Finally she gave a slight signal to the musicians, her steps slowed, the
music stopped, and she went over and sat down beside the woman, who had
placed her violin on the piano, and then flung herself into a chair,
where she sat, carefully dabbing her warm brow with her handkerchief.
The vague pictures which Hanson had been seeing vanished. "Gee! She got
me going!" he said to himself, half dazedly, "hypnotized me sure." This,
the manager. But the man exulted: "She ain't easy. She ain't easy."
The moment the Pearl stopped dancing the audience was on its feet
applauding, and then, to a man, it eddied about her, casting banknotes
into her lap. These she lifted in handfuls and gave to two men who had
sat down beside her to count, while a third bent over them watching the
operation.
Hanson, although he had drawn nearer her, still stood on the edge of the
crowd, leaning against the bar. "So that's the Black Pearl!" he said
presently to the bar-keeper.
"That's her," responded Jimmy equably. "Can't be beat. What'll you
have?"
"Nothing, just yet. Say, those stones around her neck look good to me."
Hanson narrowed his eyes.
"Good!" Jimmy laughed shortly, a characteristic, mirthful little
chuckle. "I guess so. Bob Flick, up there beside Pearl, counting that
money, he gave 'em to her after she found him when he'd been lost on the
desert about three days. I'll tell you about it when I got more time."
Hanson had been conscious from time to time of the close but furtive
scrutiny of the man whom the bar-keeper had designated as Bob Flick, and
now he, in turn, made Flick an object of observation.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25