"Well, he did," said Jack, starting to leave.
Gabby Pete jumped up, almost upsetting his pan in his haste, and
called to Jack to wait. Wiping his wet hands on a big blue apron that
looked incongruous on the old cowman, he pulled open a drawer in a
kitchen table and took out a flat blue envelope which he handed to
Jack.
"Almost forgot this," he said. "Your tellin' me about that there
scoundrel of a Greaser put everything else out o' my mind. Must be
gittin old an' forgetful. One o' these days I'll forgit my head."
He would have rambled on garrulously, but Jack interrupted. He turned
the envelope over curiously. It bore no address or writing of any
kind, and was sealed.
"What's this for, Pete?" Jack inquired.
"Oh, that's somethin' Mr. Rollins musta dropped out o' his pocket at
breakfast. Found it on the floor beside his chair after he was gone.
Will you give it to him?"
"All right."
Jack returned to join his companions.
"Have we any right to open this?" he said, after explaining how he had
obtained the envelope. "I for one believe that we should. It may
contain valuable information to us."
"You're right, Jack," said Mr. Temple. "I'm a partner in this oil
enterprise, and if one of our trusted employees is a scoundrel we are
entitled to know it.
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