Grit Lawless Part 40

"Don't know when you're beaten, do you, old man?"

"Write," was all Lawless vouchsafed... "Here, the discharge across the back."

Van Bleit obeyed. He flung down the pen when he had finished with an oath.

"I hope you are satisfied now," he remarked with great bitterness, as Lawless carefully placed the receipt in an envelope and slipped it inside his coat.

"Not quite," he answered. He stooped for the pen and handed it again to Van Bleit. "We are not through yet. You have played your game of bluff very well, but you know perfectly that I could not get that packet from the Bank even with your receipt without a letter of authority from you."

Van Bleit completely lost his temper. This man knew too much. It was almost like parting with his life's blood, this plundering him of his treasure.

"d.a.m.n you?" he spluttered. "d.a.m.n you! May my hand rot off before it writes any such letter for you!"

Lawless took an envelope and paper from his pocket, and calmly placed and held in position the envelope on the improvised writing-pad.

"Now," he said, presenting it as he had the official receipt, "you will please address this to the Manager."

"That I never will," Van Bleit bl.u.s.tered. "S'elp me, I never will."

"Tom," said Lawless in a voice of deadly quiet, "when I give the word, don't hesitate to fire."

"Right-ho?" Hayhurst answered cheerfully. "My only fear is that this weapon of mine is so eager it may go off on its own account."

Lawless looked Van Bleit steadily in the eyes.

"I want you to understand," he said, "that I am in earnest when I say that it is your life against these letters. Personally, I would quite as soon it were your life. The letters are nothing to me; but they are of considerable importance to other people... I doubt, on the whole, whether I should not be doing them and society at large a greater service by putting an end to you. I don't intend wasting my time in persuasion. Either you write as I direct, or I put a bullet through your heart."

In his chagrin and utter helplessness Van Bleit began to whimper.

"What have I ever done to you," he asked, "that you should hunt me down as you have? It's all spite--and jealousy. I'd like to kill you... I will kill you for this. My turn will come."

He took out his handkerchief and wiped the tears from his eyes impatiently.

"If you'd only be reasonable," he said, "and come to terms..."

"I've stated my terms," Lawless interrupted drily. "Count ten, Tom; then if he doesn't write, blaze away."

Hayhurst began to count audibly and fairly rapidly. When he reached eight Van Bleit with the tears in his eyes put his pen to the envelope and hurriedly directed it. Lawless examined it, put it away as he had the receipt, and spread, and held, the sheet of notepaper. There was a hard look of satisfaction in his eyes as he fastened them on Van Bleit's livid convulsed face. The knowledge of the exquisite torture he was inflicting gave him the peculiar pleasure that a man experiences when he is wiping out an injury.

"Write briefly," he said, "to the Manager to the effect that you will be obliged if he will hand over to the bearer of this letter, Tom Hayhurst, the packet you deposited for safe keeping in the Bank, for which you enclose your receipt."

With a hand that shook Van Bleit obeyed. But half-way through he hesitated, and, with his shaking hand upraised, looked savagely at Lawless.

"Count ten, Tom."

The steely tones rang out commandingly, and had scarcely ceased when Hayhurst in audible response started his rapid counting. Van Bleit finished the letter in desperate haste, and signed it. Then with a bitter imprecation he snapped the pen between his hands and flung the broken pieces violently in Lawless' face.

"Have you done with me now?" he demanded.

"Not quite."

The reply was unexpected. Van Bleit paused irresolute, and stared with fallen countenance at this man who, not content with robbing him, demanded more. He began to fear that having tricked him out of the letters he would now foully murder him. The knowledge that, if so, he would in all probability hang for the crime was neither rea.s.suring nor consoling.

Lawless read the letter, folded it, and placed it in his breast pocket.

Then he looked up and met Van Bleit's eye.

"What are you after?" Van Bleit asked dully. "You've got what you wanted... You let me go."

The man he addressed smiled quietly, and taking his revolver from his pocket, covered the speaker with it.

"You don't take me for quite such a fool, I hope?" he said. "All right, Tom! You're off guard now. Just tie his hands again. I shan't want him to use them further in my service."

Van Bleit swung round as Hayhurst approached him, prepared to offer resistance.

"No, no?" he cried quickly. "I know what you're after... None of that--no?"

"It's not worth your while to resist," Lawless returned curtly. "It's hands behind or a bullet in your leg. I'm not particular which."

Van Bleit faced round again and stared at him helplessly.

"You b-bully!" he stammered.

But he submitted quietly while Tom Hayhurst secured his wrists as before. And then he gazed about him with his trapped-rat expression, his full cheeks flabby and grey, and his thick lip fallen, showing the big white teeth. He was terribly afraid that his ease-taking, pleasure-loving body was about to suffer hurt. If they did not purpose murdering him, Grit Lawless would wreak his vengeance in some violent manner for the las.h.i.+ng he had received at his hands.

Lawless put the receipt with the letter inside the envelope which, taking Van Bleit's seed ring off his finger, and some wax and matches from his own pocket, he proceeded to seal.

"You see, I came prepared," he said.

Van Bleit scowled, but answered nothing. He was now princ.i.p.ally concerned for his personal safety. If he could escape in time to wire to Denzil before the Bank opened in the morning, there was still a chance of saving the letters, even if Denzil had to pay for it with a couple of months for a.s.sault. Telegraphing to the Bank to stop the delivery of the packet was, he felt, useless.

Lawless gave the letter into Hayhurst's charge.

"Take the horse, Tom," he said. "I've a fancy for keeping the n.i.g.g.e.r in sight. We're not running any risks this trip. Tell 'em at the hotel that I'm spending the night with a friend, and will be back for breakfast in the morning. You're in plenty of time for the train. Get to the Bank as soon as it opens, and when you receive the packet take it to Colonel Grey, and deliver it into his hands."

"And you?" Hayhurst asked, eager to undertake the mission; yet firmly convinced that the final delivery of the letters to the Colonel was a privilege that by rights should be Lawless'.

"I'm entertaining Van Bleit," Lawless replied.

Tom Hayhurst glanced in the direction of their prisoner, and from him towards the cart where the whip stood invitingly in the socket, suggesting thoughts of retribution pleasing to dwell upon.

"I'd like to see you mark his face before I go," he said. He pointed to the whip. "Shall I fetch it?" he asked.

"You fetch your mount and clear out," Lawless answered. "When I horsewhip a man I don't do it with his hands tied."

Hayhurst gave the speaker a quick look. Then he walked towards the tree where the horse was fastened, unhitched it, and sprang into the saddle.

"So long, Grit," he sang out.

He blew a kiss to Van Bleit as he cantered past.