want, partner," he was saying, in his soft, rather husky
voice.

He poured his drink, barely enough to cover the bottom of his glass,
for that was another of Pete's ways; he could never afford to weaken his
hand or deaden his eye with alcohol, and even now he stood sideways at
the bar, facing Gregg and also facing the others in the room. But the
larger man, with sudden scorn for this caution, brimmed his own glass,
and poised it swiftly. "Here's how!" and down it went.

Ordinarily red-eye heated his blood and made his brain dizzy, it
loosened his tongue and numbed his lips, but today it left him cool,
confident, and sharpened his vision until he felt that he could see
through the minds of every one in the room. Captain Lorrimer, for
instance, was telling a jocular story to Chick Stewart in the hope that
Chick would set them up for every one; and old Lew Perkins was waiting
for the treat; and perhaps the sheriff was wondering how he could handle
Vic in case of need, or how long it would take to run him down. Not
long, decided Gregg, breathing hard; no man in the world could put him
on the run. Glass was treating in turn, and again the brimming drink
went down Vic's throat and left his brain clear, wonderfully clear. He
saw through Betty Neal now; she had purposely played off Blondy against
him, to make them both jealous.

"Won't you join us, Dad?" the sheriff was saying to Lew Perkins, and
Vic Gregg smiled. He understood. The sheriff wanted an excuse to order
another round of drinks because he had it in mind to intoxicate Gregg;
perhaps Glass had something on him; perhaps the manhunter thought that
Vic had had a part in that Wilsonville affair two years back. That was
it, and he wanted to make Vic talk when he was drunk.

"Don't mind if I do," Lew said, slapping both hands on the bar as if he
owned it; and while he waited for his drink: "What are they going to do
with Swain?"

The doddering idiot! Swain was the last man Glass had taken, and Lew
Perkins should have known that the sheriff never talked about his work;
the old ass was in his green age, his second childhood.

"Swain turned state's evidence," said Pete, curtly. "He'll go free, I
suppose. Fill up your glass, partner. Can see you're thirsty yet."

This was to Gregg, who had purposely poured out a drink of the sheriff's
own chosen dimension to see if the latter would notice; this remark
fixed his suspicions. It was certain that the manhunter was after him,