The Vagrant Duke Part 36

CHAPTER XI

ANCIENT HISTORY

Peter wasn't at all certain that he had done the right thing. One event had followed another with such startling rapidity that there hadn't been time to deliberate. Jim Coast was wounded, how badly Peter didn't know, but the obvious duty was to give him first aid and sanctuary until Peter could get a little clearer light on Coast's possibilities for evil. None of this was Peter's business. He had done what McGuire had asked him to do and had nearly gotten killed for his pains. Two fights already and he had come to Black Rock to find peace!

In his anger at McGuire's trick he was now indifferent as to what would happen to the old man. There was no doubt that Jim Coast held all the cards and, unless he died, would continue to hold them. It was evident that McGuire, having failed in accomplishing the murder, had placed himself in a worse position than before, for Coast was not one to relax or to forgive, and if he had gotten his five thousand dollars so easily as this, he would be disposed to make McGuire pay more heavily now.

Peter knew nothing of the merits of the controversy, but it seemed obvious that the two princ.i.p.als in the affair were both tarred with the same stick. _Arcades Ambo_. He was beginning to believe that Coast was the more agreeable villain of the two. At least he had made no bones about the fact of his villainy.

Peter found Coast stripped to the waist, sitting in a chair by the table, bathing his wounded shoulder. But the hemorrhage had stopped and Peter saw that the bullet had merely grazed the deltoid, leaving a clean wound, which could be successfully treated by first aid devices. So he found his guest a drink of whisky, which put a new heart into him, then tore up a clean linen shirt, strips from which he soaked in iodine and bandaged over the arm and shoulder.

Meanwhile Coast was talking.

"Well, _mon vieux_, it's a little world, ain't it? To think I'd find _you_, my old bunkie, Pete, the waiter, out here in the wilds, pa.s.sin'

the buck for Mike McGuire! Looks like the hand o' Fate, doesn't it?

Superintendent, eh? Some job! Twenty thousand acres--if he's got an inch. An' me thinkin' all the while you'd be slingin' dishes in a New York chop house!"

"I studied forestry in Germany once," said Peter with a smile, as he wound the bandage.

"Right y'are! Mebbe you told me. I don't know. Mebbe there's a lot o'

things you _didn't_ tell me. Mebbe there's a lot of things I didn't tell _you_. But I ought to 'a' known a globe trotter like you never would 'a'

stayed a waiter. A waiter! _Nom de Dieu!_ Remember that (sanguine) steward on the _Bermudian_? Oily, fat little beef-eater with the gold teeth? Tried to make us 'divy' on the tips? But we beat him to it, Pete, when we took French leave. H-m! I'm done with waitin' now, Pete. So are you, I reckon. Gentleman of leisure, _I_ am!"

"There you are," said Peter as he finished the bandage, "but you'll have to get this wound dressed somewhere to-morrow."

"Right you are. A hospital in Philly will do the trick. And McGuire pays the bill."

Jim Coast got up and moved his arm cautiously.

"Mighty nice of you, Pete. That's fine. I'll make him pay through the nose for this." And then turning his head and eyeing Peter narrowly, "You say McGuire told you nothin'!"

"Nothing. It's none of my affair."

The ex-waiter laughed. "He knows his business. Quiet as death, ain't he?

He's got a right to be. And scared. He's got a right to be scared too.

I'll scare him worse before I'm through with him."

He broke off with a laugh and then, "Funny to find you guardin' _him_ against _me_. House all locked--men with guns all over the place. He wanted one of those guys to kill me, didn't he? But I'm too slick for him. No locked doors can keep out what's scarin' Mike McGuire----"

He broke off suddenly and held up his empty gla.s.s. "Another drink of the whisky, _mon gars_, and I'm yer friend for life."

Peter was still curious, so he obeyed and after cleaning up the mess they had made he sank into a chair, studying the worn features of his old companion. He had taken the precaution to pull in the heavy shutter of the window which had been opened and to lock the door. Peter did not relish the idea of a murder committed in this cabin.

"Not apt to come now, are they, Pete? Well, let 'em," he answered himself with a shrug. "But they won't if McGuire has his way. Murder is the only thing that will suit McGuire's book. He can't do that--not with witnesses around. Ain't he the slick one, though? I was watchin' for just what happened. That's why I stayed in the tree so long--listenin'.

He must of slipped in like a snake. How he did it I don't know. I'm a worse snake than he is but I always rattle before I strike."

He laughed again dryly.

"I've got _him_ rattled all O. K. Mebbe he'd of shot straighter if he hadn't been. He used to could--dead shot. But I reckon his talents are runnin' different _now_. Millions he has they say, _mon vieux_, millions. And I'll get my share of 'em."

Jim Coast smoked for a moment in contented silence.

"See here, Pete. I like you. Always did. Straight as a string--you are.

You've done me a good turn to-night. You might of put me out--killed me when you had me down----"

"I'm no murderer, Jim."

"Right. Nor I ain't either. I don't want to hurt a hair of McGuire's head. Every one of 'em is precious as refined gold. I want him to live--to keep on livin' and makin' more money because the more money he's got the more I'll get--see."

"Blackmail," said Peter shortly.

Coast glanced at him, shrugged and laughed.

"Call it that if you like. It's a dirty word, but I'll stand for it, seein' it's you. Blackmail! What's a waiter's tip but blackmail for good service? What's a lawyer's fee from a corporation but money paid by men to keep them out of the jail? What's a breach of promise case?

Blackmail--legal blackmail. I'm doin' nothin' less an' nothin' more than a million other men--but I'm not workin' with a lawyer. I'll turn the trick alone. What would you say if I told you that half of every dollar McGuire has got is mine--a full half--to say nothin' of payment for the years I was wanderin' an' grubbin' over the face of the earth, while he was livin' easy. Oh! You're surprised. You'd better be. For that's the G.o.d's truth, _mon ami_."

"You mean--he--he----" Peter's credulity was strained and he failed to finish his query.

"Oh, you don't believe? Well, you needn't. But there's no blackmail when you only take what belongs to you. The money--the money that made his millions was as much mine as his. I'm going to have my share with compound interest for fifteen years--and perhaps a bit more."

"You surprise me. But it seems that if there's any justice in your claim, you could establish it legally."

Jim Coast laughed again.

"There's a quicker--a safer way than that. I'm takin' it." He filled his gla.s.s again and went on, leaning far over the table toward Peter.

"_Voyons_, Pete. When we came ash.o.r.e, I made you an offer to play my game. You turned me down. It's not too late to change your mind. The old man trusts you or he wouldn't of sent you out with that money. I may need some help with this business and you're fixed just right to lend me a hand. Throw in with me, do what I want, and I'll see that you're fixed for life."

Peter shook his head slowly from side to side.

"No, Jim. He pays me well. I'm no traitor."

"H-m. Traitor!" he sneered. "_He_ wasn't overparticular about _you_. He might of killed you or _I_ might of, if you hadn't been too d.a.m.n quick for me. What do you think Mike McGuire cares about _you_?" he laughed bitterly.

"Nothing. But that makes no difference. I----"

A loud jangle of a bell from the corner and Jim Coast sprang to his feet.

"The telephone," explained Peter, indicating the instrument. "That's McGuire now." He rose and moved toward it, but Coast caught him by the arm.

"Worried, eh?" he said with a grin. "Wants to know what's happened! All right. Tell him--tell the----." And then, as Peter released himself, "Wait a minute. Tell him you've got me here," laughed Coast, "a prisoner. Tell him I'm talking. Ask for instructions. He'll tell you what to do with me, d.a.m.n quick," he sneered.

Peter waited a moment, thinking, while the bell tinkled again, and then took down the receiver. He was in no mood to listen to McGuire.

"h.e.l.lo--Yes, this is Nichols.... All right, yes. Shot at from the dark--while paying the money. You hit Hawk Kennedy in the shoulder....

Yes, _you_. I'm no fool, McGuire.... He's here--at the Cabin. I've just fixed his shoulder----. All right----. What shall I do with him----?

Yes--Yes, he's talking.... Let him go----! h.e.l.lo! Let him go, you say?

Yes----"