Hennion wondered. The man reminded him of Aidee, the same vivid phrase, the figures of speech. But Aidee had said that he did not know him. It appeared that he must know him. If Aidee had been lying about it, that opened sinister suggestions. Hennion did not like Aidee, neither did he like in himself this furtive sense of satisfaction in the suggestions. “Aidee told me he didn't know you. I hadn't thought he would lie about it.” “By God, don't call him a liar to me!” Hicks jumped to his feet, and had his wooden chair swung over his back in an instant. “I don't. I want it explained,” Hennion said coolly. “You can't do anything with that. Sit down.” “He's the only man alive that dares tell the truth. You're all hounds, cowards, thieves! He's a saint in hell!” “Likely enough. You're a hot disciple. Still, I'm waiting for an explanation.” “Don't you call him a liar!” “Haven't. Sit down.” Hicks sat down, his thin hands shaking painfully. His eyes were narrowed, glittering and suspicious. Hennion tipped his chair back, put his hands into his pockets, and looked at the weak, flickering gas jet, and the ripples of light and shadow that crossed the whitewashed ceiling. They were wild, disordered, and fugitive, as if reflections from the spirit behind Hicks' eyes, instead of from the jet at the end of a lead pipe. “I'll help you out with a suggestion,” Hennion said slowly. “You don't mean to leave Aidee in that shape, since you feel about him in this way. But you don't know whether your story would go down with me, or whether it might not get Aidee into trouble. Now, if I'm forecasting that story, it's something like this. You knew each other years ago, not in Port Argent.” Hicks said nothing. “Carried you around papoose-fashion, did he? But there's some likeness between you. It might happen to be a family likeness.” Still no comment. “If it so happened, you might be related. You might be twins. And then again you might not. You might have been his first convert. Partners maybe in Nevada. That: was where he came from,--silver mines and what not. It's no business of mine.” He paused and meditated, looking at the pulsating light; then brought his chair down and leaned forward. “I take the liberty to disagree with you. I'm no exception to the run of men, and I'm neither a hound, nor a coward, nor a thief, nor yet a liar.” “I know you're not.” “However, your story, or Aidee's, is no business of mine. I gave you those inferences because they occurred to me. Naturally you'd suspect they would. So they do. Gabbling them abroad might make some trouble for Aidee, that's true. I shan't gabble them.” “I know you won't.” “I wanted your point of view in shooting Wood. If you don't see your way to give it, all right. I judge it was the same way you were going to club me with a chair. Simple enough and rather silly. Goodnight, then. Is there anything I can do for you?” “Yes.”