Her Forbidden Knight Read Online Free Page B

inside he locked the door. Then, motioning Knowlton to a chair, he stood before him with his hands in his pockets, looking down on him with an insolent leer.
    But Knowlton refused to be impressed. “This air of mystery appeals to me,” he smiled. “Is it murder or merely a sermon? Now that you have aroused my expectations, I shall expect you to satisfy them.”
    Sherman, disregarding him, came directly to the point. “You were talking with Miss Williams,” he said abruptly.
    Knowlton, with a smile of amusement, admitted it.
    “Well, you’ll have to cut it,” said Sherman calmly.
    “But why?”
    “No questions. I say cut it.”
    “Mr. Sherman”—Knowlton’s voice remained calm—“you are impudent. This thing is no longer amusing. It is decidedly tiresome. I shall talk to whomever I please.”
    Sherman nodded.
    “I expected you to say that. Very well. In that case, I have a story to tell you.” He leaned forward, and continued in a tone of sneering insult: “I lived for ten years in a little town called Warton. Does that interest you?”
    Knowlton turned suddenly pale, and appeared to control himself with an effort.
    “Well?” he said finally.
    “Well,” repeated Sherman, with a smile of satisfaction at having touched his man, “isn’t that enough? If it isn’t, listen to this. You don’t need to talk; I’ll spare you the trouble.
    “In the first place, there’s the Warton National Bank. I know they’re done with you; but it shows I know what I’m talking about.
    “I know why you left Warton. I know why you came to New York, and I know who brought you. I know why you call yourself John Knowlton instead of—you know what. I know why you choose a new hangout every week, and I know where you get the coin. Is that enough?”
    “I haven’t the slightest idea what you are driving at,” said Knowlton, with a light laugh. If it was acting, it was cleverly done. “I do come from Warton, and my name is not John Knowlton; but anybody is welcome to that information. As for the rest—is it a puzzle?”
    Sherman grinned.
    “You do it very well,” he admitted. “But it’s no go. I’m on. That’s what I know. Now, here’s what I want:
    “Today I saw you talking to Miss Williams; and, frankly, I don’t like the way she looked at you. These other guys are dubs. They don’t bother me. They can buy roses forever if they want to. But that little Williams girl looks good to me, and it’s me for her.
    “If I can’t get her one way, I’ll take her another. But I’ll get her. As I said, these other guys don’t count. But you do. I don’t like the way she looked at you. And it’s your move.”
    “You mean?”
    “I mean just this—beat it.”
    “And if I don’t?”
    “The cops.”
    Knowlton rose to his feet, smiling.
    “Stand away,” he said pleasantly. Sherman, unsuspecting and wondering a little at the request, obeyed it.
    Then, like a leaping flame, Knowlton’s fist shot forth straight from the shoulder. With terrific force it caught Sherman full in the face. He staggered, fell against a table, then dropped to the floor in a heap.
    Knowlton, with the light of battle in his eyes, stood above him with clenched fists. Then, without a word, he turned, unlocked the door, and disappeared into the hall.
    Sherman sat up, lifted his hand gingerly to his face, and let out a volley of curses.
    “Well,” he muttered, “I made a bad guess. And yet—I can’t be wrong. He’s crooked and I’ll get him. And when I do I’ll pay him for this.”
    He rose to his feet painfully and made his way unobserved to the street.

CHAPTER III.
Hidden Wires
    O N THE FOLLOWING MORNING K NOWLTON WAS formally enrolled as a member of the Erring Knights. “The qualifications,” said Tom Dougherty, “are a good pair of biceps and a boundless esteem for Miss Lila Williams. The dues are two dozen roses each week. A fresh bouquet every morning. Your day will be Saturday.”
    Dumain was really not quite easy about it.