Whispering Smith
his astonishment. “Arrest him? Arrest Sinclair? Dicksie, are you crazy? Why the devil should I arrest Sinclair? Do you suppose I am going to mix up in a fight like this? Do you think I want to get killed? The level-headed man in this country, just at present, is the man who can keep out of trouble, and the man who succeeds, let me tell you, has got more than plenty to do.”
Lance, getting no answer but a fierce, searching gaze from Dicksie’s wild eyes, laid his hand on a chair, lighted a cigar, and sat down before the fire. Dicksie dropped the telephone receiver, put her hand to her girdle, and looked at him. When she spoke her tone was stinging. “You know that man is going to Medicine Bend to kill his wife!”
Lance took the cigar from his mouth and returned her look. “I know no such thing,” he growled curtly.
“And to kill George McCloud, if he can.”
He stared without reply.
“You heard him say so,” persisted Dicksie vehemently.
Lance crossed his legs and threw back the brim of his hat. “McCloud is nobody’s fool. He will look out for himself.”
“These fiendish wires to Medicine Bend are down. Why hasn’t this line been repaired?” she
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