won't, but I thought we'd better have a clear understanding, and she knows
now it's bigamy in her case, and bigamy's a penitentiary offense. I made
that clear. And now see here, David: I'm going to stay here in this
settlement, and I don't want any trouble from you, no matter what you
think of my doings, past, present, or future. I don't want you to say
anything, or _look_ anything. Don't you let on, even to that girl of
yours, that you ever saw me before in your life. If you do, you'll wish
you _had_ split my head open with that ax. But I'm not afraid; I've
got you safe, and I've got your sister safe."

Gillespie groaned. Then he said desperately, "Listen here, Joseph Dylks!
I know what you're after, here, because you always was: other people's
money. I've got three hundred dollars saved up since I paid off the
mortgage. If you'll take it and go--"

"Three hundred dollars! No, no! Keep your money, old man. I don't rob the
poor." Dylks lifted himself, and said with that air of mysterious mastery
which afterwards won so many to his obedience, "I work my work. Let no man
gainsay me or hinder me." He walked to and fro in the starlight, swelling,
with his head up and his mane of black hair cloudily flying over his
shoulders as he turned. "I come from God."

Gillespie looked at him as he paced back and forth. "If I didn't know you
for a common scoundrel that married my sister against my will, and lived
on her money till it was gone, and then left her and let her believe he
was dead, I might believe you _did_ come from God--or the Devil, you
--you turkey cock, you stallion! But you can't prance _me_ down, or
snort me down. I don't agree to anything. I don't say I won't tell who you
are when it suits me. I won't promise to keep it from this one or that one
or any one. I'll let you go just so far, and then--"