“Well, you were the first to notice the likeness, Nevada,” Peter reminded her banteringly.
“And you were the first to—no, my cousin was the first to lie to me about it!” Her voice was coldly disapproving. “I’m very sorry—I did think that I was worthy your full confidence, Uncle Peter. It seems that I have been mistaken all along. You have only pretended to trust me, and all these years—though that in itself doesn’t so much matter, since there may have been good reason for keeping the secret, even from me. But when my—cousin came here, you must have known immediately who he was, Uncle Peter. It is that which hurts. You pretended to me that you never had seen him before, and that you were not quite willing that he should stay. And he—oh, I hate you both!”
Her voice broke quite unexpectedly. She gave an impatient, spurning gesture and fled.
Peter got out the solacing “makings” of a cigarette. He glanced at Rawley queerly and gave a cynical smile.
“Talk about the beautiful faith of your own people,” he remarked philosophically. “Here’s a sample for you. Even Nevada believes right away that I have lived a double life.”
“It makes it damned awkward—this resemblance,” Rawley muttered ruefully. “Young Jess ought to have his block knocked off.”
“Dynamite wouldn’t feaze Young Jess,” Peter declared. “He and Gladys have cooked this up between them. ’Twouldn’t have done any good to deny it, son. They wouldn’t believe it unless it suited them. And if I convinced them, they’d want to know more than ever why we look so much alike. Poor old mother—I was thinking of her. I hope you don’t mind?”
“Not in the way you mean,” Rawley assured him discontentedly. “I only wish you were my father. That is, I would if— I hate to have Nevada feel that we both lied to her,” he blurted helplessly.
For once, Uncle Peter was dense. He laughed quietly to himself.
“Oh, she’ll get over that,” he declared easily. “That’s the drop of Spanish blood. Don’t you worry about that, boy. On the whole, I’m rather relieved. I’ve caught Young Jess eyeing you; Old Jess, too, and even Gladys noticed, I think. I was waiting for one of them to mention the resemblance between us. I was braced for it. I meant to laugh it off, as just their imagination. This way, they think they have it all accounted for. It does save a good deal of dangerous speculation. I’m not guessing. I know that Old Jess used to take spells of jealousy. Anita—mother—has always been afraid of him. When I was just a kid, I threw up his gun when it was pointed at her heart, and the quarrel was over your—over my father. Something had brought up the subject, some chance remark. The Spanish in her flamed up, and she told him that she loved King. Then he pulled the gun. He may have been drunk—I don’t remember that part.