“Tell me what?” For Juanita’s reappearance in itself was unusual, as Sunday afternoon and evening were her own to spend at home.
“People are saying Mr. Weir is to be arrested and hanged from a tree in the court house yard! Everybody has come to town to see. Three uncles and aunts and nine cousins of ours have already come to our house from where they live four miles down the river. All the town is talking about it. But though I said nothing, I knew how Mr. Weir had saved you and that he had done nothing to be hanged for. If anybody is to be killed it ought to be that Ed Sorenson.”
“Are you sure of this, Juanita?”
“Yes, yes, Miss Janet. It is so.”
“Then this is part of the plot against him; let me think. They might arrest him but they would never dare try to hang him, unless they could pretend–––”
What they might pretend Janet never stated, as at that instant a motor car dashed up and stopped before the gate. Even in the gloom she made out that the figure garbed in a gray dust coat was Sorenson’s. Springing out of the machine, he jerked the gate open and strode towards the house, while a premonition of a fresh and unpleasant turn of affairs quivered in Janet’s mind.
“I’ve come back again, you see,” he said. “Step inside where you can hear what I have to say.”
The words were like an order; the man’s manner, indeed, was overbearing and brutal. But the girl concealing her resentment, preceded him into the house and bade Juanita light a lamp.
“And now you get out!” Sorenson commanded the servant in so savage a tone that she fled to the kitchen without waiting to consult Janet’s eyes. “I see your father isn’t here,” he continued, addressing Janet.