<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
<h3>BLACKMAIL</h3>
<p>As Hervey entered the valley of the ranch he
listened for the warning owl cries. To-day, however,
there were none. He smiled to himself as he noted
the fact, for he knew their origin; he knew their
object. He understood that these cries were the
alarm of sentries stationed at certain points to warn
those at the ranch of the approach of strangers. He
knew, too, that they were used as signals for other
things. And he admired the ingenuity of Iredale
in thus turning the natural features of the valley to
his own uses. Rain was beginning to fall in great
drops, and the thunder of the rising storm had already
made itself heard. He urged his horse forward.</p>
<p>Few men can embark on a mission of hazard or
roguery without some feelings of trepidation. And
Hervey was no exception to the rule. He experienced
a feeling of pleasurable excitement and anticipation.
There was sufficient uncertainty in his mission to
make him think hard and review his powers of attack
with great regard for detail. There must be no loophole
of escape for his victim.</p>
<p>On the whole he was well satisfied. But he was
not unprepared for failure. During his acquaintance
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_227' name='page_227'></SPAN>227</span>
with Iredale he had learned that the master of Lonely
Ranch was not easily trifled with, neither was he the
man to accept a tight situation without making a hot
fight for it. It was just these things which gave
Hervey the gentle qualms of excitement as he
meditated upon the object of his journey. He
thought of the large sums of money he had borrowed
from this man, and the ease with which they had been
obtained. He remembered the kindly ways and
gentle manner of this reserved man, and somehow he
could not get away from the thought of the velvet
glove.</p>
<p>But even as he thought of it he laughed. There
was no getting away from the facts he possessed, and
if it came to anything in the shape of physical
resistance, well, he was not unprepared. There was
a comfortable feeling about the heavy jolt of the six-chambered
“lawyer” in his pocket.</p>
<p>The valley seemed much more lonely than usual.
The horrid screeching of the watchful sentries would
almost have been welcome to him. The forest was
so dark and still. Even the falling raindrops and the
deep rolling thunder had no power to give the place
any suggestion of life. There was a mournful tone
over everything that caused the rider to glance about
him furtively, and wish for a gleam of the prairie
sunlight.</p>
<p>At length he drew up at the house. There was
no one about. A few cattle were calmly reposing in
the corrals. There was not even the sharp bark of a
dog to announce his arrival. As Hervey drew up
he looked to see Iredale come to the door, for he
knew the rancher had returned from his wanderings;
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_228' name='page_228'></SPAN>228</span>
but the front door remained shut, and, although the
window of the sitting-room was wide open, there was
no sign of any occupant within the room. He
dismounted and stood thinking for a moment. Then
he raised his voice and called to Chintz.</p>
<p>His summons was repeated before the man’s ferret
face appeared round a corner of the building. The
little fellow advanced with no show of alacrity.
Iredale had told him nothing about any expected
visitor. He was not quite sure what to do.</p>
<p>By dint of many questions and replies, which took
the form of nods and shakes of the head on the part
of Chintz, Hervey learnt that Iredale had gone over
to Loon Dyke, but that he would be back to supper.</p>
<p>“Then I’ll wait for him,” he said decidedly. “You
can take my horse. I’ll go inside.”</p>
<p>The head man took the horse reluctantly and
Hervey passed into the house.</p>
<p>For a long time he stood at the open window
watching the storm. How it raged over the valley!
The rain came down in one steady, hissing deluge,
and the hills echoed and re-echoed with the crashing
thunder. The blinding lightning shot athwart the
lowering sky till the nerves of the watcher fairly
jumped at each successive flash. And he realized
what a blessing the deluge of rain was in that world
of resinous timber. What might have been the
consequences had the storm preceded the rain?
Hardened as he was to such things, even Hervey
shuddered to think.</p>
<p>Wild as was the outlook, the waiting man’s thoughts
were in keeping with his surroundings, for more
relentless they could not well have been. Iredale’s
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_229' name='page_229'></SPAN>229</span>
money-bags should surely be opened for him that
night before he returned home. He would levy a
heavy toll for his silence.</p>
<p>His great dark eyes, so indicative of the unrestrained
nature which was his, burned with deep, cruel fires
as he gazed out upon the scene. There was a
profoundness, a capacity for hellishness in their
expression which scarcely belonged to a sanely-balanced
mind. It was inconceivable that he could
be of the same flesh and blood as his sister, and yet
there was no doubt about it. Perhaps some unusually
sagacious observer would have been less hard to
convince. Hervey was bad, bad all through. Prudence
was good. Swayed by emotion the girl might
have displayed some strange, hidden, unsuspected
passionate depths, as witness her feelings at her dying
lover’s bedside. Her rage at the moment when she
realized that he had been murdered was indescribable.
The hysterical sweep of passion which had moved her
at that moment had been capable of tragic impulse,
the consequences of which one could hardly have
estimated. But her nature was thoroughly good.
Under some sudden stress of emotion, which for the
moment upset the balance of reason, a faint resemblance
to the brother might be obtained. But
while Hervey’s motives would be bad, hers would
have for their primary cause a purpose based upon
righteousness. The man needed no incentive to sway
his dispositions. He had let go his hold upon the
saving rock, now he floated willingly upon the tide of
his evil disposition. He preferred the broad road to
Hell to the narrow path of Righteousness. It may
not always have been so.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_230' name='page_230'></SPAN>230</span></div>
<p>The storm abated with the suddenness of its kind.
During Hervey’s long wait Chintz did not leave him
entirely alone. Several times, on some trivial pretext
the little man visited the sitting-room. And his
object was plainly to keep an eye upon his master’s
unbidden guest. At last there came a clatter of
galloping hoofs splashing through the underlay of
the forest, and presently Iredale pulled up at the
door.</p>
<p>Hervey watched the rancher dismount. And his
survey was in the nature of taking the man’s moral
measure. He looked at the familiar features which
he had come to know so well; the easy, confident
movements which usually characterized Iredale; the
steady glance, the quiet undisturbed expression of
his strong face. The watching man saw nothing
unusual in his appearance, nothing to give him any
clue; but Hervey was not a keen observer. Only
the most apparent change would have been seen by
him; the subtler indications of a disturbed mind were
beyond his ken. Iredale seemed to be merely the
Iredale he knew, and as he watched his lips parted
with a sucking sound such as the gourmand might
make in contemplating a succulent dish.</p>
<p>Iredale came in. Hervey met him at the door of
the sitting-room, and his greeting was cordial, even
effusive.</p>
<p>“How are you, George? I knew you were to be
back to-day. Jolly glad you’ve returned. Quite
missed you, you know. By Jove! what a storm.
Wet?”</p>
<p>“A bit; nothing to speak of. They told me at
the farm you were over here.”</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_231' name='page_231'></SPAN>231</span></div>
<p>Iredale looked quickly round the room. His survey
was not lost upon his visitor. Then he went on––</p>
<p>“Chintz looked after you? Had any refreshment?
Whisky?”</p>
<p>“Chintz looked after me! He looked in every now
and then to see what I was doing.” Hervey laughed
unpleasantly. “Yes, I can do with a gentle ‘four-fingers’;
thanks.”</p>
<p>Iredale produced a decanter and glasses and a
carafe of water. Then he excused himself while he
went to change his clothes. While he was gone
Hervey helped himself to a liberal measure of the
spirit. He felt that it would be beneficial just then.
His host’s unconcerned manner was a little disconcerting.
The rancher seemed much harder to tackle
when he was present.</p>
<p>Presently Iredale returned, and, seating himself in
a deck-chair, produced a pipe, and pushed his tobacco
jar over to his visitor. He was wondering what
Hervey had come over for. He had no wish for his
company just then. He had hoped to spend this
evening alone. His mind was still in a state of
feverish turmoil. However, he decided that he would
get rid of the man as quickly as the laws of hospitality
would allow.</p>
<p>A silence fell whilst the rancher waited to hear the
object of the visit. The other refused to smoke, but
Iredale lit his pipe and smoked solemnly. His face
was, if possible, more serious than usual. His eyes
he kept half veiled. Hervey cast about in his mind
for the opening of his attack. He seated himself on
the edge of the table and looked out of the window.
He raised his eyes to the leaden sky, then he withdrew
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_232' name='page_232'></SPAN>232</span>
his gaze and looked upon the floor. He swung one
leg to and fro, as he leant sideways and supported his
attitude with a hand resting upon the table. At
length, as the silence continued, and Iredale presently
raised his eyes and stared straight at him, he
turned to the decanter and helped himself to another
drink. Then he set his glass down with a heavy
hand.</p>
<p>“Good tack, that,” he observed. “By the bye, where
have all your owls departed to? Are they like the
ducks, merely come, pause, and proceed on their
migratory way? Or perhaps”––with a leer––“they only
stand on sentry in the valley when––when you require
them to.”</p>
<p>Iredale permitted the suspicion of a smile. But
there was no geniality in it; on the contrary, it was
the movement of his facial muscles alone. Hervey
had touched upon delicate ground.</p>
<p>“Did they not welcome you with their wonted
acclamation?” he asked, removing his pipe from his
lips, and gently pressing the ash down into the bowl
with his finger-tip.</p>
<p>The other grinned significantly. He had plunged,
and now he felt that things were easier. Besides,
the spirit had warmed him.</p>
<p>“That’s a real good game you play, George, old
man. The imitation is excellent. I was deceived
entirely by it. It was only the other night that I
learned that those fearful screech-owls were human.
Most ingenious on your part. You are well served.”</p>
<p>Iredale never moved. He smoked quite calmly.
His legs were crossed and the smile still remained
about his mouth. Only his eyes changed their expression,
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_233' name='page_233'></SPAN>233</span>
but this was lost upon Hervey, for they were
half closed.</p>
<p>“I don’t think I quite understand. Will you explain?”
The rancher spoke very deliberately, his
voice was well modulated but cold.</p>
<p>Hervey laughed boisterously to cover a slight
nervousness. This attitude of Iredale’s was embarrassing.
He had anticipated something different.</p>
<p>“Is there any need of explanation?” he asked,
when his forced hilarity had abruptly terminated.
“The only thing which puzzles me is that you’ve
kept it up so long without being discovered.”</p>
<p>There was a long pause. Then Iredale removed
his pipe from his mouth, knocked it out upon the
heel of his boot, and returned it to his pocket. Then
he rose from his seat and stood squarely before the
other.</p>
<p>“Don’t let us beat about the bush,” he said. “I
think plain speaking is best––in some cases. Now,
what have you to say?”</p>
<p>Hervey shrugged his shoulders. His dark eyes
avoided the other’s gaze; the steely flash in Iredale’s
grey eyes was hard to confront.</p>
<p>“A good deal,” he said, with raucous intonation.
“The smuggling of Chinese and consequently opium
is a profitable trade. There’s room for more than one
in it.”</p>
<p>“Go on.”</p>
<p>Iredale’s tone was icy.</p>
<p>“Of course I am not the man to blow a gaff like
this. There’s too much money in it, especially when
worked on extensive lines, and when one is possessed
of such an ideal spot as this from which to operate
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_234' name='page_234'></SPAN>234</span>
That was a positive stroke of genius of yours in
selecting the graveyard as a hiding-place. I suppose
now that place is honeycombed with cellars for the
storage of––of––yellow. Must be, from the number of
‘yellow-devils’ I saw come out of the grave the other
night. My, but you’re slick, Iredale; slick as paint.
I admire you immensely. Who’d have thought of
such a thing? I tell you what, you were never intended
for anything but defeating the law, George,
my boy. We could do a lot together. I suppose
you aren’t looking for a partner?”</p>
<p>Iredale’s face wore an almost genial expression as
he replied. The rancher’s tones were so cordial that
Hervey congratulated himself upon the manner in
which he had approached the subject.</p>
<p>“Well, to tell you the truth, I wasn’t,” he said.
“As a matter of fact, you must have seen me despatching
my last cargo of––yellow. Why? Were
you thinking of starting in the business?”</p>
<p>“That <i>is</i> my intention.”</p>
<p>“Is?”</p>
<p>“Yes, is.” Hervey’s tone was emphatic, and his
attitude truculent.</p>
<p>“Ah! are you prepared to buy this place?” Iredale
went on. “I can easily hand you over my connection.”</p>
<p>“Buy?” Hervey thought this man was dense.
“Why, I haven’t two cents to my name to buy
anything with. No, I don’t think there will be any
buying and selling between us, George Iredale.”</p>
<p>“Then what do you propose? We may as well
come to a definite arrangement.”</p>
<p>The rancher’s tone was peculiar.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_235' name='page_235'></SPAN>235</span></div>
<p>“We’ll run this thing for all it’s worth. Hang to
it as long as there’s a cent to be made.”</p>
<p>Hervey helped himself to more whisky. His self-satisfaction
was immense. He had not thought that
Iredale would have been so easy to handle.</p>
<p>“Um. A very nice, comfortable arrangement––for
you.” Iredale moistened his lips slowly. “You’ll sup
the juice while I squeeze the orange for you. No,
friend Hervey, I’m not dealing.”</p>
<p>“But you must!”</p>
<p>“Must?”</p>
<p>“Yes; don’t be a fool. It means more money to
you, and I shall share in the profits.”</p>
<p>“If I wanted to make more money I could continue
in the business alone. I am not here to make
money for you.”</p>
<p>Iredale stared straight into the face before him.
His grey eyes seemed to pierce through and through
his companion. Hervey moved from his position.
Iredale’s attitude was coldly uncompromising.</p>
<p>“Then you refuse my offer?”</p>
<p>“Most emphatically.”</p>
<p>Hervey was inclined to show his teeth. However, he
checked the impulse and spoke in a conciliating tone.</p>
<p>“There is another alternative. Your fortune is
very large. I want fifty thousand dollars.”</p>
<p>Iredale’s face relaxed into a genuine smile.</p>
<p>“Your demands are too modest,” he said ironically,
“Anything else?”</p>
<p>The other’s eyes looked dangerous. The lurid
depths were beginning to glow.</p>
<p>“The money I am going to have before I leave
here to-night.”</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_236' name='page_236'></SPAN>236</span></div>
<p>“Ah! blackmail. I thought so.”</p>
<p>Iredale’s contempt was biting.</p>
<p>“Call it what you like, Mr. George Iredale. I tell
you this, you are in my power and you will have to
buy my silence. You like plain speaking; and now
you’ve got it. Refuse compliance, and I leave here to
expose you.”</p>
<p>“Pooh,” said Iredale, leisurely turning to the window.
“Do you think I’m a babe? How are you going to
prove your charge? Why, you must be the veriest
simpleton to think I am unprepared. By the time
you can bring the law about me there will not remain
a trace of––my work. You can never bring your
charge home.”</p>
<p>“Ah, you think not.” Hervey’s words sounded like
a snarl. The whisky he had drunk had worked him
to a proper pitch. He had not done yet. His next
shot was to be a long one and a bold one, and he was
not sure where it would hit. He was not sure that it
might not rebound and––but his was the nature
which makes for success or disaster without a second
thought. For him there was no middle course. His
temperament was volcanic and his actions were largely
governed by the passionate nature which was his.
Iredale had not turned from the window, or he would
have seen the evil working of that face. His own
great, broad shoulders were set squarely before
Hervey’s gaze, and the uncompromising attitude only
added fuel to the latter’s already superheated feelings.
“Perhaps you might find it interesting to know that
they are hot upon the trail of the man who shot
Leslie Grey.”</p>
<p>Iredale swung round like a flash. Nor were the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_237' name='page_237'></SPAN>237</span>
storm-clouds which but now frowned in the heavens
more black than the expression of his face.</p>
<p>“You miserable hound!” he cried, his eyes sparkling,
and his jaw muscles fairly quivering with the
force of his clenching teeth. “What hellish crime
would you attempt to fix on me now?”</p>
<p>Hervey grinned with all the ferocity of a tiger.</p>
<p>“I wish to fix no crime on you. I merely mention
a fact. Leslie Grey was the only accuser of his
murderer. He stated before he died that the man
who inserted the notice in the paper which ran,
‘Yellow booming––slump in Grey,’ was the man who
murdered him. I suppose you don’t happen to know
who was responsible for that enigmatical line? You
did not inspire it?”</p>
<p>The look that accompanied the man’s words was
fiendish. The great eyes shone with a savage light
They expressed a hatred which no words could
describe. Iredale’s hands clenched and unclenched.
His fingers seemed as though they were clutching at
something which they longed to tear to atoms, and
his thoughts centred upon the man before him.</p>
<p>Twice that day he had heard this challenge. Once
uttered in all unconsciousness of its significance, but
now with hideous meaning. His powers of self-restraint
were great, but he had reached their limit.
This man had accused him of a dastardly murder.
Suddenly his voice rang out through the room like
the bellow of a maddened bull. His great figure
quivered with the fury of his passion. Hervey had
done his worst; now he shrank before the storm he
had provoked.</p>
<p>“Out of my house, you scum!” Iredale roared.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_238' name='page_238'></SPAN>238</span></div>
<p>“God! but if you stay here an instant longer, I’ll
smash you as I would a louse.”</p>
<p>The rancher stood panting at the door. His flashing
eyes never left the face of the man before him.
Hervey moved; he hesitated. The grin had left his
face and a look of dread had replaced it. Then he
moved on, forgetful of all but his moral and physical
fear of the commanding figure of enraged manhood
that seemed to tower over him. He even forgot the
weapon which lay concealed in his pocket. He slunk
on out of the door amidst a profound silence, out into
the soft twilight of the valley.</p>
<p>The door stood open; the window stood open.
Iredale looked after him. He watched the tall, drooping
figure; then, as Hervey passed from view, Iredale
turned back and flung himself into his chair, and his
laugh sounded through the stillness of the room.</p>
<p>But there was no mirth in that laugh. It was like
the hysterical laugh of a man whose nerves are
strained to breaking tension.</p>
<p>He knew he had made a terrible mistake. His
rage had placed a deadly weapon in his enemy’s
hands. He had practically admitted his authorship
of the notice in the Winnipeg paper. What would
be the result? he asked himself. Again that strained
laugh sounded through the room.</p>
<p>As Hervey rode away from the valley his fear
of George Iredale fell from him as might a cloak.
His face wore full expression of the evil in his
heart.</p>
<p>He, too, laughed; but his laugh was an expression
of triumph.</p>
<p>“You’re less clever than I thought, George Iredale,”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_239' name='page_239'></SPAN>239</span>
he muttered. “You would have done better to have
bought my silence. Now I can sell my discovery
elsewhere. Money I want, and money I mean to
have.”</p>
<p>But he spurred his horse on as an anxious thought
came to him.</p>
<hr class='toprule' />
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_240' name='page_240'></SPAN>240</span>
<SPAN name='CHAPTER_XIV_A_STAB_IN_THE_DARK' id='CHAPTER_XIV_A_STAB_IN_THE_DARK'></SPAN>
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