missionary’s eyes were now blazing with indignation. His clenched hands rested upon the table as he faced his visitor. “You may sneer all you like at prayers, but it was through earnest prayer that the girl you so vilely injured in some way, I know not how, is now recovering.”
For an instant Bill was caught off guard. His eyes expressed surprise, mingled with fear. Immediately he regained his self-confidence, however, laughed, and uttered another oath.
“Say, what are ye talkin’ about?” he asked. “I know nuthin’ about any girl. I wish to G— I could run across a pretty one here.”
The missionary made no reply. He stood very erect, looking full into the face of the man before him. He was trying to read his soul, to detect, if possible, whether he was speaking the truth. Before that straight steady gaze, Bill’s eyes shifted, and then dropped. The nobleness of this man of God stirred his heart with anger. He could not withstand that silent, unwavering look. It aroused to fury the devil within him more than biting words of reproach. His face assumed an ugly expression, and stepping forward, he leaned across the table.
“Look here,” he roared, “d’ye think I’ve got time to waste in listenin’ to sich d— nonsense? The girl ye speak about is nuthin’ to me. I don’t care whether she lives or dies. But you’ve got something I want, an’ the sooner ye hand it over, the better. D’ye know what I mean?”
“Why, no,” the missionary replied, shrinking back a little from the excited man.
“It’s the ring ye’ve got hidden somewhere. That’s what I want, so out with it.”
