“That,” said Dane slowly, “is rather a facer. We are all more or less friends of the dominant family, you see.”
Witham laid down his cigar and stood up, “Now,” he said, “I generally talk straight, and you have held out a hand to me. Can you believe in the apparent improbability of such a man as I am in the opinion of the folks at Silverdale getting tired of a wasted life and trying to walk straight again? I want your answer, yes or no, before I head across the prairie for my own place.”
“Sit down,” said Dane with a little smile. “Do you think I would have brought you here if I hadn’t believed it? And, if I have my way, the first man who flings a stone will be sorry for it. Still, I don’t think any of them will—or could afford it. If we had all been saints, some of us would never have come out from the old country.”
He stopped and poured out two glasses of wine. “It’s a long while since I’ve talked so much,” he said. “Here’s to our better acquaintance, Courthorne.”
After that they talked wheat-growing and horses, and when his guest retired Dane still sat smoking thoughtfully beside the stove. “We want a man with nerve and brains,” he said. “I fancy the one who has been sent us will make a difference at Silverdale.”
It was about the same time when Colonel Barrington stood talking with his niece and sister in Silverdale Grange. “And the man threw that trick away when it was absolutely clear who had the ace—and wished me to believe that he forgot!” he said.
His face was flushed with indignation, but Miss Barrington smiled at her niece. “What is your opinion, Maud?”
The girl moved one white shoulder with a gesture of disdain. “Can you ask—after that! Besides, he twice wilfully perverted facts while he talked to me, though it was not in the least necessary.”
Miss Barrington looked thoughtful. “And yet, because I was watching him, I do not think he plays cards well.”
“But he was a professional gambler,” said the girl.