CHAPTER XVI
A GUARDED CONFERENCE
With flaming eyes Winifred Waverly whirled upon her uncle.
"Why do you suffer it?" she cried hotly. "The man knows that I was not
deceived by his idiotic mask, he knows that I have told you, and still
you let him go free where he pleases, swagger about with brawlers like
that horrible Kid Bedloe, and dribble your money over the bars for drink
and over the poker tables! Why do you suffer it?"
A fleeting smile of deep satisfaction brightened Pollard's eyes. They
had ridden home in silence and now, with the door barely closed behind
them, she had turned upon him with her indignant question.
"I am waiting," began Pollard.
"Waiting for what?" she demanded. "Until he can have had time to
squander what is rightfully yours, until there be no chance of getting
it back or bringing such a man to justice!"
"You little fire-eater!" he laughed at her. "Come with me in here." He
turned and led the way into the room just off the hall and at the front
of the house where he had his office. When the door was closed behind
him he dropped into a chair, his face a little white and drawn from the
exertion of his ride, the first he had had since the girl had come. "I
want to talk with you, and I don't want anybody, Mrs.
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