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Updated: June 27, 2025
"Nick goes up the hill to clean up on Donnegan. He sees him; they size each other up in a flash; they figure that if they's a gun it means a double killin' and they simply haul off and say a perlite fare-thee-well." The girl paid no attention to these remarks. She was sunk in a brown study. "There's something behind it all," she said, more to herself than to the men.
"And therefore," said Lord Nick, "since most of The Corner expects business from us, it seems much as if one of us must kill the other before we part." "As a matter of fact," said Donnegan, "I have been keeping that in mind." He added, with that deadly smile of his that never reached his eyes: "I never disappoint the public when it's possible to satisfy them."
Yet something more than all these qualifications is necessary for the task which lies ahead of you." "You pile up the bad features, eh?" "To entice you, Donnegan. For one man, paint a rosy beginning, and once under way he will manage the hard parts. For you, show you the hard shell and you will trust it contains the choice flesh.
Seeing them together, the difference between their sizes was more apparent: Donnegan seemed hardly larger than a child beside the splendid bulk of Lord Nick. But she could not overhear their talk. "You've won," said Lord Nick, "both Landis and Nelly. And " "Wait," broke in Donnegan eagerly.
It was no wonder that the girl, seeing that face and that alert, aggressive body, shrank a little on the stairs. Donnegan, that instant, knew that these two women were really alone in the house as far as fighting men were concerned. And the fact disturbed him more than a leveled gun would have done.
There was no weapon in Donnegan's hand, and yet George hesitated, balanced and then slowly drew himself erect. He was puzzled. An outburst of oaths, the flash of a gun, and he would have been at home in the brawl, but the silence, the smile of Donnegan and the steady glance were too much for him. He moistened his lips, and yet he could not speak.
Expectancy? Love? It stopped Donnegan like a blow in the face and turned his heart to lead; and then, shamelessly, he glided around the tent and dropped down beside it to eavesdrop. After all, there was some excuse. If she loved the man he, Donnegan, would let him live; if she did not love him, he, Donnegan, would kill him like a worthless rat under heel. That is, if he could.
The many tokens that something was wrong came to her by small hints which had to be put together before they assumed any importance. First of all, her father, who should have burst out at her in a tirade for having left Lord Nick for Donnegan said nothing at all, but kept a dark smile on his face when she was near him.
If ever a man risked his life to avoid a sin, it was Donnegan jumping from the train to keep from murder. He stooped to sight along the ground, for this is the best way at night and often horizon lights are revealed in this manner. But now Donnegan saw nothing to serve as a guide.
When it was done he waited for a time, another five minutes, perhaps, to see if the door would be moved back. And when it was not disturbed, but allowed to stand open, he knew that Donnegan still slept. It was time then for action, and Lefty Joe prepared for the descent into the home of the enemy.
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