"Go
after him!" But Ballard stood very still, his eyes narrowing.
"And what about them bitches?" he said, motioning with his head toward
the door of Mary's cell, pierced by the barred window. "They heard the
whole of it, too."
"Fool!" cried Purceville, with deliberate menace. "They'll not live
out the night. Now go!
"
Ballard lowered his head, then walked sullenly past his two superiors:
the one living, the other dead. He began to descend in pursuit, but
his pace was far from running.
After a time he slowed to a walk. . .then finally stopped altogether.
He knew the man could not escape him. The thick and impenetrable door
sealed him in, and two of his own men guarded the long, unapproachable
corridor. No outsider would hear his cries, or come to his aid.
But this was not what made him pause. Things were becoming too
complicated, as the old man took more and more chances to protect
himself. And what if he failed? Who had been his `loyal right hand'
these many years, doing the dirty work, and taking all the risks?
"Toby Ballard," he muttered.
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