"Shut up," said Tom, clenching his fists.
Corman pretended to be greatly surprised.
"So you have been pleased to leave your cabin, Mr. Murner? Oh, well, it is of no consequence."
Elaine had pulled herself together; the sight of the two men seemed to have put new vigor into her.
"Oh, yes, I know all about you, who choose a murderer for your friend and are worse than a thief yourself," she cried, in a loud, clear voice. "I overheard your conversation last night and am glad to be able to tell you the truth at last. Worse, yes, worse than a thief; compared with you a thief is an honest man, you who rob widows and orphans, plunder the dead and commit murder for the sake of gold. I see everything clearly now; I hope the truth will scorch your soul when you think of what you have done—you liar, you devil."
Corman's face twitched, and Dixon turned very white. After Elaine's accusing words there was a dead silence, till with a forced laugh Dixon said, rather hoarsely:
"Well, Miss Robertson, maybe you are right, only you have told us the truth just two months too late, and you can't stop us now..."
He looked around, but not at her. After some hesitation he passed in front of her and gathered up the papers from the table, looking at them with a covert smile.
"You see, my dear young lady, there are things in our miserable lives that you can't understand," he said.
Then he left the saloon in silence, and Corman went with him.