"Decidedly!" he answered promptly, and with vigour. "I am convinced that an exceedingly base man is attempting you cowardly violence, and if you will permit me I shall gladly take part in your council. The first thought which presents itself is—why not denounce him and place him under arrest?"
The old man shook his head, and smiled sadly.
"Had you not just arrived in our town you would realize that to be impossible. He is very powerful, very rich, and has men at his mercy who are high in civic and municipal affairs. Your testimony—or mine—would be laughed at. We cannot touch him."
Glenning's face darkened, and his lips pressed together to a thin, straight line.
"Then it's Greek meet Greek," he said, in a low, hard voice, and Julia, watching him, felt something akin to awe well up in her breast. Somehow he seemed so masterful, so calm, so purposeful, and she had been a witness of his ability to do things.
"Travers is to be his agent this time?"
It was the Major's voice, worry-laden.
"Yes, that's the name."
"He runs the hotel on a lease. Marston owns it. He's tired of working, and wants to buy his way to independence over the body of the Prince. Let him come! I am old to shed man's blood, but I will protect my property!"
"Daddy, you can't sit up all night," remonstrated Julia, trying to smooth the wrinkles from his forehead, "and you would be no match for an able bodied person bent on mischief. Isn't the smoke-house strong enough to keep out whoever comes?"