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Updated: May 15, 2025
"I understand," he said in a voice that was low and none too steady. During this scene Moxlow's glance had been centered on North in a fixed stare of impersonal curiosity, now he turned with quick nervous decision and snatching up his shabby hat from the table, left the room. Langham had preceded him by a few moments, escaping unobserved when there were eyes only for North. "I am ready, Conklin."
Nelson was in charge of the building on the corner of Main Street and the Square, he referred to the brick building on the southeast corner? The witness answered in the affirmative, and Moxlow's next question brought out the fact that for some weeks the building had had only two tenants; John North and Andrew Gilmore. What was the exact nature of his duties?
Finally Moxlow turned from him with a characteristic gesture. "That's all," he said. Again his glance wandered over the room. It became fixed on a grayish middle-aged man seated at Gilmore's elbow. "Thomas Nelson," he called. This instantly revived North's apprehensions. Nelson was the janitor of the building in which he had roomed. He asked himself what could be Moxlow's purpose in examining him.
He felt intense hatred of him; to his warped and twisted consciousness, half mad as he was with drink and drugs, North's life seemed the one thing that stood between himself and safety, and clearly North had forfeited the right to live! When Moxlow's even tones fell on the expectant hush, Langham writhed in his seat.
"That will do, Mr. Langham. Thank you," said Moxlow at last. North felt sure he would be the next witness, and he was not mistaken. Moxlow's examination, however, was along lines quite different from those he had anticipated.
"So Moxlow's in earnest about wishing to make trouble for me?" said Gilmore, still placidly. "Oh, he's in earnest, all right." Langham shrugged his shoulders petulantly. "He'll go after you, and perhaps by the time he's done with you you'll wish you'd taken my advice and made yourself scarce!" "I'm no quitter!" rejoined Gilmore, chewing thoughtfully at the end of his cigar.
He went deep into North's past, and stripped him bare; shabby, mean, and profligate, he pictured those few short years of his manhood until he became the broken spendthrift, desperately in need of money and rendered daring by the ruin that had overtaken him. Moxlow's speech lasted three hours, and when he ended a burning mist was before North's eyes.
"I know I ain't popular here in Mount Hope, I know there are plenty of people who'd like to see me run out of town; but I'm no quitter, they'll find. It suits me to stay here, and they can't touch me if Moxlow won't have it. That's your job, that's what I hire you for, Marsh; you're Moxlow's partner, you're your father's son, it's up to you to see I ain't interfered with.
North realized that he had suddenly become the most conspicuous person in the room; whichever way he turned he met the curious gaze of his townsmen, and each pair of eyes seemed to hold some portentous question. As if oblivious of this he bent forward in his chair and followed Moxlow's questions and Langham's replies with the closest attention. And as he watched Langham, so Gilmore watched him.
Again Montgomery's ragged cap served him in lieu of a handkerchief, and as he swabbed his blotched and purple face he shot a swift furtive glance in Gilmore's direction. So far he had told only the truth, but he was living in terror of Moxlow's next question. "Can you describe the man who crossed the roof, for instance, how was he dressed?" said Moxlow, with slow deliberation.
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