“If I die,” breathed Jinnie, shocked. She had read his thought and blurted it forth.
“Yes, if you die. But I haven’t any desire to kill you.... I have another way.”
“Not now,” drawled Morse. “Later perhaps.”
The man contemplated the tips of his boots a minute. Then he looked at her, the meditative expression still in his eyes.
“To save your friends,” he said at length, “you’ve got to do what I want you to.”
“You mean—to save Lafe?” gasped Jinnie, eagerly.
Morse gave a negative gesture.
“No, not him. The cobbler’s got to go. He knows too much about me.”
Jinnie thought of Lafe, who loved and helped everybody within helping distance, of his wonderful faith and patience, of the day they had arrested him, and his last words.