Part 28 (1/2)
”Ah, John, better late than never,” he exclaimed gutturally. ”Come in and have a smoke.”
”Yes, I thought I'd just come right down and--see if you'd got any news.”
”None--none, old friend. Nothing at all. Horrocks is a fool, I'm thinking. Take that chair,” pointing to the basket chair. ”You're not looking up to the mark. Have a nip of Glenlivet.”
He pa.s.sed the white-labeled bottle over to his companion, and watched the rancher curiously as he shakily helped himself to a liberal ”four fingers.” ”Poker” John was rapidly breaking up. Lablache fully realized this.
”No news--no news,” murmured John, as he smacked his lips over his ”tot”
of whisky. ”It's bad, man, very bad. We're not safe in this place whilst that man's about. Dear, dear, dear.”
The senility of the rancher was painfully apparent. Doubtless it was the result of his recent libations and excesses. The money-lender was quite aware that John had not come to him to discuss the ”hustler.” He had come to suggest a game of cards, but for reasons of his own the former wished to postpone the request. He had not expected that ”Poker” John would have come this evening; therefore, certain plans of his were not to have been put into execution until the following day. Now, however, it was different. John's coming, and his condition, offered him a chance which was too good to be missed, and Lablache was never a man to miss opportunities.
CHAPTER XVII
THE NIGHT OF THE PUSKY
Presently the old man drew himself up a little. The spirit had a bracing effect upon him. The dull leering eyes a.s.sumed a momentary brightness, and he almost grew cheerful. The change was not lost upon Lablache. It was a veritable game of the cat and the mouse.
”This is the first time your stock has been touched,” said John, meaninglessly. His thoughts were running upon the game of cards he had promised himself. An unaccountable lack of something like moral courage prevented him talking of it. Possibly it was the iron influence of his companion which forbade the suggestion of cards. ”Poker” John was inwardly chafing at his own weakness.
”Yes,” responded the other, ”I have not been touched before.” Then, suddenly, he leant forward, and, for the moment, the money-lender's face lit up with something akin to kindliness. It was an unusual sight, and one not to be relied upon. ”How many years is it, John, that we have struggled side by side in this benighted land?”
The rancher looked at the other, then his eyes dropped. He scarcely comprehended. He was startled at the expression of that leathery, puffed face. He s.h.i.+fted uneasily with the curious weakly restlessness of a shattered nerve.
”More years, I guess, than I care to think of,” he murmured at last.
”Yes, yes, you're right, John--quite right. It doesn't do to look back too far. We're getting on. But we're not old men yet. We're rich, John, rich in land and experience. No, not so old. We can still give the youngsters points, John. Ha, ha!”
Lablache laughed hollowly at his own pleasantry. His companion joined in the laugh, but without mirth. Poker--he could think of nothing but poker. The money-lender insinuatingly pushed the whisky bottle closer to the senile rancher. Almost unconsciously the old man helped himself.
”I wonder what it would be like living a private, idle life?” Lablache went on, as though speaking to himself. Then directly to his companion, ”Do you know, old friend, I'm seriously thinking of selling out all my interests and retiring. I've worked very hard--very hard. I'm getting tired of it all. Sometimes I feel that rest would be good. I have ama.s.sed a very large fortune, John--as you know.”
The confidences of the money-lender were so unusual that ”Poker” John, in a dazed way, mildly wondered. The whisky had roused him a good deal now, and he felt that it was good to talk like this. He felt that the money-lender was a good fellow, and much better than he had thought. He even experienced compunction for the opinions which, at times, he had expressed of this old companion. Drink plays strange pranks with one's better judgment at times. Lablache noted the effect of his words carefully.
”Yes,” said John, ”you have worked hard--we have both worked hard. Our lives have not been altogether without pleasure. The occasional game of cards we have had together has always helped to relieve monotony, eh, Lablache? Yes--yes. No one can say we have not earned rest. But there--yes, you have been more fortunate than I. I could not retire.”
Lablache raised his spa.r.s.e eyebrows. Then he helped himself to some whisky and pushed the bottle over to the other. When John had again replenished his gla.s.s the money-lender solemnly raised his and waved it towards the gray-headed old man. John responded unsteadily.
”How!”
”How!” replied the rancher.
Both men drank the old Indian toast. Simple honesty was in one heart, while duplicity and low cunning filled the other.
”You could not retire?” said Lablache, when they had set their empty gla.s.ses upon the desk.
”No--no,” answered the other, shaking his head with ludicrous mournfulness, ”not retire; I have responsibilities--debts. You should know. I must pay them off. I must leave Jacky provided for.”
”Yes, of course. You must pay them off. Jacky should be your first consideration.”