With an excuse that I had to speak to Bryant, I left him alone for a few minutes, and when I returned he was staring out of the window smoking.
“You’ll think me an awful fool and baby, Mr. Donnington,” he said nervously and shamefacedly.
“No. Any man might break down under the load you are carrying.”
“May I come and see you again? I’m all shaken up now.”
“You can do better than that. Tell me now.”
“How you read a fellow’s thoughts.”
“Sit down and tell me frankly what hold Major Sampayo has on you.”
“I—I can’t tell you.”
“Is it money?”
“I—I can’t tell you,” he repeated, in the same hesitating way.