"Hidin' back among th' cottonwoods! She'd slid off her horse! Jes' as I turned down the trail, I looked back! She waz comin' peepin' out from tree t' tree!"
"How was MacDonald standing?"
"He waz standin' with his back t' her, with his hand hangin' kind o' loose from th' hoist waitin' for 'em t' ring th' bell t' let her down t' next level!"
There was a long silence. Eleanor had turned very white. The eyes of the news editor emitted sparks.
"I expected that," commented Wayland.
"Y' d', did y'?" rumbled Matthews. "Then A 'll wager y 'll nut be expectin' what A 'll spring!"
The room suddenly filled with a rustling and whispering. Men were demonstrating exactly how it had happened. The handy man's tallow smile melted on his face; and the tortoise shell eyes looked sidewise at Wayland. The look wasn't malicious; and it wasn't triumphant. It was the look of a gambler saying, "Come on my four-flusher, beat that! Show down!" The rabble outside deployed off the pavement across the street back a whole block. Eleanor could hear the hum through the open window.
The attorney was leaning across the table conferring with the coroner.
The coroner rapped the table and cried for "order."
The room suddenly silenced.