Short Stories
"Clever—hell!" Matt broke out. "That's the way reputations
is made. . .in the noospapers. How'd we know he was robbin'
his pardner?"
"Anyway, we've got the goods," Jim grinned. "Let's look at
'em again."
He assured himself that the door was locked and bolted,
while Matt brought out the bundle in the bandana and opened
it on the table.
"Ain't they beauties, though!" Jim exclaimed at sight of the
pearls; and for a time he had eyes only for them. "Accordin' to
the experts, worth from fifty to seventy thousan' dollars."
"An' women like them things," Matt commented. "An'
they'll do everything to get ''em—sell themselves, commit
murder, anything."
"Just like you an' me."
"Not on your life," Matt retorted. "I'll commit murder for
'em, but nor their own sakes, but for sake of what they'll get
me. That's the difference. Women want the jools for them-
selves, an' I want the jools for the women an' such things
they'll get me."
"Lucky that men an' women don't want the same things,"
Jim remarked.
"That's what makes commerce," Matt agreed; "people
wantin' different things."
In the middle of the afternoon Jim went out to buy food.
While he was gone, Matt cleared the table of the jewels, wrap-
ping them up as before and putting them under the pillow.
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