“Leave me alone, Mac. I must be alone!” Then Power bent a flaming glance on him. “You’ve told me the truth?” he added in a hoarse whisper.
“Sure thing. You must ha passed the minister between here an’ the depot.”
“He had been there—to marry them?”
“Yep.”
“And everyone is up at the ranch, drinking the health of Marten and his bride?”
Power tried to shake off the detaining hand. “It’s a pity that I should be an uninvited guest, but it can’t be helped,” he said savagely. “You see, I was carrying out the millionaire’s orders—earning him more millions—and I ought to have taken longer over the job. And, Nancy too! What lie did they tell her about me? I hadn’t asked her to be my wife, because it wouldn’t have been fair; yet—but she knew! She knew! Let me go, Mac!”
MacGonigal clutched him more tightly. “Ah, say, Derry,” he cried thickly, “hev’ you forgot you’ve left me yer mother’s address in San Francisco? In case of accidents, you said. Well, am I ter write an’ tell her you killed a man on his weddin’ day, and was hanged for it?”
“For the Lord’s sake, don’t hold me, Mac!”
The storekeeper, with a wisdom born of much experience, took his hand off Power’s arm at once, but contrived to edge forward until he was almost facing his distraught friend.