Satisfied that the object she sought was nowhere in the circle she had covered, she moved a step from the table and winked the light beneath it.She squatted on the floor and flashed it carefully over every inch of its boards from one corner of the room to the other and under the couch.
She rose softly, glided behind the head of the sleeping man and stood back some six feet, lest the flash of the torch might disturb him.She threw its rays behind the couch and slowly raised them until they covered the dirty pillow on which Jim was sleeping.There beneath the pillow lay the bag with its precious treasure.He was sleeping on it.She had feared this, but felt sure that the whiskey he had drunk would hold him in its stupor until late next morning.
She crouched low and fixed the light's ray slowly on the bag that her hand might not err the slightest in its touch.She laid her bony fingers on it with a slow, imperceptible movement, held them there a moment and moved the bag the slightest bit to test the sleeper's wakefulness.To her surprise he stirred instantly.
"What'ell!" he growled sleepily.
She stood motionless until he was breathing again with deep, even, heavy throb.Gliding back to the table, she flashed the light again on the bag and studied its position.His big neck rested squarely across it.To move it without waking him was a physical impossibility.
Here was a dilemma she had not fully faced.She had not believed it possible for him to place the bag where she could not get it.Her only purpose up to this moment had been to take it and store it safely beneath the soft earth in the inner recess of the cave.He would miss it in the morning, of course.She would express her amazement.The bar would be down from the front door.Someone had robbed him.The money could never be found.
She had made up her mind to take it the moment he had convinced her that his philosophy of life was true.His eloquence had transformed her from an ignorant old woman, content with her poverty and dirt, into a dangerous and daring criminal.
There was no such thing as failure to be thought of now for a moment.The spade in the inner room of her store-house could be put to larger use if necessary.With the strength of the madness now on her she could carry his body on her back through the woods.The world would be none the wiser.He had quarreled with his wife, and left her in a rage that night.That was all she knew.The sheriff of neither county could afford to bother his head long over an insolvable mystery.Besides, both sheriffs were her friends.
Her decision was instantaneous when once she saw that it was safe.
She smiled over the grim irony of the thing--his words kept humming in her ears, his voice, low and persuasive:
"Suppose now the man that got that money had to kill a fool to take it--what of it?You don't get big money any other way!"On the shelf beside the door was a butcher knife which she also used for carving.She had sharpened its point that night to carve her Christmas turkey next day.
She raised the torch and flashed its rays on the shelf to guide her hand, crept to the wall, took down the knife and laid the electric torch in its place.
Steadying her body against the wall, her arms outspread, she edged her way behind the couch and bent over the sleeping man until by his breathing she had located his heart.
She raised her tall figure and brought the knife down with a crash into his breast.With a sudden wrench she drew it from the wound and crouched among the shadows watching him with wide-dilated eyes.The stricken sleeper gasped for breath, his writhing body fairly leaped into the air, bounded on the couch and stood erect.He staggered backward and lurched toward her.The crouching figure bent low, gripping the knife and waiting for her chance to strike the last blow.
Strangling with blood, Jim opened his eyes and saw the old woman creeping nearer through the gray light of the dawn.
He threw his hands above his head and tried to shout his warning.She was on him, her trembling hand feeling for his throat, before he could speak.
Struggling, in his weakened condition, to tear her fingers away, he gasped:
"Here!Here!Great God!Do you know what you're doing?""I just want yer money," she whispered."That's all, and I'm a-goin' ter have it!"Her fingers closed and the knife sank into his neck.
She sprang back and watched him lurch and fall across the couch.His body writhed a moment in agony and was still.
Holding the knife in her hand, she tore open the bag and thrust her itching fingers into the gold, gripping it fiercely.
"Nobody's goin' to ask ye how ye got it--they just want to know HAVE ye got it--yeah! Yeah----"The last word died on her lips.The door of the shed-room suddenly opened and Mary stood before her.
