“I will tell you. My life has been all that is bad and wicked, and when it comes to an end I want this one good deed to be marked to my credit there where she will go. Can you understand that?”
“Say, cull, she ort to jine the Salvation Army,” said Dopey, in a husky whisper.
“I wish to Heaven I had before I ever met you two, for since that time it has been nothing but drink and rob and steal, and now it is murder! And, God help me! I am accessory after the fact, a branded criminal with an awful charge staring me in the face! Oh, if I could only live my life over again, to be pure and good—like this poor child.”
“Say, Muriel, I have just one piece of advice to give you, and that is to let up on this racket or it’ll be a sort of deathbed repentance, and you’d better be warned! And as to the Salvation Army business, we can have that right here.” And here the wretch clasped his hands as in prayer and said, in a sing-song voice; “Brother Dopey, will you lead us in prayer? Halleluia!”
“I wouldn’t know where to begin, Brudder Pierson,” said Dopey, grinning with delight as he saw Muriel wince at the coarse vulgarity.
“Scoff and rail, you two, but the day is not far distant when you both will look death in the face! Then your ribald lips will stiffen in fear, your eyes start out in horror, and you will cry aloud in vain for pardon to the God you despised in life! I seem to see you now, both strung up by the neck to the dead branch of a tree that has borne such carrion before and both go swinging around in the wind! That will be your end, and it will come soon, I feel it and know it. John Pierson, if there is one single spark of manhood left in you, spare this poor girl, and let me take her back to the hotel and leave her there. I will go alone with her, and you and Dopey can go where you like. No one shall pursue or harm you.”
“A very pretty fairy-story. It does you credit. But, in the language of the Philistines about here, not much! She has cost me too much to give her up so easily. So save your breath to cool your coffee.”
“Say, cull, what will de gal do when she has to eat bacon?”
“Oh, she’ll eat it all right—if she must—and she doesn’t know what she is eating, anyhow. Don’t bother me with trifles.”
“Please, lady, please,” began Dora, and Muriel asked her what she wanted.