The door opened, and Rose staggered into the room.
Blizzard slid from his chair and secured her pistol. His face wore an expression of amused tolerance. "Tell me all about it," he said. "Crying can't do any good, and talking may. You hid in the closet to listen. It's not the first time. I found one of your combs, and saw where you'd brushed away the dirt so's not to spoil your dress. Now I'd like to know how much you know, and whom you've told it to?"
"What's the use?" said Rose with sudden desperation. "You've got me--nobody'll ever know from me what I've heard to-night. You're going to kill me."
"I doubt it," said Blizzard. "Now look up and tell me all about everything."
"Well," she said, "I've been spying on you."
"I know that. I knew that the day you came. When you said you loved me I knew you were lying."
"At first," she said, "I passed over everything I could find out about you. It wasn't much."
"I took care of that."
"Then I made up things--just to keep the others from knowing I wasn't playing fair. I wanted to put that off as long as I could. Anything I really found out--like your first talk with O'Hagan--I just kept to myself. I know I lied to you the first day. But I'm not lying now."
The legless man smiled tolerantly. "Why did you keep on trying to find out things--if you didn't mean to use them?"