"Who? What are you talking about?"
Something in her husband's inexplicable agitation, something in the hunted, desperate way in which his eyes were running over the room, alarmed Alaire.
Ed utterly disregarded her question. Catching sight of the telephone, which stood upon a stand in the far corner of the room, he ran to it and, snatching the receiver, violently oscillated the hook.
"Don't do that!" Alaire cried, following him. "Wait! It mustn't get out."
"Hello! Give me the Lewis ranch—quick—I've forgotten the number."
With his free hand Ed held his wife at a distance, muttering harshly:
"Get away now! I know what I'm doing. Get away—damn you!" He flung
Alaire from him as she tried to snatch the instrument out of his hands.
"What do you want of Lewis?" she panted.
"None of your business. You keep away or I'll hurt you."
"Ed!" she cried, "Are you out of your mind? You mustn't—"
Their voices were raised now, heedless of the two people In the adjoining room.
"Keep your hands off, I tell you. Hello! Is that you, Tad?" Again
Austin thrust his wife violently aside. "Listen! I've just learned that
Dave Law and old man Jones have crossed over to dig up Ricardo's body.
Yes, to-night! They're over there now—be back inside of an hour."