She flashed swiftly around, to see Slade sitting in a chair near the foot of the bed.

He was bending forward, his elbows on his knees, his knuckles supporting his chin, watching her with a wide, amused grin.
For a long, breathless space she looked at him; noting the evil light in his eyes and the cruel, bestial curve of his lips.

She saw how his gaze quickened as he watched her; how he had drawn one foot under him--obviously to be used as leverage for a rapid leap should she try to reach the door.
"It ain't no use, ma'am," he said; "you're here, an' you're goin' to stay for a while." He got up and walked to the door, placing his back against it and grinning widely as he looked down at her, as she yielded to a long shudder of dread.
During the silence that followed Slade's words Ruth could hear faint sounds from below--the clinking of glasses, the scuffling of feet, a low murmur of voices.

She knew, then, that they had brought her to a room above a saloon--the Wolf, she supposed, for that was where Warden said he intended to bring her.
She watched Slade fearfully, divining that he meant to attack her.

She could see that determination in his eyes and in his manner.