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When the wound healed, the scar drew his eyes close together, like a Chinaman's. You never see Squint's eyes more than half open. "And he's crooked, just like his eyes " Mother Howard's voice bore a touch of resentment. "I never liked him from the minute I first saw him, and I liked him less afterward. Then I got next to his game. "Your father had been prospecting just like everybody else.
I can't hold 'em when they 've got the spirit that rises above I 've tried, ain't I and I 've only got one!" "One?" Squint's voice became suddenly excited. "One what one?" "I 'm not going to tell. But I know Crazy Laura that's what they call me and they give me a sulphur pillow to sleep on. But I know I know!"
It was all grotesque; it was fantastic, almost laughable, had it not concerned him! For Rodaine had been his father's enemy, and Mother Howard had told him enough to assure him that Rodaine did not forget. The crazed woman of the graveyards was Squint's lunatic wife, ready to kill, if necessary, for a husband who beat her. And the young Rodaine was his son, blood of his blood; that was enough.
Only a moaning answered, moaning intermingled with some vague form of a weird chant, the words of which Fairchild in the musty, dark hall below could not distinguish. At last came Squint's voice again, this time in softened tones: "Laura Laura, honey." "Yes, Squint." "Why did n't you tell your sweetheart about this?" "I must n't you 've spoiled it now, Roady." "No Honey. I can show you the way.
"'E could n't have gotten 'er to do it. And nobody can get 'er to do it as long has Squint's around so Mother 'Oward says. 'E 's got a influence about 'im. And she does exactly what 'e 'll sye all 'e 's got to do is to look at 'er. Notice 'ow flustered up she got when the coroner asked 'er about that book?" "I wonder what it would really tell?" Harry chuckled. "Nobody knows.
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