Unlike Spantz in every particular was this man who eyed him so darkly, so coldly.

Here was a highborn man, a man whose very manners bespoke for him years at court, a life spent in the upper world, not among the common people.

Truxton found himself returning the stare with an interest that brought results.
"Your name is King, I believe," came from the thin lips of the old man.
The tones were as metallic as the click of steel.
"Yes.

May I inquire--" "No, you may not inquire.

Put a gag in his mouth.