I REACHED the other door, I heered a quick patter of feet
outside. I wheeled--the outer door bust violently open, and into the
room rushed Glory O'Dale. She was panting hard, her dress was tore,
her black locks damp, and her dark eyes was wet and bright as black
jewels after a rain. And she had Ace's six-shooter in her hand.
"You filthy dog!" she cried, throwing down on me.
I looked right into the muzzle of that .45 as she jerked the trigger. The
hammer snapped on a faulty cartridge, and before she could try again,
Spike launched hisself from the floor at her. I'd taught him never to bite
a woman. He didn't bite Glory. He throwed hisself bodily against her so
hard he knocked her down and the gun flew outa her hand.
I picked it up and stuck it into my hip pocket. Then I started to help her
up, but she hit my hand aside and jumped up, tears of fury running
down her cheeks. Golly, she was a beauty!
"You beast!" she raged. "What have you done with Ace? I'll kill you if
you've harmed him! Is he in that room?"
"Yeah, and he ain't harmed," I said, "but he oughta be hung--"
She screamed like a siren. "Don't you dare! Don't you touch a hair of
his head! Oh, Ace!"
She then slapped my face, jerked out a handful of hair, and kicked both
my shins.
"What I can't understand is," I said, escaping her clutches, "is why a
fine girl like you ties up with a low-down rat like Bissett. With your
looks, Glory--"
"To the devil with my looks!" she wept, stamping on the door. "Let me
past; I know Ace is in that room--I heard his voice as I came in."
They wasn't no noise in the inner room now. Evidently all of them was
listening to what was going on out here, Ace included.
"You can't go in there," I said. "We got to search Ace for the
incriminatin' evidence he's holdin' against Jed Whithers' sister--"
"You're mad as a March hare," she said. "Let me by!"
And without no warning she back-heeled me and pushed me with both
hands. It was so unexpected I ignominiously crashed to the floor, and
she darted past me and throwed open the inner door. Spike drove for
her, and this time he was red-eyed, but I grabbed him as he went by.
Glory halted an instant on the threshold with a cry of mingled triumph,
fear and rage. I riz, cussing beneath my breath and dusting off my
britches. Glory ran across the room, eluding the grasping paws of Joe
Galt, and throwed herself with passionate abandon on the prostrate
form of Ace Bissett. I noticed that Ace, which hadn't till then showed
the slightest sign of fear, was suddenly pale and his jaw was grim set.
"It was madness for you to come, Glory," he muttered.
"I saw Dorgan throw you into the car," she whimpered, throwing her
arms around him, and tugging vainly at his cords. "I jumped in another
and followed--blew out a tire a short distance from here--lost sight of
the car I was following and wandered around in the dark alleys on foot
for awhile, till I saw the car standing outside. I came on in--"
"Alone? My God!" groaned Ace.
"Alone?" echoed Galt, with a sigh of relief. He flicked some dust from
his lapel, stuck his cigar back in his mouth at a cocky angle, and said:
"Well, now, we'll have a little talk. Come here, Glory."
She clung closer to Ace, and Ace said in a low voice, almost a whisper:
"Let her alone, Galt." His eyes was like fires burning under the ice.
Galt's muggs was grinning evilly and muttering to theirselves. Whithers
was nervous and kept mopping perspiration. The air was tense. I was
nervous and impatient; something was wrong, and I didn't know what.
So when Galt started to say something, I took matters into my own
hands.
"Bissett," I said, striding across the room and glaring down at him, "if
they's a ounce of manhood in you, this here girl's devotion oughta touch
even your snakish soul. Why don't you try to redeem yourself a little,
anyway? Kick in with that paper! A man which is loved by a woman
like Glory O'Dale loves you, oughta be above holdin' a forged
confession over a innocent girl's head."
Bissett's mouth fell open. "What's he talking about?" he demanded
from the world at large.
"I don't know," said Glory uneasily, snuggling closer to him. "He talked
that way out in the other room. I think he's punch-drunk."
"Dorgan," said Bissett, "you don't belong in this crowd. Are you
suffering from some sort of an
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