'Tell me!' he hissed, thrusting forward his face so that she drew back—not from fear, but to avoid a faint aroma of stale cigar-smoke.
'No!' she answered.
'Deny that Trist loved Alice—if you dare!' he continued, in the same whistling voice.
Still she never called for Trist's assistance. She was very pale, and the last words seemed to strike her in the face as a blow.
'I deny nothing!'
'Tell me,' he shouted hoarsely, 'where Alice is!'
'No!'
'Then take that, you...'
He struck her with his clenched fist on the shoulder—but she had seen his intention, and by stepping back avoided the full force of the blow. She staggered a pace or two and recovered herself.
Without a sound Trist sprang forward, and the same instant saw Huston fall to the ground. He rolled over and over, a shapeless mass with limbs distended. As he rolled, Trist kicked him as he never would have kicked a dog.