Evan turned away his head and made no answer.
Carmel clutched his arm. “Oh, they wouldn’t.... They couldn’t.... Not now. Nothing can happen to us now.”
“At any rate,” he said, gravely, “we have this. It is something.”
“But I want more. I want happiness—alive with you.... Oh, we must do something—something.”
“Sit down,” he said. “Please—er—be calm. I will see what is to be done.”
He sank into the chair, and she sat close beside him, clinging to his hand. Neither spoke.... At the sound of footsteps in the hall outside their heads lifted and their eyes fastened upon the door. A key grated in the lock and the door swung inward, permitting Peewee Bangs to enter. He stood grinning at them—the grin distorting his pinched, hunchback’s face.
“Well,” he said, “here you be—both of ye. How d’ye like the accommodations?”
Peewee evidently came to talk, not to be talked to, for he did not wait for an answer.
“Folks that go meddlin’ in other folkses’ business ought to be more careful,” he said. “But numbers hain’t.... Now you was gittin’ to be a dummed nuisance. We’ve talked about you consid’able.... And say, we fixed it so’s you hain’t goin’ to be missed for a day or so. Uh huh. Had a feller telephone from the capital sayin’ you was back there on business.”
“What—are you going to do with us?” Carmel asked.