Part 22 (1/2)
”Help yourself,” he remarked, as he sat down.
Sipping his brandy and soda, Hartwell opened the game.
”You see,” he began, addressing Pierre, ”things aren't running very smoothly out here, and I have come out to size up the situation. The fact is, I'm the only one of our company who knows a thing about mining.
It's only a side issue with me, but I can't well get out of it. My people look to me to help them out, and I've got to do it.”
”Your people have ze great good fortune--ver' great.” Pierre bowed smilingly.
Hartwell resumed: ”I'm a fair man. I have now what I consider sufficient knowledge to warrant me in making some radical changes out here; but I want to get all the information possible, and from every possible source. Then I can act with a perfectly clear conscience.” He spoke decidedly, as he refilled his gla.s.s.
”Then fire that gla.s.s-eyed supe of yours,” Morrison burst out. ”You never had any trouble till he came.”
Hartwell looked mild reproach. Morrison was going too fast. There was a pause. Morrison again spoke, this time sullenly and without raising his eyes.
”He's queered himself with the men. They'll do him if he stays. They ain't going to stand his sneaking round and treating them like dogs.
They----”
”Mistaire Mo-reeson speak bad English, ver' bad.” Pierre's words cut in like keen-edged steel. ”On ze odder side ze door, it not mek so much mattaire.”
Morrison left the room without a word further. There was a look of sullen satisfaction on his face. Hartwell smiled approvingly at Pierre.
”You've got your man cinched all right.”
”Hall but ze tongue.” Pierre shrugged his shoulders, with a slight wave of his hands.
”Well,” Hartwell resumed, ”I want to get at the bottom of this stage business. Fifty thousand doesn't matter so much to us; it's the thing back of it. What I want to know is whether it was an accident, or whether it was a hold-up.”
”Feefty tousand dollaire!” Pierre spoke musingly. ”She bin a lot of monnaie. A whole lot.” Pierre hesitated, then looked up at Hartwell.
”Well?” Hartwell asked.
”How you know she bin feefty tousand dollaire hin ze safe?”
”Mr. Firmstone advised me of its s.h.i.+pment.”
”_Bien!_ Ze safe, where she bin now?”
”In the river.”
”A-a-ah! You bin see her, heh?”
”No. The water's too high.”
”When ze wattaire bin mek ze G.o.down, you bin find her, heh?”
”I suppose so.”
”_Bien!_ Mek ze suppose. When ze wattaire mek ze G.o.down, you not find ze safe?”
To some extent, Hartwell had antic.i.p.ated Pierre's drift, but he preferred to let him take his own course.