Blenham watched Barbee go. Then, drawn back into a corner of the room, sullen and vigilant, he stood biting nervously at a big, clenched, hairy fist.
CHAPTER XII
IN A DARK ROOM
Bill Royce, hastily and but half dressed, came promptly to the house, stumbling along at Barbee's heels. Blenham, his silence and watchfulness unbroken, still chewed at his fist. Barbee brought a heavy blacksnake in his hand.
"Barbee says you want me, Steve?" said Royce from the threshold. "An' that Blenham's here?"
"Yes, Bill," Steve answered. And to Barbee, "Close the door behind you. Lock it. Give me the key. Now fasten the shutters across both windows."
Barbee obeyed silently. Blenham's eyes followed him, seeming fascinated by the whip in Barbee's hand.
"Listen a minute, Bill," said Steve when Barbee had done. "I want to tell you something."
And, as briefly as might be, he told Royce of the ten dollar bills substituted for the real legacy, of the results of his evening in Red Creek, of Barbee's trapping Blenham, of the recovery of the ten thousand dollars, of a horse shot dead on the Red Creek road.