“I myself ought to be shot for this,” Steele snapped out.
He ran across the cabin, flung the door open, sprang out. The uselessness of seeking his enemy in the black wet gloom was only too evident, but he would not give up. Gun in hand, he stood listening for sound of fleeing footsteps.
A light hand gripped his arm. Janet had followed him out, was at his side. Barely audible he heard her quick, excited breathing.
“Must you shoot him?” she whispered.
“Why spare him for more deviltry? But I’ll not have the chance now.”
“I can’t bear to think of even his blood being on our hands. Let him go,” Janet said.
“He’s gone without our permission, I’d say.”
“Isn’t it just as well? I’m not harmed, and he’ll never dare show his face in San Mateo again,” she said. “He’ll have to stay away; he’ll leave for good.”
“Not until I see him first. I want that paper.”