A deadly fascination forced him there,
and he sat rigid, staring back into the wide stare of the other man. He
felt his breath coming heavier and his heart-beats growing weaker, but
he was comforted because his hunger was no longer causing him that
acute pain. He felt easier, and actually yawned. If he had dared he
would have gone to sleep. The pale stranger still stared at him without
ceasing. And Carringer had no inclination for anything but simply to
stare back.
* * * * *
The two detectives who had traced the notorious bank robber to the
drink saloon moved slowly through the compartments, searching in every
nook and cranny of the building. At last they reached a compartment
from which no answer came when they knocked.
They pushed the door open with a stereotyped apology on their lips.
They beheld two men before them, one of middle age and the other very
young, sitting perfectly still, and in the queerest manner imaginable
staring at each other across the table. Between the two was a pile of
money, and near at hand an empty absinthe bottle, a water pitcher, two
glasses, and a dice-box.
Pages:
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493