"Perhaps there was—an excuse, or the shadow of one, at least. When a man is in love, you know—"
Murray wheeled upon Dan and demanded sharply:
"What's this?" Then in a noticeably altered tone he asked, "Do you love—Natalie?"
"Yes."
"Does she love you?"
"No, sir!"
O'Neil turned back to the girl, saying: "I told Dan, when I hired him, that he would be called upon to dare much, to suffer much, and that my interests must be his. He has disregarded them, and he must go. That's all. There's little difference between treachery and carelessness."
"It's—too bad," said the girl, faintly. Dan stood stiff and silent, wholly dazed by the sudden collapse of his fortunes.
"I'm not ungrateful for what you've done, Appleton," O'Neil went on. "I intend to pay you well for the help you gave me. You took a chance at the Canon and at Gordon's Crossing. You'll get a check."
"I don't want your damned money," the other gulped. "I've drawn my wages."