"It belongs to my son," said the man. There was a moment of silence.
Outside the great hound whined softly.
"His name Barker, too?" Lindsay asked coldly, half rising.
"No, sir. His name is James Wardwell," said the man defiantly.
Lindsay sprang to his feet.
"That's a dirty lie!" he shouted. He stood over the man, careless
of the revolver. "And you'll pay for it, too!"
Caroline stared aghast at them.
"Look out for the gun," the man warned him, and, as with a flush of
mortification Lindsay mastered his weapon, he added quietly, "you
can't be too careful with firearms."
Lindsay gritted his teeth.
"You--you--" he began furiously. The man met his eyes for a second,
then with a dark, slow blush, dropped his arm.
The boy drew back uncertainly.
"What's the good of lying like that?" he said, "how's it going to
help you?"
The man looked at the floor.
"Don't be a fool--how's it going to?" Lindsay repeated irritably.
The other did not move.
"Is that the truth?" Lindsay's voice was strained and worried.
The man drew a long, uneven breath. "Yes," he answered.
Lindsay glanced at the suit-case, at the man in the chair, at the
revolver.
"Jimmy!" he muttered, "Jimmy B.!" For the first time since he had
last addressed her, he noticed Caroline.
Pages:
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120