And while he considered a flash of the devil, that was always busy within him, stirred once more. He had come to tell her of it all. And the thought pleased him. For the moment he forgot something of his bodily sufferings in the joy of the thought of the pain he was about to inflict upon her. He groped his hand in his 371 jacket pocket. Yes, they were all there, the knife and the handkerchief that had so puzzled the doctor and those others.
He stealthily opened the gate and walked up the path. At the door he stood listening. Some one was stirring within. Hark! That sounded like Eve sobbing. Now she was speaking. Was she speaking to herself––or to some one else? He listened acutely. He could only hear the murmur of her voice. There was no other sound within.
Suddenly he drew back from the door. He heard her footsteps approaching. Wondering what she was going to do he withdrew out of sight. The door opened, and Eve stood leaning against the casing. He could only see her outline against the lamplight behind her, for her face was lost in the shadow. It seemed to him that she was staring out at the saloon. Maybe she was waiting till the lights were put out, and so she would know the trial was over. Maybe, even, she was contemplating going down there in search of the news she was so fearfully awaiting. These suggestions occurred to Elia, for he had a tremendously shrewd knowledge of his sister, as he had of most people with whom he came into contact.
It occurred to him now that it was time he showed himself. The grinding pains in his body would no longer be denied. He must get inside and rest.
“Sis,” he called in a low voice. “Ho, sis!”
The woman started as the boy hobbled out into the light.
“Elia!” she cried. And the next moment she would have clasped him in her arms, and hugged him to her 372 bosom. But he drew back. He feared her embraces. Nor was he in the mood to submit to them.
“Don’t be a fule, sis. I’m tired––dog tired. I’m sick, too. I believe somethin’s broken inside me.”
He pushed her on one side and hurried into the room.
“Come in an’ shut that gol-durned door,” he cried, without turning, as he made his way to the rocking-chair. He dropped into it, his face contorting hideously with the awful pain the process caused him.