Mr. Hackley's gaze never relaxed. "Chuck it," he said without emotion. "A sensible and eddicated man," he added impersonally, "never lies when a lie couldn't do him no good. If I was you, Stanhope, I wouldn't lose a minute in cuttin' loose from this town."
"If I were Stanhope, I daresay I wouldn't either. But suppose I were," he added, "why shouldn't I stay here if I wanted to?"
"For one reason," said Mr. Hackley deliberately, "there's me. When I'm a-feelin' myself, there ain't a cammer, a more genteel nor lor-abidin' citizen in Hunston. As for fussin' and fightin', I'd no more think of it than a dyin' inverlid in the orspitle. But only throw a few drinks under my belt like last night, and I'm a altogether different creetur. And I'm mighty afraid that the next time I over-drink myself and don't rightly know what I'm doin', I'll go out after you with a club. And then there'll be trouble."
"But why should you want to go after Stanhope with a club? What did he ever do to you?"
"Don't you know? I married Mamie Orrick's little sister!"
"Most interesting," said Varney, "as a bit of genealogy, but what's it got to do with Stanhope and the club?"
But Mr. Hackley said again, cryptically: "Chuck it." Then, softened by the young man's pleasant ways, and by the windfall of a fortune pinned into his vest: "Be sensible, Stanhope," he added amiably. "I ain't the only one. Old Orrick's heard that you've hit the town and is totin' a gun and talk-in' wild. And, of course, there's others. Don't jump off no tall buildin's, I say, expectin' Providence to land you soft. There's a train to Noo York at eight-ten. Cut while you can!"
"Why, thanks," said Varney, laughing and starting on. "If I should see
Mr. Stanhope at any time, I won't fail to pass him the friendly tip."
"And if you should see that friend o' yourn," called Hackley after him, "him that gimme the paste in the jor—you c'n just tell him that Jim Hackley is goin' to fix you both, good!"
"At your convenience, Hackley."