Slavin's great square jaws set, a froth oozing from between his thick
lips, and for an instant the other man believed that in his paroxysm of
rage he would hurl himself across the table. Then suddenly the
ungainly brute went limp, his face grown haggard.
"You devil!" he roared, "what do you mean?"
Surprised as Hampton was by this complete breaking down, he knew his
man far too well to yield him the slightest opportunity for treachery.
With revolver hand resting on the table, the muzzle pointing at the
giant's heart, he leaned forward, utterly remorseless now, and keen as
an Indian on the trail.
"Do you know who I am?"
The horror in Slavin's eyes had changed to sullenness, but he nodded
silently.
"How do you know?"
There was no reply, although the thick lips appeared to move.
"Answer me, you red sneak! Do you think I am here to be played with?
Answer!"
Slavin gulped down something which seemed threatening to choke him, but
he durst not lift a hand to wipe the sweat from his face. "If--if I
didn't have this beard on you might guess. I thought you knew me all
the time."
Hampton stared at him, still puzzled. "I have certainly seen you
somewhere. I thought that from the first. Where was it?"
"I was in D Troop, Seventh Cavalry."
"D Troop? Brant's troop?"
The big gambler nodded. "That's how I knew you, Captain," he said,
speaking with greater ease, "but I never had no reason to say anything
about it round here. You was allers decent 'nough ter me."
"Possibly,"--and it was plainly evident from his quiet tone Hampton had
steadied from his first surprise,--"the boot was on the other leg, and
you had some good reason not to say anything."
Slavin did not answer, but he wet his lips with his tongue, his eyes on
the window.
"Who is this fellow Murphy?"
"He was corporal in that same troop, sir." The ex-cavalryman dropped
insensibly into his old form of speech. "He knew you too, and we
talked it over, and decided to keep still, because it was none of our
affair anyhow."
"Where is he now?"
"He left last night with army despatches for Cheyenne."
Hampton's eyes hardened perceptibly, and his fingers closed more
tightly about the butt of his revolver. "You lie, Slavin! The last
message did not reach here until this morning. That fellow is hiding
somewhere in this camp, and the two of you have been trying to get at
the girl. Now, damn you, what is your little game?"