eBooks Base 2000

His fingers came in contact with the knife which upheld
the sash, and he plucked it out, holding it up into the beam of light
passing through the rent in the torn curtain. He stared at the
curiously carved handle intently.
"This is certainly hell," he said soberly. "That's Jim Westcott's
jack-knife. He's been listening to all we said. Now we are up against
it."
"What's that?" The question came from Enright, still at the corner of
the house, unable to tell what had happened.
"Westcott has been here listening to our talk. He pried up the window
with this knife, so he could hear. Moore caught him, and got knocked
out."
"He--he heard our talk in--in there," repeated the dazed lawyer, his
lips trembling. "And--has got away? Good God! man, where has he gone?
After the sheriff?"
Lacy stared at him through the darkness, and burst into a roar of
unrestrained laughter.
"Who? Jim Westcott? The sheriff? Well, hardly at this stage of the
game. That's your way down East, no doubt, but out in this country the
style is different.


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