“Do as you please, but the time will come when you will be sorry that you refused. What are you afraid of? You are armed, while I have no weapon.”
“I am afraid of Luke.”
“You needn’t be. He would find fault with you, but that would be all.”
Ezekiel Mason was weak, but not weak enough to yield to the persuasions of his prisoner. Besides, he knew that Luke would come down from the attic directly.
In fact, he was already close at hand. He brought in his hand the cut fragments of the cord with which the outlaw had originally been bound.
“This tells the story,” he said, holding up the rope so that the farmer and his wife could see it. “This rope has been cut. The man has a knife.”
John Fox darted a malignant look at him, but said nothing.
“You are smart, John Fox,” Luke went on, “smarter than I thought. Where is your knife?”
John Fox did not reply.
Luke Robbins knelt down and thrust his hand unceremoniously into the outlaw’s pocket.