"So—you—need money, do you?"
The words in themselves was an insult, independent of the wagging of his bull-like head, which slowly moved in mockery.
The terrible trial was telling upon Julia. Her great eyes were strained, and lines of distress were forming at the corners of her mouth. She shifted the reins to her left hand and thrust her right under the loose folds of a light wrap which she carried. When her fingers closed upon the handle of the revolver, new courage came. She would go on, though something told her that her quest was hopeless.
"Yes, we need money, but we don't want any that isn't rightfully ours. I have read in the Herald all about the affair at the bank, and how the dividend was passed that you might make improvements and buy a new safe. Can't you do these things, and declare the dividend, too?"
"We might do without these things altogether," he answered, darkly.
She grasped at the straw.
"Oh, please do! I felt that if I would come and ask you to give us what was really ours, that you would. Won't you have it done, Mr. Marston? Tell me, and I'll not detain you any longer."
Again he smiled his wolfish smile, and gazed on her in a sinister way.
"We do not get things for nothing in this world," he answered, in a cold, deliberate voice. The paroxysm of passion which had shaken him was gone now, and had left him maliciously cool and scheming. "You want me to declare this dividend. I can do it yet, for I'm the bank, you know. I kick those pups around down there like I do these dogs and niggers here at home. The question is—how badly do you want this dividend?"
A rosy flush flared up into Julia's waxen cheeks.