"You say you thought so yourself at first," she added, looking
uncomfortably at the bent figure in the chair, "and that made him
feel--"
"Well, well, I understand now," Lindsay interrupted irritably, "it's
all right now, Caroline. Hadn't you better go? Mr.--Mr. Barker and I
will come along later."
"Oh, I'll wait and go with you, Lin," she returned, almost assured,
now, "why do I have to go first?"
The man lifted his head; at sight of the young fellow's nervous
perplexity he smiled faintly.
"Suppose you run along, Missy," he suggested; "your cousin and I
want to talk business, and--and then I must be hurrying on--hurrying
on," he repeated vaguely, with dazed eyes. He raised his hand to
his head; Lindsay started forward, the revolver loose in his hand.
"Where did you get that pin?" he cried sharply. "Give that to me."
The man fingered the pin thoughtfully. "You're 'way off there," he
said. "That's not--that's not--"
"Not one of your 'jokes'?" Lindsay's voice rang disagreeably. "I
happen to know the contrary. I'll trouble you to hand it over. I'll
soon know to whom it belongs."
Caroline, hanging over the sill, lost in talkative admiration of the
Great Dane, was oblivious for the moment of the room behind her.
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