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Come with one in hack to courtyard of the Palace Hotel at 7:40." Mother Borton's face changed not a whit at the reading, but at the end she nodded. "She knows," she said. "What does it mean?" I asked. "What is to happen?" "Don't go, dearie you won't go, will you?" "Yes," I said. "I must go." "Oh," she wailed; "you may be killed. You may never come back."
"That's right! you'll be yourself in a jiffy." Barkhouse was soon propped up on the lounge in the guard-room, and with a few sips of whisky and a fresh bandage began to look like a more hopeful case. "'Twas a nasty cut," said one of the men sympathetically. "How did you get it?" I asked. "I don't rightly know," said Barkhouse faintly. "'Twas the night you went to Mother Borton's last week.
I didn't see him myself, or you might have found the rest of it in the newspaper." "What did he do? Tell me about it." Mrs. Knapp gave every evidence of absorbed interest. "Well, he laid a trap for me at Borton's, put Terrill in as advance guard, and raised blue murder about the place."
The desertion of these headquarters swelled my fears. Though Terrill, disabled by wounds, was groaning with pain and rage at Livermore, and the night's arrests at Borton's had reduced the numbers of the band, Darby Meeker was still on the active list. And Doddridge Knapp? He was free now to follow his desperate plot to its end without risking his schemes of fortune.
Phillips got here a bit ago, and I think he has something to report." As Phillips had been sent scouting with Barkhouse I thought it likely, and called him to my room. "No, sir, I didn't see Bob for nigh on an hour before I came back. Not after we got to Borton's." "I left him just outside the door," I said. "Then you seen him after I did.
It was a relief to pass beyond her into a recessed part of the room where her gaze might waste itself on the back of my head. "Mother Borton's up late to-night," said Dicky thoughtfully, as he ordered wine. "You can't blame her for thinking that this crowd needs watching," I suggested with as much of airiness as I could throw into my manner.
That she-devil?" cried Dicky. "She'd give you up to have your throat cut in a minute if she could get a four-bit piece for your carcass. I guess she could get more than that on you, too." Mother Borton's warnings against Dicky Nahl returned to me with force at this expression of esteem from the young man, and I was filled with doubts.
"She is used to keeping secrets, I suppose," replied Mrs. Knapp. "But I must reward her well for what she has done." "She is beyond fear or reward." "Dead?" cried Mrs. Knapp in a shocked voice. "And how?" "She died, I fear, because she befriended me." And then I told her the story of Mother Borton's end. "Poor creature!" said Mrs. Knapp sadly. "Yet perhaps it is better so.
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