Katie looked at him with glittering eyes. She stood against the wall, motionless. Her face had very white beneath her crumpled red hat. Her eyes glittered. Her upper lip was gathered together, frilled. The old woman in the bed glanced from Gypo to Katie and from Katie to Gypo. Her eyes danced with merriment. She kept cuddling herself, as if in an ecstasy of enjoyment. “What are ye talkin’ about?” said Katie at length. “Th’ Organization is after me,” he muttered without looking at her. “Commandant Gallagher is goin’ to plug me. I escaped outa the cell in the Bogey Hole.” “What are they goin’ to plug ye for? In the name o’ goodness, what are they goin’ to plug ye for?” Katie Fox’s voice was cold and passionless, but Gypo did not notice. She had a queer, thin smile on her lips, but Gypo did not look at her face. She had a flashing light in her eyes as she spoke, but Gypo had not seen it. He was staring dreamily into the fire. He was tired out and sleepy. There was no use keeping watch any longer. He was tired, tired, tired. Tired and sleepy. What was the use of keeping watch any longer? Sleep, sleep, sleep. Then he would go straight to the south. He would rush to the south with the wind, through all obstacles. Sleep, sleep, sleep. “It doesn’t matter what they’re after me for,” he muttered. There was another silence. Sleep, sleep, sleep. “They want to get me outa their way,” he mumbled again. “But they’re not goin’ to get me. Katie, I’m goin’ to flop here for the night. I’ll stay till to-morrow night. Then I’m going south. Here’s all the money I have.” He rummaged in his trousers pocket and brought out on his palm four shillings and sixpence. He handed it to her. She approached and held out her right hand for it, with a mincing movement. “Gimme that money. Gimme that money,” screamed the old woman from the bed. She struggled to sit up. “You shut up, Louisa,” growled Gypo, half turning towards her across his shoulder. “Shut up or I’ll flatten ye.” The old woman collapsed, grinning. Then she caught up a stick that lay beside her in the bed. She shook the stick at Katie Fox. “She robs me, she robs me,” she wailed, in a thin, cracked voice. “I’ll sleep here on the floor, Katie,” said Gypo. “Hey, Katie. I’ll sleep here in front o’ the fire. Katie, what’s the matter with ye? Why don’t ye talk to me?” Katie burst into laughter. She had sat down on a low stool to the left of the fire on receiving the money. Now she jumped to her feet and laughed. It was a queer, dry laugh. There was a dreamy look in her eyes. She looked at the floor, wrapped in thought. “Are ye drunk or what’s the matter with ye?” grumbled Gypo. “There’s nothin’ at all the matter with me,” murmured Katie dreamily, still looking at the floor. Then she drew in a deep breath and shrugged herself. She became alive and energetic again, wide awake, with piercing eyes. She began to talk at an amazing speed, with her arms crossed on her breasts.