“That ere newspaper you war readin’ when I gave you the invite. I read it afore you did, and had ciphered out the whole thing. Puttin’ six and six thegither, I could easy make the dozen. The same bein’, that one of the young ladies stayin’ at the hotel is the Miss Helen Armstrong spoke of in the paper; and the man I observed watchin’ her is Richard Darke, who killed Charles Clancy—yourself!”
“I—I am—I won’t—I don’t deny it to you, Mr Borlasse. I am Richard Darke. I did kill Charles Clancy; though I protest against its being said I murdered him.”
“Never mind that. Between friends, as I suppose we can now call ourselves, there need be no nice distinguishin’ of tarms. Murder or manslaughter, it’s all the same, when a man has a motive sech as yourn. An’ when he’s druv out o’ the pale of what they call society, an’ hunted from the settlements, he’s not like to lose the respect of them who’s been sarved the same way. Your bein’ Richard Darke an’ havin’ killed Charles Clancy, in no ways makes you an enemy o’ Jim Borlasse—except in your havin’ robbed me of a revenge I’d sworn to take myself. Let that go now. I ain’t angry, but only envious o’ you, for havin’ the satisfaction of sendin’ the skunk to kingdom come, without givin’ me the chance. An’ now, Mister Darke, what do you intend doin’?”
The question comes upon the assassin with a sobering effect. His copious potations have hitherto kept him from reflecting.
Despite the thieve’s confidence with which Borlasse has inspired him, this reference to his future brings up its darkness, with its dangers; and he pauses before making response.
Without waiting for it, his questioner continues:
“If you’ve got no fixed plan of action, and will listen to the advice of a friend, I’d advise you to become one o’ us.”
“One of you! What does that mean, Mr Borlasse?”
“Well, I can’t tell you here,” answers Borlasse, in a subdued tone. “Desarted as this bar-room appear to be, it’s got ears for all that. I see that curse, Johnny, sneakin’ about, pretendin’ to be lookin’ after his supper. If he knew as much about you as I do, you’d be in limbo afore you ked get into your bed. I needn’t tell you thar’s a reward offered; for you seed that yourself in the newspaper. Two thousand dollars for you, an’ five hundred dollars for the fellow as I’ve seed about along wi’ you, and who I’d already figured up as bein’ jailer Joe Harkness. Johnny, an’ a good many more, would be glad to go halves with me, for tellin’ them only half of what I now know. I ain’t goin’ to betray you. I’ve my reasons for not. After what’s been said I reckon you can trust me?”
“I can,” rejoins the assassin, heaving a sigh of relief.