"Let me go home, boss!" entreated Montgomery, still addressing himself to Langham. "God's sake, he pretty near killed me!"
He stood up on shaking legs.
Wretched, abject, his uneasy glance shifted first from one to the other of his patrons, who were now his judges, and for aught he knew would be his executioners as well. The gambler glared back at him with an expression of set ferocity which told him he need expect no mercy from that source; but with Langham it was different; he at least was not wantonly brutal. The sight of physical suffering always distressed him and Joe's bruised and bloody face was more than he could bear to look at.
"For two cents I'd knock him on the head!" jerked out Gilmore.
"Oh, quit, Andy; let him alone! I want to ask him a question or two," said Langham.
"You'll never know from him what he said or didn't say—you'll learn that from the judge himself," and Gilmore laughed harshly.
A minute or two passed before Langham could trust himself to speak. When he did, he turned to Montgomery to ask:
"I wish you'd tell me as nearly as you can what you said to my father?"
"I didn't go there to tell him anything, boss; he just got it out of me. What chance has a slob like me with him?"
"Got what out of you?" questioned Langham in a low voice.