The darkness hid Ashton’s face, but his voice betrayed the sudden upwelling of his bitterness: “I never heard of him until he––until a little over three years ago. I wish to Heaven he hadn’t taken part in that bridge contest!”
“How’s that?” asked Knowles in a casual tone.
“Nothing––nothing!” Ashton hastened to disclaim. “You haven’t been talking with Miss Chuckie about me, have you, Mr. Knowles?” 171
“No. Why?”
“It was only that I explained to her how I came to be ruined––to lose my fortune. You see, the circumstances are such that I cannot very well say anything against Blake; yet he was the cause––it was owing to something he did that I lost all––everything––millions! Curse him!”
“You’ve appeared friendly enough towards him,” remarked Knowles.
“Yes, I––I promised Miss Chuckie to try to forget the past. But when I think of what I lost, all because of him––”
“So-o!” considered the cowman. “Maybe there’s more in what Kid says than I thought. He’s been cross-questioning Blake all day. You know how little Kid is given to gab. But from the time we started off he kept after Blake like he was cutting out steers at the round-up.”
“Blake isn’t the kind you could get to tell anything against himself,” asserted Ashton.
“Well, that may be. All his talk today struck me as being straightforward and outspoken. But Kid has been drawing inferences. He keeps hammering at it that Blake must be in thick with his father-in-law, and that all millionaires round-up their money in ways that would make a rustler go off and shoot himself.”