"Stand back from the table!" warned Hurley.
"By the Lord, have they been missing me?" queried old Cochrane. "You
are waited for," answered Pierre le Rouge, "and I've been sent to take
you home."
"If that's the case--"
"It ain't the case. The kid's lying."
"Lying?" repeated Cochrane, as if he had never heard the word before,
and he peered with clearing eyes toward Pierre. "No, I think this boy
has never lied."
Silence had spread through the place like a vapor. Even the slight
sounds in the gaming-room were done now, and one pair after another of
eyes swung toward the table of Cochrane and Hurley. The wave of the
silence reached to the barroom. No one could have carried the tidings
so soon, but the air was surcharged with the consciousness of an
impending crisis.
Half a dozen men started to make their way on tiptoe toward the back
room. One stood with his whisky glass suspended in midair, and tilted
back his head to listen. In the gaming-room Hurley pushed back his
chair and leaned to the left, giving him a free sweep for his right
hand.
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