Part 37 (2/2)

any.”

Jim Coast leaned forward, glowering at the rag carpet.

”But I--I didn't want to go back just then. The fear of G.o.d was in me.

I'd looked into h.e.l.l.”

He laughed bitterly.

”Then I joined the 'greasers' against Diaz. I've told you about that.

And the 'Rurales' cleaned us up all right. A girl saved my life. Instead of shootin' me against a mud wall, they put me to work on a railroad. I was there three years. I escaped at last and reached the coast, where I s.h.i.+pped for South America. It was the only way out, but all the while I was thinkin' of Mike McGuire and the copper mine. You know the rest, Pete--the Argentine deal that might of made me rich an' how it fell through. Don't it beat h.e.l.l how the world bites the under dog!”

”But why didn't you go back to America and fight your claim with McGuire?” asked Peter, aware of the sinister, missing pa.s.sage in the story.

Coast shot a sharp glance at his questioner.

”There were two reasons--one of which you won't know. The other was that I couldn't. I was on the beach an' not too popular. The only s.h.i.+ps out of Buenos Aires were for London. That was the easiest way back to America anyhow. So I s.h.i.+pped as a cattle hand. And there you are. I lived easy in London. That's me. Easy come easy go. There it was I wrote a man I knew out in Bisbee--the feller that helped stake us--and he answered me that McGuire was dead, and that the mine was a flivver--too far away to work. You see he must of showed the letter to McGuire, and McGuire told him what to write. That threw me off the track. I forgot him and went to France....”

Coast paused while he filled his gla.s.s again.

”It wasn't until I reached New York that I found out McGuire was alive.

It was just a chance while I was plannin' another deal. I took it. I hunted around the brokers' offices where they sell copper stocks. It didn't take me long to find that my mine was the 'Tarantula.' McGuire had developed it with capital from Denver, built a narrow gauge in. Then after a while had sold out his share for more than half a million clear.”

Peter was studying Coast keenly, thinking hard. But the story held with what he already knew of the man's history.

”That's when Mike McGuire tacked the 'Jonathan K.' onto his name,” Coast went on. ”And that money's mine, the good half of it. Figure it out for yourself. Say five hundred thou, eight per cent, fifteen years--I reckon I could worry along on that even if he wouldn't do better--which he will.

”Well, Pete--to shorten up--I found McGuire was here--in New York--and I laid for him. I watched for a while and then one day I got my nerve up and tackled him on the street. You ought to of seen his face when I told him who I was and what I'd come for. We were in the crowd at Broadway and Wall, people all about us. He started the 'high and mighty' stuff for a minute until I crumpled him up with a few facts. I thought he was goin' to have a stroke for a minute, when I made my brace for the five thou--then he turned tail and ran into the crowd pale as death. I lost him then. But it didn't matter. I'd find him again. I knew where his office was--and his hotel. It was dead easy. But he beat it down here.

It took me awhile to pick up the trail. But here I am, Pete--here I am--safe in harbor at last.”

Coast took the bills out of his pocket and slowly counted them again.

”And when you come back from the West, what will you do?” asked Peter.

”Oh, now you're talkin', Pete. I'm goin' to settle down and live respectable. I like this country around here. I came from Jersey, you know, in the first place. I might build a nice place--keep a few horses and automobiles and enjoy my old age--run over to gay Paree once a year--down to Monte Carlo in the season. Oh, I'd know how to _live_ now.

You bet you. I've seen 'em do it--those swells. They won't have anything on me. I'll live like a prince----”

”On blackmail----,” said Peter.

”See here, Pete----!”

”I meant it.” Peter had risen and faced Coast coolly. ”Blackmail! You can't tell me that if you had any legal claim on McGuire you couldn't prove it.”

”I mightn't be able to----,” he shrugged.

”What is McGuire frightened about? Not about what he owes you. He could pay that ten times over. It's something else--something that happened out there at the mine that you dare not tell----”

”That I _won't_ tell,” laughed Coast disagreeably.

”That you _dare_ not tell--that McGuire dares not tell. Something that has to do with his strange message about the blood on the knife, and your placard about what you've got holding over him----”

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