Oliver laughed hysterically. "Trouble?" he said. "Don't think of it."
The man seemed to be measuring him with his eyes, and said at last: "You'd better go and not talk about us. We're enemies of the Mob."
Oliver said after a pause: "So am I. Don't go away. I'll be back with some clothes and food for you and the lady. Then I can help you to my place. I'm an enemy of the Mob too. I just never knew it until now."
He started off and then turned. "You won't go away? I mean it. I want to help you. I can't seem to help myself, but perhaps there's something—"
The man said tiredly: "We won't go away."
Oliver hurried off. There was something mingled with the scent of the pine forest tonight. He was half-way home before he identified it: oil smoke.
XX
Lee swore and said: "I can get up if I want to."
"You'll stay in bed whether you want to or not," Charles told her. "You're a sick woman."