“Fix? She is a fine girl, one of the best,” said Paul.
“And I’ve got to put the screws to that—to her father tomorrow.”
“Let’s go on, Dalton. We will attend to that tomorrow.”
“Takes all the satisfaction out of my trip,” grunted Dalton. “Must go over this case again.”
“Don’t see why. All you want is justice.”
“My dear boy, you haven’t grasped the niceties of the legal profession. There is justice and justice. And there are various methods of obtaining justice. I have been cherishing a fond expectation of seeing that old robber squirm and wriggle like a bug on a pin. But now—well, you can’t get any pleasure from seeing your prospective father-in-law squirm.”
“What the deuce are you talking about?” exclaimed Paul.
“Just what I have been saying. We have parted from the future Mrs. Richard Dalton, unless she’s pre-empted. By Jove! old boy, what about you? Begad! are you in there? Great Heavens! Now that I think of it, she was rather terribly broken up over your supposed demise. Jove, that explains everything—her grief, her rage at me, her curt dismissal. Say the word, old man, and I back off the scene, hiding my wounds, smiling a twisted smile, I believe it is, set lips, serene face, while a vulture gnaws at my inwards. Oh, I’ll play the game——”
“Oh, you bally ass,” said Paul, mounting his horse, “cut it out! We were boy and girl together.”
“Ah, that’s the fatal fact,” groaned Dalton.