It seemed incredible
that the man was returning it to her.
"But I knew it," she said finally.
"Knew what?" asked Billy.
"I knew you was a good boy. They said you was a
murderer."
Billy's brows contracted, and an expression of pain crossed
his face.
"How did they come to say that?" he asked.
"I heard them telephonin' to Kansas City to the police," she
replied, and then she sat bolt upright. "The detectives are on
their way here now," she almost screamed, "and even if you
ARE a murderer I don't care. I won't stand by and see 'em get
you after what you have done for me. I don't believe you're a
murderer anyhow. You're a good boy. My boy would be
about as old and as big as you by now--if he lives. He ran
away a long time ago--maybe you've met him. His name's
Eddie--Eddie Shorter. I ain't heard from him fer years.
"No," she went on, "I don't believe what they said--you
got too good a face; but if you are a murderer you get out
now before they come an' I'll send 'em on a wild-goose chase
in the wrong direction."
"But these," said Billy. "We can't leave these here."
"Tie 'em up and give me the shotgun," she said. "I'll bet
they don't come any more funny business on me." She had
regained both her composure and her nerve by this time.
Pages:
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340