Part 6 (2/2)

”Air-minded-nothing!” Henry Peace interrupted. ”I hate airplanes.”

”What I meant is that you have air where a mind should be,” the girl explained carefully.

Henry Peace looked so indignant that old Tex Haven chuckled gently. That chuckle turned out to be an error-it distracted his attention. Too, he hadn't expected Henry Peace to jump him, which was what happened. They hit the floor. Tex Haven's bony frame made a sound somewhat as if an arm-load of stove wood had been dropped.

Tex wrapped long, bony arms and legs, octopus fas.h.i.+on, around Henry Peace.

”I sure hates,” he said, ”to embarra.s.s a young lad who thinks he's handy.”

He tightened the grip, his ropy old muscles rolling something like a jungle snake starting to swallow a pig.

Henry Peace at once emitted several yelps of pain.

Old Tex Haven had at one time spent some months in a j.a.panese prison, and his cellmate had been a j.a.panese strangler who, as jujitsu expert, was probably the greatest ever to live. The j.a.p strangler would have been world-famous, except for a failing for getting into fights in which he choked his opponents to death. From the Nipponese, Tex Haven had learned about all that could be learned of the art of administering agony.

Also, age had not weakened the wirelike ropes that served Tex as muscles. The years, if anything, had improved them.

The two men went around and around on the floor. A table upset. Henry Peace gave more pain yips.

Then Henry Peace began taking hold of old Tex Haven in various strange ways. Tex started squawking like a sage hen.

Tex had been showing great willingness to mix it with the large, red-headed young man.

Now Tex showed great willingness to let loose of Henry Peace. He had, he was discovering, caught a Tartar.

The two suddenly separated and got up, scowled at each other with mutual respect. Henry Peace had possession of all Tex Haven's guns.

”Standin' there, all ready to shoot, when I came in, wasn't you?” Henry Peace asked. ”I didn't like that none.”

Rhoda Haven frowned at her bony parent, said, ”You must be slipping, dad.”

”Not slippin',” Tex denied. ”I just got me a hold on a right tolerable man.”

”He's a clown!” Rhoda said, and sniffed.

Henry Peace, having rubbed various parts of his anatomy which probably hurt, grinned cheerfully at the Havens.

”I'm beginnin' to think you're gonna make a better daddy-in-law than I expected,” he said.

HAVING ridded himself of that declaration, Henry Peace pulled down his sleeves, straightened his coat and felt of one of his ears again to be sure it had not been pulled off. Then he gravely shook hands with old Tex and his daughter.

The latter showed no enthusiasm.

”What's the idea of this hand-shaking?” Tex Haven asked.

”You were shaking the hand,” Henry Peace explained, ”of your new partner.”Tex jumped.

What?” he yelled.

Henry Peace grinned at the gaunt old h.e.l.l-raiser and soldier of fortune. ”I've heard plenty about you.”

”You heared of me?” Tex asked dubiously. ”Warn't nothin' degradin', if war true.”

”I've heard,” said Henry Peace, ”that you and this daughter of yours-my future breakfast companion-make yourselves about over a million dollars a year, one way or another. I heard, too, that you always turn right around and lose it. That's where I'm goin' to be different. I ain't gonna lose my share.”

Old Tex Haven got out his corncob pipe and looked at it as if it had betrayed him.

”And what would you calculate your share?” he asked mildly.

”One third.”

”Third of what?”

”That is what you can now tell me,” Henry Peace said.

Old Tex Haven made faces and snorting sounds, and continued to eye his corncob pipe as if it had suddenly poisoned him.

”Ain't nothin' to tell,” he said.

”You mean,” said Henry Peace skeptically, ”that you're entirely innocent of schemes?”

”Yep.

”You ain't doin' nothin' that you wouldn't describe to a policeman?”

”Nope.”

”About that, we'll see.”

Henry Peace went to a window and lifted it. The tops of trees were thick outside, but through them he could see a policeman standing on the sidewalk at the end of the block. Henry Peace raised his voice.

The policeman looked as if he were having a dull afternoon.

”Help, help,” yelled Henry Peace. ”Police! Help! Murder! Bandits!”

The cop jumped. But his jump was nothing to the one Tex Haven gave.

”You durn fool!” Tex yelled.

”He's crazy!” snapped Rhoda Haven. ”I told you so. Remember?”

Henry Peace stood still, grinned big.

The Havens flung a glance at the window shade which held the shark skin. They glared at Henry Peace.

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