him, moving forward with a slow and cat-like tread. But there was a menace in every movement. And the black pistol, I noticed, was trained directly at Wendy Washburn's head.
"For two pins I'd plug you where you stand!" she said. But she said it with an ominous quietness that gave me goose-flesh from the ground up.
"And what good would that do you?" asked the man so quietly confronting her. But he kept his troubled eyes on that barrel-end all the time.
"It might do me more good than you imagine!" she retorted with unreserved malignity.
"Then don't let me interfere with any of your personal pleasures," was the other's quiet-toned reply. It seemed to puzzle the threatening woman for a moment, for she gave a cat-like "sphttt" at him as she stood somewhat frowningly regarding his impassive face. Then she backed slowly away, and once more dominated the entire line with her black-metaled barrel.
"This is going to do the talking for me," she told them, with a wave of her automatic. "And it won't need to speak twice. So mind what I've told you, and stay where you are. And the longer you stay there the safer it'll be for you."
Still again she started to fall back, catching up
