Page:Wadsworth Camp--the gray mask.djvu/289

Rh His momentary resistance was smothered by Nora's sharp cry:

"Don't fight, Jim!"

His sense of utter helplessness increased, while the men, in obedience to Slim's gestures, stretched him on the floor. The surface was wet, as if the ooze of the river had penetrated this far. Slim stooped and glared at him, his eyes exposing a measureless resentment.

"Thanks for walking into our parlor, you fly cop. We heard how you and the skirt had fallen for each other. We guessed if we gave you a lead with some of her trinklets, you'd play the busy sleuth hound."

Nora's voice held the quality of a sob.

"Jim! Why did you come?"

He shrugged his shoulders. He forced on himself a semblance of confidence.

"Planted or not, the trail was my best chance."

Slim beckoned to George.

"Straight you've come to the place where I've dreamed for months of getting you."

Garth managed a grin.

"Cut out the bum acting, Slim. Let's hear what you've got on your mind."

He shrank from a reply. More and more he was impressed by the indifference with which these confederates constantly revealed their faces. He knew, if the inspector did not arrive quickly, he must suffer an eccentric and barbarous punishment. He tried to forecast the penalty, but his imagination