The Definite Object Part 86

"Nothing," she answered, bowing her face upon her arm, "only--I think--if you ask me again--I can't--keep you--waiting--very long!"

CHAPTER XLI

OF A PACKET OF LETTERS

M'Ginnis jerked aside the roll-top desk and falling on his knees before a small but ma.s.sive safe built into the wall behind, set the combination and swung open the heavy door, talking to his companion as he did so and quite unconscious of the pale face that watched him through the dingy window.

"That dam' Soapy's gettin' ugly," he was saying, "an' it don't do t'

get ugly with me, Heine, boy! Soapy thinks he's smart Alec all right, but I guess I'm some smarter. Why, I got evidence enough in here t'

'lectrocute a dozen Soapys."

"So?" said Heine, chewing on his cigar and peering into the safe. "Say, what's all them tied up in sa.s.sy blue ribbon, Bud?"

"These?" said M'Ginnis, and he took out a bundle of letters, turning them over in his big hands.

"Skirt--hey, Bud?"

"Sure thing!" he nodded, and as he stared down at this packet, how should he know how tense and rigid had become the lounging form in the darkness beyond the window, or guess of the wide glare of watchful eyes or of the sudden quiver of a smouldering cigarette?

"Yes, a girl's letters, Heine! An' a h.e.l.l of a lot of 'em. I dunno why I keep 'em, but--oh, h.e.l.l!" So saying he tossed the letters back again and turned to his companion. "Hand over that dope!" he commanded, and Heine pa.s.sed over a bundle of papers which M'Ginnis carefully slipped into a certain compartment. As he did so, Heine spun around upon his heel.

"Gee whiz!" he exclaimed, "you shook me that time, Soapy! Where've you blown in from--"

"An' what th' h.e.l.l are you nosin' around here for, anyway?" snarled M'Ginnis, shutting the heavy safe with a fierce slam; "since you've come in you can get out again--right now!"

Soapy seated himself upon a corner of the desk and placidly breathed out two spirals of cigarette smoke.

"Heard about Hermy bein' married, Bud?" he enquired.

"Married? You're a liar! Hermy married? It's not so!"

"'S right!" nodded Soapy. "She's married th' millionaire guy as got shot--you know--got shot in that wood--you'll remember, Bud!"

M'Ginnis sank into a chair and fell to biting his nails, staring blindly before him.

"Is--this--straight goods?" he enquired thickly, without altering his gaze.

"Sure! Y' see, she nursed him through his sickness, Bud--kind of did the piller-smoothin' an' brow-strokin' act. Oh, I guess she comforted him quite some."

M'Ginnis stared before him, worrying his nails with sharp white teeth.

"Ravenslee's a well man again, I hear, an' they're honeymoonin' at his place on the Hudson--devotion ain't the word, Bud! 'S funny," said Soapy, "but th' bullet as downed this guy drove Hermy into his arms.

'S funny, ain't it, Bud?"

With a hoa.r.s.e, inarticulate cry that was scarcely human, M'Ginnis sprang from his chair, his quivering fists up-flung. For a moment he stood thus, striving vainly for utterance, then wrenched loose his neckerchief, while Soapy methodically lighted a new cigarette from the b.u.t.t of its predecessor.

"Easy, Bud, easy!" he remonstrated gently, when M'Ginnis's torrent of frenzied threats and curses had died down somewhat. "If you go on that way, you'll go off--in a fit or something an' I shouldn't like t' see ye die--that way!"

"Up the river, is he?" panted M'Ginnis.

"'S right, Bud, up the river in his big house--with her. I--"

"Is he, by--"

"A dandy place f' honeymoonin', Bud!"

"Loan me your gun, Soapy. I'll get him, by G.o.d! if I have t' shoot him in her arms--loan me y'r gun!"

"I guess not, Bud, no, I guess not. I'd feel kind o' lonesome without th' feel of it. Ask Heine; he'll loan you his; it's gettin' t' be quite a habit with him, ain't it, Heine?"

M'Ginnis sat awhile glaring down at his clutching right hand, then he rose, opened his desk, and took thence a heavy revolver, and slipped it inside his coat.

"You're comin' with me, Heine," said he, "I'll want you."

"Sure thing, Bud," nodded Heine, chewing his cigar. "But what about lettin' Soapy tag along too."

"Soapy," said M'Ginnis, striding to the door, "Soapy can go t' h.e.l.l right now."

"Why then, Bud," drawled Soapy, "I'll sure meet you--later. S'long."

Left alone, Soapy's languor gave place to swift action. In two strides, it seemed, he was in the saloon, had beckoned the quick-eyed bartender aside and put the question: "Where's the Kid, Jake?"

The bartender lifted an eyebrow and jerked a thumb upward.

"Shut-eye," he nodded, and turned back to his multifarious duties.

Up a narrow stair sped Soapy and, opening one of the numerous doors, crossed to a truckle bed wherefrom a tousled head upreared itself.

"Who th'--"

"Say, Kid, are ye drunk or only asleep?"

"What yer want, Soapy? You lemme be--what yer want?" began Spike drowsily.

"Nothin' much, Kid, only Bud an' Heine's gone t' shoot up y'r sister's husband."

"Husband!" cried Spike, drowsy no longer. "Husband--say, d' ye mean Geoff?"

"That's who, Kid. You was crackin' on t' me about wantin' t' make good; well, here's y'r chance. Bud aims t' get there 'bout midnight--up th'

river, you know--so you got two hours. You'll have t' go some t' get in first, but I guess you can do it."

"I will if it kills me!" cried Spike, springing toward the door.

"Hold on, Kid, you'll need some mazuma, maybe. Here's a ten-spot. It'll be more useful t' you than me after t'night, I reckon. So get your hooks on to it, an' now--beat it!"