Part 12 (2/2)
”Whose jewels were they in the beginning?” he enquired carelessly.
”How do I know?”
”If you ever found out----”
”I don't want to. I got them in the war, anyway. And it don't make no difference how I got 'em; Eve's going to be a lady if I go to the chair for it. So that's that.”
Smith slit another trout, gutted it, flung away the viscera but laid back the roe.
”Shame to take them in October,” he remarked, ”but people must eat.”
”Same's me,” nodded Clinch; ”I don't want to kill no one, but Eve she's gotta be a lady and ride in her own automobile with the proudest.”
”Does Eve know about the jewels?”
Clinch's pale eyes, which had been roving over the wooded sh.o.r.es of Star Pond, reverted to Smith.
”I'd cut my throat before I'd tell her,” he said softly.
”She wouldn't stand for it?”
”Hal, when you said to me, 'Eve's a lady, by G.o.d!' you swallered the hull pie. That's the answer. A lady don't stand for what you and I don't bother about.”
”Suppose she learns that you robbed the man who robbed somebody else of these jewels.”
Clinch's pale eyes were fixed on him: ”Only you and me know,” he said in his pleasant voice.
”Quintana knows. His gang knows.”
Clinch's smile was terrifying. ”I guess she ain't never likely to know nothing, Hal.”
”What do you purpose to do, Mike?”
”Still hunt.”
”For Quintana?”
”I might mistake him for a deer. Them accidents is likely, too.”
”If Quintana catches you it will go hard with you, Mike.”
”Sure. I know.”
”He'll torture you to make you talk.”
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