Hawkins' eyes roved about the room.
“I remember the night I brought her here.” He was still whispering to himself. “In there, it was, I took her.” He jerked his hand toward the inner room. “This here room was the pawn-shop then. God, all those years ago—and—and I ain't never bought her back again, and she ain't known no father but Paul, and——” His voice trailed off and died away.
He sank his chin in his hands.
Occasionally he heard the murmur of voices from above, occasionally the sound of movement through the closed door that separated him from Doctor Crang; but he did not move or speak again until Paul Veniza came down the stairs and stood before him.
Hawkins searched the other's face.
“It—it ain't true, is it, what she said?” he questioned almost fiercely. “She didn't really mean it, did she, Paul?”
Paul Veniza turned his head away.
“Yes, she meant it,” he answered in a low voice. “I don't understand. She wouldn't give me any explanation.”
Hawkins clenched his fists suddenly.
“But didn't you tell her what kind of a man Crang is? Good God, Paul, didn't you tell her what he is?”