Grit Lawless Part 29

"I knew Simmonds. He seemed a decent, harmless sort of chap," Lawless remarked after a pause. "I can't a.s.sociate him with traps, somehow. He lent me ten pounds once, and never bothered me to return it. I'm glad to remember now that I settled my account with him."

"I've settled my account with him too," Van Bleit rejoined... "I don't go back on my word whatever the consequences."

He was growing excited. Denzil, whose impulses did not lead him into indiscretions, brought him up suddenly with the quietly uttered remark:

"No one could have been more upset than you were over Simmonds' death, dear fellow."

"That's a fact," Van Bleit returned readily. "It was a shock to me.

But it was my life against his. I fancy most men value their own lives more highly than another's. Simmonds tricked me to the bungalow, and he paid the cost. He meant mischief. It isn't wise for any man to attempt that sort of game with me."

Lawless smoked in silence, and Denzil, under the pretext of getting a light for his pipe, nudged his friend significantly. Van Bleit in his excitement was giving himself away.

"Well, anyway," Van Bleit resumed more collectedly after a pause, "he's gone, poor devil! Let him Rip. My resentment doesn't cross the border." He laughed. "I require a certain amount of the commodity this side the Styx... most chaps do. I reckon you've got an enemy or so yourself, Grit?"

"I'm pretty well at enmity with all mankind," Lawless answered. "And my greatest enemy, I take it, is myself."

"That's rot," Van Bleit returned. "Every man has at least a sneaking affection for himself, and no enemy entertains the slightest regard for the object of his animosity."

"There is something in that," Lawless agreed, and thought for a moment.

"Nevertheless, a man who makes enemies has an enemy in himself," he added with conviction. "It is so much easier to win friends."

"My experience hasn't tended to that conclusion," Van Bleit replied.

"Friends are like the diamonds men dig out of the bowels of the earth at great expense of time and labour, valuable on account of their scarcity."

"You've had some good friends yourself, Karl," Denzil interposed with a wink. "Take Lawless, for instance. How many men would stay on in this G.o.d-forsaken hole solely to accommodate another?"

"There wasn't much sacrifice in that," Lawless replied. "The house is mine till the end of the month. So long as I can get anyone to bear me company there isn't any incentive to leave it. When you go I clear out also. I can't stick it here alone. The place has served its purpose.

I've had a good time on the whole. But, as anyone can see, it's not intended for a single man. In all these weeks I haven't seen a soul besides yourselves, except for a party of prospectors who outspanned one night."

He rose and knocked the ash from his pipe. Away in the distance he had seen a pinpoint of light like a dull star low down upon the horizon, and he knew that Tottie had lighted her candle in the lonely hut a quarter of a mile away. He planted himself between Van Bleit's vision and the hut.

"It's getting chilly," he said. "I've no particular fancy for watching the stars: Have you?"

"No," Van Bleit answered, and he and Denzil rose and accompanied their host indoors.

"It's a dashed sight more comfortable inside," he remarked.

Lawless drew the outer door to and fastened it. Neither of them had observed that pinpoint of flickering yellow light that was more like the elusive glimmer of a firefly than the luminous brilliance of a star. He wondered how he would have explained it had they remarked on the unexpected illumination in the hut.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

The following morning Lawless suggested a ride as the only entertainment he had to offer. There were only two mounts, he explained, and looked at Van Bleit. Van Bleit remarked that it would be fairly slow for the third man.

"Let's take our guns and tramp," he said. "There ought to be something in that bush yonder."

"There isn't," Lawless answered. "I've been there myself."

"It would give some sort of object for the walk," Van Bleit observed.

"I can loaf about here very well by myself," Denzil put in obligingly, missing the venom of the glance Van Bleit shot at him, a glance that Lawless intercepted and read aright. Van Bleit was not minded to trust himself alone in his company. There was not a shadow of doubt in his mind any longer that the Dutchman was suspicious of his intentions. It remained for him to lull those suspicions if possible.

"Come on, Karl," he said. "Take your gun with you if you're keen on potting things. But don't expect much. I've been over the ground too often to hamper myself with carrying a gun. I'll leave the killing to you. Sure you don't mind?" he asked, turning to Denzil.

"Not in the least. I'll potter about here. It's more in my line."

Van Bleit did not like the arrangement, but he went. When a man has a gun loaded in both barrels slung across his shoulders, and a revolver charged in all six chambers in his right-hand pocket, he is fairly well provided against attack. It amused Lawless to observe how careful his companion was to ride on his left, and how persistently he kept his right hand in his pocket. He rode himself with both hands quite as ostentatiously displayed on the reins. Whenever he moved the right in the performance of the most simple office he was conscious of being observed until he returned it to its position on the rein. The knowledge that Van Bleit distrusted him gave him a peculiar sense of satisfaction. It was more to his liking to outwit a rogue who was prepared than to take advantage of a man's trust. He was glad to feel at this stage that they faced one another as foes.

During that ride, between the fragments of conversation, Lawless decided that on some such expedition as the present he would lead Van Bleit to a given place, and, with Tottie's a.s.sistance, overpower him and get hold of what he wanted. In view of the shortness of the time in which to carry out his designs, it was necessary to put his plans into prompt effect. He determined upon seeing Tottie that night. He would slip out when the others were asleep and make his way to the hut. Then, if he could induce Van Bleit to fall in with his arrangements in the morning, success would be fairly a.s.sured. His policy in the meantime was to allay Van Bleit's suspicions. In this he had succeeded fairly well so far. On the homeward journey Van Bleit rode most of the way with his right hand on his thigh; and once, Lawless noticed, when he plunged his own right hand into his pocket his companion did not appear in the least apprehensive. However much he doubted him, it was plain he had given up all thought of treachery on that occasion.

"I suggest we stick indoors and play cards this afternoon," Van Bleit proposed when they got back. He swung his heavy frame out of the saddle. "It's warm," he said.

Van Bleit was lucky at cards. He played for high stakes; it was one of his varied methods of obtaining a livelihood. Certainly that afternoon he became no poorer. He and Denzil between them swept in the stakes.

"We'll give you your revenge," he said to Lawless.

And after supper they resumed their game and played far into the night.

It was Lawless who eventually insisted on leaving off. He had been chafing for some time, thinking of his thwarted plans. Van Bleit, he knew, was likely enough to play through into the dawn. He pushed back his chair at last and rose.

"If you fellows don't want any sleep," he said, "I do. We've another day before us."

Van Bleit laughed, rose, and stretched himself with a huge yawn.

"Late, is it? I never regard the time I spend over cards--or women," he said. He finished his gla.s.s of whisky and scooped in his gains.

"To-morrow I'll give you a chance of winning some of this back."

Lawless lighted the candles.

"Right!" he said. "I have a feeling that the luck is on the turn."

"Then you ought to play on... She's a fickle jade, and will change her mind in the daylight."

"I'll risk that. A man can't be expected to play cards if he's dead asleep."

Lawless' look of alertness when he was alone in the bedroom belied the plea of fatigue. He made such sounds and preparations as he deemed suitable for a man retiring to rest, and kicking off his boots, blew out the light, and flung himself dressed upon the bed. He listened intently to the sounds from the adjoining room. The jerky sc.r.a.ps of conversation between the two men were perfectly audible to him. It was rather like people talking in the same apartment with a screen dividing them. It would require the exercise of the utmost caution to leave the house without arousing their attention.

"Old Grit always had the rottenest luck at cards," he heard Van Bleit mumbling. "But it's made up to him in other ways."

And Denzil in a sleepy drawl replied:

"Don't believe in luck... When a man gets a thing it's because he goes for it in the right way."

Van Bleit's response to that sapience was a grunted "Good-night."

For a long while after they had ceased to talk Lawless lay still, staring wide-eyed into the darkness, until by the continued silence,-- the heavy soundlessness that enwrapped the house like some listening mystery, he judged the two men were asleep. Nevertheless, it was very warily he slipped his stockinged feet to the floor and then stood up.

Noiselessly, one step at a time, feeling his way in the darkness with the unerring judgment of a man who has already in the light measured the distance carefully from wall to wall, he crept towards the door.

Cautiously as he proceeded, his hand came in contact with the rickety washstand, and in the general hush the noise he made, though slight enough, sounded tremendous in his imagination. It brought him up all standing, the pulses in his ears beating like so many hammers. He remained quite still and almost held his breath while he listened for the faintest movement from the next room, where Van Bleit and Denzil lay in the dark waiting, as he waited, until they felt the time was ripe for discussing certain plans of their own.

Perfect silence reigned.