WHITEWASH
jected, but the old resolution was gone from his manner.
"Mistaken, mistaken! Damme, sir, I'm not mistaken! Unless she takes back every word she has said about the daughter of my old friend—a girl who hasn't a father of her own to help her—if she doesn't, I say, I'll make what I saw public! Fanshaw was with me, and saw her, too, and can corroborate it! I guess the three of us can prove what we say, and I'll bet Miss Philippa won't be able to produce an alibi!"
"Three?" was all Morton could say, for his tongue thickened and his eyes were dim.
"The waiter, you blockhead, the waiter!" roared Courncey. "After Mrs. Durham exploded her bomb, she went down and interviewed him. Very clever woman, that, very clever! Ought to have been a man, a business man. Clear head, clear eye, no fluster, no brag. Anyway, she argued that one or the other of them would see the danger and shut the waiter up. So she went first. Good move, very! But, unfortunately, the fellow wouldn't say much."
The young man drew himself up to his full
