HIS KEEPER
Till long after midnight Shock sat over the fire pondering the events of the day, and trying to make real to himself the strange series of happenings that had marked his introduction to his work in this country.His life for the last month had been so unlike anything in his past as to seem quite unnatural.
As he sat thus musing over the past and planning for the future, a knock came to the door, and almost immediately there came in a little man, short and squat, with humped shoulders, bushy, grizzled hair and beard, through which peered sharp little black eyes.His head and face and eyes made one think of a little Scotch terrier.
"Ye're the meenister?" he said briefly.
"Yes," replied Shock, greatly surprised at his visitor, but warming to the Scotch voice.
"Aye.Ye're wanted."
"Wanted? By whom?"
"The man that lives in this hoose.He's deein', I'm thinkin'.""Dying!" said Shock, starting up and seizing his hat."What! Ike?""Aye, Ike.He's verra ill."
"Go on, then," said Shock."Quick!"
"Aye, quick it is." And the little man, without further words, plunged into the darkness.A few minutes' swift walk through the black night brought them to the Ranchers' Roost.There, in a corner of the room at the back of the bar, he found Ike lying almost unconscious, and apparently very ill.
"Why, what's the matter?" cried Shock, dropping on his knees beside Ike.But Ike seemed stupefied, and mumbled a few incoherent words.
Shock caught the words, "the gang," and "dope."He looked in an agony of helplessness at the little Scotchman, who stood by looking down upon the sick man with face quite unmoved.
"Do you know what he says?" enquired Shock.
"He's no sayin' much," said the little Scotchman calmly.
Again Ike tried to speak, and this time Shock caught the words, "The boss--gang's got him--Smiley Simmons--back room--fetch him.""What does he mean?" cried Shock.
"It's ha-r-r-d to tell that," said the little Scotchman."He's talkin' about some boss or other.""Oh, yes, I know what that means.He is referring to his boss, young Stanton.""Oh, ay!" said the little Scotchman, with a light breaking on his face."I saw the bodies.They've gaen o'er to the creature Simmons'.""Show me the way," said Shock."Quick!"
"Come, then," said the little Scotchman, leading once more into the darkness.
Some distance down the street stood Smiley--or as some preferred to call him Slimy--Simmons' general store.At the back of the store there was a side door.
"They're in yonder," said the little Scotchman, and disappeared.
Shock knocked at the door, but there was no response.He turned the handle, opened the door, and walking in found himself in the back of the store, in a room dimly lighted by a hanging lantern.Seated on a stool at a high desk, evidently busy with his ledger, sat a man, tall, slender, and wiry.He had a sharp, thin face, with high forehead, protruding nose, and receding chin.The moment he spoke Shock discovered at once how it was he came by his nickname.
His smile was the most striking characteristic of his manner.
Indeed, so permanent and pervasive did his smile appear, that it seemed almost to be a fixed feature of his face.
He came forward to Shock, rubbing his hands.
"Ah, good evening," he said, in a most insinuating voice."Is there anything I can do for you?""Yes," said Shock, instinctively shrinking from him."I want to see Mr.Stanton.""Mr.Stanton--Mr.Stanton? Let me see.I saw Mr.Stanton some hours ago.Let me think.Was it at the International? Yes, I think it was the International.No, in the Royal.I have no doubt you will find him there.I shall be pleased to show you, for I see you are a stranger.We are always delighted to see strangers and we try to make them welcome to our town."He moved toward the door as he spoke.Shock knew at once he was lying.
"Mr.Stanton is not at the Royal.I have been informed he is in this building somewhere.""In this building?" murmured Smiley, in a puzzled tone."In this building?" He glanced up at the ceiling as if expecting to see the missing man there."Strange," he continued."Now, I have been here for some time, for hours, indeed.I am a busy man, Mr.--""Macgregor," replied Shock.
"Mr.Macgregor.I find it necessary to pursue my avocation into the hours we generally devote to slumber.And to-day business has been unusually interrupted.But I have failed to notice Mr.Stanton enter."At the further end of the room Shock's eyes fell upon a door, through the cracks of which a light was shining.
"It is possible," said Shock, "he is in that room," pointing to the door.
"Hardly, my dear sir, hardly."
But even as he spoke a voice, loud and clear, rang out."Now, my dear fellow, go to the deuce.That comes to me."The reply Shock could not catch.
"I think," he said, turning to Smiley, "we shall find Mr.Stanton in there."As he spoke he walked toward the door.But Smiley slipped before him.
"Pardon me, my dear sir, that is a private room--some friends of mine who would greatly dislike being disturbed.I am exceedingly sorry I cannot oblige you.""I must see Mr.Stanton", said Shock, putting his hand upon the door knob.
"My dear sir," said Simmons, his thin lips drawn back over his yellow teeth, "I regret to say it is impossible.If Mr.Stanton is in there--mark me, I say IF he is in there, which is extremely unlikely--but if he is in there, he would be very unwilling to be disturbed at this hour.However, since you are so anxious, I shall take him a message."As Smiley said this he bowed with an air of gracious condescension, as if he expected Shock to be profoundly impressed with this concession to his persistence.But Shock was not at all impressed.
"I cannot wait longer," he said."It is a matter of life and death.
I must enter that room."
