It did not occur to him that Mary Bransford, for instance, or
Sanderson--or anybody whom he robbed--could experience any emotion or
passion over their losses. They might feel resentful, to be sure; but
resentment could avail them little--and it didn't bring the dollars
back to them.
He chuckled. He was thinking of the Bransfords now--and Sanderson. He
had put a wolf on Sanderson's trail--he and Silverthorn; and Sanderson
would soon cease to bother him.
He chuckled again; and he sat in the chair at the desk, hugely enjoying
himself until the cigar was finished. Then he got up, locked the
doors, and went upstairs.
Peggy Nyland had not recovered consciousness. The woman who was caring
for the girl sat near an open window that looked out upon Okar's one
street when Maison entered the room.
Maison asked her if there was any change; was told there was not. He
stood for an instant at the window, mentally anathematizing Dale for
bringing the girl to his rooms, and for keeping her there; then he
dismissed the woman, who went down the stairs, opened the door that
Maison had locked, and went outside.
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