“Keegles married the woman,” he said coldly, “because he thought she was Langford’s real daughter.” He looked at Sheila with a glance of compassion. “Later, when Keegles discovered that the woman was only Langford’s stepdaughter, he was mighty sorry. Not for Langford, however, because he could not consider Langford’s feelings. And in spite of what he had done he was still determined to secure revenge.
“One day Langford came to Keegles with a proposal. He had seen Keegles kill one man, and he wanted to hire him to kill another—a man named Doubler. Keegles agreed, for the purpose of getting Langford into——”
Dakota hesitated, for Langford had risen to his feet and stood looking at him, his eyes bulging, his face livid.
“You!” he said, in a choking, wailing voice; “you—you, are Ned Keegles! You—you—— Why——” he hesitated and passed a hand uncertainly over his forehead, looking from Sheila to Dakota with glazed eyes. “You—you are a liar!” he suddenly screamed, his voice raised to a maniacal pitch. “It isn’t so! You—both of you—have conspired against me!”
“Wait!” Dakota got to his feet, walked to a shelf, and took down a small glass, a pair of shears, a shaving cup, and a razor. While Langford watched, staring at him with fearful, wondering eyes, Dakota deftly snipped off the mustache with the shears, lathered his lip, and shaved it clean. Then he turned and confronted Langford.
The latter looked at him with one, long, intense gaze, and then with a dry sob which caught in his throat and seemed to choke him, he covered his face with his hands, shuddered convulsively, and without a sound pitched forward, face down, at Dakota’s feet.