Mr. Davis drew a little back, as if a trifle disconcerted. His voice was huskier than even it was wont to be.
'What's the little game?'
'I bid you tell me what is this thing that you would do?'
Mr. Davis seemed to find in the words, which were quietly uttered, a compelling influence which made him curiously frank.
'I am going to pawn these here two coats which my wife's been making.'
'Is it well?'
Mr. Davis slunk farther from the Stranger. 'What's it got to do with you?'
'Is it well?'
There was a sorrowful intonation in the repetition of the inquiry, blended with a singularly penetrant sternness. Mr. Davis cowered as if he had been struck a blow. He turned to his friend.
'Say, Joe, who is this bloke?'