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"You bet she has. The fool-killer ought to lay around here for a while. There were two dandy blokes come out of there this morning." Sam started, and inwardly cursed his stupidity in letting his game get away from him. The two men of which the bar-keeper spoke, were probably the very persons he wanted, so, in an indifferent tone, he inquired: "What's her office hours?"
It is my master, yonder, who thwarts my duty." And he nodded toward King Terribus. "Then you should exercise your right on him, and cleave the ugly head from his shoulders," declared the prince. "Nay, unless I interfered with the Fool-Killer," said the king, "I should soon have no subjects left to rule; for at one time or another they all deserve the blade."
His skin was fair and without blemish, a robe of silver cloth fell from his shoulders, and in his right hand he bore a gleaming sword. "Well met!" cried Marvel, heartily, as he bowed to the Fool-Killer. "I have often heard your name mentioned, but 'tis said in the world that you are a laggard in your duty." "Had I my way," answered the Fool-Killer, "my blade would always drip.
"You are Jesse Holmes, the Fool-Killer," I said, solemnly, "and you are going to kill my friend Kerner. I don't know who rang you up, but if you do kill him I'll see that you get pinched for it. That is," I added, despairingly, "if I can get a cop to see you. They have a poor eye for mortals, and I think it would take the whole force to round up a myth murderer."
"I'm a dragon and a gentleman!" answered the monster, proudly, as the king paused for lack of a word; "and I believe I know what's proper for dragons to do and what isn't. I've learned wisdom from my father, who got into trouble with Saint George, and if I fought with this person who calls himself Prince Marvel, I'd deserve to be a victim of your Fool-Killer.
The Fool-Killer's threatening face was within a foot of his victim's; but to my horror, Kerner made not the slightest sign of being aware of his presence. "We will be married next week," he muttered absent-mindedly. "With my studio furniture and some second-hand stuff we can make out." "You have decided your own fate," said the Fool-Killer, in a low but terrible voice.
"Andrew Daney wrote me you swore by all your Highland clan that the man who sold you that red cedar was ripe for the fool-killer." "Tush, tush!" The Laird protested. "You're getting personal now. I dislike to appear inquisitive, but might I ask what you've done with your two hundred thousand profit?"
"He allowed to me," said Dan'l thoughtfully, "that YOU was a poor critter that hadn't a single reason to show for livin': that the fool-killer had bin shadderin' you from your birth, and that you hadn't paid a cent profit on your father's original investment in ye, nor on the assessments he'd paid on ye ever since. He seems to be a cute feller arter all, and I'm rather sorry he's leavin'."
The stern law of individual responsibility turns the fool over to the fool-killer without a preliminary trial. No finer type of man can be found in the world than the sober Californian; and yet no coast is strewn with wrecks more pitiful. There are some advantages in the absence of a compelling force of public opinion.
"And if they didn't burst, and we weren't shot by the next patrol, and if we'd calculated to be mean enough to run away from the women where would we escape to?" asked Banks curtly. "Hold on at least until we get an ultimatum from that commodious ass at the Presidio! Then we'll anticipate the fool-killer, if you like. My opinion is, they aren't in any great hurry to try ANYTHING on us just yet."
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