I confess I entered the dim hall reluctantly, obsessed by some strange premonition of danger, but Mrs. Bernard clung to me, and the sight of her white face gave me new courage.
CHAPTER XI
A PLEASANT WELCOME
It was an old-fashioned living room into which we entered, the floor unswept, the chairs faded and patched. Curtains were drawn closely at the windows, while the single oil lamp stood on a center table littered with old newspapers. I dropped the grips on the carpet, not so much interested in my surroundings as in the appearance of the man in charge. The shading of the light gave me only a partial view of the fellow, but he was big, loose-jointed, having enormous shoulders, his face so hidden by a heavy mustache, and low drawn hat brim, I could scarcely perceive its outline. He appeared a typical rough, wearing high boots, with an ugly-looking Colt in a belt holster.
"Where are you from?" I asked, surprised at this display of firearms.
"Texas," with a grin, not altogether pleasant. "That's an ol' friend."
"No doubt, but I see no sense in wearing it here. What are you afraid of?"
He stroked his mustache, eyeing me.
"Wal, personally, stranger, I ain't greatly feerd o' nuthin', but I wus hired fer to keep people outer this shebang. There ain't no work goin' on, so I don't hav' no niggers to keep folks out."