"I will go with you fellows to Effin'ham," he said more calmly. "I've got to get away from where she can see me, if I hope to live. Every moment I stay where I know her to be near, will be moments of fear. I don't want to kill her, even in self-defense. God, no! I don't want murder on my hands!" He paced the floor at some length, pausing at intervals to peep into the street, in evident fright.
"She was out to Mrs. King's, night before last. Mrs. King was not in, so she walked up to the front door of the white people, and rang the bell. When the door was opened by the man of the house, the expression he wore got her goat. She made some excuse to the effect that it was the wrong house, and went her way. Then, yesterday, or last night rather, she came back. We were eating supper, and it happened that my seat was so I could look out the window, and up the alley. I saw her slipping up this alley, near the side of the board fence, with a big gun and it cocked. I rushed out the front way and avoided her; but she is bent upon forcing me either to live with her and submit to her tyranny, or she'll kill me, and prevent me from living or being friendly with any other."
"You seem certainly up against a bad proposition, V.R.," said Wyeth, helplessly.
"If it wasn't for a certain little deal back in South Carolina, I wouldn't be so afraid; but, owing to that, I dare not do anything but keep out of her way," he trembled on, woefully. "I'm going to try and slip out of town unbeknown to her, and go along with you fellows to Effin'ham. I'll be safe there for a while; but as soon as she learns I am there, she'll take up the trail and I'll have to 'beat' it elsewhere."
"Gee! It must be dreadful to live in the fear that somebody is thirsting for your blood," said Wyeth, shuddering.
"I'll never be anything but a vagabond; a rover, drifting over the face of the earth until death comes," he cried despairingly.
He was calmed presently, with the prospect of going to Effingham. Wyeth went uptown, attending to considerable business in connection with the office, preparatory to leaving. When this was completed, he went to a movie, and returned to the office about six o'clock. He went to another show that evening, and after that had closed, strolled about the town until ten-thirty. There appeared to be a gathering of women for some occasion at the auditorium, which was breaking up when he returned. Mrs. King and Coleman were leaving the building when Wyeth came up. They started up the street with the crowd. As they reached the corner, there was a sudden commotion. Wyeth ran up, and was just in time to see a woman dash after Coleman from around the corner. He saw her before she got near him, and, jerking free of his escort, he tore into the street. She was a dark woman with coarse black hair, and of an Indian appearance. With a cry she flew after him, as she cried in a diabolical voice:
"At last, Vance Coleman, I have found you, and in another's company. I am forced to stand aside, although your wife!" Down the street his steps could be heard, as he tore along in mad haste. She stopped when she saw that she could not catch him, and, drawing from some invisible direction, a gun, she levelled it, with deliberate aim, at the flying figure. The crowd stood frozen creatures.
And then suddenly, a terrible cry rent the still night air, just as the gun went off; but the cry had disconcerted her aim, and, with a cry she turned toward the crowd, but Wyeth had the arm of the hand that held the revolver, which he twisted and made the weapon fall to the ground. She was led away presently by an officer, while still, far down a street, the sound of hurriedly retreating footsteps came to Wyeth's ears. He listened until they died away in the night. Wyeth turned, and disappeared in the direction of his room.
He never saw Slim again.