There was an ominous silence.
The trio looked ugly and Collins glared at the asylum keeper.
“You’re a cursed traitor!”
“No, I am not!”
“Then what’s the matter with ye?”
“I’m not going to have any murder in my house, that’s all! I don’t care a picayune what you do with the girl, but you can’t kill her here. Do you see?”
“Humph!” exclaimed Burke. “You’re mighty particular. It’s an easy job. There’ll be no blood stains. We’ll just shut her windpipe and she can be carried out for a dead patient. See?”
But Scraggs was obdurate.
“I don’t care!” he said. “It’s not going to be done here. That ends it.”
All this while Blood had been silent. Now he said: