Gordon Craig | Page 4

his voice.
"New England."
"Ever been south?"
"Only as far as St. Louis. I was at Jefferson Barracks."
"Neale said you were in the army--full enlistment?"
"Yes; discharged as corporal."
"Ah; what regiment?"
"Third Cavalry."
His black eyes swept across toward Neale, his fingers drumming nervously on the leather arm of the chair.
"Exactly; then your service was in Oregon and the Philippines. Tramped some since, I understand--broke?"
"No," shortly, not greatly enjoying his style of questioning. "I 've got three dollars."
"A magnificent sum," chuckling. "However, the point is, you would be glad of a job that paid well, and would n't mind if there was a bit of excitement connected with it--hey?"
"What is your idea of paying well?"
"Expenses liberally figured," he replied slowly, "and ten thousand dollars for a year's work, if done right."
I half rose to my feet in surprise, believing he was making sport, but the fellow never moved or smiled.
"Sit down, man. This is no pipe dream, and I mean it. In fact, I am willing to hand you half of the money down. That 's all right, Neale," he added as the other made a gesture of dissent. "I know my business, and enough about men to judge Craig here for that amount. That we are in earnest we have got to assure him someway, and money talks best. See here, Craig," and he leaned forward, peering into my face, "you look to me like the right man for what we want done; you are young, strong, sufficiently intelligent, and a natural fighter. All right, I 'm sporting man enough to bet five thousand on your making good. If you fail it will be worse for you, that's all. I 'm not a good man to double-cross, see! All you have got to do to earn your money is obey orders strictly, and keep your tongue still. Do you get that?"
I nodded, waiting to learn more.
"It may require a year, but more likely much less time. That makes no difference--it will be ten thousand for you just the same," his voice had grown crisp and sharp. "What do you say?"
"That the proposition looks good, only I should like to know a little more clearly what I am expected to do."
"A bit squeamish, hey! got a troublesome conscience?"
"Not particularly--but there is a limit."
He slowly lit a fresh cigar, studying the expression of my face in the light, as though deciding upon a course of action. Neale moved uneasily, but made no attempt to break the silence. Finally, with a more noticeable drawl in his voice, the man in the armchair began his explanation.
"Very good; we 'll come down to facts. It will not take long. In the first place my name is Vail--Justus C. Vail. That may tell you who I am?"
I shook my head negatively.
"No; well, I am a lawyer of some reputation in this State, and my entire interest in this affair is that of legal adviser to Mr. Neale. With this in mind I will state briefly the peculiar circumstances wherein you are involved." He checked the points off carefully with one hand, occasionally glancing at a slip of paper lying on the table as though to refresh his memory. I listened intently, watching his face, and dimly conscious of Neale's restlessness. "Here is the case as submitted to me: Judge Philo Henley, formerly of the United States Circuit Court, retired at sixty-four and settled upon a large plantation near Carrollton, Alabama. His wife died soon after, and, a week or so ago, the Judge also departed this life, leaving an estate valued in excess of five hundred thousand dollars. Philo Henley and wife had but one child, now a young man of twenty-five years, named Philip. As a boy he was wild and unmanageable, and, finally, when about twenty years old, some prank occurred of so serious a nature that the lad ran away. He came North, and was unheard-of for some time, living under an assumed name. Later some slight correspondence ensued between father and son, and the boy was granted a regular allowance. The father was a very eccentric man, harsh and unforgiving, and, while giving the boy money, never extended an invitation to return home. Consequently Philip remained in the North, and led his own life. He became dissipated, and a rounder, and drifted into evil associations. Finally, about six months ago, he married a girl in this city, not of wealthy family, but of respectable antecedents. Her home, we understand, was in Spokane, and she had an engagement on the stage when she first met Henley. He married her under his assumed name and they began housekeeping in a flat on the north side."
He paused in his recital, took a drink, his eyes turning toward Neale; then resumed in the same level voice:
"The Judge learned of this marriage