“Mike,” said Bull, and he looked the other straight in the eyes, “was Monte Murphy well the last time you saw him?”
Quick gave a great start. His face became pale and he sank his nails deep in his palms.
“What do you mean?” he asked, in a hoarse voice.
“You know.”
Mike glared fiercely across the table at his companion. This man knew of the crime he had committed at the fence? Was Monte dead?
If so, this man could perhaps send him to the gallows. Why not kill Blair?
That thought came to him, but he dismissed it. Had they been alone in some unfrequented spot he would have attempted the other’s life. Perhaps more than Bull knew of it?
That thought was anguishing. Blair noted the changing emotions of the man as they appeared on his features.
“I rather gave you a lift in that job,” said Bull.
“Eh?”