“You have accused me of playing tricks!” Craig’s rage burst bounds. “You young hick, you have never seen real tricks yet! You don’t think I’m coming after you with fists or a cant dog, do you?”
“I wish you were younger and would try it!”
“I’m from the city. In the city we use our brains. Latisan, I have tried to show you in the past that the Comas means business. If you’ll go back to the Toban, where you belong, I’ll do something for you on that Walpole matter, now that I’ve taught you a lesson.”
“The Latisans are not out after charity, Mr. Craig.”
“You’re out after punishment—a damnation good smashing, personally, and you’re going to get it!”
Latisan leaped from his chair and slammed the door suddenly and violently; expecting an attack. Craig leaped back and saved his fingers from a jamming.
From behind his curtain in the morning he saw Latisan drive the Flagg team into the tavern yard.
“I’ll be coming down often, Brophy, to see Mr. Flagg. I’ll depend on you to save out a room for me.”
“Number Ten is yours if it suits.”
Craig grunted with the satisfaction of one who had received interesting information; knowledge that Latisan would be regularly in Adonia helped some plans which the director had been revolving.