came and closed the door upon him. Whoever had spoken in the court—it must be that person, he thought—was coming up the stairs. He heard Lampert open and close the outer door; then, as the voice he had heard spoke again, still unintelligibly but now in the next room, his flesh prickled. Was the man who had come in his father? The timbre of the voice seemed to tell him that, but he could not be certain.
He waited, listening. The voice spoke again and seemed to be demanding something. Lampert replied, collectedly and harshly. Peewee shook with anxiety. What was going on? He crept closer to the door, crouched there he presently could begin to distinguish words.
"I'm letting you do the asking?" It was Lampert who had said this.
He could not make out the words of the reply. Then he again heard Lampert:
"Do your talking. I expected that."
"You come to my house; you ask to see my wife."
This was the other and Peewee could hear
