“I seen him, Arthur,” said the talkative twin, who then looked at the groom. “Get up here with the rest of your posse.”
Enervated, Jim walked up and stood next to Oswell.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
The groom put his huge hands behind his back. Heavy footfalls echoed on the dais. The twin who was called Arthur holstered his guns, pulled a cord from beneath his coat, and tightly bound Jim’s wrists.
“Now we got four of a kind,” remarked the talker. “That’s a pretty good hand in poker.”
Minister Orton grabbed Beatrice’s left arm and walked her to the side of the dais where Wilfreda sat at her piano and stared at the keys as if in quiet conspiracy.
The holy man tapped the ancient woman’s ear with the barrel of his gun. “Sit somewhere else.”
“I play the piano,” stated Wilfreda.
W
