"Messages to my husband."
"And warnings to Ryan!"
She was struck silent.
"You're saving up Ryan until he gets the chance—to strike."
"Oh, how can you say such things! Besides, Mr. Ryan's afraid, that's why he runs away."
"Ryan ain't playing no common bluff with guns. The game he plays ain't killing. He wants you—all alive—like a cat wants mice; I don't know how, I don't know when—but here are the words he nailed on to the door of this house before Lord Balshannon came:—
"'The time will come when, driven from your home, without a roof to cover you or a crust to eat, your wife and boy turned out to die in the desert, you——'"
"Stop! Stop!" she screamed.
"Promise me, lady, that you'll send no more messages to Ryan."
"It's murder!"