She tried to look outraged, but for the life of her she could not take offense at his bluntness; neither did she resent a look which she detected in his eyes, even though it told her he was laughing at her.

“Oh, very well,” she replied with what dignity she could muster.  “Have it your own way.  I’ve tried to warn you.  Thank you for your offer of the car.  I shall be glad to use it.  Uncle Seth sold my car to Mayor Poundstone last night.  Mrs. P. admired it so!”

“Ah!  Then it was that rascally Poundstone who told your uncle about the temporary franchise, thus arousing his suspicions to such an extent that when he heard his locomotive rumbling into town, he smelled a rat and hurried down to the crossing?”

“Possibly.  The Poundstones dined at our house last night.”

“Pretty hard on you, I should say.  But then I suppose you have to play the game with Uncle Seth.  Well, good morning, Shirley.  Sorry to hurry you away, but you must remember we’re on a strictly business basis—­yet; and you mustn’t waste my time.”

“You’re horrid, Bryce Cardigan.”

“You’re adorable.  Good morning.”

“You’ll be sorry for this,” she warned him.  “Good morning.”  She passed out into the general office, visited with Moira about five minutes, and drove away in the Napier.  Bryce watched her through the window.  She knew he was watching her, but nevertheless she could not forbear turning round to verify her suspicions.  When she did, he waved his sound arm at her, and she flushed with vexation.

“God bless her!” he murmured.  “She’s been my ally all along, and I never suspected it!  I wonder what her game can be.”

He sat musing for a long time.  “Yes,” he concluded presently, “old Poundstone has double-crossed us—­and Pennington made it worth his while.  And the Colonel sold the Mayor his niece’s automobile.  It’s worth twenty-five hundred dollars, at least, and since old Poundstone’s finances will not permit such an extravagance, I’m wondering how Pennington expects him to pay for it.  I smell a rat as big as a kangaroo.  In this case two and two don’t make four.  They make six!  Guess I’ll build a fire under old Poundstone.”

He took down the telephone-receiver and called up the Mayor.  “Bryce Cardigan speaking, Mr. Poundstone,” he greeted the chief executive of Sequoia.

“Oh, hello, Bryce, my boy,” Poundstone boomed affably.  “How’s tricks?”

“So-so!  I hear you’ve bought that sedan from Colonel Pennington’s niece.  Wish I’d known it was for sale.  I’d have outbid you.  Want to make a profit on your bargain?”

“No, not this morning, Bryce.  I think we’ll keep it.  Mrs. P. has been wanting a closed car for a long time, and when the Colonel offered me this one at a bargain, I snapped it up.  Couldn’t afford a new one, you know, but then this one’s just as good as new.”

“And you don’t care to get rid of it at a profit?” Bryce repeated.