The Swindler and Other Stories | Page 6

find I
can't."
"You can't help yourself," said West. He planted himself squarely in
front of Archie. "Listen to this!" he said. "You know what I am?"
"They say you are a detective," said Archie.
West nodded.
"Exactly. And, as such, I do whatever suits my purpose without
explaining why to the rest of the world. If you are fortunate enough to
glean a little advantage from what I do, take it, and be quiet about it.
Don't hamper me with your acknowledgments. I assure you I have no
more concern for your ultimate fate than those fellows below that
you've been swindling all the evening. One thing I will say, though, for
your express benefit. You will never make a good, even an indifferently

good, gambler. And as to card-sharping, you've no talent whatever.
Better give it up."
His blue eyes looked straight at Archie with a stare that was openly
supercilious, and Archie stood abashed.
"You--you are awfully good," he stammered at length.
West's brief laugh lived in his memory for long after. It held an
indescribable sting, almost as if the man resented something. Yet the
next moment unexpectedly he held out his hand.
"A matter of opinion," he observed drily. "Good-night! Remember
what I have said to you."
"I shall never forget it," Archie said earnestly.
He wrung the extended hand hard, waited an instant, then, as West
turned from him with that slight characteristic lift of the shoulders, he
moved away and went below.
* * * * *
"I'd just like a little talk with you, Mr. West, if I may." Lightly the
audacious voice arrested him, and, as it were, against his will, West
stood still.
She was standing behind him in the morning sunshine, her hair blown
all about her face, her grey eyes wide and daring, full of an alert
friendliness that could not be ignored. She moved forward with her
light, free step and stood beside him. West was smoking as usual. His
expression was decidedly surly. Cynthia glanced at him once or twice
before she spoke.
"You mustn't mind what I'm going to ask you," she said at length gently.
"Now, Mr. West, what was it--exactly--that happened in the saloon last
night? Surely you'll tell me by myself if I promise--honest Injun--not to
tell again."

"Why should I tell you?" said West, in his brief, unfriendly style.
Cynthia was undaunted. "Because you're a gentleman," she said boldly.
He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what reason I have given you
to say so."
"No?" She looked at him with a funny little smile. "Well then, I just
feel it in my bones; and nothing you do or leave undone will make me
believe the contrary."
"Much obliged to you," said West. His blue eyes were staring straight
out over the sea to the long, blue sky-line. He seemed too absorbed in
what he saw to pay much attention to the girl beside him.
But she was not to be shaken off. "Mr. West," she began again,
breaking in upon his silence, "do you know what they are saying about
you to-day?"
"Haven't an idea."
"No," she said. "And I don't suppose you care either. But I care. It
matters a lot to me."
"Don't see how," threw in West.
He turned in his abrupt, disconcerting way, and gave her a piercing
look. She averted her face instantly, but he had caught her unawares.
"Good heavens!" he said. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," she returned, with a sort of choked vehemence. "There's
nothing the matter with me. Only I'm feeling badly about--about what I
asked you to do yesterday. I'd sooner have lost every dollar I have in
the world, if I had only known, than--than have you do--what you did."
"Good heavens!" West said again.
He waited a little then, looking down at her as she leaned upon the rail

with downcast face. At length, as she did not raise her head, he
addressed her for the first time on his own initiative:
"Miss Mortimer!"
She made a slight movement to indicate that she was listening, but she
remained gazing down into the green and white of the racing water.
Unconsciously he moved a little nearer to her. "There is no occasion for
you to feel badly," he said. "I had my own reasons for what I did. It
doesn't much matter what they were. But let me tell you for your
comfort that neither socially nor professionally has it done me any
harm."
"They are all saying: 'Set a thief to catch a thief,'" she interposed, with
something like a sob in her voice.
"They can say what they like."
West's tone expressed the most stoical indifference, but she would not
be comforted.
"If only I hadn't--asked you to!" she murmured.
He