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Updated: June 27, 2025
Hervey gulped down his chagrin; but his eyes were alight with the anger from which his lips refrained. He mounted his horse. "Well, good-bye, George," he said, with a great display of cordiality. "I hope those owls of yours will permit me to ride in peace." "I have no doubt they will," replied Iredale, with an inscrutable smile. "Good-bye." Hervey rode away.
Hervey watched his sister's movements as she passed from pan to pan. "Iredale wants me to ride over to Owl Hoot to-day," he said slowly. "We're going to have an afternoon's 'chicken shoot. He says the prairie-chicken round his place are as thick as mosquitoes. He's a lucky beggar. He seems to have the best of everything.
There was the briefest of pauses; then she went on "On one condition." "What do you mean?" Iredale looked his surprise. "Now you must hear me, George," she went on eagerly. "You have charged me with this thing. You must abide by my time. A day more or less can make little difference to you." "But I wish to give myself up before others can make the charge." "Just so.
The words contained such a world of appeal that Prudence felt herself forced to turn in his direction. She now looked squarely into his eyes, nor was there the faintest suspicion of embarrassment in her manner. The moment had come when she must choose between herself and her self-imposed duty. She knew that she loved Iredale, but she checked something which sounded very like a sigh.
Then he moved on, forgetful of all but his moral and physical fear of the commanding figure of enraged manhood that seemed to tower over him. He even forgot the weapon which lay concealed in his pocket. He slunk on out of the door amidst a profound silence, out into the soft twilight of the valley. The door stood open; the window stood open. Iredale looked after him.
She drank in his words with a soul-consuming thirst The proof! That was what she required. Iredale went on with grave gentleness. "The proof is in here." He moved to the bookcase and opened a secret recess in the back of it, "In this cupboard." He produced a pile of books and brought them to the table. Picking out one he opened it at the date of Grey's death. It was a diary.
"So I've been told. I congratulate you." Iredale looked at his companion with grave eyes. They were quite alone in the room. He had met Grey frequently and had learned to understand his ways and to know his bull-headed methods. Now he quietly waited. He had a shrewd suspicion that the man had something unpleasant to say. Unconsciously his teeth closed tighter upon his pipe.
That man," pointing over at Iredale, who sat waiting for an opportunity to interfere, "is the murderer of Leslie Grey. I suppose he has been priming you with blarney and yarns. But I tell you he murdered Grey. I'm not here for any tomfoolery. I got Prudence's message to say the money was forthcoming. Where is it? Fifteen thousand dollars buys me, and that I want at once.
In the end I could no longer keep silence, and my anger drove me to a course which I have since almost regretted, for it has destroyed the last vestige of the regard I entertained for the man you have all so liked and respected. I went over to the ranch and challenged George Iredale " "On the night of the storm. The night he visited me. Go on." Prudence's face was ghastly in its pallor.
If I have any more yapping I'll make it twenty thousand." He looked about him savagely, and his eyes finally paused at George Iredale, seated beside Prudence. He cared nothing for his mother's vituperation, but he was watchful of the smuggler. Suddenly the burly rancher sprang to his feet. He stepped up to Hervey. The latter moved a pace back. "Not one cent, you cowardly hound!" he roared.
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