"I'll stay over a day or so, if you desire."
"There's no necessity, I think," said Britt, rising. "I'll keep in touch
with you by wire. Crowheart again?"
Van Lennop shook his head.
"I'm going east from here."
"Here's a late paper; perhaps you'd like to look it over. When I'm in a
place like this I can read a patent medicine pamphlet, and enjoy it."
Van Lennop smiled.
"Much obliged. There's the supper gong. Don't wait for me; I'll be a
little late."
Van Lennop had no desire for food, much less for conversation, so he
picked up the travel-worn newspaper which Britt had tossed upon the
table and glanced at the headlines.
The stock market was stronger. Nevada Con was up three points. The girl
with the beautiful eyebrows had married that French jackanapes after
all. Another famine in India. A Crowheart date-line caught his eye.
WEALTHY SHEEPMAN MURDERED
EDOUARD DUBOIS SHOT AND KILLED AT HIS CAMP
BRIDE OF A DAY TO BE ARRESTED
The story of Essie Tisdale's marriage with Dubois followed, and even the
news editor's pencil could not eliminate Sylvanus Starr's distinctive
style. He had made the most of a chance of a lifetime. "An old man's
darling"--"Serpent he had warmed in his bosom"--"Weltering in his
blood"--all the trite phrases and vulgarisms of country journalism were
used to tell the sensational story which sickened Van Lennop as he read:
"The arrest of the murdered patriarch's beautiful bride is expected
hourly, as the leading citizens of Crowheart are clamoring for justice
and are bringing strong pressure to bear upon Sheriff Treu, who seems
strangely reluctant to act."
The paper dropped from Van Lennop's nerveless hand and he sat staring at
it where it lay. He picked it up and read the last paragraph, for his
dazed brain had not yet grasped its meaning. But when its entire
significance was made clear to him it came with a rush: it was like the
instantaneous effect of some powerful drug or stimulant that turned the
blood to fire and crazed the brain. The blind rage which made the room
swing round was like the frenzy of insanity. Van Lennop's face went
crimson and oaths that never had passed his lips came forth, choking-hot
and inarticulate.
"The leading citizens of Crowheart, the outcasts and riff-raff of
civilization, the tinhorn gamblers, the embezzlers, ex-bankrupts and
libertines, the sheep-herders and reformed cattle-thieves, the
blackmailers and dance-hall touts swollen by prosperity, disguised by a
veneer of respectability, want justice, do they? By God!" Van Lennop
shook his clenched fist at the empty air, "the leading citizens of
Crowheart shall HAVE justice!"
He smoothed Prescott's crumpled telegram and reached for his code-book.
When he had its meaning he pulled a telegraph-blank toward him, and
wrote:
Carry out my instructions to the letter. Do not neglect the
smallest detail. Leave no stone unturned to accomplish the end in
view.