The knob turned—as it had before, slowly, hesitatingly. The door was pushed inward. Dick the Devil snatched a pistol from its sling under his left armpit, with the motion of a rattlesnake about to strike.
Nell Blossom stepped into the room and closed the door swiftly behind her. She had seen Betty. Her cry of “Betty! what’s happened?” was answered by a sigh from Dick of such relief that it seemed like a sob.
Alert as she could be, Nell wheeled to look at the man. Although there was no light in the room and the evening was drawing on, the singer knew that half-crouching figure at first glance. She saw, too, the flash of the weapon in the gambler’s hand.
“Dick Beckworth! I might have known you’d come sneaking to a girl’s room to hide,” said Nell, her voice quite unshaken. “Put away that gun. I’m not the sheriff.”
Dick was silent. But he had the grace to put away his gun. Nell said to Betty:
“Has he scared you, honey? Don’t you mind. Dick the Devil has got his comeupance this time, I reckon. The minute he steps out of this house they’ll nab him. Somebody saw him sneak in by the back way. But nobody thought of his daring to come into your room. Come on, you, get out! Take your miserable carcass off to some other part of the house.”
“Oh, Nell!” breathed Betty.
“Don’t you be afraid, honey,” said the cabaret singer again. “This rascal knows me, I reckon. It’s too bad he wasn’t killed—like I thought he was—back last spring when I was fool enough to be caught by his sleek ways and talk. Oh, yes! I played the fool. And I come pretty near believing since that time that there wasn’t any decent men in the world. All because of that whelp.”
For once Dick Beckworth had nothing to say. At another time he might have flouted the girl. But the moment was not propitious. He stood and glared from Nell to Betty, and back again; but said nothing.
“Come! Beat it!” said Nell harshly. “Don’t you hear me?”