The conductor waved his arm. The train pulled out. A little later he
came and took his seat opposite Pete. Conductor Stokes seemed even
more genial than ever, elaborating on the opportunities for "a good
time" in El Paso, and reiterating the hope that they would make
themselves at home at his hotel. He joked and talked familiarly about
the more notorious sections of the town, warned them to be on the
lookout for thugs, and finally excused himself and entered the baggage
compartment.
Pete saw Brevoort lean forward and hastily snatch up a crumpled slip of
paper which had dropped from the conductor's pocket as he got up.
Brevoort scanned the paper, crumpled it, and tossed it out in the aisle.
"We didn't see that," he told Pete.
"What was it?"
"Forget it," said Brevoort, as the door opened and the conductor,
glancing about, finally saw and recovered the service wire. "Running
orders," he said, as he stuffed it in his pocket and moved on down the
aisle. Pete gazed out of the window, apparently absorbed in looking at
the desert. Brevoort rolled a cigarette, and nodded casually.
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