"Well, just things," grinned the little man. "For one thing, I suppose you are trying to decide why you didn't sign your name—over in Las Vegas."
Sanderson grinned mildly, but did not answer. He felt more at ease now, and the little man's impertinences did not bother him so much as formerly. He looked up, however, startled, when Owen said slowly:
"Do you want me to tell you why you didn't sign Will Bransford's name to the affidavit?"
Sanderson's eyes did not waver as they met Owen's.
"Tell me," he said evenly.
"Because you are not Will Bransford," said the little man.
Sanderson did not move; nor did he remove his gaze from the face of the little man. He was not conscious of any emotion whatever. For now that he had determined to stay at the Double A no matter what happened, discovery did not alarm him. He grinned at the little man, deliberately, with a taunting smile that the other could not fail to understand.
"You're a wise guy, eh?" he said. "Well, spring it. I'm anxious to know how you got next to me."
"You ain't sore, then?"
"Not, none."