Kars' eyes widened in surprise.
"Sure." Then he added, "So are you." He smiled.
Bill shook his head.
"Not willingly—me," he said.
"Why not?"
Bill stretched himself out on his blankets. He was fully dressed. He intended to pass the night that way. He clasped his hands behind his neck, and his gaze was on the firelight beyond the door.
"First, because it's taking a useless chance. You don't need it," he said deliberately. "Second, because that was Allan Mowbray's strike. It was his big secret that he'd worked most of his days for, and, in the end, gave his life for. If we butt in there'll come a rush, and you'll rob a widow and a young girl who've never done you injury. It don't sound to me your way."
"You think Mrs. Mowbray and Jessie know of it?"
Bill glanced round quickly.
"Mrs. Mowbray—sure."