The girl felt that she had no option except to keep on in the bold course she had marked for herself. She could not conceive that the operative would prejudice the Vose-Mern proposition in public. "I cannot understand what private matters we three have in common, sir. I have no desire to listen. Mr. Latisan has no time, I'm sure. He is leaving for the north country." "That's true," agreed Latisan, under the spell of her gaze, won by her, loyal in all his fiber, determined to exclude all others in the world from the partnership of two. He had put aside his anxiety to know what she had been in the city, as Crowley knew her; that quest seemed to be disloyalty to her. "I'm starting mighty sudden! Sorry, sir! Let Brophy put your business with us in his refrigerator till the drive is down." Careless of the onlookers, the girl patted his cheek, encouraging his stand. "Till _our_ drive is down. Remember, it's ours!" she whispered. "Harness in my horses," Latisan called to Brophy's nephew in the door of the tavern stable. She was human; she was a girl; Latisan's manner assured her that she had won her battle with Crowley, whatever might have been the methods by which he had tried to prevail over the drive master. She could not resist the impulse to give the Vose-Mern operative a challenging look of triumph that was lighted by the joy of her victory. Crowley's slow mind speeded up on its one track; he opened the throttle, smash or no smash! He marched up to Latisan and displayed a badge, dredging it from his trousers pocket. "That's what I am, mister, an operative for a detective agency. So is she!" "I am not," she declared defiantly. "Maybe not, after your flop in this case. But you were when you struck this place, if your word means anything!" "You're a liar," shouted Latisan. He doubled his fist and drew it back; the girl seized the hand and unclasped the knotted grip and braided her fingers with his. "I don't blame you, Latisan. It's natural for you to feel that way toward me right now," agreed Crowley. "She has slipped the cross-tag onto you. But you're no fool. I don't ask you to take my word. Go down to that railroad station and wire to an address I'll give you in New York. Ask her if she dares to have you do it." There was no longer a smolder in Latisan--it was all a red flame! He had not realized till then how penetratingly deep had been his conviction that this girl was something other than she assumed to be. Crowley pulled a letter from his pocket, flapped it open, and shoved it under Latisan's nose. There was no further attempt to deal behind doors with the affair. It was in Crowley's mind, then, that spreading the situation wide open before the gaping throng, which was increasing, crowding about in a narrowing circle, would assist his plan to make intolerable Latisan's stay in that region.