Part 29 (1/2)

”Oh, thunder,” he said in a futile attempt to sneer. ”Let's say no more about it. It was just fun for me. Besides, David,” he continued, meeting the other's gaze fairly, ”you stood by Ernie that day. Don't forget that, kid. You didn't have to, you know.”

”You chaps can settle all this some other time,” said Joey sharply.

”Wot we want to get at now is this: Wot's to be done next? Is David to set down and wait or is he to go back there and wait?”

”Go back there?” gasped d.i.c.k. ”Why, Joey Noakes, ain't you got a mite o' sense? You old noodle! Of course, he ain't to go back there. You mark my words, purty soon his neighbors will be advertisin' for him to come home and forgive 'em. No, sir! Wait here until something drops.

Read the _Cincinnati Enquirer_ every day, kid. You'll find something to interest you every little while about the Jenison murder case. You see, my buck, they're still lookin' for you.”

”I hope it all turns out as you think, d.i.c.k,” cried David fervently. He was weak with excitement. ”Oh, how I long to be cleared of this awful thing! How I long for the sight of Jenison Hall! And, say, d.i.c.k! If I should go back there as master, I want you and Ernie to come there and stay--all the rest of your lives. I--”

But d.i.c.k raised his hand; his eyes had narrowed. ”I couldn't do that, David,” he said, a harsh note in his usually pleasant voice. ”Thank you, just the same. Ernie and me are not cut out for places like Jenison Hall. We--we'd have all the silver inside of a week--and maybe the furniture.” His face flushed as he made this ba.n.a.l excuse for jest.

Ruby cried out in protest. ”Don't say that, d.i.c.k Cronk! You _could_ be different. Oh, why don't you try it, d.i.c.k?”

He looked down. His lips worked in the effort to force a grin of derision. His hand was trembling. No one spoke; somehow they felt the struggle that was going on within him. At last he lifted his eyes to hers.

”Can't do it, Ruby,” he said quietly. ”I don't think I'm naturally a thief, but it's got hold of me. If I thought there was a chance, maybe I'd--oh, but what's the use! Let's change the subject. Jacky, before we part for the night, I want to say something more to you. It hurts like the devil to say it, but I got to. You said you'd like me and Ernie to--to come down there. Well, I may as well tell you right here in front of these friends of our'n that Ernie--my brother, don't like you.

Now, don't say anything! You can't understand. He's terrible bitter against you. You'll excuse me if I say there's a--a girl at the bottom of it.”

”A girl?” fell from David's lips. ”You--Great heaven, d.i.c.k, you don't mean--Christine!”

d.i.c.k nodded, a rueful smile flickering about his lips. ”Poor boy,” he said apologetically, ”he can't help it. But it's so, just the same. And I want to ask you to be on the lookout for him always, kid. He's liable to get you some time if he can. It's dirt mean of me to say this about my brother, but I don't want him to do anything like that. He--he might get desperate, don't you see; and--well, just keep your eye skinned, that's all. You--you got to remember, David, that his dad swung for killin' a man. Mebby it's in Ernie's system, too. He's had such a horrible, unhappy life, I--I somehow can't blame him for having it in for us fellers that are strong and straight.”

David had sunk into a chair, appalled by his words.

”But he must know that Christine doesn't care for him,” he said mechanically, his eyes on d.i.c.k's face.

”Sure he does. That's the hard part of it. He's bitter jealous of you.

Course she wouldn't think of a cripple like him. But he's got it into his nut that she wouldn't look at you either if you was disfigured or your back was smashed or something like that. I keep arguing with him and he's sensible when he takes time to think. But, just the same, I wish you'd keep your eye peeled.”

”I am very sorry he feels as he does about--”

”Oh, I'm not asking you to give her up, kid--not for a minute. Cop her out if you can. She's a little Jim-dandy. And, say,” he said, turning to the others, who had listened to him with grave uneasiness, ”speaking of her reminds me that you may expect the new partner to-morrow.”

”Bob Grand?” growled Joey.

”Yep.” d.i.c.k had cast off his repressed air and was grinning once more, with all the delight of a teasing boy. ”Old skeezicks was on the train with me this evening, but he's gone on to the next stand. He looks more than ever like a fat, satisfied slug.”

”Well,” said Joey reflectively, ”we don't need him, but we do need 'is money. I 'ope, d.i.c.ky, you didn't deprive 'im of it.”

”Joey,” said d.i.c.k reproachfully, ”do you think I'd take the bread right out of your throat?”

David lay awake until nearly dawn, his mind whirling with the disclosures of the night. That sweet encounter in love still lingered uppermost in his thoughts, its fires fed afresh by the brand of hope that d.i.c.k had tossed upon them, but disagreeably chilled by the prospect of new trouble in the shape of Ernie Cronk. He fell asleep, thinking of those blissful moments under the awning when he held her slim, unresisting body close to his own and they were all alone in the blackest of nights with a tempest about them. In the background of his thoughts lurked Ernie Cronk and still farther back was the ominous figure of Colonel Bob Grand.

For the first time in many weeks he did not think of the detectives--and the bloodhounds!

CHAPTER XII