When she was done he stayed thus for a moment apparently so buried in thought that he could not rouse himself. "Well," she said, surprised at his silence, "isn't it true what I said? Hasn't fate rounded things up for him?" The chair creaked as he moved, heavily as if with an effort. He laid his hands on the arms and drew himself forward. "Yes," he muttered, "it sounds pretty straight." "Would anything you could do beat that?" He sat humped together looking at the floor, his powerful, gnarled hands gripping at the chair arms. She could see the top of his head with a bald place showing through the thick, low-lying grizzle of hair. "Nup," he said, "I guess not." He heaved himself up and walked across the room to the window. "It's as hot as hell in here," he growled as he fumbled at the sash. "Hot!" she exclaimed. "Why, it's cold. What's the matter with you?" "It's these barred-up city places; they knock me out. I smother in 'em." He threw back the window and stood in the opening. "I'll shut it in a minute." She pulled up the Navajo blanket and cowering under it said with vengeful zest: "I guess there won't be a more surprised person in this burg than Mr. Boye Mayer when they come after him." "Do you know when they're calculatin' to do it?" "Thursday or Friday. Charlie said he was going to give the Express people his information some time tomorrow and after they'd fixed things he'd spring the story in the _Despatch_." "If he gives it in tomorrow they'll have him by evening." "I don't think they'll be in any rush. Mr. Mayer's not going to skip; he's too busy with his courting." There was no reply, and pulling the blanket higher, for the night air struck cold, she went on in her embittered self-torment: "I wanted to give him a jolt myself and I tried, but I might as well have stayed out. You and me show up pretty small when the law gets busy. That's the time for us to lie low and watch. And he thinking himself so safe, drawing out all the money. Maybe it was to buy her presents or get his wedding clothes. I'd like--" The voice from the window interrupted her. "That paper--the one he had under the floor--Crowder said a piece was tore out?" "Yes, part of his correspondence letter--the last paragraph about me. Don't you remember it? It was that one after 'The Zingara' started, way back in August. I showed it to you here one evening. I thought maybe Mayer had read it and that was what brought him to see me--got him sort of curious. But Charlie thinks he wasn't bothering about papers just then. He had it on him and used it to wrap up the money and that piece got torn out someway by accident." "Um--looks that way." The current of air was chilling the room, and Pancha, shivering under the blanket, protested. "Say, Pa, aren't you going to shut that window? It's letting in an awful draught." He made no movement to do so, and, surprised at his indifference to her comfort, she said uneasily, "You ain't got a fever, have you?"