“Let us be honest for once, Aaron Gallup,” Tobias said with fine impudence. “When the pot calls the kettle black it’s time to tell the truth. What I’ve got is mine. I earned it doing your dirty bidding.
“You’ll not kick me out. I’ve protected myself. Indeed I have. You’ll find that out when you try to call in some of your loans. Humph! A swine am I, eh? You are the swine, Aaron Gallup.
“I know why you wanted Johnny Dice put out of the way, and I know that Crosbie Traynor didn’t kill himself. You know it, too! You’ll crawl to me before I’ve finished. You just try to kick me out, to cheat me—and I’ll tell what’s what.
“You’ve kicked and beat me for years. You thought I didn’t mind. Well, I’ve made it my business to find out about you. You start your little tricks, and Molly Kent will know, and Johnny Dice will know. I’ll talk you so deep into jail that the Carson Penitentiary will crumble to ruins before they let you out.”
Tobias hurled a chair from his path.
“Get out of my way!” he warned Gallup. “I’m leaving this house now forever. When you’ve got something to say to me you can come to the hotel and find me.”
And the slave marched out, the king at last!
Kent and Gallup sat and stared at each other for countless minutes. Crushed, dumfounded, Kent reached for his hat finally and without a word stumbled down the stairs to get into his rig and start for home.
Gallup seemed unaware of his going. Meal time came, but Aaron still sat in his upstairs room, fixedly gazing into space. Some one knocked at his door, but he heard it not. His brain refused to hold any thought other than that Johnny Dice lived and would have the truth from Tobias.
Aaron’s gun lay upon the table before him. As he continued to sit in his trancelike state the pistol began to claim his attention. In fact, Gallup fancied it talking to him.