But Grover had not finished with him.
"Just a minute," he said. "There is one thing more. I don't know what it is, and I don't wish to know, but evidently you have been saying, or threatening to say, something concerning this lady, Mrs. Armstrong, which should not be said. You are not to mention her name. Do you understand that?"
The little hardware dealer almost jumped from the floor as his rage again got the better of him.
"The blazes I ain't!" he shrieked. "Who says I ain't? Is that any of your business, Mr.—Mr. Brass Monkey? What's you or the United States gov'ment got to say about my mentionin' names? To the devil with the United States and you, too! You hear that?"
Major Grover smiled. "Yes," he said, quietly. "I hear it. So does Mr. Winslow here, and Mrs. Armstrong. They can be called as witnesses if it is necessary. You had better let me finish, Babbitt. As I say, you are not to mention Mrs. Armstrong's name, you are not to repeat or circulate any scandal or story reflecting upon her character—"
"Or her brother's either," put in Jed, eagerly. "Tell him he can't talk against Charlie, either."
"Certainly. You are not to repeat or circulate anything derogatory to the character of either Mrs. Armstrong or Mr. Phillips. In any way derogatory."
Phineas tossed both fists in the air.
"You can't order me around that way," he yelled. "Besides, if you knew what I know about that gang you'd—"
"Hush! I don't want to know anything you know—or pretend to know. As for ordering you about—well, we'll see."