He turned fiercely upon Hanna, who was listening with a fixed half smile.
“You don’t know me, do you? But do you remember Melbourne, Virginia, and the real-estate business that you wrecked there? Do you remember the papers you forged and the lies you swore to get me jailed while you got away with everything I had? I’ve been after you ever since. I followed you all over this continent. I knew you the minute I saw you here. I ought to have shot you that minute. Do you know me now, Ed McGibbon?”
The smile had died from Hanna’s face. He stepped slightly back, his jaw half dropping, staring as if a ghost had risen before his eyes. Every man’s gaze was turned on him now. He made an obvious effort to recover himself, moistening his lips.
“He did give me a start,” he said. “Yes, I know him, but I thought he was dead years ago. He was once in partnership with me up North, but he turned out a crook and a grafter, and he got into jail, as he says. I did all I could to save him. Looks like he’s been going from bad to worse ever since.”
“You liar!” Lockwood vociferated. “Look at him, men. Look at his face! He daren’t front me. Get the whole story—both sides—or put me up against him right now with a gun—with a knife——”
“This is foolishness!” Hanna broke in. “I ain’t going to fight a murderer. I saw him shoot young Jackson. You’re not going to let him get away with that, are you? Where’ll we hang him up?”
Nobody replied. The crowd gazed curiously at both men. The furious vehemence of Lockwood’s attack had made its impression. Even Tom hung silent, fumbling with his pistol butt. In the hush sounded the beating of a motor car traveling up the road.
“Who’s that comin’?” some one spoke.
The car crawled laboriously, it seemed, through deep sand, and turned in Power’s gate. It wabbled drunkenly as it came up the drive. The glare of its lamps flashed across the group of men as it curved, steering wildly as if it was going to run through the lynching party. It stopped with a jerk. Lockwood saw that there was only one man in it, huddled over the wheel. He made an unsteady effort to rise, to get out, and fell almost doubled over the door.
“My Lawd A’mighty!” muttered the nearest man, in an awed voice.