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Conward was deliberately setting about to capture the friendship, perhaps the affection, of either Mrs. Hardy or Irene. Strangely enough, Elden was more irritated by the former alternative than by the latter. He felt that if Conward's purposes were directed towards Irene that was at least fair warfare; he could not bring himself to think similarly of a suit that involved Mrs. Hardy.
Conward, you are not a mother, so you can't understand. Ungrateful girl! But I blame him. And the Doctor. I never wanted him to come west. It was that fool trip, in that fool motor " Conward smiled to himself over her unaccustomed violence. Mrs. Hardy must be deeply moved when she forgot to be correct. He had readily surmised the occasion of her distress. It needed no words from Mrs.
Sort o' lends respectability to the firm. But if I get it too, who's going to weigh the coal?" The two men laughed over the story, and yet it left an unpleasant impression upon Dave. He had never felt sure of Conward, and now he felt less sure than ever. But the lust of easy money was beginning to stir within him. The bill in his hands represented more than three weeks' wages.
"Good," said Conward, springing to his feet and taking Dave's hand in a warm grasp. "Now we're away. But you better play safe. Stick to your pay cheque here until we pull the deal through. There won't be much to do until then, anyway, and you can help more by guiding the paper along right lines."
His first underlying sense of distrust had been lulled by closer acquaintanceship; Conward's mild manner and quiet, seductive voice invited friendship, and it became a customary thing for the two to play for small stakes, which Dave won as often as he lost. One Saturday evening as Dave was on the way to their accustomed resort he fell in with Conward on the street.
"If you buy this house we will have only a few thousand dollars left. I am not thinking of myself. Your health may demand other expenditures " "My health was never better," Mrs. Hardy interrupted. "And I'm not going to miss a chance like this, health or no health. You have heard Mr. Conward tell how many people have grown wealthy buying property and selling it again.
As these worthies strolled through the richly furnished room leisurely smoking their after-dinner cigars Conward would make a swift summary of their rise from liveryman, cow puncher, clerk or labourer to their present affluence, occasionally appealing to Dave to corroborate his statements.
Then he and the boy walked to a garage, and in a few moments were humming along the by-streets into the country. Dave had already become engrossed in his errand of mercy, and his rage at Conward, if not forgotten, was temporarily dismissed from his mind. He chatted with the boy as he drove. "You go to school?" "Not this year. Father has been too sick.
She stood before him, flushed and vibrating, and with flashing eyes. "You're lying, Conward," she said, deliberately. "First you lied to him and now you lie to me. There can be no other explanation. Where is that gun? He said I would know what to do with it." "I have it," said Conward, partly carried off his feet by her violence.
"It would be impossible to think of a mister galloping about over the foothills, swinging his lariat, or smashing bottles with his six-shooter. Mister fits in with the conventions; with tailors and perfume and evening dress, but it doesn't seem to have any place in the foothills." "You're right," Conward agreed. "Mister has no place on horseback.
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