“That’s a lie!” cried Leigh. “A black lie! Where is he?”
“Shucks!” said Mr. Bernstein. “You’re a boy. Don’t you go lookin’ for him. You tell your father, Leigh Carter. He had oughter know it, he—say!”
Leigh had torn himself away and dashed off at a pace that left Mr. Bernstein gasping.
“Well, I’m darned!” he exclaimed. Then he relaxed, and stood looking after Leigh with something like satisfaction. “I guess he’ll tell ’em. They wouldn’t listen to me, and that Corwin—something oughter be done to him. He ain’t no gentleman!”
Mr. Bernstein walked slowly and thoughtfully back to the “Belle from Borneo” poster. He felt that he had done his duty. He bore no ill-will to little Fanchon la Fare, and he hated Corwin.
Leigh, meanwhile, turned off the main street into the quiet lane behind the church and stopped to think. He stopped, panting, on the very step where Virginia had stood talking with Dan. His hot young blood was beating in his head with a noise like a sledge-hammer. Fury choked him. He remembered his own hours of anguished suspense last night, Fanchon’s return after her accident, and her light kiss on his cheek. Her knight had received his accolade; he would not fail her!
Sitting under the old tree where the scarlet-headed woodpecker had bored a neat hole, Leigh made up his mind. Bernstein had told the truth about Corwin—that he knew. He couldn’t doubt Bernstein. The little man’s earnestness had been apparent.
Corwin must be dealt with. Leigh Carter would deal with him, too, at once. He was no child to run to his father. Besides, his father didn’t like Fanchon. Lately he had thought his father an unjust man.
As for William—Leigh remembered William’s supine waiting last night. Leigh did not mean to wait now. He would carry out the thing he had in mind.
He had read once of a man like Corwin slandering a noble lady. The hero—Leigh’s favorite hero, by the way—had seized a horse-pistol, ridden fifty miles on a mustang, confronted the villain, held his pistol to his head, and forced him to write and sign a retraction that made the lady’s character shine out as clear as noonday. Getting his breath on the old stone step of the church where he had been baptized, Leigh made up his mind as swiftly as the mustang had galloped. He took off his hat, wiped the drops of perspiration from his boyish forehead, and, straightening his collar and tie, rose and went straight home.