Mr. Trentman spread out his hands in a deprecatory manner. "In view of the fact that you are expected to appear in court at nine to-morrow morning to defend an unfortunate girl, Mr. Lapelle feels that he would be doing your client a very grave injustice if he killed her lawyer—er—a trifle prematurely, you might say. He has confided to me that he is the young woman's friend and can't bear the thought of having her chances jeopardized by—"
"Pardon me, Mr. Trentman," interrupted Kenneth shortly. "Both of you are uncommonly thoughtful and considerate. Now that I am reminded of my pleasant little encounter with Mr. Lapelle this morning, I am constrained to remark that I have had all the satisfaction I desire. You may say to him that I am a gentleman and not in the habit of fighting duels with horse-thieves."
Mr. Trentman started. His vaunted aplomb sustained a sharp spasm that left him with a slightly fallen jaw.
"Am I to understand, sir, that you are referring to my friend as a horse-thief?" he demanded, bridling.
"I merely asked you to take that message to him," said Kenneth coolly. "I might add cattle-thief, sheep-stealer, hog-thief or—"
"Why, good God, sir," gasped Mr. Trentman, "he'd shoot you down like a dog if I—"
"You may also tell Mr. Lapelle that his bosom friend Martin Hawk is in jail."
"Well, what of it?"
"Does Lapelle know that Martin is in jail?"
"Certainly,—and he says he ought to be hung. That's what he thinks of Hawk. A man that would sell his own—"