“Because, though I’m not working at your direction, I shall do just as good work, in fact, just the same work as if I were. Therefore, you will get the results the same as if you paid for them. Oughtn’t that to make you willing to help in any way you can?”
“But you’re assuming I want to save money. You speak as if I should be glad not to have to pay your bill. Not so, Mr. Moore. When I asked you to take me as a client, I was, and am, perfectly willing to shoulder the expenses.”
“I see; then, Mr. Ames, the question of price doesn’t interest you. Therefore, I ask of you, as you ask of me, to help me with any information you may possess.”
“And how do you know I possess any?”
“Because you are afraid. You are not afraid for yourself but for some one else.”
It was when Kee was making a statement of this sort that he was at his best. His good-looking face grew positively handsome in its impressive strength and forcefulness.
Only I, and perhaps Lora, knew that it was play acting. Knew that what Keeley Moore said in this histrionic manner was, almost always, merely bluff. He didn’t know at all that Ames was shielding some one else, but this was his way of finding out. And nine times out of ten it was successful.
It was this time.
Harper Ames collapsed like a man struck by lightning. He fell back in his seat and turned a sickly white.
I felt sorry for him. It didn’t seem quite cricket for Kee to get him like that. I moved toward him, but Moore spoke sharply: “Let him alone, Gray, don’t touch him.”