"Ask him to step here, will you?"
Mrs. Slade went out. Nearly five minutes went by, during which time Judge Hammond paced the floor of the bar-room uneasily. Then the landlord made his appearance. The free, open, manly, self-satisfied expression of his countenance, which I had remarked on alighting from the stage in the afternoon, was gone. I noticed at once the change, for it was striking. He did not look steadily into the face of Judge Hammond, who asked him, in a low voice, if his son had been there during the evening.
"He was here," said Slade.
"When?"
"He came in some time after dark and stayed, maybe, an hour."
"And hasn't been here since?"
"It's nearly two hours since he left the bar-room," replied the landlord.
Judge Hammond seemed perplexed. There was a degree of evasion in Slade's manner that he could hardly help noticing. To me it was all apparent, for I had lively suspicions that made my observation acute.
Judge Hammond crossed his arms behind him, and took three or four strides about the floor.
"Was Judge Lyman here to-night?" he then asked.