“Ask him to wait a minute,” said I, for I didn't want him to know anything about Genz. “I'll be there right away.”
Then came Farwell Knowles's voice from the other room, sharp and excited. “I believe I'll not wait,” says he. “I'll come in there now!”
And that's what he did, pushing by our watcher before I could hustle Genz into the hall through an outer door, though I tried to. There's no denying it looked a little suspicious.
Farwell came to a dead halt in the middle of the room.
“I know that person!” he said, pointing at Genz, his brow mighty black. “I saw him and Crowder sneaking into the hotel by the back way, half an hour ago, and I knew there was some devilish—”
“Keep your shirt on, Farwell,” said I.
He was pretty hot. “I'll be obliged to you,” he returned, “if you'll explain what you're doing here in secret with this low hound of Gorgett's. Do you think you can play with me the way you do with your petty committee-men? If you do, I'll show you! You're not dealing with a child, and I'm not going to be tricked or sold out of this elec—”
I took him by the shoulders and sat him down hard on a cane-bottomed chair. “That's a dirty thought,” said I, “and if you knew enough to be responsible I reckon you'd have to account for it. As it is—why, I don't care whether you apologize or not.”
He weakened right away, or, at least, he saw his mistake. “Then won't you give me some explanation,” he asked, in a less excitable way, “why are you closeted here with a notorious member of Gorgett's ring?”
“No,” said I, “I won't.”