Part 58 (2/2)
Soapy's eyes grew narrower, and the pendent cigarette stirred slightly.
”Know me, hey?” he enquired.
”Heaven forbid! 'T was a bolt at a venture--a shot in the dark.”
”Talkin'--o'--shootin',” said Soapy, grimly deliberate, ”peanuts ain't a healthy profesh around here--not fer your kind, it ain't!”
”Oh, I don't know,” answered Ravenslee, shaking his head gently at the tomatoes, ”I've heard of professions even more unhealthy.”
”Aw--well--say what?”
”Well, talking of shooting--yours!”
Soapy's narrow eyes gleamed with an added viciousness, his pale nostrils expanded, but the retort died upon his curling mouth, his puffy eyelids widened and widened as he stared at the ring on Ravenslee's finger, and when he spoke his voice was strangely hoa.r.s.e and eager.
”Say, sport--where'd you--get that--ring?”
”Why do you ask?”
”'Cause I want to know, I guess.”
”Think you've seen it before?”
”Sport, I don't think--I know. I seen it many a time. I'd know it in a million, sure.”
”Where did you see it before?”
”On M'Ginnis's mitt. It useter belong t' Bud.”
”Ah!” exclaimed Ravenslee, scowling down at the ring, ”you make me wish more than ever that I had throttled him a little harder.”
”Where'd you get that ring, sport?” Soapy repeated.
”From Maggie Finlay's father!”
Soapy turned away to stare at the tomato cans again.
”Meanin'?” he enquired at last, hoa.r.s.er than before.
”That once upon a time it belonged to--her.”
”Sport,” said Soapy after an interval, still staring at the pyramid of cans, ”I useter know her once, an' I've jest nacherally took a fancy t'
that ring; if fifty dollars'll buy it, they're yours--right now.”
”It isn't mine,” answered Ravenslee, still scowling at the ring which he had drawn from his finger. ”I'm on my way to take it to--its owner.
But if that person doesn't want it, and I'm pretty sure--that person--won't, you shall have it, I promise you. And now,” said he, pocketing the ring and turning, still scowling, on Soapy, ”you are one of M'Ginnis's gang, I fancy; anyway, if you see him you can tell him from me that if he gives me another chance I'll surely kill him for the foul beast he is.”
”Sport,” said Soapy, ”I guess the Spider's right about you--anyway, you ain't my meat. An' as fer killin' Bud--you sure ain't goin' t' get th'
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