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Updated: July 22, 2025
Why had not Larsen been with them in reality? Fairchild avoided the obvious conclusion and turned to other thoughts, to Rodaine with his squint eyes, to Crazy Laura, gathering herbs at midnight in the shadowy, stone-sentineled stretches of graveyards, while the son, perhaps, danced at some function of Ohadi's society and made love in the rest periods.
"'Ow many times 'ave you seen the girl when she was n't with young Rodaine?" "Very few, that's true." "And 'ow many times 'ave you seen Judge Richmond?" "I have n't ever seen him." "You won't if Mother 'Oward knows anything. 'E ain't able to get out. 'E's sick apoplexy a stroke. Rodaine's taken advantage of it." "How?" "'Ow does anybody take advantage of somebody that's sick?
"But did n't they tell you?" "They told me nothing and I asked 'em nothing. They were my friends and they needed help. I gave it to them that's all I know and that's all I 've wanted to know." "You never saw Larsen again?" "I never saw any of them. That was the end." "But Rodaine ?" "He 's still here. You 'll hear from him plenty soon.
And Fairchild followed. It could mean only one thing when Rodaine sought the white-haired, mumbling old hag whom once he had called his wife. It could mean but one outcome, and that of disaster for some one. Mother Howard had said that Crazy Laura would kill for Squint.
"And I took part of the money and paid it out for rent on these pumps. We can keep 'em as long as we want 'em. It's only costing about a fourth of what it might of. Drowning 's worth something," he laughed again. Fairchild joined him, then sobered. "It brought Rodaine out of the bushes," he said. "Squint threatened us after they 'd hauled you down town on the rail." Harry winked jovially.
He says they 're well worth the value of the bond." "How about that, Rodaine?" The judge peered down the court room. Squint Rodaine scratched his hawklike nose with his thumb and nodded. "They 'll do," was his answer, and the judge passed the papers to the clerk of the court. "Bond accepted. I 'll set this trial for "
"Him who?" the voice was weak, frightened. "You know 'oo the night of the Old Times dance! Didn't you pull that 'old-up?" There was a long silence. Finally: "Where's Rodaine?" "In Center City." It was Anita who spoke. "He 's getting ready to run away and leave you two to stand the brunt of all this trouble." Again a silence. And again Harry's voice: "Tell it. Was n't you the man?"
Nobody 's ever seen it. Not even Squint Rodaine. That's the one thing she 's got the strength to keep from 'im I guess it's a part of 'er right brain that tells 'er to keep it a secret! I 'm going to bed now. So 're you. And you 're going to sleep. Good night." He went out of the room then, and Fairchild, obedient to the big Cornishman's command, sought rest. But it was a hard struggle.
The faith of Squint Rodaine, maintained through the years, had shown his perspicacity. It was there; he always had said it was there, and now the strike had been made at last, lead-silver ore, running as high as two hundred dollars a ton. And just like Squint so some one informed Fairchild he had kept it a secret until the assays all had been made and the first shipments started to Denver.
Hurriedly they gained the window, but already the form of Rodaine had unrolled itself from the snow bank into which it had fallen, dived beneath the protection of the low coping which ran above the first-floor windows of the hotel, skirted the building in safety and whirled into the alley that lay beyond. Squint Rodaine was gone.
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