"No, I don't doubt you," he said.
Ben likewise sat down, but his eyes were inexorable.
"First of all, then," he went on, "you will admit you were mistaken when you said there was no point where we touched?"
"Yes, I was mistaken."
"And you were not serious when you refused to talk with me?"
A spasm of repugnance shot over the host's dark face. He heard the labored breathing of the negro in the corner, and felt the eyes of his big friend upon him.
"Yes, I was not serious," he admitted slowly.
Ben's long legs crossed, his hands closed on the chair-arms.
"Very well, then," he said. "Tell me what there is between you and Miss Baker."
Sidwell lit a cigar, though the hand that held the match trembled.