When Barbara with the Seer and Abe returned to the
hotel that evening the clerk gave her a note from
her father who, the note explained, had been called
to Republic on business of importance. He would
be back to-morrow.
The clerk said that Mr. Worth had left only a few
minutes before with the engine and car that had brought
them to Barba that morning.
BACK TO THE OLD SAN FELIPE TRAIL.
In the office of The King’s Basin Land and Irrigation
Company, James Greenfield was aroused by a knock at
the door. He lifted his head from his arms and
looked around as if awakened out of a deep sleep.
Another knock, and he slipped the picture he held
in his hand into his pocket and called, “Come
in.”
The door opened and Jefferson Worth stepped into the
room.
For a moment the president of the wrecked Company
sat staring at his business rival, then he leaped
to his feet, his fists clenched and his face working
with passion. “You can’t come in here,
sir. Get out!” he said with the voice and
manner he would have assumed in speaking to a trespassing
dog.
Jefferson Worth stood still. “I have business
of importance with you, Mr. Greenfield,” he
said, and his air of quiet dignity contrasted strangely
with the rage of the larger man.
“You can have no business with me of any sort
whatever. I have nothing to do with your kind.
This is my private office. I tell you to get
out.”
Jefferson Worth turned calmly as though to obey, but
instead of leaving the room closed the door and locked
it. Then, placing the small grip he carried upon
the table, he deliberately went close to the threatening
president and said coldly: “This is rank
nonsense, Greenfield. I won’t leave this
office until I’m through with what I came to
do. I have business with you that concerns you
as much as it does me.”
“You’re a damned thief, a low sharper!
I tell you I have nothing to do with you. Now
get out or I’ll throw you out!”
Jefferson Worth answered in his exact, precise manner,
as though carefully choosing and considering his words:
“No, you won’t throw me out. You’ll
listen to what I have come to tell you. The rest
of your statement, Greenfield, is false and you know
it. It will be just as well for you not to repeat
it.” The last low-spoken words did not
appear to be uttered as a threat but as a calm statement
of a carefully considered fact. James Greenfield
felt as a man who permits himself to rage against
an immovable obstacle—as one who spends
his strength cursing a stone wall that bars his way
or a rock that lies in his path. With an effort
he regained a measure of his self-control.
“Well, out with it. What do you want?”
“Sit down,” said Worth, pointing to a
chair. Mechanically the other obeyed. “You
have no reason for taking this attitude toward me,
Mr. Greenfield,” began Worth with his air of
simply stating a fact.
