"Shure, it's a parfectly still tongue the b'y has in the
cheek o' him."
She laughed nervously.
"Well, I'm glad of that; and we'll not stand here discussing the
matter. Do you know who I am?"
"Divil a thought have Oi."
"You were expecting to meet Mr. Enright, weren't you? That was what
Bill Lacy told you. He was to explain to you just what you were to do."
Brennan mumbled something indistinctly, now thoroughly aroused to the
situation.
"Well, Mr. Enright couldn't come, and Lacy is over across the creek
yet, hunting down Ned Beaton's murderer. I am Miss La Rue," she
hurried on, almost breathlessly, "and I've brought you Lacy's note,
which you are to give to that Mexican--Pasqual Mendez. You understand?
You are to give it to him, and no one else. Lacy said you could kill
your horse, if necessary, but the note must be there by daylight
to-morrow. Here--take it."
Brennan thrust it into an inner pocket, and cleared his throat. There
was no small risk in asking questions, yet, unless he learned more,
this information might prove utterly useless.
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