He stepped through the window, and walking around the desk, placed himself in front of Junior. He saw that Junior was crouched in his chair; that there was a ghastly expression on his face. A revolver was lying on the table in front of him. His left hand was gripping his clothing that he was pressing hard over the region of his heart. In the air two predominant taints were mingling. Either of them was sickening. About the combination there was a nausea that shook Jason on his feet, but he braced his hands on the table, and leaning forward, he tried to stare deep into Junior’s eyes.
Junior smiled at him in a stiff, set way that was disarming. The first time his lips moved, Jason could not catch what he was saying. He leaned closer, and then he heard distinctly: “You have come to settle with me?”
Jason nodded grimly. He studied Junior an instant longer and then he said quietly: “With my naked hands I’m going to tear you limb from limb!”
To his surprise, Junior nodded in agreement.
Jason continued: “And when I have finished with you, I am going to do the same thing to your horrible father.”
Surprise arrested Jason as he saw Junior’s lips draw back over his teeth in a stiff smile, a stiff, set smile, and yet there was something about him, about the wave of the hair around his white face, about the light in his eyes, that was bonny. He must have been a beautiful baby. His mother might have been excused for loving him to idolatry.
Junior’s voice was hoarse, scarcely understandable: “You’re too late,” he said. “A woman got ahead of you.”
Jason rounded the corner of the table. He seized the coat which Junior was holding to his side. Then both of them heard a battering on the outer door. Both of them recognized the voice of Mahala crying: “Jason! For God’s sake let me in!”
Jason withdrew his hands from Junior and stared down at him, and then he looked at the door. But Junior met his eyes, and gathering his forces, he said quietly: “Let her in. It is her right to be present at the finish of the Morelands.”
Slowly Jason crossed the room and unlocked the door. Mahala rushed inside and Jason slammed shut the door after her, relocking it. He could almost feel the steps rocking from the weight of the men crowded upon them. Mahala’s eyes raced over Jason from head to foot and a breath of relief escaped her. Then she turned to Junior. She saw his ghastly face; she saw a slow red spread over the hand that was gripping his side. She saw the revolver on the table before him, and she cried out in horror: “Oh, Jason! Am I too late to keep you from blackening your soul?”