Her answer smothered his fury again.  It was pain that was giving her strength.

“Jude, if you really want me to go back with you, don’t ask that question.  He has treated me as an honorable man always treats a woman—­he tried to serve me.”

“Serve you?  By coming here trying to kill me?”

“He may have thought I wished to be free.  He didn’t tell me what he was going to do.”

“That’s a lie.”  He stopped, watching her white face.  “I don’t mean that, you know.  But you ain’t actually asking me to get Sinclair out of jail?  Besides, I couldn’t do it!”

“You could easily.  Moreover, it’s to your interest.  It will take a strong jail to hold him, and if he breaks away, you know that he’s a dangerous man.  He hates you, Jude, and he might try to find you.  If he did—­”

She waved her hand, and Cartwright followed the gesture with great, fascinated eyes, as if he saw himself dissolving into thin air.

“I know; he’s a desperado, right enough, this Sinclair.  Ain’t I seen him work?” He shuddered at the memory.

“But get him out of the jail, Jude, and that will be ended.  He’ll be your friend.”

“Could I trust him?”

“Don’t you think Riley Sinclair is a man to be trusted?”

“I dunno.”  He lowered his eyes.  “Maybe he is.”

“As for Arizona,” she went on, “the same thing holds for him.”

“Yes; if I could get one out, I could get two.  But how can I do it?  This Sheriff Kern is a fighting idiot, and loves a gunplay.  I ain’t no man-killer, honey.”

“But you’re rich, Jude.”

“Tolerable.  They may be one or two has more than me, around these parts.”

“And money buys men!”

“Don’t it, though?” said Jude, expanding.  “Why, when they found that I was a spender they started in hounding me.  One gent wanted me to help him on a mortgage—­only fifty bucks to meet a payment.  And they’s half a dozen would mortgage their souls if I’d stake ’em to enough downstairs to get them into a crap game, or something.”

“Then let them have the money they need.  Why, it wouldn’t be more than a hundred dollars altogether.”

“A hundred is a hundred.  Why should I throw it away on them bums?”

“Because after you’ve done it, you’ll have a dozen men who’ll follow you.  You’ll have a mob.”

“Sure!  But what of that?  Expect me to lead an attack on a jail, eh?  Throw my life away?  By guns, I think you’d like that!”

“You don’t have to lead.  Just give them the money they need and then spread the word around that Riley Sinclair is really an honorable man who killed Quade in a fair fight.  I know what they thought of Quade.  He was a bully.  No one liked him.  Tell them it’s a shame that a man like Sinclair should die because he killed a big, hulking cur such as Quade.  They’ll listen—­particularly if they have your money.  I know these men, Jude.  If they think an injustice is being done, they’ll risk their necks to right it!  And if you work on them in the right way, you can have twenty men who’ll risk everything to get Riley out.  But there won’t be a risk.  If twenty men rush the jail, the guards will simply throw down their guns and give up.”