Who are you
enyhow?"
"My name is Craig--Gordon Craig."
"A lawyer?"
"Not guilty."
"A damn detective?"
"Same plea."
I thought he gave a grunt of relief; anyhow there was more assurance in
his manner, a fresh assumption of bullying in his voice.
"All right, then; I reckon I got yer number, Craig. Yer after a little
easy money. Somehow yer caught onto the mix-up down yere, an' framed
up a scheme to cop the coin. Might hav' worked too if I had n't been
on the job, an' posted. Damn nice-lookin' girl yer picked up--"
"Drop that, Coombs!" I interrupted sharply, leaning forward and staring
him in the eyes. "Let loose all you care to about me, but cut out the
woman!"
"Oh, too nice, hey!"
"Yes, too nice for you to befoul even with your tongue. If you mention
her name again except in terms of respect there is going to be trouble."
He laughed, opening and closing his big hands.
"I mean it," I went on soberly. "Don't think I am afraid of you, you
big slob. No, you keep your hands where they are. If it comes to a
draw you 'll find me quick enough to block your game. Now listen."
Had I been less in earnest, or less puzzled as to the real situation, I
would have laughed at the expression upon the man's face.
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