"Oh, no. I don't insinuate against Lefingwell's veracity. But the
company requires a written agreement in a case like this--where the
former representative----"

"We won't argue that," interrupted Lawler. "Jim Lefingwell told me he'd
had a talk with you about my agreement with him, and Jim said you'd
carry it out."

"Mr. Lefingwell did not mention the matter to me."

"I'd hate to think Jim Lefingwell lied to me," said Lawler, slowly.

Warden's face grew crimson. "Meaning that I'm a liar, I suppose," he
said, his voice quavering with sudden passion.

Lawler's level gaze made him stiffen in his chair. Lawler's smile, cold
and mirthless, brought a pulse of apprehension through him, and Lawler's
voice, slow, clear, and distinct, forced the blood from his face,
leaving it pale:

"I don't let any man twist my words so that they mean something I don't
intend them to mean, Mister Man. If I intended to call you a liar, I'd
have said it to you mighty plain, so there'd be no doubt in your mind
about it. So far as I know, you are not a liar. I'm telling you this,
though: A man's word in this country has got to be backed by his
performances--and he's got to have memory enough to know when he gives
his word.

"I reckon that where you come from men give their word without knowing