The eyes of Colorado Jim narrowed to the merest slits. He turned to the woman.
“Tell him!” he growled.
She shrunk before those terrible eyes of his, and gripped the pillow with nerveless hands. Her lips opened but she said nothing. Jim started, and then caught her by the shoulder.
“Did you git me? He’s wanting to know why I’m here. Tell him.”
“How can I tell him?” she wailed.
The man laughed.
“You needn’t waste breath. So this is how Mr. James Conlan spends his time. It’ll make a fine story....”
Jim’s brain was working fast; but he was slow in the uptake in such circumstances as this. The woman had seemed so genuine. Why did she maintain silence? It was a novel experience in his life. All the ways of this strange city were foreign to him.
The man’s voice broke in: