The girl’s retort was instant.
“Not on your life,” she said. “An’ you know it. You’re too hot for the Wolf, an’ the p’lice. It’s always bin that way. I know. An’ you know. Guess you’ve seen to it there ain’t a thing at the cache to fix you. The p’lice can get it all. But not you. Only the fool Wolf. An’ you’ll gamble on his not squealin’. You can’t hand me that stuff an’ get away with it. You’ve seen to it the Wolf’s the liquor man. They ken only beat you on the border with a cargo on your sleds.”
“It’s the game played out anyway.”
“D’you think I care? No! Have I had part in your play? Has your game handed me a thing of profit or pleasure? No! You an’ the Wolf have pouched every dollar. An’ I—I jest cooked your hash so you could eat when you needed it. Yes. Your play’s through an’ I don’t care.”
At last Pideau gave a sign. The sting of the girl’s bitterness had driven home at last. He had listened all unmoved to her arraignment of the Wolf. Even his own risk, and the complete wrecking of his trade seemed to have strangely enough left him unmoved. But her final charge set a dark flush staining his ugly brow, and his wicked eyes sparkling.
“That ain’t true, girl,” he cried angrily. “I raised you an’ done all I could to fix you right. I got a big pile that’s someday goin’ to hand you the things o’ life you need. It’s goin’ to hand it you so the swell looks o’ you won’t have to feel shame fer the clothin’ of your body. It’s goin’ to tell you you’ll be able to eat right for all your days. An’ it’s goin’ to show you a home place to make you feel good. That’s along to come. Sure. Say, I’ve had to do most every crook play to raise you. I’ve raised you from a brat to a woman. An’ fed you, an’ cleaned you, when you hadn’t more sense than to breathe right. You was my kid. See? You was bone o’ my bone, flesh o’ my flesh, blood o’ my blood. An’ you’re that way still. Your fool blood’s got away with you, an’ you’ve had this boy, Sinclair. I guess I didn’t know, or it wouldn’t have needed the Wolf to kill him.”
“You’d have killed my man?”
The girl’s eyes flamed. Pideau looked squarely into them.
“The Wolf’s my partner. I raised him along with you. But sure to hell if the Wolf had monkeyed around you he’d have got it good. Same as he’s handed it Sinclair. Say, you, you’ve queered the play that’s been good to us. You’ve passed the Wolf along to the rope. You’ve raised all the hell in our outfit only a crazy slut could. But you’re my gal, part o’ me. Wal, go beat it so I ken look around an’ figger the thing needed after they choked the life out that boy, Wolf.”
The man sprang up from his chair with a movement that suggested the last of a sorely tried violent temper. He stood for a second threateningly, while his fierce eyes searched the face of his daughter. He saw the sudden receding of all color from Annette’s cheeks. He saw an actual shrinking before the lash of his final words. He knew the girl’s reckless temper and looked for a comeback. But there was none. The light died out of the girl’s eyes abruptly. She turned. And he watched her go off towards the door moving almost like an automaton.