Then he felt George's arms about him. He heard Slim's oath. The jolting of the wheels was less difficult. The train resumed its smooth haste. The lights came on, and Garth stared at the inspector and other men he knew, holding leveled revolvers. Somebody cried out:
"Take care!"
Garth turned in time to see Slim whirling the bottle from which the cork had been drawn, and from whose neck the liquid was already spouting towards his face.
"Then shoot!" Slim shouted.
He heard Nora's voice, screaming:
"You won't, Slim!"
He moved his head. He saw the woman in mourning who had thrown back her veil, exposing Nora's face and Nora's eyes which reflected the unbelief and the horror of her voice. The future seemed to crush upon him, a sable weight, lowered by her as the result of a deliberate choice.
The liquid struck his forehead, filled his eyes. He wondered why the pain wasn't greater. He could not grasp the fact that he still read through a blur the tense unbelief of Nora's face, and saw vaguely the two condemned men struggling in the grasp of the detectives who fastened upon their unwilling wrists gleaming handcuffs. Then he understood, and laughing a little hysterically, shook the water from his eyes.
Shame of his doubt joined the relief that swept him with the urgency of a material suffering. He
