“She’ll sleep in jail. I’ll make Bail give her the apartment next her friend,” said Leech, scornfully. “They’ll enjoy that.”
Leech never knew how close Death brushed by him that instant. Steve’s pistol was lying on the bed, within a foot of him. He seized it. He would rid the country of that cursed presence, and pay his own debt at the same time. He had cocked the pistol involuntarily, when he came to himself. Oh! if he only had him face to face, in an open field, both armed, he could settle the final score! He uncocked the pistol and flung it away from him.
“Miss Welch won’t refuse,” Leech went on, “I am smart enough to know how to deal with women as well as men.” He laughed arrogantly.
“You think so? You are sometimes too blanked smart for your own good,” said McRaffle.
Leech, stung by the speech, turned on him.
“I’ll put you on the stand,” he threatened.
“Not much, you won’t. I won’t testify.”
“You’re getting pretty squeamish all of a sudden,” sneered Leech.
McRaffle wheeled on him in a rage.
“Don’t you dare sneer at me that way,” he said. “If you do, I’ll——”