"Well?" said Hazen.
"I lost a dollar," Marshey told him. "I 'lowed I might have dropped it
here."
Hazen frowned.
"You told me eleven-fifty was all you had."
"This here dollar wa'n't mine."
The money-lender laughed.
"Likely! Who would give you a dollar? You lied to me, or you're lying
now. I don't believe you lost a dollar."
Marshey reiterated weakly: "I lost a dollar."
"Well," said Hazen, "there's no dollar of yours here."
"It was to git medicine," Marshey said. "It wa'n't mine."
Hazen Kinch exclaimed: "By God, I believe you're accusing me!"
Marshey lifted both hands placatingly.
"No, Mr. Kinch. No, sir." His eyes once more wandered about the room.
"Mebbe I dropped it in the snow," he said.
He turned to the door. Even in his slow shuffle there was a hint of
trembling eagerness to escape. He went out and down the stairs. Hazen
looked at me, his old face wrinkling mirthfully.
"You see?" he said.
I left him a little later and went out into the street. On the way to
the hotel I stopped for a cigar at the drug store. Marshey was there,
talking with the druggist.
I heard the druggist say: "No, Marshey, I'm sorry. I've been stung too
often."
Marshey nodded humbly.
"I didn't 'low you'd figure to trust me." he agreed. "It's all right. I
didn't 'low you would."
It was my impulse to give him the dollar he needed, but I did not do it.
An overpowering compulsion bade me keep my hands off in this matter.
Pages:
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87