Part 26 (1/2)
By sunrise on the day that Firmstone and Miss Hartwell were riding to the Falls Zephyr was up and on his way to the Blue Goose. He found Pierre in the bar-room.
”_Bon jour, M'sieur._” Zephyr greeted him affably as he slowly sank into a chair opposite the one in which Pierre was seated.
Pierre, with hardly a movement of his facial muscles, returned Zephyr's salutation. From his manner no one would have suspected that, had someone with sufficient reason inquired as to the whereabouts of Zephyr, Pierre would have replied confidently that the sought-for person was bobbing down the San Miguel with a little round hole through his head.
Zephyr's presence in the flesh simply told him that, for some unknown reason, his plan had miscarried.
Zephyr lazily rolled a cigarette and placed it between his lips. He raised his eyes languidly to Pierre's.
”M'sieu Pierre mek one slick plan. Ze Rainbow Company work ze mine, ze mill. _Moi_, Pierre, mek ze gol' in mon cellaire.” Zephyr blew forth the words in a cloud of smoke.
Pierre started and looked around. His hand made a motion toward his hip pocket. Zephyr dropped his bantering tone.
”Not yet, Frenchy. You'll tip over more soup kettles than you know of.”
He dropped the flattened bullet on the table and pointed to it. ”That was a bad break on your part. It might have been worse for you as well as for me, if your man hadn't been a bad shot.”
Pierre reached for the bullet, but Zephyr gathered it in.
”Not yet, M'sieur. It was intended for me, and I'll keep it, as a token of respect. I know M'sieur Pierre. Wen M'sieur Pierre bin mek up ze min'
for shoot, M'sieur Pierre bin say,'_Comment!_ Zat fellaire he bin too d.a.m.n smart _pour moi_.' Thanks! Me and Firmstone are much obliged.”
Pierre shrugged his shoulders impatiently. Zephyr noted the gesture.
”Don't stop there, M'sieur. Get up to your head. You're in a mess, a bad one. Shake your wits. Get up and walk around. Explode some _sacres_.
Pull out a few handfuls of hair and scatter around. No good looking daggers. The real thing won't work on me, and you'd only get in a worse mess if it did. That's Firmstone, too. We both are more valuable to you alive than dead. Of what value is it to a man to do two others, if he gets soaked in the neck himself?”
Pierre was angered. It was useless to try to conceal it. His swarthy cheeks grew livid.
”_Sacre!_” he blurted. ”What you mean in h.e.l.l?”
”That's better. Now you're getting down to business. When I find a man that's up against a thing too hard for him, I don't mind giving him a lift.”
”You lif' and bedam!” Pierre had concluded that pretensions were useless with Zephyr, and he gave his pa.s.sion full play. Even if he made breaks with Zephyr, he would be no worse off.
”I'll' lif'' all right. 'Bedam' is as maybe. Now, Frenchy, if you'll calm yourself a bit, I'll speak my little piece. You've slated Firmstone and me for over the divide. _P'quoi, M'sieur?_ For this. Firmstone understands his business and tends to it. This interferes with your cellar. So Mr. Firmstone was to be fired by the company. You steered that safe into the river to help things along. You thought that Jim would be killed and Firmstone would be chump enough to charge it to a hold-up, and go off on a wrong scent. Jim got off, and Firmstone was going to get the safe. I know you are kind-hearted and don't like to do folks; but Firmstone and me were taking unwarranted liberties with your plans. Now put your ear close to the ground, Frenchy, and listen hard and you'll hear something drop. If you do Firmstone you'll see cross-barred sunlight the rest of your days. I'll see to that. If you do us both it won't make much difference. I've been taking my pen in hand for a few months back, and the result is a bundle of papers in a safe place. It may not be much in a literary way; but it will make mighty interesting reading for such as it may concern, and you are one of them.
Now let me tell you one thing more. If this little d.a.m.ned thing had gone through my head on the way to something harder, in just four days you'd be taking your exercise in a corked jug. My game is worth two of yours.
Mine will play itself when I'm dead; yours won't.”
Pierre's lips parted enough to show his set teeth.
”_Bien!_ You tink you bin d.a.m.n smart, heh? I show you. You bin catch one rattlesnake by ze tail. _Comment?_ I show you.” Pierre rose.
”Better wait a bit, Frenchy. I've been giving you some information. Now I'll give you some instructions. You've been planning to have elise married. Don't do it. You've made up your mind not to keep your promise to her dead father and mother. You just go back to your original intentions. It will be good for your body, and for your soul, too, if you've got any. You're smooth stuff, Pierre, too smooth to think that I'm talking four of a kind on a bob-tail flush. Comprenny?”
Pierre's eyes lost their fierceness, but his face none of its determination.
”I ain't going to give hup my li'l elise. _Sacre, non!_”