“Yes. It must have been Roberts. I suppose that’s what he meant when he said he had proposed something. I knew it. I was slow. Damn him. Why?”
“Why not? Carol was in his way,” said Rio philosophically.
Martin stood up.
“Rio!” He spoke swiftly. His voice was harsh and a terrible light burned in his eyes.
“Take it easy,” Rio answered calmly. “He won’t hurt Deane to-night. He’s weak, some ways. This one job’s enough for his stomach this time. He’s in bed—cracked up. Puking his guts out. But later, I dunno.” Rio was growing thoughtful.
“How did he get away with this, Rio?”
“He’s a clever son-of-a-bitch.”
“Clever?” repeated Martin. “I wonder.” He moved toward the door. “Rio, I’m going to see him.”
Rio went to his friend and held his arm.
“Don’t stick your chin out, Martin,” he said earnestly. “Maybe I got an idea myself.” He righted his cap, and without further explanation left the room.