You were blue about the gills while Moxlow was questioning him, and I don't wonder; as I tell you, I wasn't comfortable myself, for I knew well enough how that bit of burnt bond got into the ash barrel--" "Hush! For God's sake--" whispered Langham in uncontrollable terror.
Gilmore laughed.
"My lord, man, you got to keep your nerve! Look here, Mount Hope ain't going to talk of anything but the McBride murder; you are going to hear it from morning to night, and that's one of the reasons you got to keep sober.

You've done your best so far to queer yourself, and unless you listen to reason you may do it yet." "I don't know what you mean--" said Langham.
"Don't you, Marsh?
Well, I got just one more surprise in store for you, but I'll keep it to myself a while longer before I spring it on you." He was thinking of Joe Montgomery's story; if Langham did not prove readily tractable, that should be the final weapon with which he would beat him into submission.

Presently he said: "I've all along had my own theory about old man McBride's murder, and now I'm going to see what you think of it, Marsh." An icy hand seemed to be clutching Langham's heart.

Gilmore's cruel smiling eyes noted his suffering.

He laughed.
"Of course, I don't think North killed McBride, not for one minute I don't; in fact, it's a dead moral certainty he didn't!" He leaned forward in his chair and looked into his companion's eyes.