"Put your hands on the table, and keep them there!" he said. "Now, my dear friend, I have come here in peace, not war, and take these slight precautions merely because I have heard a rumor that you have indulged in a threat or two since we last parted, and I know something of your impetuous disposition. No doubt this was exaggerated, but I am a careful man, and prefer to have the 'drop,' and so I sincerely hope you will pardon my keeping you covered during what is really intended as a friendly call. I regret the necessity, but trust you are resting comfortably."
"Oh, go to hell!"
"We will consider that proposition somewhat later." Hampton laid his hat with calm deliberation on the table. "No doubt, Mr. Slavin,—if you move that hand again I 'll fill your system with lead,—you experience some very natural curiosity regarding the object of my unanticipated, yet I hope no less welcome, visit."
Slavin's only reply was a curse, his bloodshot eyes roaming the room furtively.
"I suspected as much," Hampton went on, coolly. "Indeed, I should have felt hurt had you been indifferent upon such an occasion. It does credit to your heart, Slavin. Come now, keep your eyes on me! I was about to gratify your curiosity, and, in the first place, I came to inquire solicitously regarding the state of your health during my absence, and incidentally to ask why you are exhibiting so great an interest in Miss Naida Gillis."
Slavin straightened up, his great hands clinching nervously, drops of perspiration appearing on his red forehead. "I don't understand your damned fun."
Hampton's lips smiled unpleasantly. "Slavin, you greatly discourage me. The last time I was here you exhibited so fine a sense of humor that I was really quite proud of you. Yet, truly, I think you do understand this joke. Your memory can scarcely be failing at your age.—Make another motion like that and you die right there! You know me.—However, as you seem to shy over my first question, I 'll honor you with a second,—Where's Silent Murphy?"
Slavin's great square jaws set, a froth oozing from between his thick lips, and for an instant the other man believed that in his paroxysm of rage he would hurl himself across the table. Then suddenly the ungainly brute went limp, his face grown haggard.
"You devil!" he roared, "what do you mean?"
Surprised as Hampton was by this complete breaking down, he knew his man far too well to yield him the slightest opportunity for treachery. With revolver hand resting on the table, the muzzle pointing at the giant's heart, he leaned forward, utterly remorseless now, and keen as an Indian on the trail.