Mr. Haines moved away from the curtains. He came farther into the room, his hand still in the neighbourhood of his pistol pocket, his eyes never wandering from Mr. Townsend's face.
"Last night I reckoned with your brother."
"My brother?"
"He says he is your brother. He let it out as I was laying into him. And he's about your style all over. He calls himself Stewart Trevannion, and he's a thief, but not near such a thief as you."
"Is that so? May I inquire, Mr. Haines, what I have done that you should say I am a thief?"
"You've stole my girl."
"Your girl?" Mr. Townsend raised his eyebrows slightly, but still sufficiently for the movement to be perceptible. "Are you alluding to Mrs. Carruth?"
"Mrs. Carruth? No, young man, I am not alluding, as you call it, to Mrs. Carruth."
"I thought that Mrs. Carruth could hardly be adequately described as a girl."
"Is it sneering at Mrs. Carruth you are?"