"He was, though. They had an awful
time there last night."
"Where?"
"At Joe Morgan's. Joe has the mania, and Mrs. Morgan was alone
with him and her sick girl all night."
"He deserves to have it; that's all I've got to say." Slade tried
to speak with a kind of rough indifference.
"That's pretty hard talk," said one of the company.
"I don't care if it is. It's the truth. What else could he
expect?"
"A man like Joe is to be pitied," remarked the other.
"I pity his family," said Slade.
"Especially little Mary." The words were uttered tauntingly, and
produced murmurs of satisfaction throughout the room.
Slade started back from where he stood, in an impatient manner,
saying something that I did not hear.
"Look here, Simon, I heard some strong suggestions over at Lawyer
Phillips' office to-day."
Slade turned his eyes upon the speaker.
"If that child should die, you'll probably have to stand a trial
for man-slaughter."
"No--girl-slaughter," said Harvey Green, with a cold, inhuman
chuckle.
"But I'm in earnest." said the other. "Mr. Phillips said that a
case could be made out of it."
"It was only an accident, and all the lawyers in Christendom can't
make anything more of it," remarked Green, taking the side of the
landlord, and speaking with more gravity than before.
"Hardly an accident," was replied.
"He didn't throw at the girl."
"No matter. He threw a heavy tumbler at her father's head.
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