out a cheque now and hand it over to Mr. Todd as umpire."

"Doesn't the word of DeRue Hannington bally-well suit everyone here?"

exclaimed the Englishman in a hurt tone.

"Sure!--but this is strictly business."

Hannington pulled out his cheque book, wrote out the cheque for one thousand dollars payable to "cash" and handed it over to Ben Todd who was eyeing the scene in undisguised interest; his keen mind already fathoming the secret.

"There!" remarked Hannington. "Now, give me your information, my deah Langford."

"If the man I name gets convicted, or if you fail to lay a charge against him, the money comes to me? Do I get the arrangement right?"

"You have it absolutely, my careful Scotsman. Fire away! Fire away!"

"You got that, Mr. Todd?" queried Jim.

"Absolutely!" mocked the editor.

"Well, gentleman,--the name of the man who painted Mr. Percival DeRue Hannington's mare is--James Langford, your most humble and obedient servant, and very much at the service of both of you."

Ben Todd grunted.

The Englishman sat bolt upright. His chin dropped and he gaped, his fingers running nervously up and down over the gilt metal b.u.t.tons of his fancy waistcoat. He rose slowly from his chair and his face grew pale in his anger; then it became red and perspiry.

"You--you confounded scoundrel! You--you miserable individual!

You--you trickster!"

"Go on,--go on!" put in Jim coolly, "the more you call me down, the better I like it. I'm a positive glutton for anathema. Mr. DeRue Hannington simply eats up elocution,--eh, Ben!"