THE STEADFAST HEART
“He done no more ’n he was bound to—and he begrutched it—every mite of it. Ashamed of his ol’ daddy. Fine son, to be ashamed of his own pa.”
“Yes, you are his father, Burke. But who was his mother? What was her name?”
“None of your business.”
“Was your name Cassius Hughes?”
Titus strangled, coughed, clenched and unclenched his bony claws, and spat at them like a cat. “’Twa’n’t. Never heard of that name.”
“Was your wife’s name Kate Woodhouse?”
“Wife’s name was Burke,” he said with a leer.
“Is Angus Kate Woodhouse’s son?”
“He’s my son,” said Titus.
“Burke,” said Browning, “you’re going to die… to die, do you understand. Maybe to-night…. Aren’t you afraid to die?”
Burke croaked horribly, wriggled in his chair, and his eyes rolled back until the bleared whites became visible. It was terror, stark, awful terror—but he did not speak.
“Do you want to die,” Craig demanded inexorably, “without one decent act to stand upon?”
“I—don’t know nothin’ about—what you’re jawin’ about,” Titus said stubbornly. “Go ’way.-
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