"Just talk," he added.

"But it won't be healthy talk--hereafter." "Have another drink," invited the proprietor, and he pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and wiped the sudden perspiration from his forehead.

Then he retreated to the far end of the bar, from whence he tried to appear unconcerned.
Dade finished his drink and set the glass down.

But he was visibly excited.
"Betty Clayton," he said, looking sharply at Calumet.

"Has she got a granddad named Malcolm Clayton, an' a brother Bob ?" "That's her." Calumet returned Dade's sharp glance.