The judge
noticed both the uneasiness and the scowl.
"I should imagine they would absorb every moment of your time,
Mr. Hicks," he agreed affably.
"A man's got to be a hog for work to hold a job like mine," said
Hicks sourly.
"But it came to your notice that Miss Malroy has been in a
disturbed mental state ever since Mr. Norton's murder? I am
interested in this point, Mr. Hicks, because your experience is
so entirely at variance with my own. It was my privilege to see
and speak with her yesterday afternoon; I was profoundly
impressed by her naturalness and composure." The judge smiled,
then he leaned forward across the desk. "What were you doing up
here early this morning--hasn't a hog for work like you got any
business of his own at that hour?" The judge's tone was suddenly
offensive.
"Look here, what right have you got to try and pump me?" cried
Hicks.
For no discernible reason Mr. Cavendish spat on his palms.
"Mr. Hicks," said the judge, urbane and gracious, "I believe in
frankness."
"Sure," agreed Hicks, mollified by the judge's altered tone.
"Therefore I do not hesitate to say that I consider you a damned
scoundrel!" concluded the judge.
Mr. Cavendish, accepting the judge's ultimatum as something which
must debar Hicks from all further consideration, and being, as he
was, exceedingly active and energetic by nature, if one passed
over the various forms of gainful industry, uttered a loud whoop
and threw himself on the overseer.
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