The Just and the Unjust Part 32

"Well, what is it, can't you see I am in a hurry?"

"Oh, nothing here, Marsh--" and striding forward, Gilmore disappeared in the building before which they had paused.

For an instant Langham hesitated, and then he followed the gambler.

A step or two in advance of him, Gilmore mounted the stairs, and pa.s.sing down the hall entered Langham's office. Langham followed him into the room; he closed the door, and without a glance at Gilmore removed his hat and overcoat and hung them up on a nail back of the door; the gambler meanwhile had drawn an easy chair toward the open grate at the far end of the room, before which he now established himself with apparent satisfaction.

"I suppose the finding of the coroner's jury doesn't amount to much," he presently said but without looking in Langham's direction.

The lawyer did not answer him. He crossed to his desk which filled the s.p.a.ce between the two windows overlooking the Square.

"You're d.a.m.n social!" snarled Gilmore over his shoulder.

"I told you I was busy," said Langham, and he began to finger the papers on his desk.

Gilmore swung around in his chair and faced him.

"So you won't see him--North, I mean?" he queried. "Well, you're a h.e.l.l of a friend, Marsh. You've been as thick as thieves, and now when he's up against it good and hard, you're the first man to turn your back on him!"

Seating himself, Langham took up his pen and began to write. Gilmore watched him in silence for a moment, a smile of lazy tolerance on his lips.

"Suppose North is acquitted, Marsh; suppose the grand jury doesn't hold him," he said at length; "will the search for the murderer go on?"

The pen slipped from Langham's fingers to the desk.

"Look here, I don't want to discuss North or his affairs with you. It's nothing to me; can't you get that through your head?"

"As his friend--" began Gilmore.

"Get rid of that notion, too!"

"That's what I wanted to hear you say, Marsh! So you're not his friend?"

"No!" exclaimed Langham briefly, and his shaking fingers searched among the papers on his desk for the pen he had just dropped.

"So you're not his friend any more?" repeated Gilmore slowly. "Well, I expect when a fellow gets hauled up for murder it's asking a good deal of his friends to stand by him! Do you know, Marsh, I'm getting an increased respect for the law; it puts the delinquents to such a h.e.l.l of a lot of trouble. It's a good thing to let alone! I'm thinking mighty seriously of cutting out the games up at my rooms; what would you think of my turning respectable, Marsh? Would you be among the first to extend the warm right hand of fellowship?"

"Oh, you are respectable enough, Andy!" said Langham.

He seemed vastly relieved at the turn the conversation had taken. He leaned back in his chair and thrust his hands in his trousers pockets.

"Say, why can't I put myself where I want to be? What's the matter with my style, anyhow? It's as good as yours any day, Marsh; and no one ever saw me drunk--that is a whole lot more than can be said of you; and yet you stand in with the best people, you go to houses where I'd be thrown out if I as much as stuck my nose inside the door!"

"Your style's all right, Andy!" Langham hastened to a.s.sure him.

"Well, it's as good as yours any day!"

"Better!" said Langham, laughing.

"Well, what's the matter with it, then?" persisted Gilmore.

"There's a good deal of it sometimes, it's rather oppressive--" said the lawyer.

"I'll fix that," said Gilmore shortly.

"I would if I wanted what you seem to think you want," replied Langham chuckling.

"Marsh, I'm dead serious; I'm sick of being outside all the good things.

I know plenty of respectable fellows, fellows like you; but I want to know respectable women; why can't I?"

"If you hanker for it, you can; it's up to you, Andy," said Langham.

The gambler appeared very ingenuous in this new role of his.

"Look here, Marsh, I've never asked anything of you, and you must admit that I've done you one or two good turns; now I'm going to ask a favor of you and I don't expect to be refused; fact is, I ain't going to take a refusal--"

"What is it, Andy?" asked Langham cautiously, "I want you to introduce me to your wife."

"The h.e.l.l you do!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Langham.

The gambler's brow darkened.

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded angrily.

"Nothing, I was only thinking of Mrs. Langham's probable att.i.tude in the matter, that was all."

"You mean you think she won't want to meet me?" and in spite of himself Gilmore's voice sounded strained and unnatural.

"I'm _sure_ she won't," said Langham with cruel candor.

"Well," observed Gilmore coolly, "I'm going to put my case in your hands, Marsh; you come to my rooms, you drink my whisky, and smoke my cigars and borrow my money; now I'm going to make a new deal with you.

I'm going to know your wife. I like her style--she and I'll get on fine together, once we know each other. You make it plain to her that I'm your friend, your best friend, about your _only_ friend!"

"You fool--" began Langham.

Gilmore quitted his chair at a bound and strode to Langham's side.

"None of that, Marsh!" he protested sternly, placing a heavy hand on Langham's shoulder. "I see we got to understand each other, you and me!

You don't take hints; I have to bang it into you with a club or you don't see what I'm driving at--"

"I've paid you all I owe you, Gilmore!" said Langham conclusively. "You can't hold that over me any longer."

"I don't want to!" retorted Gilmore quietly.

"You kept your thumb on me good and hard while you could!"

"Not half so hard as I am going to if you try to get away from me now--"