“How?” I hadn’t yet caught the point.
“You see, as I said before,” he continued, “I wanted to be dead certain as to just what part you were playing.”
“I was playing?” I exclaimed, my temper beginning to rise. “Do you mean to say you thought that I, in any way, was connected with——”
“I mean no offense, my man,” said he imperturbably; “and you must remember that I never so much as set eyes on you till yesterday; and what happened then didn’t predispose me in your favor, naturally. I mean simply that I have had just about dealings enough with this man Stroth to know that he plays a sure game. And it wouldn’t have been the first time for him to plant one of his own men right inside the enemy’s camp.”
Now, on mature thought, there really was nothing that I should have taken umbrage at in this suspicion; and I certainly ought to have had better control of myself.
But I felt myself fairly rise to boiling point. Words bubbled to me at this implication as to my being a turncoat.
Those words never came out, though, for we skidded[Pg 45] briskly around a corner, and were thrown sharply back to the moment and to action.
In the intense concentration of the conversation, both of us had been more engrossed with each other than with our chase; though I did notice, out of the tail of my eye, that the driver of our car had shot back a quick glance over his shoulder at us inside.
Then next second, as I say, we turned a corner—a sharp, right-angle whirl from the straight avenue both cars had been following.
Pawlinson and I both leaned forward in interest, craning our necks for a view through the front glasses of the vehicle.