The Night Riders Part 51

"Why are you sitting there?" Tresler asked at once. Then he regretted his question.

"Wal," Joe drawled, without the least hesitation, "I'm figgerin' you oughter know by this time. Ther's things born to live on liquid, an'

they've mostly growed tails. Guess I ain't growed that--yet. Mebbe I'll git down at Doc. Osler's. An' I'll git on agin right ther'," he added, as an afterthought.

Joe smiled as much as his twisted face would permit, but Tresler was annoyed with himself for having forced such a confession from him.

"Well, I'm sorry I suggested it, Joe," he said quickly; "as you say, I ought to have known better. Never mind, I want you to do me a favor."

"Name it, an' I'll do it if I bust."

The little man brightened at the thought of this man asking a favor of him.

Tresler didn't respond at once. He didn't want to put the matter too bluntly. He didn't want to let Joe feel that he regarded him as a subordinate.

"Well, you see, I'm looking for some one of good experience to give me some friendly help. You see, I've bought a nice place, and--well, in fact, I'm setting up ranching on my own, and I want you to come and help me with it. That's all."

Joe looked out over the market-place, he looked away at the distant hills, his eyes turned on Doc. Osler's house; he cleared his throat and screwed his face into the most weird shape. His eyes sought the door of the saloon and finally came back to Tresler. He swallowed two or three times, then suddenly thrust out his hand as though he were going to strike his benefactor.

"Shake," he muttered hoa.r.s.ely.

And Tresler gripped the proffered hand. "And perhaps you'll have that flower-garden, Joe," he said, "without the weeds."

"Mr. Tresler, sir, shake agin."

"Never mind the 'mister' or the 'sir,'" said Tresler. "We are old friends. Now, Fyles," he went on, turning to the officer, who had been looking on as an interested spectator, "have you any news for Miss Marbolt?"

"Yes, the decision's made. I've got the doc.u.ment here in my pocket."

"Good. But don't tell it me. Give me an hour's start of you. I'm going to see the lady myself. And, Joe," Tresler looked up into the old man's beaming face. "Will you come with the sheriff when he interviews--er--our client?"

"All right, Mis----"

"No."

"Tresler, si----"

"No."

"All right, Tresler," said the old man, in a strangely husky voice.

Diane was confronting her lover for the last interview. Mrs. Osler had discreetly left them, and now they were sitting in the diminutive parlor, the man, at the girl's expressed wish, sitting as far from her as the size of the room would permit. All his cheeriness had deserted him and a decided frown marred the open frankness of his face.

Diane, herself, looked a little older than when we saw her last at the ranch. The dark shadows round her pretty eyes were darker, and her face looked thinner and paler, while her eyes shone with a feverish brightness.

"You overruled my decision once, Jack," she was saying in a low tone that she had difficulty in keeping steady, "but this time it must not be."

"Well, look here, Danny, I can give you just an hour in which to ease your mind, but I tell you candidly, after that you'll have to say 'yes,' in spite of all your objections. So fire away. Here's the watch. I'm going to time you."

Tresler spoke lightly and finished up with a laugh. But he didn't feel like laughter. This objection came as a shock to him. He had pictured such a different meeting.

Diane shook her head. "I can say all I have to say in less time than that, Jack. Promise me that you will not misunderstand me. You know my heart, dear. It is all yours, but, but--Jack, I did not tell all I knew at the inquest."

She paused, but Tresler made no offer to help her out. "I knew father could see at night. He was what Mr. Osler calls a--Nyc--Nyctalops.

That's it. It's some strange disease and not real blindness at all, as far as I can make out. He simply couldn't see in daylight because there was something about his eyes which let in so much light, that all sense of vision was paralyzed, and at such time he suffered intense pain. But when evening came, in the moonlight, or late twilight; in fact at any time when there was no glare of light, just a soft radiance, he could not only see but was possessed of peculiarly acute vision. How he kept his secret for so many years I don't know. I understand why he did, but, even now, I cannot understand what drove him to commit the dreadful deeds he did, so wealthy and all as he was."

Tresler thought he could guess pretty closely. But he waited for her to go on.

"Jack, I discovered that he could see at night when you were ill, just before you recovered consciousness," she went on, in a solemn, awestruck tone.

"Ah!"

"Yes, while you were lying there insensible you narrowly escaped being murdered."

Again she paused, and shuddered visibly.

"I was afraid of something. His conduct when you were brought in warned me. He seemed to resent your existence; he certainly resented your being in the house, but most of all my attendance on you. I was very watchful, but the strain was too much, and, one night, feeling that the danger of sleep for me was very real, I barricaded the stairs. I did my utmost to keep awake, but foolishly sat down on my own bed and fell asleep. Then I awoke with a start; I can't say what woke me. Anyway, realizing I had slept, I became alarmed for you. I picked up the light and went out into the hall, where I found my barricade removed----"

"Yes, and your father at my bedside, with his hands at my throat."

"Loosening the bandage."

"To?"

"To open the wound and let you bleed to death."

"I see. Yes, I remember. I dreamt the whole scene, except the bandage business. But you----"

"I had the lighted lamp, and the moment its light flashed on him he was as--as blind as a bat. His hands moved about your bandage fumbling and uncertain. Yes, he was blind enough then. I believe he would have attacked me, only I threatened him with the lamp, and with calling for help."

"Brave little woman--yes, I remember your words. They were in my dream. And that's how you knew what to do later on when Jake and he----"

The girl nodded.

"So Fyles was right," Tresler went on musingly. "You did know."

"Was I wrong, Jack, in not telling them at the inquest? You see he is dead, and----"

"On the contrary, you were right. It would have done no manner of good. You might have told me, though."

"Well, I didn't know what to do," the girl said, a little helplessly.

"You see I never thought of cattle-stealing. It never entered my head that he was, or could be, Red Mask. I only looked upon it as a villainous attempt on your life, which would not be likely to occur again, and which it would serve no purpose to tell you of. Besides, the horror----"

"Yes, I see. Perhaps you were right. It would have put us on the right track though, as, later on, the fight with Jake and your action with regard to it did. Never mind; that's over. Julian Marbolt was an utter villain from the start. You may as well know that his trading in 'black ivory' was another name for slave-trading. His blindness had nothing to do with driving him to crime, nor had your mother's doings.

He was a rogue before. His blindness only enabled him to play a deeper game, which was a matter likely to appeal to his nature. However, nothing can be altered by discussing him. I have bought a ranch adjoining Mosquito Bend, and secured Joe's a.s.sistance as foreman. I have given out contracts for rebuilding the house; also, I've sent orders east for furnis.h.i.+ngs. I am going to buy my stock at the fall round-up. All I want now is for you to say when you will marry me, sweetheart."

"But, Jack, you don't seem to understand. I can't marry you. Father was a--a murderer."