Ellsworth was now wondering what had become of Barkley, and in his discomfiture was turning around in search, when he heard a voice behind him, and passing back encountered Barkley, staggering and bloody, as he entered through a side door of the building.
"Great God! man, what's the matter?" exclaimed Ellsworth. "What's happened to you?"
"That fellow struck me with a gun. Let me in! Let me get fixed for him! By God! I'll kill him."
"Kill whom? Who did it? Wait! Wait, now!" expostulated Ellsworth, following him toward his room; but Barkley still fumed and threatened. "That fellow Anderson--" Ellsworth caught.
The sound of their voices reached other ears. Constance came running from her own room, questioning.
"Barkley's been hurt," explained her father, motioning her away. "Some mistake. He and Anderson have had trouble over this railroad business, some way."
"By God! I'll kill him!" shrieked Barkley again, in spite of her presence, perhaps because of it. "Where can I get a gun?"
"You forget--my daughter--" began Ellsworth. But Constance avenged the discourtesy for herself.
"Never mind, papa," she said coldly. "Mr. Barkley, you look ridiculous. Go wash your face; and then, if you want a gun, go get one in the front room. The wall's full of them." A glint of scorn was in her eyes, which carried no mercy for the vanquished, nor any concern for the victor. She drew her father with her into her own room.
"By the Lord! girl," exclaimed he, "things have come out different from what we expected. I never thought--"
"No," said Constance, "you never thought. You didn't know." She spoke bitterly.
Ellsworth sank down in a chair, his hands in his pockets. "Well, we're whipped," said he. "The game's up. That fellow Anderson did us up, after all,--and look here, here's the money he threw back, almost in my face. They went with him like so many lambs. Confound it all, I don't more'n half believe I ever understood that fellow."
"No, you never did," said Constance, slowly. She was sitting upon the edge of the bed, gazing at her father quietly. "And so he threw away his chance?"
"Just what he did. Said it meant a lot for him to throw away his future, but he was going to do it."
"Sure he said it! There's not going to be any railroad at Heart's Desire; and incidentally Mr. Daniel Anderson isn't going to be mayor, or division counsel with a salary of ten thousand dollars a year. Oh, well, to-morrow we'll pull out of here."