"Outside the house, figuring that you and I are dead."
"Skunks," growled Bryant.
Wallie appeared to have regained his composure. "What," he asked, "are your plans now?"
"Shut up an' you'll find out," snapped Bryant. "This masked man told me about you, yuh dirty double-dyed rat, but I wouldn't believe him! He told me that he'd said jest enough tuh you so you'd figger the two of us had tuh be wiped out. Then he dragged me outen my bed an' packed me in this yere corner of the room an' waited till yuh showed yer hand. By God, I never got talked to in my hull damned life like I been talked to by this critter. Now he's showed you up fer what yuh are I reckon I'm due tuh do some talkin'!"
"I ain't interested," growled Wallie.
"Now lookut here," broke in Vince, "I'm yer own blood relative, Uncle Bryant. I—"
"Don't 'uncle' me, yuh weasel-faced runt! You was in on everything that took place. Only thing I don't savvy is where's Jeb?"
"You'd better be interested in where Penelope is," suggested Wallie. "You don't give a damn what happens to Jeb, but if you're interested in that girl, you'd better be willin' to talk things over reasonable."
"She's in the care of that Indian," retorted Bryant, "an' a damn sight safer than she was around here with you crooks."
Wallie nodded. "Suit yourself."