"You've frightened us half to death. Mother's sick over it."
"You can have Jim in the house, or me, but not both of us."
She would give him no more satisfaction, and he was turning away angry at her obstinacy, when Mason came up to greet her.
Al quickly divined that here was the man. It was written in the way he looked at her, and in Georgia's sudden sidelong glance at Al to see if he saw.
"I'd like a word with you," said the brother to the lover, tapping him on the shoulder with studied rudeness, "now."
Stevens didn't understand the situation, but he was properly resentful, and lowered at the stranger. In these subtle days of commerce, finger-tips on collar bones may convey all that was once meant by a glove in the face.
"My brother, Mr. Stevens," she explained. They did not shake hands. Mason was not quite sure from the young fellow's expression just what might happen, but he was sure it had better not happen right there. "Let's get out of the office--and you can have as many words as you want," said he. Georgia arose to go with them.
"But it wouldn't. You stay here," the man answered with great positiveness. She sank obediently in the chair, to the disgusted amazement of her brother, and let them go alone.
The lad sunk his hand to his coat pocket, his wild young brain aflame with violence and romance and vengeance and the memory of Moxey's sweetheart's uncle who had slain the despoiler of his home. Stevens was near death and he knew it, but he never batted an eye as Al reported later to Moxey.
"I knew it damned well. She said she was alone." His hand tightened on the automatic, pressing down the safety lock, and he pointed the gun, so that he could shoot through his pocket and kill.
"She was, after eleven. I left her then."
"Go look at the hotel register, for the name of Miss Georgia Talbot."
Al grunted. Here was a concrete fact--subject to verification, yes or no. "All right," he vouchsafed curtly, "if it turns out that way--but one more thing--keep away from her after this altogether--understand." Al shot out his jaw and swung around his pocket with the barrel pointing straight at Stevens' middle. He looked just then a good deal like a young tough delivering a serious threat, which he was.