There was an ugly, ominous glare in his fast clearing eyes.

Simmy, coming no higher than his shoulder, linked his arm through one of George's and started toward the door with him.

He was headed for the porters' entrance.
"He's out of town, George.

Don't bother about Braden." "I'm going to kill Brady Thorpe, Simmy," said George hoarsely.

Simmy felt the big right arm swell and become as rigid as steel.
"Don't talk like a fool," he whispered.
"He didn't act right by Anne," said George.