Helen’s exasperation left her almost speechless.
“Which is mighty nigh a compliment to them,” observed the man.
But Helen’s sense of humor utterly failed her now.
“It’s—too bad, Dirty,” she cried. “And poor Kate thinks they’re out cutting our winter hay. I begged of her only this morning to ‘fire’ them both. I’m—I’m sure they’re going to get us into trouble when—when the police come here. I hate the sight of them both. Last time Pete got drunk he—he very nearly asked me to marry him. I believe he would have, only I had a bucket of boiling water in my hand.”
Again came the man’s curious chuckle.
“It won’t be you folks they get into trouble,” he declared enigmatically. “An’ I guess it ain’t goin’ to be ’emselves, neither. But when the p’lice get hot after ’em, why, they’ll shift the scent—sure.”
Helen’s eyes had suddenly become anxious.
“You mean—Charlie Bryant,” she half whispered.
The man nodded.