Gordon Craig | Page 4

other. "Possibly a trifle young."

"He has roughed it," returned the other reassuringly, "and that means
more than years."
The first man laughed rather unpleasantly, and emptied his glass.
"So I have discovered. Have a cigar, or a drink, Craig?"
"I will smoke."
He passed me the box, watching me while I lighted the perfecto, Neale
crossing to the divan.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-four."
"I thought about that. What part of the country do you hail from?" and I
noticed now a faint Southern accent in the drawl of 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,