“And I hope to come,” I asserted with glow of energy. “You’ve set me upon my feet, Mr. Jenks, for I was desperate. You’re the first honest man I’ve met in Benton.”
“Tut, tut,” he reproved. “There are others. Benton’s not so bad as you think it. But you were dead ripe; the buzzards scented you. Now you go straight to your hotel, unless you’ll spend the night with me. No? Then I’ll see you in the mornin’. I’ll risk your gettin’ through the street alone.”
“You may, sir,” I affirmed. “At present I’m not worth further robbing.”
“Except for your gun and clothes,” he rejoined. “But if you’ll use the one you’ll keep the other.”
Gazing neither right nor left I strode resolutely for the exit. Now I had an anchor to windward. Sometimes just one word will face a man about when for lack of that mere word he was drifting. Of the games and the people I wished only to be rid forever; but at the exit I was halted by a hand laid upon my arm, and a quick utterance. 141
“Not going? You will at least say good-night.”
I barely paused, replying to her.
“Good-night.”
Still she would have detained me.
“Oh, no, no! Not this way. It was a mistake. I swear to you I am not to be blamed. Please let me help you. I don’t know what you’ve heard—I don’t know what has been said about me—you are angry——”