A PROFESSION OF FRIENDSHIP
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Nolan drew back as though to
go away, but thought better of it, entered the little room slowly, and
without waiting for an invitation, sat down in the remaining chair.
"Howdy," he said, and smiled at Allan in a manner intended to be amiable.
"How are you?" Allan answered, striving vainly to guess what object Nolan
could have had in coming here.
Nolan coughed dismally.
"You see I'm out," he said, grinning sheepishly.
"Yes; I heard this evening that you had been parolled."
Nolan coughed again.
"It'd have been murder to keep me in any longer," he said. "One lung's
gone as it is. Th' doctor told th' board I'd be dead inside o' six months
if I wasn't let out."
And, indeed, as Allan looked at him more closely, he could see the change
in him. He was thinner and his face had a ghastly pallor, revolting
to see. An experienced police officer would have recognized the prison
pallor at a glance--the pallor which all criminals acquire who serve a
term in jail; but to Allan it seemed proof positive of the progress of
his old enemy's disease, and his heart was stirred with pity.
"That's too bad," he said. "I hope you'll get well, now you're out again."
Nolan shook his head lugubriously.
"Not much hope o' that, I guess," he answered. "Arter all, it's no more'n
I deserve fer treatin' you th' way I did."
Allan stared at him in astonishment. Repentance was the last thing he had
ever expected of Nolan, and he scarcely knew how to answer.
"Oh, it wasn't so bad as that," he managed to say, at last.
"It's mighty kind o' you t' say so," replied Nolan, humbly, "but I know
better. I tell you, durin' th' last three months, arter I was locked up
in my cell every night, I had plenty o' time t' think things over, an' I
begun t' see what a blamed skunk I'd been."
There was a whine in his voice not wholly genuine. Allan would have
doubted its genuineness still more could he have seen the grimace which
Nolan made at his back as he turned away to take an order. He was vaguely
troubled. If Nolan was sincerely repentant, he did not wish to be unjust
to him, yet, at the same time, he could not wholly believe in the
reality of a change so at variance with Nolan's character. Something of
this hesitation was visible in his face, as he looked up from taking the
message.
"I don't blame you fer doubtin' me," Nolan added. "If I was in your
place, I'd kick me out."
"Oh, I'm not going to do that," protested Allan, laughing at the twisted
pronouns. "How did you happen to come to Byers?"
Nolan's face wrinkled a little, but the answer came readily enough.
"I'd been to Wadsworth," he explained. "Th' people at th' pen. bought me
a ticket an' sent me back--but I was ashamed t' stay there--I was ashamed
fer anybody t' see me. They all knowed what I'd done. So I thought I'd go
t' Parkersburg, where I've got an uncle who kin git me work, an' give me
a chance t' earn an honest livin'."
"And you're going to walk?" asked Allan.
"Sure," answered Nolan. "How else? I ain't a-goin' t' jump no
train--that's agin th' law. An' I knows mighty well none o' th' trainmen
'd let me ride."
Allan was silent a moment. He remembered vividly the time when he himself
had walked from Cincinnati to Wadsworth in search of work; he remembered
how long and weary each of those hundred miles had seemed. And he had
been strong and healthy, while Nolan was evidently weak and sick, not
fit at all for such a journey.
Nolan, who had been watching Allan's face intently, rose suddenly to his
feet.
"Don't you worry about me," he said. "I ain't wuth it. Besides, I'll git
along all right."
"But maybe I can help you," Allan began.
"No, you can't; I won't let you. I ain't got that low," and Nolan,
crushing his hat fiercely down upon his head, strode to the door.
"Good-bye," he called over his shoulder, "an' good luck."
"Good-bye," answered Allan, and watched him with something almost like
respect until his figure was swallowed up in the darkness.
* * * * *
Outside in the night, Nolan was striding up and down, waving his clenched
fists wildly in the air, his face convulsed with passion.
"Th' fool!" he muttered, hoarsely. "Th' fool! Th' goody-goody ape! Wanted
t' help me! Oh, I couldn't 'a' stood it--I'd 'a' been at his throat in a
minute more. I'll show him! I'll show him!"
He circled the shanty cautiously until he reached a spot whence, through
the window, he could see Allan bending over his key. He shook his fist at
the unconscious boy in a very ecstasy of rage.
"I'll fix ye!" he cried. "I'll fix ye!"
He saw Allan stir uneasily in his chair, as though he had heard the
threat, and for an instant he stood motionless, with bated breath, his
clenched fist still in the air. Then he realized the impossibility of
being overheard at such a distance, and laughed weakly to himself.
"You've lost yer nerve, Dan," he said. "You've lost yer nerve! No, I'm
blamed if y' have!" and he straightened up again and shook his fist
fiercely in the air.
"Hello," said a voice just behind him, "what's all this about?" and a
hand grabbed his wrist.
Nolan turned with a little cry of fright. He gave a gasp of relief as he
recognized Nevins.
"What d' ye want t' scare a feller like that fer?" he demanded, wrenching
his wrist loose.
"Were you scared?" asked Nevins, with a little sneer. "Lost your nerve,
hey?"
"No, I ain't lost my nerve," retorted Nolan, savagely, "an' you'll soon
find it out, if you tries t' git smart with _me_! I didn't tell all I
knowed at th' trial!"
Even in the darkness, Nolan could see how Nevins's face changed, and he
laughed triumphantly. Nevins echoed the laugh, but in an uncertain key.
"Oh, come, Dan," he said, "don't get mad. I didn't mean anything."
But Nolan was not one to be generous with an adversary when he had him
down.
"No," he went on slowly, "I didn't tell all I knowed. Let's see--last
fall you was night operator at Harper's--an' th' station was robbed--an'
when th' day man come on in th' mornin' he found you gagged an' bound
in yer chair, sufferin' terrible. I didn't tell th' court how willin'
you was t' git tied up, nor how we happened t' choose th' night when th'
station was full o' vallyble freight, nor how you got a share o' th'
swag--"
"Oh, come, Dan," Nevins broke in, "what's the use of raking all that up
again? Of course you didn't tell. I knew mighty well you wouldn't give a
friend away."
"There's no tellin' what I'll do if I lose my nerve," said Nolan,
threateningly. "Where 're you stoppin'?"
"Over here at the village. And mighty dull it is."
"Well, they's nobody here knows me," said Nolan. "S'pose we go over to
your room an' have a talk."
"All right," agreed Nevins, after an instant's hesitation. And they
walked away together. "What are you going to do now?" he asked, a moment
later.
"Th' fust thing I'm a-goin' t' do," answered Nolan, his eyes shining
fiercely, "is t' git even with that dirty rat of an Allan West, who sent
me to th' pen."
"All right," said Nevins, heartily. "I'm with you there. I don't like
him, either. Only, of course, you'll not--you'll not--"
"Oh, don't be afeerd," snarled Nolan. "I ain't a-goin' t' kill him. I
got too much sense t' run my head in a noose. Besides, that ain't what I
want. That ain't good enough! I want somethin' t' happen that'll disgrace
him, that he'll never git over--somethin' that'll haunt him all his life.
He holds his head too high, an' I'm a-goin' t' make him hold it low!"
"I see," said Nevins, thoughtfully. "Well, we can manage it some way."
"O' course we kin," agreed Nolan, and licked his lips eagerly. "Afore I
git through with him, he'll be sorry he was ever born!"
Nevins nodded.
"We can manage it," he repeated. "Here we are," he added, and stopped
before a two-story frame dwelling-house. "My room is up-stairs. Come
along," and he opened the front door.
Nolan followed him through the door and up the stairs. Nevins opened
another door, struck a match to show his companion the way, and then
lighted a lamp which stood on a table in the middle of the room. Then
he closed the door and locked it, and going to the window, pulled down
the blind so that no one could see in from the outside. Then he went
to a bureau which stood in one corner, unlocked it and got out a box
of stogies, a sack of sugar, a bottle of whiskey, and two glasses. He
stirred up the fire in the little stove which warmed the room, and set
over it a kettle which he filled with water from the pitcher on his
washstand. Nolan, who had been watching him with greedy eyes, licking
his lips from time to time, dropped into a chair with a grunt of
satisfaction.
"You're all right, Nevins," he said. "You treat a feller decent."
"Of course I do," agreed Nevins, "especially when he's my friend. Now we
can talk."
An hour later, any one looking in upon them, would have seen them sitting
together before the fire, their heads nodding, and the room so filled
with tobacco-smoke that the flame of the lamp showed through it dim and
yellow. Nevins was snoring heavily, but Nolan was still awake and was
muttering hoarsely to himself.
"That's it!" he said. "That's th' ticket! You've got a great head,
Nevins! No, I'll never tell--not arter you're helpin' me out this way.
Why, we kin work it easy as greased lightnin'. Nobody'll ever know--an'
that kid'll never git over it. He's that kind--it'll haunt him! Why, I
wouldn't be surprised if he went crazy!"
Nevins awoke with a start.
"Come on," he said, "let's go to bed."
"All right," assented Nolan, and arose heavily, and began to undress,
lurching unsteadily from side to side. "But you certainly are a peach,
Nevins, t' think of a scheme like that!"
"Oh, that was easy," protested Nevins, who was winding his alarm-clock.
"That was easy."
"It'll fix him," Nolan chuckled. "He'll never sleep sound ag'in!"
"And he won't be such a pet at headquarters," Nevins added. "In fact, I
think his connection with the P. & O. will end then and there."
"O' course," Nolan assented. "But it ain't that I'm thinkin' of so much.
It's of him thinkin' an' worryin' an' goin' crazy about it. Mebbe he'll
kill hisself!"
Even Nevins, hardened as he was, could not repress a shudder as he saw
Nolan's countenance convulsed with horrible mirth. There was something
revolting and fiendish about it. He turned quickly and blew out the light.
"Come on," he said, almost harshly. "Get to bed. It's nearly midnight."
But even after they were in bed, he could hear Nolan chuckling
ecstatically to himself, and shrank away from him in disgust.