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CHAPTER XI
HALF-CONFIDENCES
Whatever Stutter Brown may secretly have thought concerning this new
arrangement of his affairs, he indulged in no outward manifestations.
Not greatly gifted in speech, he was nevertheless sufficiently prompt
in action. The swift, nervous orders of the impulsive Mexican dancer
had sufficiently impressed him with one controlling idea, that
something decidedly serious was in the air; and, as she flitted across
the room, looking not unlike a red bird, he watched her make directly
toward a man who was leaning negligently back in a chair against the
farther wall. For a moment he continued to gaze through the obscuring
haze of tobacco smoke, uncertain as to the other's identity, his eyes
growing angry, his square jaw set firm.
"W-who is the f-f-feller?" he questioned gruffly. "Wh-what 's she
m-mean l-leavin' me to go over th-thar ter h-him?"
Beth Norvell glanced up frankly into his puzzled face.
"She has gone to keep him away from me," she explained quietly.


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