The H. Bedford-Jones Pulp Fiction Megapack Page 14

  “Cut it! Listen to me, O’Grady; you’re beaten, understand? Give me your word of honor to try no tricks against me, and I’ll trust it.”

  His eyes were dancing merrily now.

  “Done with you,” he responded instantly. “My word on it, Breck.”

  I put up the pistol and hastened outside. A shot cracked out, and another. I was in time to see the two Japs lashing their weary mules away on the back trail, while Yu stood at the gate firing after them. One of them pitched out of the saddle, dragged in the stirrup until his mule halted, and lay quiet. The other got clear away.

  “Shall I go after him, master?” demanded Yu, his eyes blazing with excitement.

  “No. Let the poor devil go. Look after the other one.”

  “He is dead,” said Yu calmly. I turned again and strode into the room where O’Grady stood. His eyes questioned me.

  “One got away,” I said grimly. “If you’d kept quiet, neither of them would have been hurt, you idiot!”

  He grinned in an exasperating way. At this juncture Janet French made her appearance, startled, alarmed by the shots. O’Grady bowed to her.

  “That shooting—?”

  “Was not important,” I said. “It was incidental to Mr. O’Grady’s arrival, and enforced stay. Now, O’Grady, here’s a patient for you. It seems that the bone has been set more or less. You’ll have to confirm the fact, and then arrange proper splints and bandages. Say what you need, and we’ll get it.”

  O’Grady advanced to the bedside. He appeared to be in high good humor despite his overthrow, and greeted French with a smile, and a whimsical air.

  “Faith, it’s a good-lookin’ patient you are! And everybody was waitin’ for the surgeon, what? Some with guns an’ some with duns, an’ some—easy now, me lad! Will ye let me have a feel o’ your back! I’ll do no hurtin’, upon me word! That’s the way. Whoever did the job for ye did it proper, I’ll grant; it’s little I can do for ye except to wrap up and bind tight, an’ wait for nature to do her part! Simple fracture, and the bone’s in place.”

  French leaned back on his pillows again, a bit white, and O’Grady sent me off after splints and bandaging materials.

  When I returned, O’Grady was chatting gaily with the Frenches, and he set to work at once. I might have suspected danger in his merry acceptance of the situation, but I considered him too completely beaten.

  In half an hour French was resting in comfort, O’Grady was lighting his pipe, and I knew that the time had come to talk business. So I went at it bluntly.

  “French, I’m here on behalf of Kohler to buy that lacquer formula of yours and to engage your services. O’Grady is here on the same errand, on behalf of certain Jap interests, but just at present he’s taking a back seat.”

  “Not entirely,” put in O’Grady. “Faith, me lad, I’m empowered to offer fifty thousand in gold, and I’ve a certified check on the Bank o’ Taiwan to prove it.”

  He drew from his neck the little pouch that I had taken for a scapulary and opened it. French, however, shook his head.

  “Sorry, O’Grady; nothing doing. I’m dealing with Kohler alone in this matter.”

  “Can you meet that offer, Breck?”

  “Yes,” I said promptly. “I’ll meet it, and Kohler will guarantee whatever salary you ask to retain your services for the next five years. In return, you’re to destroy all and any papers which may hold the formula, and consign it to your memory and mine.”

  “Fair enough,” said French. “That’s a bargain, then.”

  “Hold on a minute, will ye?” intervened O’Grady calmly. “Don’t cheat yourself, French. Sorry I am to say it, but Breck is no more actin’ for Kohler than I am! He has bought into a lacquer factory in Canton, and he’s tryin’ to get your formula for his own ends. I have a letter to prove for whom I’m actin’, with a certified check to back it; suppose ye see what proof he has to offer that he’s actin’ for Kohler.”

  Having delivered this bombshell, O’Grady sat back and enjoyed himself. As he very well knew, it was a bombshell in all verity, for I had no proof behind me, no money, nothing.

  French gave me an inquiring glance. His sister was looking from one to another of us in frowning disquietude.

  “I’ve an order on any Shansi banker to allow me to draw any sum I desire against the accounts of Kohler,” I said. “Is there one of them here?”

  “In Kiuling? Not likely,” French dissented. His gaze was uneasy; O’Grady had wakened suspicion in him, I could see. “But you must have something to show that Kohler sent you, Breck?”

  “Not a thing,” I said, telling the blunt truth. “He seemed to think that nothing would be needed, in fact, beyond my word.”

  O’Grady chuckled. His gaze crossed mine and in it I read triumph.

  “Suppose you let me see that Shansi bank order,” said French.

  I produced the document in question and handed it over. As French examined it, we could see that the ideographs meant nothing to him. He could not read Chinese. Then he suddenly started, looked at the paper again, and handed it back to me. He was smiling.

  “That’s enough, Breck. The deal is made. I know that seal of Kohler’s, and I know that it’s sufficient guarantee of what you say. No one except Kohler’s most trusted men are allowed to carry that seal. You pretty near put over a good one that time, O’Grady, but it wasn’t quite good enough.”

  O’Grady’s face was a study. Chagrin and consternation sat in his eyes, for he realized that he might have won his point had he only destroyed that paper instead of giving it back to me. Then a sudden roar of laughter came to his lips and he rose, hand extended in frank congratulation.

  “Breck, old man, shake! You’ve won the round; I concede everything so far. And sorry I was to be tellin’ lies about you, ’pon my word!”

  He meant the words, and I gravely shook hands with him, while Miss Janet and her brother smiled at the infectious gaiety of the man.

  “What do you mean by conceding everything so far?” I demanded.

  O’Grady shook his head, and sobered down.

  “That’ be tellin’, me lad! I’m going to win out yet, y’ know; and hanged if I’m not sorry to beat you in the way I’ll have to! But I’ll beat you.” For a moment he regarded me with an air that was very serious, not unmixed with a trace of mournful regret. “Breck, hang it all, I want to see you win! You’re a white man. I like ye fine. But, me lad, that five thousand quid means a big stake to me. It means that I have a chance to get out o’ the hole of my own folly. I’m going to beat you, me lad, and sorry I am to do it, remember that!”

  With this speech, the strange fellow turned and left us. What he meant by his words, how he still expected to beat me, I did not know; but I perceived that he was driven by an uneasy devil in this matter. At any cost, he had to win out. It meant everything to him.

  The others saw the same thing.

  “Look out for him,” said French quietly. “He’s clever, and dangerous.”

  “So I’ve found,” was my dry response. “But he’ll keep his word, never fear! I’d have bribed him over to my side before this, except that his word to his employers meant more than money to him. Then, French, not matter what happens, you’re with Kohler?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t tell me the formula unless you want to. If you prefer—”

  “I’ll tell you here and now,” he returned. “Janey, dear, watch at the door, will you?”

  So the matter was ended, so far as I was concerned; that document written in red ideographs had given French implicit trust in me—rather, the seal had done so. I had the formula, and I committed it to memory.

  The game was won, I knew at last. And yet, even as I sat there, the fruits of victory were fast being lost to me, had I but realized it.

  VIII

  Evening was upon us, and I anticipated an early retirement and a long sleep. I had no fear of any action on the part of O’Grady, for he would keep his word until we had left here at
least. Later, undoubtedly, he would make trouble.

  Yu had visited the village and must have thrown a healthy scare into French’s servants, for half a dozen of them showed up, unpacked some of the bags, and all four of us dined together in good style.

  After dinner I sought out Yu, who was staggering with weariness.

  “Go and sleep,” I told him. “I don’t think Schneider is coming at all, or he’d have been along before this; and if he does come, he can’t do anything. Our own party of men will be here tomorrow, too. So turn in and get a good night’s rest. You’ve earned it.”

  The whole crowd of us were dead beat, to tell the truth. More than once I noted that O’Grady had lost his airy manner and wore a mien of frowning preoccupation, as though he were inwardly much perturbed about something. We said an early goodnight to the Frenches, and retired to the smaller building across the courtyard. As we undressed, O’Grady turned to me.

  “Breck,” he said, “I did something today for which I’m cursed sorry. It can’t be undone now, however. I’ve been sorry, for that matter, ever since I’ve been in this damned game; I’m playing a renegade’s part, and it doesn’t fit me dev’lish easy, I can tell you, me lad! But I’ll have to stick by my mistakes; that’s the hell of it, and leaves a bad taste in the mouth. Good night to ye, and pleasanter dreams than I’ll be havin’.”

  He rolled up in his blankets. I was too weary to ponder much over his words, although I could see that something was astir within him. Two minutes afterward, I had turned out the lamp and was asleep as soon as I hit the blankets.

  Day had broken again before I wakened; but this wakening of mine was a most uneasy and singular one. I tried to move, and could not. I opened my eyes and stared around, found that I was indeed awake, yet could not stir a muscle. When I glanced down at myself, I perceived the reason.

  I was neatly trussed up in my own blankets, roped like a sack of beans!

  Astonishment seized upon me, and anger. My first thought was that O’Grady had broken faith; but a moment later his voice came to me, and at the whimsical drawl I twisted myself around and felt new bewilderment.

  “Faith, have ye waked up at last? The top o’ the mornin’ to ye, Breck!”

  There lay O’Grady, in like plight to my own!

  “What’s it mean?” I demanded hotly. “If you haven’t done this—?”

  The Irishman chuckled, but there was a glint of anger in his eye.

  “Not guilty,” he answered. “You know what that poor devil in the Old Testament was always doin’—digging pits all over Palestine and then fallin’ into them himself? Well, me lad, that’s just what I’ve done.”

  I stared at him.

  “What d’you mean, O’Grady? For the love of Mike, what has happened?”

  “Schneider.”

  “Schneider!” I repeated blankly. “But how—?”

  “Faith, I have only meself to blame,” he said bitterly. “You remember how I sent off those two Japs? I ordered ’em to double back, find Schneider, and bring him on here; that I’d go partners with him to beat you. That’s all. The filthy blackguard must ha’ scragged my men and come along on his own. He jumped us last night.”

  I lay silent, as comprehension came to me.

  Schneider had been discounted, thought out of the running entirely; but O’Grady had made a desperate effort to beat me at the last with his help. Now Schneider had come, and had tied us up while we slept in exhaustion; and O’Grady would be calmly ignored. He had leaned on a rotten reed in trusting Schneider.

  “You’ve played hell,” I said. “Where’s Yu?”

  “Don’t know. Skipped out, I fancy, or caught asleep.” O’Grady’s features brightened a trifle. “Schneider won’t pay any attention to Yu. He may lend us a hand yet—though from the sounds I believe Schneider has a number of men with him.”

  I had no particular hope in Yu, however, at this juncture. Schneider seemed to hold the whip-hand, and now it was only a question of what terms he would propose. Here in this mountain district he could commit any crime with impunity, and there was none to withstand him.

  Five minutes afterward, Schneider himself came into the room. With him were two villainous-looking men, who drew knives and slashed rather recklessly at our bonds. Schneider himself drew a pistol, sat down on a pile of mule-trappings, and regarded us with a sleeky benevolent air.

  “Sit up, gentlemen, but do not stand, I pray,” he said. One of the Chinese remained at the door, the other disappeared. “Well, well! So glad to see you again, Mr. Breck! And you, Mr. O’Grady! Pleasant day outside, I assure you.”

  I sat up. O’Grady, rubbing his chafed wrists, chuckled.

  “You’re not goin’ partners with me, Schneider?”

  The other laughed softly.

  “With you? Not in the least! It was very kind of you to bring me here—”

  O’Grady, with absolutely no warning whatever, hurled himself forward. He had caught up the slashed thongs, and flung them into Schneider’s face to embarrass the man’s aim; then he was plunging across the floor with a stupendous display of agility.

  The effort almost succeeded, but it was desperate and a fraction too slow. Schneider cursed and fired, fired again, then jerked up his pistol to cover me, a snarl on his lips. By the time the Chinaman from the doorway had leaped into the room, it was over. O’Grady lay motionless.

  “Look at him, Breck,” said Schneider calmly: “I don’t think he’s dead.”

  I stooped forward above the Irishman. He was not dead. One bullet had ploughed through his scalp, the other had missed. Schneider looked up at two more Chinese who had entered, and in French commanded them to take O’Grady outside, bandage the wound, and bind his wrists and ankles again.

  It was done; when we were alone again, Schneider looked at me and grinned.

  “Are you going to try the same trick, Breck?”

  I shook my head. “No. I’m too sane.”

  “Word of honor?”

  I nodded. Schneider put up his pistol, lighted a cigarette, and handed me one, which I accepted gratefully enough.

  “You observe,” he said, “that I am determined not to be beaten. You and I are now going to come to terms, mon gars! We have all had a, pleasant journey with much incident to enliven it. Now that the cards are all played, you will observe that I have kept my aces for the last.”

  He was right enough about that, although it was due to O’Grady that he had won.

  “Where are the Frenches?” I asked him.

  “Under guard,” he replied coolly. “French tells me he’s already given you the formula for the lacquer. Refuses to sell to me. That right?”

  I nodded. He knocked the ash from his cigarette and got up.

  “Five minutes to think it over,” he announced. “Give it to me. Your friend Kohler can make all of the stuff he wants—so long as we make it too. Dubonnet & Cie. are not going to be left out in the cold, Mr. Breck, I can assure you!

  “Give me the formula, then you and O’Grady can each take a mule and go; not back to the river, but on into the hills. You’ll come out sometime. Refuse, and I’ll tell my men to bring Miss French in here and exert a little persuasion on her—until you yield. So you might as well save her the unpleasant experience. Think it over.”

  I half started up, when his pistol swung viciously at me, and I relaxed.

  “You damned blackguard!” I said. “You’d not dare to do such a thing!”

  He laughed at me. Like most of these sleek, swarthy Latins, he had a strain of cold cruelty close to the surface. As I met his gaze, I knew that he would keep his word to the letter. He knew that I knew it, too, for without answering me, he strode out of the room.

  Those five minutes were all to short for their agonized suspense. I knew that Kohler wanted a monopoly on this product, just as he was getting a monopoly on the output of lac itself. If I gave up the secret, the chances were even that Schneider would kill me anyhow, to insure himself a monopoly; but he would also l
eave Kiuling instantly and strike for the coast.

  If I refused, the devil would keep his word and torture Janet French, shame her. Even if I still resisted, he would try the same trick on her brother, who would doubtless give in. A noble rectitude to my employer would gain the girl nothing, and would only cause her untold suffering.

  When Schneider returned, I rose to my feet, my mind resolved.

  “Well?” he demanded smoothly.

  “You win,” I said quietly. I did not add that I intended, if I got away, to circle around and try to catch him before he reached the river. “If I give you the formula, what assurance have I that you’ll keep your word?”

  His eyes narrowed on me.

  “None, Breck, none. Come outside. You’ll have a mule and a rifle, with cartridges in your pocket. Give me the formula. I’ll read it over to French; I’ll know quick enough if it’s right or not! If it is, you can go, and O’Grady with you. I’ll tell French just why you gave it to me, and he’ll find it to his best interest to tell the truth.”

  “Agreed,” I said.

  He gestured and I followed him out into the sunlight of the courtyard. We walked toward the hou-feng, or rear building, which was used as a stable. Here were a number of mules, with the bound O’Grady sitting in one saddle and guarded by a Chinese. O’Grady had quite recovered his senses, and greeted me with a wry smile as we approached.

  Schneider gave a curt order. Another of his men appeared. An empty rifle was given me and some cartridges were put into my pocket. Then, with the two Chinese holding their guns upon me, lest I try to load and use the rifle in my hand, Schneider held out a pencil and paper to me.

  “What’s up?” asked O’Grady.

  “Schneider wins,” I said curtly. “He’s just brute enough to torture a woman, and the game isn’t worth the candle.”

  O’Grady cursed Schneider viciously, but had only a mocking laugh for response, I wrote out the formula and handed it to Schneider; he took it with triumph glittering in his eyes.