"I thought I told you then," he answered, "that I have a little private business in the town. As it's purely personal I hope you'll have no objection to my transacting it."
"You said that afternoon that your presence was, in some way, connected with Jasper Trend's cotton mills."
Wherry gave a low whistle. "Did I?" he asked politely, "well, perhaps, I did. I can't remember."
"I was fool enough to believe that you wanted an honest job," said Ordway; "it did not enter my head that your designs were upon Trend's daughter."
"Didn't it?" inquired Wherry with a smile in which his white teeth flashed brilliantly. "Well, it might have, for I was honest enough about it. Didn't I tell you that a woman was at the bottom of every mess I was ever in?"
"Where is your wife?" asked Ordway.
"Dead," replied Wherry, in a solemn voice.
"If I am not mistaken, you had not less than three at the time of your trial."
"All dead," rejoined Wherry in the same solemn tone, while he drew out his pocket handkerchief and wiped his eyes with a flourish, "there ain't many men that have supported such a treble affliction on the same day."
"I may as well inform you that I don't believe a word you utter."