Part 9 (2/2)
Clinch looked at him, very drunk: ”None o' your dinged business,” he said very softly.
The dancing had become boisterous but not unseemly, although all the men had been drinking too freely.
Smith closed the pantry bar at midnight, by direction of Eve. Now he came out into the ballroom and mixed affably with the company, even dancing with Harvey Chase's sister once--a slender hoyden, all flushed and dishevelled, with a tireless mania for dancing which seemed to intoxicate her.
She danced, danced, danced, accepting any partner offered. But Smith's skill enraptured her and she refused to let him go when her beau, a late arrival, one Charlie Berry, slouched up to claim her.
Smith, always trying to keep Clinch and Quintana's men in view, took no part in the discussion; but Berry thought he was detaining Lily Chase and pushed him aside.
”Hold on, young man!” exclaimed Smith sharply. ”Keep your hands to yourself. If your girl don't want to dance with you she doesn't have to.”
Some of Quintana's gang came up to listen. Berry glared at Smith.
”Say,” he said, ”I seen you before somewhere. Wasn't you in Russia?”
”What are you talking about?”
”Yes, you was. You was an officer! What you doing at Clinch's?”
”What's that?” growled Clinch, shoving his way forward and shouldering the crowd aside.
”Who's this man, Mike?” demanded Berry.
”Well, who do you think he is?” asked Clinch thickly.
”I think he's gettin' the goods on you, that's what I think,” yelled Berry.
”G'wan home, Charlie,” returned Clinch. ”G'wan, all o' you. The dance is over. Go peaceable, every one. Stop that fiddle!”
The music ceased. The dance was ended; they all understood that; but there was grumbling and demands for drinks.
Clinch, drunk but impa.s.sive, herded them through the door out into the starlight. There was scuffling, horse-play, but no fighting.
The big Englishman, Harry Beck, asked for accommodations for his party over night.
”Naw,” said Clinch, ”g'wan back to the Inn. I can't bother with you folks to-night.” And as the others, Salzar, Georgiades, Picquet and Sanchez gathered about to insist, Clinch pushed them all out of doors in a ma.s.s.
”Get the h.e.l.l out o' here!” he growled; and slammed the door.
He stood for a moment with head lowered, drunk, but apparently capable of reflection. Eve came from the melodeon and laid one slim hand on his arm.
”Go to bed, girlie,” he said, not looking at her.
”You also, dad.”
”No.... I got business with Hal Smith.”
Pa.s.sing Smith, the girl whispered: ”You look out for him and undress him.”
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