Despite the rigid control he was imposing upon himself, which was plainly obvious to Nick’s keen discernment, Flood now started slightly upon hearing the detective’s disclosures. Nick saw at once that he had brought the gamester at least one item of news, and that Flood, whatever he knew of the crime, was ignorant of the means employed.
In an instant, however, though his face grew even more pale, Flood again had his feelings under rigid control.
“Are you sure of what you are saying, Badger?” he slowly demanded, with voice grown strangely hard.
“Dead sure of it, Mose.”
“That Kendall was killed with the cane you describe?”
“The evidence is conclusive. It is an ironwood cane with a large silver head.”
“That’s like mine.”
“It was found hidden under some brushwood near the rear wall of the grounds,” continued Nick. “It was covered with blood; and bits of scalp and hair, plainly those of the murdered man, had cleaved to it.”
Flood heard him without moving from his seat on the edge of the table, and with never a change in his set, white face.
“This is strange, Badger, on my word,” he said firmly.