"Better luck than I expected at that, Colgate," he said, restored to good humour. "The old duffer seems to be quite human."
His eyes caught sight of Cavendish, and hardened, the grizzly moustache seeming to stiffen. His mouth was close to the ear of his companion, and he spoke without moving his lips.
"Our bird; stand ready."
The three were talking earnestly, and he was standing before them before any of the group marked his approach. His eyes were on Cavendish, who instantly arose to his feet, startled by the man's sudden appearance.
"There is no use making a scene, Burke," the big man said sternly, "for my partner there has you covered."
"My name is not Burke; it is Cavendish."
"So I heard in Denver," dryly. "We hardly expected to find you here, for we were down on another matter So you are not Gentleman Tom Burke?"
"No."
"I know he is not," interposed Westcott. "I have been acquainted with this man for nearly twenty years; he is a New York capitalist."
"And who the hell are you—a pal?" the fellow sneered. "Now, see here, both of you. I've met plenty of your kind before, and it is my business not to forget a face. This man is under arrest," and he laid a hand heavily on Cavendish's shoulder.