They've been trying to get me for several
years--especially the Pinkertons. They have chased me all over Europe.
Chased me with all kinds of men; sometimes with women; they've tried
everything except blood-hounds. At first I thought YOU were a 'Pink,'
that's why--"
"I!" interrupted Ford, exploding derisively. "That's GOOD! That's one
on YOU." He ceased laughing and regarded Ashton kindly. "How do you know
I'm not?" he asked.
For an instant the face of the bookmaker grew a shade less red and
his eyes searched those of Ford in a quick agony of suspicion. Ford
continued to smile steadily at him, and Ashton breathed with relief.
"I'll take a chance with you," he said, "and if you are as bad a
detective as you are a sport I needn't worry."
They both laughed, and, with sudden mutual liking, each raised his glass
and nodded.
"But they haven't got me yet," continued Ashton, "and unless they get
me in the next thirty days I'm free. So you needn't think that I'll help
you. It's 'never again' for me. The first time, that was the fault of
the crowd I ran with; the second time, that would be MY fault. And there
ain't going to be any second time."
He shook his head doggedly, and with squared shoulders leaned back in
his chair.
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