Part 33 (2/2)

Sinclair sat down on a low counter-stool, and, bending forward, held his head between his hands. ”It oughtn't all to end here. I know you, and I know you want to do what's right. I couldn't kill you without killing myself; you know that.” He straightened up slowly. ”Here!” He slipped his revolver from his hip-holster and held the grip of the gun toward her. ”Use it on me if you want to. It is your chance to end everything; it may save several lives if you do. I won't leave McCloud here to crow over me, and, by G.o.d, I won't leave you here for Whispering Smith! I'll settle with him anyhow. Take the pistol! What are you afraid of? Take it! Use it! I don't want to live without you.

If you make me do it, you're to blame for the consequences.”

She stood with wide-open eyes, but uttered no word.

”You won't touch it--then you care a little for me yet,” he murmured.

”No! Do not say so. But I will not do murder.”

”Think about the other, then. Go with me and everything will be all right. I will come back some evening soon for my answer. And until then, if those two men have any use for life, let them keep in the clear. I heard to-night that Du Sang is killed. Do you know whether it is true?”

”It is true.”

An oath half escaping showed how the confirmation cut him. ”And Whispering Smith got away! It is Du Sang's own fault; I told him to keep out of that trap. I stay in the open; and I'm not Du Sang. I'll choose my own ground for the finish when they want it with me, and when I go I'll take company--I'll promise you that. Good-night, Marion. Will you shake hands?”

”No.”

”d.a.m.n it, I like your grit, girl! Well, good-night, anyway.”

She closed the door. She had even strength enough to bolt it before his footsteps died away. She put out the light and felt her way blindly back to the work-room. She staggered through it, clutching at the curtains, and fell in the darkness into d.i.c.ksie's arms.

”Marion dear, don't speak,” d.i.c.ksie whispered. ”I heard everything.

Oh, Marion!” she cried, suddenly conscious of the inertness of the burden in her arms. ”Oh, what shall I do?”

Moved by fright to her utmost strength, d.i.c.ksie drew the unconscious woman back to her room and managed to lay her on the bed. Marion opened her eyes a few minutes later to see the lights burning, to hear the telephone bell ringing, and to find d.i.c.ksie on the edge of the bed beside her.

”Oh, Marion, thank Heaven, you are reviving! I have been frightened to death. Don't mind the telephone; it is Mr. McCloud. I didn't know what to do, so I telephoned him.”

”But you had better answer him,” said Marion faintly. The telephone bell was ringing wildly.

”Oh, no! he can wait. How are you, dear? I don't wonder you were frightened to death. Marion, he means to kill us--every one!”

”No, d.i.c.ksie. He will kill me and kill himself; that is where it will end. d.i.c.ksie, do answer the telephone. What are you thinking of? Mr.

McCloud will be at the door in five minutes. Do you want him in the street to-night?”

d.i.c.ksie fled to the telephone, and an excited conference over the wire closed in seeming rea.s.surance at both ends. By that time Marion had regained her steadiness, but she could not talk of what had pa.s.sed. At times, as the two lay together in the darkness, Marion spoke, but it was not to be answered. ”I do not know,” she murmured once wearily.

”Perhaps I am doing wrong; perhaps I ought to go with him. I wish, oh, I wish I knew what I ought to do!”

CHAPTER x.x.xV

THE CALL

Beyond receiving reports from Kennedy and Banks, who in the interval rode into town and rode out again on their separate and silent ways, Whispering Smith for two days seemed to do nothing. Yet instinct keener than silence kept the people of Medicine Bend on edge during those two days, and when President Bucks's car came in on the evening of the second day, the town knew from current rumors that Banks had gone to the Frenchman ranch with a warrant on a serious charge for Sinclair. In the president's car Bucks and McCloud, after a late dinner, were joined by Whispering Smith, and the president heard the first connected story of the events of the fortnight that had pa.s.sed.

Bucks made no comment until he had heard everything. ”And they rode Sinclair's horses,” he said in conclusion.

<script>