"I can't just say—yet. We'll find out in good time." His smile was quietly confident. "Anyway, for the moment some one's got the drop on me, and I'll just have to sit around. But—it's pretty tough on you, Miss—Miss——"
"Mallinsbee," said Hazel, without thinking.
"Mallinsbee?"
The man's gray eyes became suddenly alert, and Hazel felt like killing herself. She believed, in that one unguarded moment, she had ruined everything. She held her breath and turned quickly towards the setting sun, lest her face should betray her.
Then her terror passed as she heard the quiet, kindly laugh of the man as he began speaking again.
"Well, Miss Mallinsbee, here we are, and here we've just got to stay. I came here to get the best of a deal. We're all out to do some one or something, somehow or somewhere. It don't much matter who. And when a man acts right he don't squeal when the other feller's on top. He just sits around till it's his move, and then he'll try and get things back. I'm not squealing. It's my turn to sit around—that's all. Meanwhile, with the comforts at my disposal—good wines, good cigars and mountain air—I'm having some vacation. If it weren't for that darned Chink with his detestable blue suit I'd——"
"Hush!" Hazel had turned and held up a warning finger.
In response the man glanced sharply about him. There, sure enough, standing silent and immovable at the corner of the building, was the hated vision of blue with its crowning features of dull yellow.
James Carbhoy flung himself back in his rocker. All the humor and pleasure had been banished from his strong face, and only disgust remained.
"Oh, hell!" he exclaimed, and flung his cigar with all his force in the direction of the intruder.