And, indeed, where guns were the subject of conversation it would have been hard to find a man more thoroughly equipped to pose as an expert than Pete Reeve.

That fleshless hand, all speed of motion as it whipped out the gun from the nerve and sinew, became an incredible ghost with the holster and the long, heavy Colt danced and flashed at his fingertips as though it were a gilded shadow.
As he worked he talked, and as he talked he strode constantly back and forth through the room with his light-falling, mincing steps.

He grew excited.

He flushed.

There came a thrill and a ring and a deepening of the voice.