"Indeed?"
"He kills Mexicans and niggers and folks without guns, mostly. Low-down stuff! He's got three or four, I believe. I never could see why the Nelsons kep' him."
There was a brief silence. "I beg pardon?" said Gray.
"He's been on the Nelson pay roll for years—doing odd jobs that wasn't fit to be done. But I guess they got tired of him, anyhow he's been hanging around Wichita for the last two or three weeks. He's been in an out of our office quite a bit."
"Your office? What for?"
"I dunno, unless he took a shine to 'Bob.'"
"Not—really?"
Mr. Parker uttered an unpleasant sound. "She never said anything about it, but I suspicioned she had to order him out, finally. I'd of split his third shirt button if he'd stood his ground. He knew I had something on him, but he couldn't figure just what it was." Old Tom's teeth shone through the gloom. "A man will 'most always act like that when he don't know just where he's at. I knew where I was at, all the time, only I wanted to see that button plain. I allus know where I'm at."
Later, when the journey was over and Tom Parker had been dropped at his gate, Gray spoke to his two companions.
"Did you hear what he said?"