You're a bit scorched-hair, eyebrows, moustache, clothes too,
but he'll have brimstone inside him. Come along. Your wife would rather
have it this way; and so will you, to-morrow. Come along."
Dennis suddenly swung round with a gesture of fury. "He spoiled
her-treated her like dirt!" he cried huskily.
With savage purpose he made a movement towards where Marchand had lain;
but Marchand was gone. With foresight Ingolby had quickly and quietly
accomplished that while Dennis's back was turned.
"You'd be treating her like a brute if you went to prison for killing
Marchand," urged Ingolby. "Give her a chance. She's fretting her heart
out."
"She wants to go back to Elk Mountain with you," pleaded Fleda gently.
"She couldn't do that if the law took hold of you."
"Ain't there to be any punishment for men like him?" demanded Dennis,
stubbornly yet helplessly. "Why didn't I let him burn! I'd have been
willing to burn myself to have seen him sizzling. Ain't men like that to
be punished at all?"
"When he knows who has saved him, he'll sizzle inside for the rest of his
life," remarked Ingolby. "Don't think he hasn't got a heart. He's done
wrong and gone wrong; he has belonged to the sewer, but he isn't all bad,
and maybe this is the turning-point.
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