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Updated: June 28, 2025
The ghastly meal was finished in an incredibly short time and nothing was left but a tiny pool of red liquid rapidly hardening. Garvey leaned back heavily in his chair and sighed. His smeared face, withdrawn now from the glare of the lamp, began to resume its normal appearance. Presently he looked up at his guest and said in his natural voice "I hope you've had enough to eat.
"So I've got you at last. That's where your vacuum is, is it? I know your vile hiding-place at last." He shook him like a dog. "I've been after him all night," he cried, turning to Shorthouse, "all night, I tell you, and I've got him at last." Garvey lifted his upper lip as he spoke and showed his teeth. They shone like the fangs of a wolf.
The Apaches saw that the two white men were almost within their grasp. "Good-by, Dave," said The Kid. They grasped hands for a moment. There was no fear in their faces. Then they confronted the renegades. It was to be their last stand! "Here's hopin' we get Garvey before we go!" said Robbins fiercely. A storm of bullets tore through the paloverdes, sending twigs and leaves flying.
Garvey had obtained reënforcements, without doubt, for there seemed to be no end to the pursuing Apaches. Blizzard ran like the thoroughbred he was. But even his iron muscles could not stand the strain for long. The ponies behind were fresh, and the snow-white charger was tremendously handicapped with the added weight which had been placed upon it. Puffs of white smoke blossomed out behind them.
Shorthouse feigned indifference. Yet he was aware that his heart was beating a little quicker and that there was a sensation of chilliness in his back. He waited in silence for what was to come. "He has a horrible predilection for vacuums," Garvey went on presently in a still lower voice and thrusting his face farther forward under the lamp. "Vacuums!" exclaimed the secretary in spite of himself.
Stooping, he drew the wicker-covered demijohn from under the table, and filled a tumbler from it. "A little corn liquor, Mr. Garvey? Of course you are joking about what you spoke of? Opens quite a new market, doesn't it? Feuds. Prime, two-fifty to three. Feuds, slightly damaged two hundred, I believe you said, Mr. Garvey?" Goree laughed self-consciously.
Is it parlor etiquette? Then me for that. I'll take lessons. I'm willin' to be as refined and genteel as anybody if that's what I lack." "That's fair enough," says I, still stallin'. "You see," says Garvey, "this kind of a deal is a new one on us.
The pressure Garvey was bringing to bear upon his old enemy must be exceedingly strong. That was quite clear. At the same time, the commission that was being entrusted to him seemed somewhat quixotic in its nature.
None of the bridge-playing set drop in of an afternoon to ask Mrs. Garvey if she won't fill in on Tuesday next, she ain't invited to join the Ladies' Improvement Society, or even the Garden Club; and when Garvey's application for membership gets to the Country Club committee he's notified that his name has been put on the waitin' list. I expect it's still there.
Susan, crestfallen, followed Garvey down the stairway. She had confidently expected that he would show some appreciation of her toilette. She knew she had never in her life looked so well. In the long glass in the dressing-room, while Garvey was gone to send the maid, she inspected herself again. Yes never anything like so well. And Brent had noted her appearance only to condemn it.
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