“Red, I thought our talk concerned men and gold and—things,” he said, with a cool, slow softness that had a sting, “but since you've nerve enough or are crazy enough to speak of—her—why, explain your meaning.”
Pearce's jaw worked so that he could scarcely talk. He had gone too far—realized it too late.
“She meets a man—back there—at her window,” he panted. “They whisper in the dark for hours. I've watched an' heard them. An' I'd told you before, but I wanted to make sure who he was.... I know him now!... An' remember I seen him climb in an' out—”
Kells's whole frame leaped. His gun was a flash of blue and red and white all together. Pearce swayed upright, like a tree chopped at the roots, and then fell, face up, eyes set—dead. The bandit leader stood over him with the smoking gun.
“My Gawd, Jack!” gasped Handy Oliver. “You swore no one would pull a gun—an' here you've killed him yourself!... YOU'VE DOUBLE-CROSSED YOURSELF! An' if I die for it I've got to tell you Red wasn't lyin' then!”
Kells's radiance fled, leaving him ghastly. He stared at Oliver.
“You've double-crossed yourself an' your pards,” went on Oliver, pathetically. “What's your word amount to? Do you expect the gang to stand for this?... There lays Red Pearce dead. An' for what? Jest once—relyin' on your oath—he speaks out what might have showed you. An' you kill him!... If I knowed what he knowed I'd tell you now with thet gun in your hand! But I don't know. Only I know he wasn't lyin'.... Ask the girl!... An' as for me, I reckon I'm through with you an' your Legion. You're done, Kells—your head's gone—you've broke over thet slip of a woman!”
Oliver spoke with a rude and impressive dignity. When he ended he strode out into the sunlight.
Kells was shaken by this forceful speech, yet he was not in any sense a broken man. “Joan—you heard Pearce,” said he, passionately. “He lied about you. I had to kill him. He hinted—Oh, the low-lived dog! He could not know a good woman. He lied—and there he is—dead! I wouldn't fetch him back for a hundred Legions!”
“But it—it wasn't—all—a lie,” said Joan, and her words came haltingly because a force stronger than her cunning made her speak. She had reached a point where she could not deceive Kells to save her life.