Again Maclin laughed.
“I’ll leave enough copy,” he muttered. Then he fixed his little eyes on his prey while his fat neck wrinkled in the back. His emotion of virtue flickered and died, he was the alert man of business once more. “I told you after you got out of prison, Rivers, that I’d never stand for any more of that counterfeiting stuff. It’s too risky, and the talent can be put to better purpose. I’ve stood by you, I like you, and I need you. When we all pony up you’ll get your share––I mean when we build up the Forest, you’ll have a fat berth, but 164 you’ve got to play a card now for me and play it damn quick. Here, take this gem of yours”––he tossed Larry’s latest production to him––“and go to your wife to-morrow, and tell her why your old man stood by you; shut her mouth with that choice bit and then tell her––you want the Point! You’ve got her cornered, Rivers. She can’t escape. If she tries to, hurl Northrup at her.”
Larry wiped his lips with his hot hand.
“I haven’t quite finished this,” he muttered; “it will take a day or two.”
“Rivers, if you try any funny work on me–––” Maclin looked dangerous. He felt the fear that comes from not trusting those he must use.
“I’m not going to double-cross you, Maclin.”
“Here, take a nifter.” Maclin pushed the bottle toward Rivers. “You look all in,” he ventured.
“I am, just about.”
“Well, after this piece of business, I’ll send you off for as long as you want to stay. You need a change.”
Larry revived after a moment or two and some colour crept into his cheeks.