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Updated: June 25, 2025
She had maintained, red-lidded and trembly of voice, that something had gone wrong with Casey's car so that he couldn't steer it. Such things happened, she knew. Well, Casey told the widow the truth, and the widow's face hardened while she listened. She had permitted him to kiss her when he came in, but now she moved away from him. She did not call him dear boy, nor even Casey dear.
Unless, of course, he wanted to beller out his business before everybody; and that, he told himself fiercely, was not Casey Ryan's idea of the way to keep a secret. Moreover, that damned speed cop was standing right there, just waiting for a chance to wind his fingers in Casey's collar and choke him off if he tried to say a word.
Casey's generosity was boundless. He gave Mrs. Hollister a small limousine with the understanding that all bills should be sent to him. "Madam," he said, "you and Nora have a great deal of shopping and social duties to perform. Nora tells me that you go by the cars and rarely in a taxi, and that you seldom allow her to pay her fare.
And Casey neglected to send Juan after the tub to water the goats. Wherefore paw sent Humbolt, and watered the goats himself from Casey's barrel and seemed peevish because he must. Maw Smith came after coffee again, and helped herself with no more formality than a shrill, "I'm borrying some more coffee!" sent to Casey out in front. That night Casey patched tires and tubes.
The sheriff's office had long suspected a nest of moonshiners somewhere near Black Butte, and it was rumored that one Mart Hanson, who owned a mine up there, was banking more money than was reasonable, these hard times, for a miner, who ships no ore. Casey's disappearance had crystallized the suspicions into an immediate investigation.
Don't I git paid fer my gas?" the garage man wailed, pulling a dripping nozzle from Casey's gas tank. "Aw, go tahell!" Casey grunted, and threw a wadded bank note in his direction. "Take that an' shut up. What yuh cryin' around about a gallon uh gas, fer? YOU ain't pinched!"
All the crowd, to a man, muttering and gaping, followed him. Casey climbed up on the gravel-car. "Casey, wot in hell would yez be afther doin'?" demanded McDermott. Casey grinned at his old comrade. "Mac, yez do me a favor. Uncouple the car." McDermott stepped between the cars and the rattle and clank of iron told that he had complied with Casey's request.
"Elivin," answered Jimmy, breaking into a jig, supposedly to keep his feet warm, in reality because he could not stand quietly while Dannie pulled off his mittens, got out and unstrapped his wallet, and carefully counted out the money. "Is that all ye need?" he asked. For an instant Jimmy hesitated. Missing a chance to get even a few cents more meant a little shorter time at Casey's.
That was about the limit of Casey's inaction when he smelled a mystery or a scrap. This had the elements of both, and he started out forthwith to trail down the Ford, wiping crumbs from his mouth and getting out his plug of tobacco as he went.
Sather, of the excellent banking firm of Drexel, Sather & Church, came to me, and called my attention to an article in Casey's paper so full of falsehood and malice, that we construed it as an effort to black-mail the banks generally.
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