He finished hoarsely: "What
the hell's this?"
"Why," smiled the taller man, "you've never done much in the interests
of charity, and now's a good time for you to start. Hurry up, McGuire;
we're late already!"
There was a snarl from the storekeeper, and he went for his gun, but
something in the peculiarly steady eyes of the two made him stop with
his fingers frozen hard around the butt.
He whispered: "You're Red Pierre?"
"The clothes," repeated Pierre sternly, "on the jump, McGuire."
And with a jump McGuire obeyed. His hands trembled so that he could
hardly remove the scarf from the shoulders of the model, but afterward
fear made his fingers supple, as he did up the clothes in two bundles.
Jacqueline took one of them and Pierre the other under his left arm;
with his right hand he drew out some yellow coins.
"I didn't buy these clothes because I didn't have the time to dicker
with you, McGuire. I've heard you talk prices before, you know. But
here's what the clothes are worth to us."
And into the quaking hands of McGuire he poured a chinking stream of
gold pieces.
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