“He sure has, unless Creede came back to life. I'm not sitting on his chest now, holding him down.”
Kells drew back, manifestly convinced and relieved. This action seemed to be a magnet for Pearce. He detached himself from the group, and, approaching Kells, tapped him significantly on the shoulder; and whether by design or accident the fact was that he took a position where Kells was between him and Cleve.
“Jack, you're being double-crossed here—an' by more 'n one,” he said, deliberately. “But if you want me to talk you've got to guarantee no gun-play.”
“Speak up, Red,” replied Kells, with a glinting eye. “I swear there won't be a gun pulled.”
The other men shifted from one foot to another and there were deep-drawn breaths. Jim Cleve alone seemed quiet and cool. But his eyes were ablaze.
“Fust off an' for instance here's one who's double-crossin' you,” said Pearce, in slow, tantalizing speech, as if he wore out this suspense to torture Kells. And without ever glancing at Joan he jerked a thumb, in significant gesture, at her.
Joan leaned back against the wall, trembling and cold all over. She read Pearce's mind. He knew her secret and meant to betray her and Jim. He hated Kells and wanted to torture him. If only she could think quickly and speak! But she seemed dumb and powerless.
“Pearce, what do you mean?” demanded Kells.
“The girl's double-crossin' you,” replied Pearce. With the uttered words he grew pale and agitated.
Suddenly Kells appeared to become aware of Joan's presence and that the implication was directed toward her. Then, many and remarkable as had been the changes Joan had seen come over him, now occurred one wholly greater. It had all his old amiability, his cool, easy manner, veiling a deep and hidden ruthlessness, terrible in contrast.