“Tell me how you are interested in this fellow Farquhar,” he demanded.
“I don’t know that I am much interested,” Osborne replied. “He was of some service to us during our voyage from Japan, and seemed a smart young fellow. It merely struck me that I might give him a lift up in return for one or two small favors.”
“Let him drop! Didn’t it strike you that your daughter might have her own views about him? The man’s good-looking.”
Osborne flung up his head, and his eyes narrowed.
“I can’t discuss—”
“It has to be discussed,” Clay interrupted. “You can’t have that man at your house: he’s one of the fellows who were working at the wreck.”
“Ah! That makes a difference, of course. I suppose you have been on their trail, but you have told me nothing about it yet.”
“I had a suspicion that you didn’t want to know. You’re a fastidious fellow, you know, and I suspected that you’d rather leave a mean job of that kind to me.”
“You’re right,” Osborne admitted. “I’m sure you would handle it better than I could; but I’m curious to hear what you’ve done.”
“I’ve gone as far as seems advisable. Had the fellows fired from several jobs and made it difficult for them to get another; but it wouldn’t pay to have my agents guess what I’m after.” Clay laughed. “Farquhar and his partners are either bolder or smarter than I thought; I found them taking my own money at the Clanch Mill.”