So this was why Roland had been so assiduous a student of the back files in the Citizen office!
"Yes, indeed. I had my suspicions all along, but didn't say nothin', but just to-day I got a description of him, and the description just fits, Mr. Mortimer Henry."
"Just fits Mr. Mortimer Henry? But what has that----?"
"Ah, don't you try to seem too darn' innocent," Roland snarled. "You can't fool me!"
A light dawned upon Nat, and laughter flooded his being, although outwardly he remained imperturbable--merely mildly curious. But his fingers were itching.
"So you think I'm the absconding cashier, eh, Roly?"
"You keep away from Josie 'r you'll find out what I think." Nat's placidity deceived Roland, who drew the wholly erroneous conclusion that he had succeeded in frightening his rival, and consequently dared a few lengths further in his tirade. "Why, if I was to go to Mr. Lockwood and tell him you're Mortimer Henry, alias Nat Duncan----"
Duncan's temper suddenly snapped like a taut violin string.
"That will do," he said icily. "That will be all for this evening, thanks."
"Ah... Are you going to quit chasin' after Josie?"
"I'll begin chasing after you if you don't clear out of here."
Just there the storm burst. Ten seconds later Roland, with a confused impression of having been kicked by a mule, picked himself up out of the dust in the middle of the street and stared stupidly back at the store. Nat was waiting in the doorway for a renewal of hostilities, if any such there were to be. Seeing, however, that Roland had apparently sated his appetite for personal conflict, he picked up a dark object at his feet and held it out.
Roland spat out a mouthful of dust and swore beneath his breath. "Throw it out here," he replied prudently.
Tossing him the hat, Nat turned contemptuously. "Come in again, any time you want to apologise," he shouted over his shoulder, as an afterthought.
He paused in the middle of the store and felt of his necktie. It proved to be a little out of place, but otherwise he was as immaculate as was his wont. He reviewed the encounter and laughed quietly.
"There's no cure for a fool," he mused....
The telephone bell roused him from his reverie. He went over to the instrument, sat down, and put the receiver to his ear.