He grasped the thing that she gave him.
“All I could get,” she whispered; “all I could get; two years’ stealin’s.”
It was a bundle of bank-notes. To the touch an old forgotten feeling swept hot through him. “Who’s keepin’ you? Who’re you hanging up with?” he growled, his iron fingers sinking into her shoulder.
She was against him; in the semi-obscurity he could see her face, worn now; it was turned up to him wide-eyed.
“I couldn’t do it alone, John,” she said, in a wondering tone; “I couldn’t climb walls and plant guns; I couldn’t do that, John.”
He thrust her aside and started for the door. Her two hands half went out after him in an unvoluntary detaining gesture, but “Quick,” she whispered, fiercely; “quick, for the hills!”
The door swept open; he plunged down the steps as if into a black sea; his feet did not sound; there was immediate silence.
“He’s gone,” she said, there alone, in the still dark hallway.
