"You won't hurt him, Ben!" she said. "You won't hurt him! For my sake, say you won't!"
The devil lurking in the cowboy's blue eyes vanished, but the great jaw was still set. He reached out and caught the girl by the shoulder. "Florence Baker," he said, "on your honor, is he worth it—is he worth the sacrifice you ask of me? Answer!"
But the girl did not answer, did not stir. "You won't hurt him!" she repeated. "Say you won't!"
A moment longer Ben Blair held her; then his hands dropped and he turned toward the vestibule.
"I don't know," he said. "I don't know."
CHAPTER XXII
TWO FRIENDS HAVE IT OUT
Clarence Sidwell was alone in his down-town bachelor quarters; that is, alone save for an individual the club-man's friends termed his "Man Friday," an undersized and very black negro named Alexander Hamilton Brown, but answering to the contraction "Alec." Valet, man of all work, steward, Alec was as much a fixture about the place as the floor or the ceiling; and, like them, his presence, save as a convenience, was ignored.