Loveman started toward her, but Bradley checked him with a gesture of a big hand.
“Oh, you are, are you!” he said to Mary, and advanced until he stood squarely before her. An ugly look had come into his face; her last words had fired his animal anger. “Oh, I guess you’re not, sister!” he said with crunching grimness. “I’ve had to hold off on you too long, but at last I’ve got you where I want you! You ain’t going to expose me, and you ain’t going to expose anybody else, and you ain’t ever goin’ to hurt anybody! Do you get me, sister?”
He was glowering with malignant purpose. Clifford was wildly a-pulse with the desire to leap out and hurl himself on Bradley. But the time had not come; he had to wait and see the full purpose of this night’s design.
“And, let me tell you, Mary Regan,” the heavy voice gritted on, “that I’ve come here myself because I want the personal satisfaction of attending to you—and because I didn’t want any slip-up on the job. And I’m going to tell you in advance just exactly what’s going to happen to you. Why? Because your knowing that is going to make you suffer all the more—and, damn you, you’re going to suffer the limit! I ain’t afraid to talk out, because we’re all in this together!”
He paused a minute; then demanded: “Want to know what’s coming to you?”
She stood silent, eyeing him steadily. Breathlessly Clifford waited. Without being aware of it, he had drawn his automatic.
“I ain’t going to croak you. That would be too soft for you—it would be over too soon.”
“Help!” she called, with all her voice.
“Go to it, kid,—do it again,” encouraged Bradley. “That’s right, Slim,”—Harrison had caught her elbows from behind, as she had turned to run. “I guess you’ll stand still now and hear me through. First item, sister,—have you heard of that necklace that was stole a week ago from one of the rich dames that lives in the Mordona?”
Mary did not speak.