“You are not Miss Coolidge,” he insisted hotly.  “Then who are you?”

She laughed, evidently enjoying the scene, confident of her own cleverness.

“Oh, so even Captain West has at last penetrated the disguise.  No, I am not the lady you mention, if you must know.”

“Then who are you?”

She glanced toward Hobart, as though questioning, and the man answered the look gruffly.

“Tell him if you want to, Del,” he said, with an oath.  “It will never do the guy any good.  He’s played his last hand in this game; he’ll never get away from me again.  Spit it out.”

“All right,” with a mocking curtsey.  “I’ve got an idea I’d like to tell him; it is too good a joke to keep, and this fellow has certainly been an easy mark.  You never did catch on to me until I got into the wrong clothes, did you, old dear?  Lord, but I could have had you making love to me, if I’d only have said the word—­out there on the hills in the dark, hey!  I sure wanted to laugh; but that tender tone of yours told me what you were up to; what sent you trailing us around the country—­you was plumb nutty after this Natalie Coolidge.  That’s the straight goods, isn’t it, Mister Captain West?”

“I care very much for Miss Coolidge, if that is what you mean.”

“Sure you do; and you’ve put up a game fight for her too, my boy.  I’d like it in you if I wasn’t on the other side.  But you see we can’t be easy on you just because of that.  Sentiment and romance is one thing, while business is another.  You and I don’t belong in the same worlds—­see?  You can’t rightly blame me because I was born different, can you?”

“Perhaps not; what would you make me believe?”

“I thought I’d put it that way so you’d understand, that’s all.  There’s a difference in people, ain’t there.  I’m just as good looking as this Natalie Coolidge, ain’t I?  Sure I am; you can’t even tell us apart when we are dressed up alike.  I could come in here, and have you make love to me inside of twenty minutes.  But we ain’t a bit alike for all that.  She’s a lady, and I’m a crook—­that’s the difference.  She’s been brought up with all the money she wants, while I’ve had to hustle for every penny since I was a kid.  Now life don’t ever look the same to any two people like that.”

“No,” West admitted, beginning to realize her defence.  “It is hardly probable it would.”

“That’s why I’m in this case,” she went on, apparently unheeding his interruption.  “I was brought up a thief, and I don’t know anything else.  I never did care much, but in this Coolidge matter, I’ve got just as much right to all that kale as she has—­so naturally I’m going after it.”

“As much right, you say?  Why, who are you?”

She stood up straight, and looked at him, her eyes burning.

“Me!” scornfully, “Why I am Delia Hobart—­’Diamond Del,’ they call me.”

“Yes, but that is not what you mean; that gives you no such right as you claim.  You are Hobart’s daughter then?”