He was speaking for Gilmore now, and his grimy lists closed convulsively about the arms of his chair.
"Did you see his face?" asked Moxlow.
"Yes—" the monosyllable was spoken unwillingly, but with a kind of dogged resolution.
"Was it a face you knew?"
Montgomery looked at Gilmore, whose fierce insistent glance was bent compellingly on him. The recollection of the gambler's threats and promises flashed through his mind.
"Was it a face you knew?" repeated Moxlow.
The handy-man gave him a sudden glare.
"Yes," he said in a throaty whisper.
"How could you tell in the dark?"
