"A few words with you."
"And s'posin' I don't want any words with you?"
"I fancy it will be to your advantage to talk to me," said Tom coolly. He was glad of a chance to stand still, for his ankle was paining him very much, and even though the rain was coming down in torrents, and it was cold and dreary, he did not mind, for he felt that at last he was at the end of the trail that meant the clearing of his name.
"Nice time for a talk," sneered the tramp. "If you have anything to say, out with it. I'm not going to stand here all night."
"I don't fancy the job myself," remarked Tom easily. "In the first place, you came here to meet the same person I did, I think."
"What makes you think so?" asked the tramp uneasily, and he lowered his light so that it no longer pointed in Tom's face.
"Well, I have reasons. Assuming that you did come here to meet a certain Ray Blake, what do you want of him?"
"I'm not going to tell you—how did you know I wanted to see Ray?" stammered the ragged man, hastily correcting himself.
"He told me so," replied Tom frankly. "Now I want you to let him alone after this. You've done him harm enough, and you have done much to ruin his life. I want you to promise not to make any more attempts to force him to lead the kind of a life you're leading."
"S'posin' I won't?"