“That man is capable of anything, Mr. Merriwell! To carry out his ends he would commit murder!”
“He’ll reach the end of his rope some day.”
“I trust that day is not far in the future!”
By this time they had reached the outskirts of the town. The road led up a low hill, near the crest of which, set back amid some trees, could be seen a rather gloomy-looking house. This house the mysterious woman indicated with a slight gesture, explaining that they were bound thither.
“It is your home?” questioned Merry.
“For the time being it serves me as home,” she replied. “I have occupied it two months.”
“You do not belong in this town?”
“No; before coming here two months ago I had never seen the place. I shall be happy when I leave it to return no more.”
“You do not like Cartersville?”
“I detest the place! It is run by hoodlums and ruffians. There are some respectable people here, but the vicious element predominates, and respectable people are afraid to stand up for their rights.”