The half-breed, however, was in a dangerous mood. Suspicion with him was symptomatic. It was always a danger signal. He was guessing and disturbed. The Wolf had left him that noon a potential killer. Now killing never seemed farther from his mind.
He knew the Wolf had searched out Annette after leaving him. He had made it his business to know all the Wolf’s movements. He knew their meeting had been violently stormy. Then why this change? Why had hours passed, and the Wolf made no attempt to carry out his threat? The position had not changed. Sinclair was still Annette’s lover.
Pideau’s temper was on edge. The Wolf was still the Wolf of old to him. He was still the one witness of his own earlier crimes.
Pideau spat with a splash.
“Well?” he demanded, his ill humor never less disguised.
The Wolf sucked his cigarette and pondered the face before him.
“Guess we need to make our plans right away,” he said after a while. “The liquor needs to go right off to-morrow night for a clean-up. I fixed it eight o’clock. That’s to hand us the best of the night to get through. Ther’s no moon. If it storms, the better. We’ll have to get right back before daylight.”
“We?”
Pideau was startled. And the Wolf, as he watched him, noted the sparkle of his eyes.
“Yes,” he said, “I make the trip with you after all.”