Father William seemed to wage a mighty struggle within himself. Finally he sighed. “I’ll be back tomorrow evening for it.”

“In that case, I won’t detain you,” said the Swagman. “I’m sure you can find your own way out.”

“You’ll see to it that Virtue gets back to her hotel safely?” demanded Father William.

“But of course.”

“Have you got all your infernal machines turned off?”

“All but the two at the bottom of the hill—and they’ve been instructed to let you pass.”

“Be sure that they do.”

“I will,” said the Swagman. “And thank you for bringing this innocent young woman up to my den of iniquity.”

Father William glowered at him, then turned and made his way out of the room.

“Interesting man,” commented the Swagman.

“I’m surprised you two aren’t at each other’s throats all the time,” remarked Virtue.

“That would be bad for both our businesses,” said the Swagman with a chuckle.

“I don’t understand.”

“I allow him to set up shop on my worlds, and give him occasional information about various killers who are also in these parts. In exchange, he warns me whenever he hears of a bounty hunter who isn’t as choosy about his targets as he himself is.”

“Speaking of killers, why did you give three of them permission to hunt me down on Goldenrod?” demanded Virtue.

“It was strictly financial,” replied the Swagman with no trace of remorse. “I allowed them to operate here in exchange for twenty-five percent of their fees—and Dimitri Sokol is offering a lot of money for you.”

“So you just let anyone kill anyone on Goldenrod, as long as you get your cut of the action?” she said, her anger rising.

“It depends on the situation.”

“What was it about my situation that made you decide I was expendable?”

“Oh, I knew that the Lance would wait for you in the tent, and that Father William would spot him. As for the other two—well, if you’re not good enough to protect yourself from Henry and Martha, you’re certainly not good enough to go after Santiago.” He took a sip of his wine. “So if you made it here, you were worth talking business with—and if you didn’t, at least I had been recompensed.”

She stared at him, annoyed that her fury was evaporating so rapidly in the face of his straightforward and logical answer. Finally the last of it drained from her, and she shrugged.

“All right. Tell me about Santiago.”

“Eventually,” he replied. “But first of all, suppose you tell me about your interest in him—and your partnership with Sebastian Cain.”

“My interest is strictly professional,” said Virtue. “I’m a journalist, and I’ve been paid a hefty advance to come up with a feature on him.” Her face suddenly became serious. “And I mean to get that story, no matter what it takes.”