Part 38 (1/2)

Ben took a step forward, but his hands were still in his pockets. ”Mr.

Sidwell,” he said, ”we may as well save time and try to understand each other. In some ways I am a bit like an Indian. I never smoke except with a friend, and I am not sure you are a friend of mine. To be candid with you, I believe you are not.”

Hough stirred in his chair, but Sidwell remained impa.s.sive save that the convivial smile vanished.

A quarter of a minute pa.s.sed. Once the host took up his gla.s.s as if to drink, but put it down untasted. At last he indicated the vacant chair.

”Won't you be seated?” he invited.

Ben sat down.

”You say,” continued Sidwell, ”that I am not your friend. The statement and your actions carry the implication that of necessity, then, we must be enemies.”

The speaker was sparring for time. His brain was not yet normal, but it was clearing rapidly. He saw this was no ordinary man he had to deal with, no ordinary circ.u.mstance; and his plan of campaign was unevolved.

”I fail to see why,” he continued.

”Do you?” said Ben, quietly.

Sidwell lit a cigar nonchalantly and smoked for a moment in silence.

”Yes,” he reiterated. ”I fail to see why. To have made you an enemy implies that I have done you an injury, and I recall no way in which I could have offended you.”

Ben indicated Hough with a nod of his head. ”Do you wish a third party to hear what we have to say?” he inquired.

Sidwell looked at the questioner narrowly. Deep in his heart he was thankful that they two were not alone. He did not like the look in the countryman's blue eyes.

”Mr. Hough,” he said with dignity, ”is a friend of mine. If either of you must leave the room, most a.s.suredly it will not be he.” His eyes returned to those of the visitor, held there with an effort. ”By the bye,” he challenged, ”what is it we have to say, anyway? So far as I can see, there's no point where we touch.”

Ben returned the gaze steadily. ”Absolutely none?” he asked.

”Absolutely none.” Sidwell spoke with an air of finality.

The countryman leaned a bit forward and rested his elbow upon his knee, his chin upon his hand.

”Suppose I suggest a point then: Miss Florence Baker.”

Sidwell stiffened with exaggerated dignity. ”I never discuss my relations with a lady, even with a friend. I should be less apt to do so in speaking with a stranger.”

The lids of Ben's eyes tightened just a shade. ”Then I'll have to ask you to make an exception to the rule,” he said slowly.

”In that case,” Sidwell responded quickly, ”I'll refuse.”

For a moment silence fell. Through the open window came the ceaseless drone of the s.h.i.+fting mult.i.tude on the street below.

”Nevertheless, I insist,” said Ben, calmly.

Sidwell's face flushed, although he was quite sober now. ”And I must still refuse,” he said, rising. ”Moreover, I must request that you leave the room. You forget that you are in my home!”

Ben arose calmly and walked to the door through which he had entered.

The key was in the lock, and turning it he put it in his pocket. Still without haste he returned to his seat.