“There’ll be no need to lie any more,” he said. “It looks to me it’s only a matter of time before the whole game’s up, anyway.”
He looked up. There was an easy smile in his eyes that was no pretence, for all the significance of his words. Blanche was startled. She was a little terrified. The “game” being “up” could only have one meaning for her. It meant discovery of Jim’s hiding. And discovery of Jim’s hiding meant a movement towards the penitentiary to fulfil the sentence that had been passed on him.
“Hadn’t you best tell me, Jim? All of it?” she said, and settled herself back in her chair.
The woman watched the man’s fingers as they manipulated the tobacco into his pipe. But all her instinct, all her understanding and courage, were desperately alert. Where her men-folk were concerned these things were ever at their service. Larry Manford, with his flaming head, was her epitome of what manhood should be, but her brother Jim occupied a place in her heart that was very, very close to that which was reserved for motherhood.
Jim refolded his pouch and returned it to his pocket.
“Say, be a dear an’ get me a match,” he said easily. “And while you’re gone I’ll figger out how best to tell you. It’s—amusing.”
“Amusing?” Blanche stood for a moment. Then, as she moved off to do his bidding: “I’m glad,” she said. “I hadn’t thought it was that way.”
When Blanche returned, she struck a match and held it to the man’s pipe.
“Well?” she said. “We’ll need to be quick. Larry’ll be up along in a while. And food’s nearly ready.”
Jim spread out his hands.