For a moment the soldier did not answer, his emotions far too strong to permit of calm utterance, his lips tightly shut.  He felt utterly defeated.  “Your language is sufficiently explicit,” he acknowledged, at last.  “I ask pardon for my unwarranted intrusion.”

At the door he paused and glanced back toward that motionless figure yet standing with one hand grasping the back of the chair.

“Before I go, permit me to ask a single question,” he said, frankly.  “I was a friend of old Ben Gillis, and he was a friend to my father before me.  Have you any reason to suspect that he was not Naida Gillis’s father?”

Hampton took one hasty step forward.  “What do you mean?” he exclaimed, fiercely, his eyes two coals of fire.

Brant felt that the other’s display of irritation gave him an unexpected advantage.

“Nothing that need awaken anger, I am sure.  Something caused me to harbor the suspicion, and I naturally supposed you would know about it.  Indeed, I wondered if some such knowledge might not account for your very deep interest in keeping her so entirely to yourself.”

Hampton’s fingers twitched in a nervousness altogether unusual to the man, yet when he spoke his voice was like steel.  “Your suspicions are highly interesting, and your cowardly insinuations base.  However, if, as I suppose, your purpose is to provoke a quarrel, you will find me quite ready to accommodate you.”

An instant they stood thus, eye to eye.  Suddenly Brant’s memory veered to the girl whose name would be smirched by any blow struck between them, and he forced back the hasty retort burning upon his lips.

“You may be, Mr. Hampton,” he said, standing like a statue, his back to the door, “but I am not.  As you say, fighting is my trade, yet I have never sought a personal quarrel.  Nor is there any cause here, as my only purpose in asking the question was to forewarn you, and her through you, that such a suggestion had been openly made in my hearing.  I presume it was a lie, and wished to be able to brand it so.”

“By whom?”

“A fellow known as Silent Murphy, a government scout.”

“I have heard of him.  Where is he?”

“He claimed to be here waiting orders from Custer.  He had camp up the Creek two days ago, but is keeping well out of sight for some reason.  Telegrams have been received for him at the office but another man has called for them.”

“Who?”

“Red Slavin.”

“The cur!” said Hampton.  “I reckon there is a bad half-hour waiting for those two fellows.  What was it that Murphy said?”

“That he knew the girl’s real name.”

“Was that all?”

“Yes; I tried to discover his meaning, but the fellow became suspicious and shut up like a clam.  Is there anything in it?”

Hampton ignored the question.  “Lieutenant Brant,” he said, “I am glad we have had this talk together, and exceedingly sorry that my duty has compelled me to say what I have said.  Some time, however, you will sincerely thank me for it, and rejoice that you escaped so easily.  I knew your father once, and I should like now to part on friendly relations with his son.”