"There are plenty of other
places I can get. I could stay right here for that matter if I wanted
to--but I don't. I wouldn't live in this house any longer if my pay were
doubled." As he spoke he had looked away. Now of a sudden his glance
returned. "I meant to quit anyway, whether you sold or not."
"Why so?" queried Craig, and unconsciously the scowl was repeated. "You
seemed glad enough to come."
"I was--then," shortly.
"And why not now? Talk up, if you've any grievance. Don't sit there like
a chimpanzee, hugging it."
"You know why well enough," ignored the other. He passed a knotty hand
through his shock of red whiskers absently. "I've expected the devil or
worse here every night these last weeks."
Craig tried to laugh; but the effort resulted in failure.
"God," he satirised, "who'd ever imagined you were the superstitious
sort! Weren't you ever in a place where anyone died before?"
"I never was where a woman and her child were murdered," deliberately.
Quick as thought Craig's red face whitened.
"Damn you, O'Reilly," he challenged, "you're free with your tongue." He
checked himself. "I don't wish to quarrel with you to-night, though," he
conciliated.
"Nor I with you," returned the other impassively. "I was merely telling
you the truth. Besides, it's none of my affair; and even if it were, I'm
thinking you'll pay for it dear enough before you're through."
Craig straightened in his seat; but not as before in attitude
supercilious.
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