See here, Craig," and he leaned forward, peering into my face, "you
look to me like the right man for what we want done; you are young,
strong, sufficiently intelligent, and a natural fighter. All right, I
'm sporting man enough to bet five thousand on your making good. If
you fail it will be worse for you, that's all. I 'm not a good man to
double-cross, see! All you have got to do to earn your money is obey
orders strictly, and keep your tongue still. Do you get that?"
I nodded, waiting to learn more.
"It may require a year, but more likely much less time. That makes no
difference--it will be ten thousand for you just the same," his voice
had grown crisp and sharp. "What do you say?"
"That the proposition looks good, only I should like to know a little
more clearly what I am expected to do."
"A bit squeamish, hey! got a troublesome conscience?"
"Not particularly--but there is a limit."
He slowly lit a fresh cigar, studying the expression of my face in the
light, as though deciding upon a course of action. Neale moved
uneasily, but made no attempt to break the silence. Finally, with a
more noticeable drawl in his voice, the man in the armchair began his
explanation.
"Very good; we 'll come down to facts. It will not take long.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25