CHAPTER VII
Maclin rarely discussed Larry’s private affairs with him, but he controlled them, nevertheless, indirectly. His hold on Larry was subtle and far-reaching. It had its beginning in the old college days when the older man discovered that the younger could be manipulated, by flattery and cheap tricks, into abject servitude. Larry was not as keen-witted as Maclin, but he had a superficial cleverness; a lack of moral fibre and a certain talent that, properly controlled, offered no end of possibility.
So Maclin affixed himself to young Rivers in the days before the doctor’s death; he and Larry had often drifted apart but came together again like steel responding to the same magnet. While apparently intimate with Rivers, Maclin never permitted him to pass a given line, and this restriction often chafed Larry’s pride and egotism; still, he dared not rebel, for there were things in his past that had best be forgotten, or at least not referred to.
When Maclin had discovered the old, deserted mines and bought them, apparently Larry was included in the sale. Maclin sought to be friendly with Mary-Clare when he first came to King’s Forest; but failing in that direction, he shrugged his shoulders and made light of the matter. He never pushed his advantage nor forgave a slight.
“Never force a woman,” he confided to Larry at that juncture, “that is, if she is independent.”
“What you mean, independent?” Larry knew what he meant very well; knew the full significance of it. He fretted at it every time his desires clashed with Mary-Clare’s. If he, not she, owned the yellow house; if she were obliged to take what he chose to give her, how different their lives might have been!
Larry was thinking of all this as he made his way to the mines after denying that he had taken the letters. Those letters lay snugly hid under his shirt––he had a use for them. He could feel them as he walked along; they seemed to be feeding a fire that was slowly igniting.
Larry was going now to Maclin with all barriers removed. His suspicious mind had accepted the coarsest interpretation of Mary-Clare’s declaration of independence. Maclin’s hints were, to him, established facts. There could be but one possible explanation for her act after long, dull years of acceptance.
“Well,” Larry puffed and panted, “there is always a way to get the upper hand of a woman and, I reckon, Maclin, when he’s free to speak out, can catch a fool woman and a sneaking man, who is on no fair business, unless I miss my guess.” Larry grunted the words out and stumbled along. “First and last,” he went on, “there’s just two ways to deal with women. Break ’em or let them break themselves.”