“I hear you say it.”
“You yourself only took me up in the first place because you thought there was a bit of a bribe in it, or a jug of whisky maybe. You thought I was a whisky-runner, but you couldn’t prove it. I guess you’re sorry now that you ever fooled with me, aren’t you, Redbreast?”
Stonor said nothing.
“Answer me when I speak to you. Aren’t you sorry now that you interfered with me?”
This was a hard one. A vein stood out on Stonor’s forehead. He thought: “I wouldn’t say it for myself, but for her——!” Aloud he muttered: “Yes!”
Imbrie roared with laughter. “I’m putting the police in their place!” he cried. “I’m teaching them manners! I’ll have him eating out of my hand before I’m through with him!”
Clare, seeing the swollen vein, bled for Stonor, yet she gave him a glance of scorn, and the look she gave Imbrie caused him to rise as if moved by a spring, and cross to her.
As he passed the breed woman he said in the Indian tongue: “Well, who was right, old woman?”
He sat down beside Clare.
The woman answered: “You fool! She’s playing with you to save her lover. Any woman would do the same.”