"You guessed it."
"Who told you that I was running the outfit?" she demanded suddenly, her eyes hard on his. "You must have found that out pretty soon! Who told you?"
Donley hesitated, his eyes running from her to the other faces about him, resting longest upon the expressionless, dead-looking eyes of Poker Face.
"What difference does it make who told me?" he snapped.
"Answer me," she commanded. "Who told you?"
"Well," said Donley, "he did. Poker Face told me."
"Who told you that his name was Poker Face?" Judith shot the question at him.
Donley moved a scuffling foot back and forth, stirring uneasily. That he was lying, no one there doubted; that he was but a poor liar after all was equally evident.
"You ain't got no call to keep me here," he said at last. "I ain't goin' to answer questions all day."
"You'll answer my questions if you don't want me to turn you over to Emmet Sawyer in Rocky Bend!" she told him coolly. "How did you know this man was called Poker Face? Did you know him before?"