tant
crisis in a public place. She was having no time just then to think
clearly. She was feeling sure of Latisan, after his look into her eyes.
She mustered a smile and shook her head when the drive master mutely
referred the matter to her, raising his eyebrows inquiringly.

"You'd better," warned Crowley, bridling.

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