So singular and confident was her expression that he was almost tempted to look into her ungloved right hand to see if she clasped a poniard. He saw only the flash of her rings.
“Why, what would you do;” he cried, in sudden amazement; “knife him?”
She gave him a glance of scorn, which melted at once into a captivating smile.
“How absurd you are! Who ever dreamed of such a thing? This isn’t the Back of Beyond.”
“What would you do?”
“Is it worth five thousand dollars to you if Justin Wingate does not vote against the cattlemen’s candidate for senator?”
He regarded her thoughtfully, and jingled the watch chain that lay across his round stomach.
“Yes,” he admitted, “it’s worth every cent of it.”
“Will you agree to pay me that sum if I do keep him from casting that vote? I am in debt and must have money; five thousand dollars is little enough; but if you will satisfy me that you will give me that much money I will prevent that vote.”
“Tell me how you’re going to do it.”