"I—I just gave her a message for McGuire. I reckon she gave it to him."
"A message?"
"Oh, you needn't say you don't know, Pete. It didn't fetch him. So I put up the placard."
Peter was now more bewildered than Coast. "Do you deny that you're Ben Cameron?" he asked.
Coast pulled himself together and took up his coat.
"Deny it? Sure! I'm not—not him—not Ben Cameron—not Ben Cameron. Don't I know who I am?" he shouted. Then he broke off with a violent gesture and took up his cap. "Enough of your damn questions, I say. I've told you what I've told you. You can believe it or not, as you choose. I'm Jim Coast to you or Hawk Kennedy, if you like, but don't you go throwin' any more of your dirty jokes my way. Understand?"
Peter couldn't understand but he had had enough of the man. So he pointed toward the door.
"Go," he ordered. "I've had enough of you—get out!"
Coast walked a few paces toward the door, then paused and turned and held out his hand.
"Oh, Hell, Pete. Don't let's you and me quarrel. You gave me a start back there. I'm sorry. Of course, you knew. You been good to me to-night. I'm obliged. I need you in my business. More'n ever."