“You’re not going to sell the place, father,” she continued, her voice low but firm. “You’re not going to let them turn that clean spot into a filthy hangout for the class of men and women who’ll patronize it—where they’ll stagger around drunk and curse and gamble and murder one another.”
Lemuel’s brows knit with impatience. “But can’t you see, hon, this here’s big money. Dick knows it an’ he knows I know it. We’ll never git another chanct like it ag’in. An’ it’ll make us independent, an’ we won’t ever have to go back there ’cept we want to.”
“I really wouldn’t let my scruples stand in the way of this deal, Miss Huntington,” advised Lennox suavely. “While what you say may be perfectly true, in a sense, at the same time you have too much to gain to allow mere sentiment to swerve you from what is clearly a duty you owe to yourselves—disposing of the ranch for what is actually a ridiculously high price.”
“Mere sentiment!” she echoed, her eyes flashing with an odd light. “Of course, Mr. Lennox, you don’t understand. You don’t know the reason I’m objecting. With you, it’s a cold business proposition.” She turned to Lemuel, watching her now with obvious ill-humor. “Father, would you always like to think that the drunkards and outcasts of Geerusalem were merrymaking on the land where poor mother worked and hoped and died? That they were cursing and dancing and carousing within hearing of her grave? That their drunken feet were stumbling over it, desecrating it, day and night, night and day? Would you like to think that, for—for seventy-five hundred dollars——” Her voice broke and she stood gazing at him beseechingly through her tears.
For one instant, Lemuel stared aghast at her, then sudden pain started in his eyes, twitched down his face to his lips, and set them quivering. He swallowed hard, looked guiltily at one callous hand, and bowed his head.
“My God, Dick, she’s right!” he said hoarsely. “I’d—I’d plumb forgot. I’m—I’m sorry, but I reckon nobody’s got enough money to buy that ranch—not fur a reesort, leastways. I sure—I sure forgot. Dot, hon, you know I wouldn’t do sech an awful thing, don’t you?”
Some minutes later, Lennox walked out of the hotel and down the street. At the corner, a man joined him—the same mysterious individual who had followed Dot and her father from the Ferry terminal on the morning they arrived in the city.
“I expect he fell heavy, eh?” laughed the fellow, falling into step beside the other.
“No. He wouldn’t part with the place, Rankin,” said Lennox quietly.
“He wouldn’t! Not for seventy-five hundred! What in hell does the old bum want for nothing? What was his reason?”