MacLeod stared from the face of his employer to the face of John Barrett, the latter displaying decidedly more interest than the questioner. Then he stood up and dashed his cigar angrily into the fire. Blood flamed on his high cheek-bones and his gray eyes glittered.
“What has marryin’ got to do with my job, or what have you got to do with my marryin’?” he asked, in hot anger.
The Honorable Pulaski continued bland and conciliating.
“Keep on all your clothes, Colin, my boy,” he counselled. “Don’t say anything to me that you’ll be sorry for after I’ve shown you that I’m only doin’ you a friendly turn. But I’ve found out a mighty interesting thing about this girl—Kate Arden, they call her. As a friend of yours I’m givin’ you the tip. It would be too bad to have a girl with a nice tidy little sum of money comin’ to her slip past you when all you have to do is to reach and take her.”
The boss’s face was surly.
“You must have been talkin’ with some one in Barn Withee’s crew,” he suggested.
“And what does Withee’s crew say?” demanded Britt, with heat.
“It wasn’t a sewin’-circle I was attendin’ out on that fire-line,” retorted MacLeod, with just as much vigor. “There was somethin’ bein’ talked, but I didn’t stop to listen.”
“Look here, MacLeod,” cried his employer. Britt came close to him and clutched the belt of his wool jacket. “There are some nasty liars in these woods just now. There are some of them that will go to state-prison for attempted blackmail. You are too bright a man not to realize which is your own side. I know you well enough to believe that all the lunatics and slanderers this side of Castonia couldn’t turn you against your friends. And you’ve got no two better friends than John Barrett and I.”
“I’m not gainsaying it, Mr. Britt. But what has joinin’ this matrimonial agency of yours got to do with your friendship or my work?”