He had himself under control, and
long years of severe training made that control complete. He merely
looked interested under her sweeping accusation.
"You must have a reason for a charge like that," he remarked evenly.
"Do you deny it?"
"I deny nothing, I affirm nothing right now. I say that you must have
a reason for what you state."
"You put the incriminating evidence in del Rio's trunk," she ran on
hurriedly. "The canvas bags of gold. Didn't you?"
"Reason?" he insisted equably.
"You took Caleb Patten's fountain pen! I saw you."
He lifted his brows at her. Then he laughed softly.
"In the first place," he replied thoughtfully, "I really believe that
he is not Caleb at all but Charles Patten. We'll talk of that later,
however. In the second place isn't it rather humorous to wind up by
accusing a man with the theft of a fountain pen after your other
charges?"
"Answer one question," she urged earnestly. "Please. It is only a
small matter. Give me your word of honor that you will answer it
truthfully."
He was very grave as he sat for a moment, head down, twirling his big
hat in slow fingers. Then he smiled again as he looked up.
"Either truthfully or not at all," he promised her. "My word of honor."
She was plainly excited as she set him her question, seeming at once
eager and afraid to have his response.
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