“Without using guns, eh?” said Nick, sharply eying him.
“That’s what.”
“And is that why you are so ready with one?”
“I told you why, Carter, and it goes. I’m no gunman, but I don’t propose to let you give me the worst of it, nor this young lady. There will be no more trouble unless you reach for a weapon. If you do—well, I’ll take mighty good care that mine barks first.”
“We’ll let it go at that, then,” said Nick, settling back in his chair. “Who are you and how do you figure in this business? Kate Crandall said she was alone here.”
“So I did, Carter, and supposed——”
“You keep quiet, Kate, and let me do the talking with this detective,” Conroy commanded, interrupting her when she pulled herself together and started to explain. “He has made a mistake, a big blunder, and I’m going to set him right—providing he is not too pig-headed to see things right.”
Conroy coolly sat down while speaking. He took a chair at the table, one directly opposite that occupied by the detective, and he then laid his revolver directly in front of him on the table, where it could be easily reached.
“Now, Carter, we’ll discuss this business man fashion,” he said curtly. “I’ll not touch the gun unless you reach for yours.”
“Very well,” said Nick indifferently. “But you have not answered my questions.”