well flicked the ash from his cigar steadily. He was regaining, if
not his courage, at least some of his presence of mind. This seeming
desperado from the West was a being upon whom reason was not altogether
wasted.

"I knew because her mother told me--about all there was to tell, I
guess--of your relations before Florence came here. I knew if she
refused you then she would be more apt to do so now."

Still the figure in brown was that of a statue.

"She told you--what--you say?"

Sidwell shifted uncomfortably. He saw breakers ahead.

"The--main reason at least," he modified.

"Which was--" insistently.

Sidwell hesitated, his new-found confidence vanishing like the smoke
from his cigar. But there was no escape.

"The reason, she said, was because you were--minus a pedigree."

The last words dropped like a bomb in the midst of the room. Ben Blair
swiftly rose from his seat. The negro's eyes rolled around in search of
some place of concealment. With a protesting movement Hough was on his
feet.

"Gentlemen!" he implored. "Gentlemen!"

But the intervention was unnecessary. Ben Blair had settled back in his
seat. Once more his hands were on the chair-arms.

"Do you," he insinuated gently, "consider the reason she gave an
adequate one? Do you consider that it had any rightful place in the
discussion?"

The question, seemingly simple, was hard to answer. An affirmative
trembled on the city man's tongue. He realized it was his opportunity
for a crushing rejoinder. But cold blue eyes were upon him and the
meaning of their light was only too clear.

"I can understand the lady's point of view," he said evasively.

Ben Blair leaned forward, the great muscles of his jaw and temples
tightening beneath the skin.

"I did not ask for the lady's point of view," he admonished, "I asked
for your own."

Again Sidwell felt his opportunity, but physical cowardice intervened.
No power on earth could have made him say "yes" when the other looked at
him like that.

"No," he lied, "I do not see that it should make the slightest
difference."

"On your honor, you swear you do not?"

Sidwell repeated the statement, and sealed it with his honor.

Ben Blair relaxed, and Hough mopped his brow with a sigh of relief. Even
Sidwell felt the respite, but it was short-lived.

"I think," Ben resumed, "that what you've just said and sworn to gives
the lie to your original statement that you have given me no cause for
enmity. Acco