"You've taken my car?" said Bostwick, whose personal plans were thrown into utter confusion, for the moment. "I wanted that car for my own use. I've got to go to Starlight to-morrow."
"Sit down," said McCoppet, throwing away his unsmoked cigar and taking another from his pocket. "What's going on at Starlight?"
Bostwick had no intention of divulging his personal affairs, but there was something in this that trenched upon "company" concerns.
"Van Buren's going over there, to see young Kent," he admitted. "I've got to see him first."
McCoppet looked up at him sharply.
"Young Kent ain't next to anything?" he demanded.
"Not yet."
"Look here," said the gambler, whose wits were inordinately keen, "is anything leaking, Bostwick? What about the girl—the young chump's sister? You're not putting her wise to the layout?"
"Certainly not!" said Bostwick. "She knows nothing. But it wouldn't be safe for this mix-up to occur. At any rate, I propose to be there when Van Buren arrives."
McCoppet arose, plunged his hands in his pockets, and paced up and down reflectively.