“Where does Joe Cotter come in?”
Dan Tompkins grimaced. “That was where I made my first mistake. I didn’t know how to locate Old Jim Walker and I asked Joe to trace him for me... He’s a sort of a lawer... Now Joe’s trying to squeeze in... Well, that’s the story up to date.”
Johnny frowned. “I don’t see where there should be any complications. Helen Walker owns the mine and if she wants to sell—”
“That’s just it!” Tompkins cried. “Old Jim willed the mine to Helen, but Ralston claims now that the old man was crazy or something and says that since he’s Walker’s nearest relative the mine shoulda come to him. That’s where the lawyers come in.”
“I see.” Johnny nodded thoughtfully. “And you weren’t in San Bernardino the night before last?”
“Nope!”
“You can prove it?”
“Ain’t my word good enough?” Tompkins exclaimed angrily.
“To me, yes, but it may not be good enough for the police.”
“What’ve the police got to do with this?”
Johnny shook his head. “Police are funny. They ask questions. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if they started asking me questions.”
Across the room, Sam Cragg winced.
“I don’t like police,” Tompkins growled. “I never got nothing good from them. I’m paying you to keep them off my neck.”
“I’ll do my best, old man. Now just what is it you want me to do in this affair?”
“Ain’t I been telling you for the last fifteen minutes? I want to buy this silver mine.”
“For a thousand dollars?”
“I’ll go higher — maybe even up to three thousand.”
“That’s very generous of you,” Johnny said drily. “Flow much is the mine worth?”
“To anybody else — nothing.”
“But if there’s silver in it as rich as that lump...”
“Ain’t you ever been in a silver mine?” Tompkins exclaimed. “The Silver Tombstone’s six hundred feet deep — there’re six levels and each one has about fifty shafts running all around underground — like a honeycomb. If you don’t know where to look for this vein I uncovered you’ll have a sweet time finding enough silver to fill a tooth... ‘Course since they know it’s there they can dig around and eventually they’ll find it, but it’s going to cost them a lot of money.”
“But if Helen Walker won’t sell you the mine you can’t work it.”
“That’s about the size of it. But she won’t get anything out of it, either. She’s broke. She can’t spend any money to blast around. Cost her fifty-sixty thousand.”
“Why don’t you offer to split with her?”
“I did. I made her a fifty-fifty proposition, but she wouldn’t listen. Says Jim Walker wanted her to have the mine all for herself and that’s the way she’s going to have it. That’s what you’ve got to talk her out of — and keep the other guys away from her.”
“She’s staying here at the hotel?”
“No — she’s at the Manhattan. Cotter’s staying here — and Ralston.”
Johnny nodded thoughtfully. “If talk can make her change her mind...”
“And if talkin’ ain’t any good, you’ll...?” Tompkins leaned forward eagerly.
“I’ll what?”
The prospector slapped Johnny’s knee. “I leave it to you, eh?”
“Yeah... just relax.”
Tompkins inhaled heavily. “I guess I can — now. You two fit the fortune teller’s description—”
“Fortune teller?” Sam exclaimed. “You believe in fortune tellers?”
“Why not? Some people’ve got the gift—”
“Bunk!” scoffed Sam. “Nobody can look in a glass ball and tell you anything. It’s the stars...”
Tompkins blinked. “What stars?”
“Why, the stars in the skies... When were you born?”
“May 26th, 1888...”
Sam whipped out his astrology book. Johnny chuckled as he watched his friend turn the pages.
“May 26th,” Sam repeated. “That’s Gemini... yeah, sure... this is your lucky period. You’re all right — if you watch yourself and don’t have business dealings with strangers.”
Tompkins grunted. “It says that in your book? Madame Zarini told me just the opposite. Said good fortune was going to come to me through two strangers... Of course, if you’re going to believe your book...”
Johnny struck Sam’s shoulder. “Put that book away or I’ll make you see some stars. There’s work to be done—”
Sam put away his book. “What work?”
“You’re coming with me to see Helen Walker.”
Tompkins was regarding Sam with a peevish look, but Johnny herded him and Sam out of the room. They left Tompkins in the corridor and descended to the hotel lobby.
As they stepped out of the elevator a suave, neatly dressed man with a white carnation in his lapel called to Johnny. “Mr. Fletcher...!”
Just behind the suave man, Big Tim O’Hanlon leaned against a pillar, grinning wickedly.
“Mr. Fletcher,” said the man with the carnation. “I’m Mr. Stuart, the manager. I’m sorry to inform you that a mistake was made yesterday in giving you the suite. It is our custom to ask for, ah, payment in advance on suites...”
“I see,” said Johnny grimly. “Well, if that is the custom of the hotel — how much is my suite per week?”
“Per week?” Mr. Stuart seemed surprised. “Why, ah, there’s a ten per cent discount... Sixty-three dollars.”
Johnny pulled out two fifties. “Please credit me with the balance.”
Mr. Stuart’s mouth fell open. Then he became all fluttery. “I, ah, Mr. Fletcher, I, ah, I’m sorry I had to mention this to you. A little mistake, ah, perhaps...”
“Perhaps,” said Johnny. “And now, since we’re talking about customs and rules and regulations, do you mind if I make a suggestion? It’s customary in the better hotels — as you may have heard — to invite criticisms of service, et cetera...”
“Oh, by all means. I would greatly appreciate any suggestions.”
“Well, it’s just this — shortly after I checked into my suite yesterday a large, uncouth individual knocked on my door and under the pretext of being the house detective — an imposter, of course — hinted that he knew a good thing in a horse race and—”
“No!” cried Mr. Stuart.
Johnny raised his shoulders expressively. “I could hardly believe it myself. Such brazen touting! I knew he couldn’t be the house detective, yet—” He blinked. “Why, I do believe that’s the man over there...”
Mr. Stuart whirled and saw O’Hanlon. He started toward him. Johnny gestured to Sam. “Come along, old boy. Mustn’t be contaminated...”
“Serves him right,” growled Sam.
Chapter Six
The Manhattan was less than a mile from the Fremont, but Johnny Fletcher was in an expansive mood. He took a taxi and when he reached the Manhattan got involved in a complicated business of obtaining change for a fifty dollar bill. By the time the taxi bill was settled a good number of the employees of the hotel — as well as some guests in the lobby — were aware that an important man had arrived. A man who had nothing smaller than fifty dollar bills.
The clerk violated a hotel rule by giving Johnny the number of Miss Helen Walker’s room.
Johnny knocked on the door of her room on the fifth floor. It was opened by the girl from New York... whose flat tire Sam Cragg had changed on the road from San Bernardino.
She recognized Johnny and her blue eyes flashed sparks.
“Hello,” Johnny said lamely.
She started to close the door in his face, but couldn’t for Johnny’s bookselling technique was ever with him and he got his foot in the door. Helen Walker promptly kicked his shin. Johnny exclaimed in pain but put his shoulder to the door and pushed.