"I have no great interest in your gang and its methods. All I know is a tremendous wrong's been done, and I want to see it righted."
"From what motive?" she asked, with that barbaric immediacy of approach peculiar to her.
"From the most disinterested of motives—I mean from the standpoint of that rather uncommon thing known as common honesty."
She looked at me, long and intently, before she spoke again. I had the feeling of being taken up and turned over and inspected through a lense of implacable clarity.
"Do you know this young man who lost his money on what he took for a fixed race?"
"I have met him," I answered, a little discomfited at the recollection of how tenuous that acquaintanceship was.
"And have you known him long?"
I was compelled to confess to the contrary.
"And you understand the case, through and through?"
"I think I do," was my curt retort.