“I did use that name—for personal reasons.”
He did not moderate his wrath. “Here I find that Patsy Jones is Miss Kennard of the Vose-Mern agency. We have paid good money to the agency. When I settled for the last job I added two hundred dollars as a present to you.”
“I have not received the gift, sir. It does not belong to me. I’m here on my own account. I came north at my own expense without notifying Chief Mern that I was done with the agency; and strictly personal reasons, also, influenced me on that point.” She was trying hard to keep her poise, not loosing her emotions, preserving her dignity with a man of affairs and phrasing her replies with rather stilted diction. “I have my good reasons for doing all I can in my poor power to help the Flagg drive go through.”
The fact that her name was Kennard meant nothing to Rufus Craig, a New Yorker who had never bothered himself with the ancient tales of the Noda country. He did not understand what interest she could have in opposing the Comas company; he could see only the ordinary and sordid side of the affair. He looked her up and down and curled his lip.
“You have been a traitor!”
“Not to the right, sir, when I found out what the right was.”
“I think you’ll have a chance to say something about that in court, in your defense! You have put the devil into those men and I’m giving you warning.”
“I shall tell the truth in court, Mr. Craig. You may or you may not find that promise a warning of my own to you and your corporation methods.”
He blinked and looked away from her. “I’m busy! What are you doing here on this dam? What do you want of me? Is it more detective work?” he sneered. “Are you getting ready to double-cross the new gang you’re hitched up with. For what reason you went over to ’em God only knows!”
“He does know!” she returned, earnestly. She stepped closer to him. “I came down here to plead that you’ll let the Flagg logs go through this dam.”