He walked out.
Soon he heard the pattering of feet behind him on the ledges and he was hailed cautiously by the quavering voice of old Dick.
“Who is she, Mr. Latisan? Who is that girl?” panted Dick; “I saw her when she walked with you. I was side of the road.”
“And ran and tattled to Flagg, eh?”
“No—no, sir! It was old Dempsey who came and gossiped. But what’s her name?”
“Patsy Jones.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure because she told me so,” retorted the drive master. “Her word goes with me.”
“But—but——”
“But what?” Latisan’s manner was ominous.