Part 38 (1/2)

After this he grew more calm. Perhaps the knowledge that the store was secure now against any intruder helped to steady his nerves. Then he started--was the store secure? He rose again and went to the window to put up the shutter. He gazed out towards the Foss River Ranch, and, as he gazed, he saw some one riding fast towards the settlement.

The horseman came nearer; the sight fascinated the great man. Now the traveler had reached the market place, and was coming on towards the store. Suddenly the money-lender recognized in the horseman one of Horrocks's troopers, mounted on a horse from John Allandale's stable. A wild hope leapt up in his heart. Then, as the man drew nearer and Lablache saw the horrified expression of his face, hope went from him, and he feared the worst.

The clatter of hoofs ceased outside the office door. Lablache stepped heavily forward and threw it open. He stood framed in the doorway as the man gasped out his terrible news.

”He's drowned, sir, drowned before our eyes. We tried, but couldn't save him. He would go, sir; we tried to persuade him, but he would go. No more than fifty yards from the bank, and then down he went. He was out of sight in two minutes. It was horrible, sir, and him never uttered a sound. I'm going in to Stormy Cloud to report an' get instructions.

Anything I can do, sir?”

So the worst was realized. For the moment the money-lender could find no words. His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. His last hope--the last barrier between him and the man whom he considered his arch enemy, Retief, seemed to have been shattered. He thought not of the horror of the policeman's drowning; he felt no sorrow at the reckless man's ghastly end. He merely thought of himself. He saw only how the man's death affected his personal interests. At last he gurgled out some words. He scarce knew what he said.

”There's nothing to be done. Yes--no--yes, you'd better go up to the Allandales,” he went on uncertainly. ”They'll send a rescue party.”

The trooper dashed off and Lablache securely fastened the door. Then he put the shutter over the window, and, notwithstanding that it was broad daylight still, he lit the lamp.

Once more he returned to his protesting chair, into which he almost fell. To him this last catastrophe was as the last straw. What was now to become of the settlement; what was to become of him? Horrocks gone; the troopers withdrawn, or, at least, without a guiding hand, what might Retief not be free to do while the settlement awaited the coming of a fresh detachment of police. He impotently cursed the raider. The craven weakness, induced by his condition of nervous prostration, was almost pitiable. All the selfishness which practically monopolized his entire nature displayed itself in his terror. He cared nothing for others. He believed that Retief was at war with him alone. He believed that the raider sought only his wealth--his wealth which his years of hard work and unscrupulous methods had laboriously piled up--the wealth he loved and lived for--the wealth which was to him as a G.o.d. He thought of all he had already lost. He counted it up in thousands, and his eyes grew wide with horror and despair as the figures mounted up, up, until they represented a great fortune.

The long-suffering chair creaked under him as he flung himself back in it, his pasty, heavy-jowled face was ghastly under the lash of despairing thought. Only a miser, one of those wretched creatures who live only for the contemplation of their h.o.a.rded wealth, could understand the feelings of the miserable man as he lay back in his chair.

The man who had thus reduced the money-lender must have understood his nature as did the inquisitors of old understand the weaknesses of their victims. For surely he could have found no other vulnerable spot in the great man's composition.

The first shock of the trooper's news began to pa.s.s. Lablache's mind began to balance itself again. Such a state of nerves as was his could not last and the man remain sane. Possibly the thought that he was still a rich man came to his aid. Possibly the thought of hundreds of thousands of dollars sunk in perfect securities, in various European centers, toned down the grievousness of his losses. Whatever it was he grew calmer, and with calmness his scheming nature rea.s.serted itself.

He moved from his seat and helped himself liberally to the whisky which was in his cabinet. He needed the generous spirit, and drank it off at a gulp. His chair behind him creaked. He started. His ashen face became more ghastly in its hue. He looked round fearfully. Then he understood, and he wheezed heavily. Once more he sat himself down, and the warming spirit steadily did its work.

Suddenly his mind leapt forward, as it were, from its stagnatory condition of abject fear. It traveled swiftly, urged by a pursuing dread over plans for the future. The guiding star of his thought was safety.

At all costs he must find safety for his property and himself. So long as Retief was at large there could be no safety for him in Foss River.

He must get away. He must get away, bearing with him the fruits which yet remained to him of his life's toil. He had contemplated retiring before. His retirement from business would mean ruin to many of those who had borrowed from him he knew, and to those on whose property he held mortgages as security. But that could not be helped. He was not going to allow himself to suffer through what he considered any humanitarian weakness. Yes, he would retire--get away from the reach of Retief and his companions, and--ah!

His thoughts merged into another channel--a channel which, under the stress of his terrors, had for the moment been obscured. He suddenly thought of the Allandales. Here for the instant was a stumbling block.

Or should he renounce his pa.s.sion for Jacky? He drummed thoughtfully with his finger-tips upon the arms of his chair.

No, why should he give her up? Something of his old nerve was returning.

He held all the cards. He knew he could, by foreclosing, ruin ”Poker”

John. Why should he give the girl up, and see her calmly secured by that cursed Bunning-Ford? His bilious eyes half closed and his spa.r.s.e eyebrows drew together in a deep concentration of thought. Then presently his forehead smoothed, and his lashless eyes gleamed wickedly.

He rose heavily to his feet and labored to and fro across the floor, with his beefy hands clasped behind his back.

”Excellent--excellent,” he muttered. ”The devil could not have designed it better.” There was a grim, evil smile about his mouth. ”Yes, a game--a game. It will tickle old John, and will carry out my purpose.

The mortgages which I hold on his property are nothing to me. Most are gambling debts. For the rest the interest has covered the princ.i.p.al. I have seen to that. But he is in arrears now. Good--good. Their abandonment represents no loss to me--ha, ha.” He chuckled mirthlessly.

”A little game--a gentle flutter, friend John, and the stakes all in my favor. But I do not intend to lose. Oh, no. The girl might outwit me if I lost. I shall win, and on my wedding day I shall be magnanimous--good.” He unclasped his hands and rubbed them together gleefully.

”The uncle's consent--his persuasion. She will do as he wishes or--ruin.

It is capital--a flawless scheme. And then to leave Foss River forever.

G.o.d, but I shall be glad,” with a return to his nervous dread. He looked about him; eagerly, his great paunchy figure pictured grotesquely beneath the pasty, fearful face.

”Now to see John,” he went on, after a moment's pause. ”How--how? I wish I could get him here. It would be better here. There would be no chance of listening ears. Besides, there is the whisky.” He paused again thinking. ”Yes,” he muttered presently. ”Delay would be bad. I must not give my enemy time. At once--at once. Nothing like doing things at once.

I must go to John. But--” and he looked dubiously at the darkened window--”when I return it will be dark.” He picked up his other revolver and slipped it into his breast pocket. ”Yes, yes, I am getting foolish--old. Come along, my friend, we will go.”