“YOU—MARRIED—THEM!”
“Yes.”
Kells was slow in assimilating the truth and his action corresponded with his mind. Slowly his hand moved toward his gun. He drew it, threw it aloft. And then all the terrible evil in the man flamed forth. But as he deliberately drew down on the preacher Blicky leaped forward and knocked up the gun. Flash and report followed; the discharge went into the roof. Blicky grasped Kells's arm and threw his weight upon it to keep it down.
“I fetched thet parson here,” he yelled, “an you ain't a-goin' to kill him!... Help, Jesse!... He's crazy! He'll do it!”
Jesse Smith ran to Blicky's aid and tore the gun out of Kells's hand. Jim Cleve grasped the preacher by the shoulders and, whirling him around, sent him flying out of the door.
“Run for your life!” he shouted.
Blicky and Jesse Smith were trying to hold the lunging Kells.
“Jim, you block the door,” called Jesse. “Bate, you grab any loose guns an' knives.... Now, boss, rant an' be damned!”
They released Kells and backed away, leaving him the room. Joan's limbs seemed unable to execute her will.
“Joan! It's true,” he exclaimed, with whistling breath.