“That door never opened itself,” persisted Duke.
“The wind blew it open,” said Gale impatiently.
“I tell y’ it didn’t,” responded Duke sternly; “somebody came in there, or went out. Maybe she’s slipped y’.”
“Go up-stairs and see,” bellowed Gale at his uncle.
Duke walked slowly out into the hall and, with some difficulty, owing to his injured back, up the stairs. A curtain hung beside the arch where de Spain stood, and this he now drew around him. Gale walked into the hall again, searched it, and waited at the foot of the stairs. De Spain could hear Duke’s rough voice up-stairs, but could neither distinguish his words nor hear any response to them. Within a moment the elder man tramped heavily down again, saying only, “She’s 329 there,” and, followed by Gale, returned to the living-room.
“Now go on, Druel,” exclaimed Gale, sitting down impatiently, “and talk quick.”
Druel talked softly and through his nose: “I was only going to say it would be a good idea to have two witnesses.”
“Nita,” suggested Gale.
Duke was profane. “You couldn’t keep the girl in the room if she had Nita to help her. And I want it understood, Gale, between you and me, fair and square, that Nan’s goin’ to live right here with me after this marriage till I’m satisfied she’s willing to go to you––otherwise it can’t take place, now nor never.”
De Spain opened his ears. Gale felt the hard, cold tone of his crusty relative, and answered with like harshness: “What do you keep harping on that for? You’ve got my word. All I want of you is to keep yours––understand?”