Lawrence arose, as she and the others appeared in the door, and removed his hat. He was a short, florid person, with a beard of fiery red. His eyes were of the lightest gray; and they were shifting.
"Good-morning," he said, in undisguised astonishment, beholding Beth. "You—pardon me—you——"
"Good-morning," Beth replied faintly. "We called—are you Mr. Lawrence?"
"At your service." Lawrence bowed. "I rarely expect—in my line of work—my business. Miss—Miss——"
"Miss Kent," said Glenmore, interrupting. "And my name is Kent. I suppose you're wise to Mr. Pratt."
Lawrence continued to bow.
"I'm very happy to—how are you, Pratt? How are you? Won't you have a chair, Miss Kent?"
Pratt nodded and murmured a greeting. He was decidedly uneasy.
Beth always moved by impulse. It hastened her now to the issue. She sat down and faced their man.
"Mr. Lawrence," she said, "I believe you ran the reservation line, not long ago, and gave Mr. Bostwick and a friend of his the 'Laughing Water' claim."