"I mean that there has been more 'fraud, covin, and incertainties which obscure the truth' scattered round in this room to-day than by right there should have been. I don't mind a little. Human beings are odd numbers, anyway. You've got to take all that into consideration."
"I don't understand you."
"Then, too," pursued the unheeding Billy, "'contrarities, delays, unnecessary circumstances, and such like,' I despise. They give me a bad taste in my mouth. Don't they you?"
"They would any one," acquiesced the judge, and made to rise. "Well, now you've read me what you wanted to, I won't keep you any longer. I know you must be in a hurry to get away. We'll let the Kilroe business wait over a few days."
"Sit down, Judge," Billy Wingo murmured softly, his hand resting as if by chance on the butt of the six-shooter lying on the table. "Sit down, do."
The judge hesitated. Then with the well-known hollow laugh, he sat down. He looked at Billy Wingo. The latter looked at him in silence for a space.
"Judge," he remarked suddenly, "deceit and fraud should remedied on all occasions. Tell me why you put that letter in the fire?"
The judge continued to sit perfectly still. It might be said that he was frozen to his chair. Then slowly, almost imperceptibly, his right hand began to steal upward under the tail of his coat.
"I wouldn't, Judge," continued Billy, "I just wouldn't if I were you."
The judge's hand hung straight by his side. "You're getting in pretty deep, Bill," he observed with a cold smile.