The stinging words brought no added colour to Marston's face. They did not hurt him; his sensibilities were hardened, and were difficult to reach. But he cast an involuntary look of longing towards the revolver lying partly concealed in the long grass a rod or more away. The sombre eyes watching him with hawk-like intentness noticed the glance, and instantly turned in the same direction. Glenning saw. "Don't you wish you had that in your hand?" he said. "I know you haven't one on your person, or you would have shot me before now. To relieve you of any apprehension I don't mind telling you that I am totally unarmed. How did that come there?" He nodded abruptly in the direction of Julia's revolver. "I don't see that I'm in a witness box!" Marston answered, viciously. "Take comfort," retorted Glenning, evenly. "You will be if you live long enough. We are wasting time and bandying words to no purpose," he resumed briskly. "I met a young lady coming from your house in evident distress a few moments ago. She was riding hard and she was scared. Did _you_ scare her, and had she anything to do with that revolver?" The words of the last sentence came hard as lead bullets against Marston's ears, and frightened him. The face of his caller had suddenly grown white and fierce. Glenning's knotted fists were writhing under his folded arms. Marston knew he had better speak, and speak the truth. "She came to see me of her own free will. I invited her in, and she drew her pistol on me. I knocked it out of her hand to keep from getting shot." "A likely tale, and the skeleton of truth alone, I daresay. What did _she_ want with _you_?" A smile of triumph lit the dark features of the hybrid. "Something _you_ could not give her, but _I_ could!--Julia Dudley came for a favour to _me_!" "Keep her name out of it, damn you!" Glenning, white hot, drew two steps nearer, though still holding himself in check. "We can talk without the use of names. What favour did she want?" "She came to ask me to have the bank dividend declared, or they would starve!" "That was no favour. The money is Major Dudley's. You have stolen it from them by withholding it. She came to demand her own, and her own was denied her, no need to tell me that." Marston thought of the price he had put upon the dividend, and, while he longed to goad and torture his enemy to the utmost, he feared to tell him of that part of their conversation. "No, she didn't get it!" he answered, roughly. "Look at me, Mr. Marston!" Little as he liked the command, Marston centered his ever shifting eyes upon Glenning's. But they would not stay, despite his will. "You've been to Jericho," went on the even voice. "You came back last night. What did you go for?" "What in hell do you mean?" he flared out, with a bluster. "I went on business." "_Your_ business, or _my_ business?" This time Marston coloured perceptibly, and shrugged his shoulders. He did not answer.