When the door had closed behind him, Brace arose and took his hat as if to go. With his hand on the lock, he turned to his rival, who, half-hidden in the gathering darkness, still seemed unable to comprehend his ill-luck.
"If you're waiting for that bald-headed fraud to come back with the truth about his daughter," said Brace coolly, "you'd better send for your things and take up your lodgings here."
"What do you mean?" said Dunn sternly.
"I mean that she's not at the Burnhams'; I mean that he does or does not know where she is, and that in either case he is not likely to give you information. But I can."
"You can?"
"Yes."
"Then, where is she?"
"In the Carquinez Woods, in the arms of the man you were just defending—Low, the half-breed."
The room had become so dark that from the road nothing could be distinguished. Only the momentary sound of struggling feet was heard.
"Sit down," said Brace's voice, "and don't be a fool. You're too weak, and it ain't a fair fight. Let go your hold. I'm not lying—I wish to God I was!"