The other grinned significantly. He had plunged, and now he felt that things were easier. Besides, the spirit had warmed him.
“That’s a real good game you play, George, old man. The imitation is excellent. I was deceived entirely by it. It was only the other night that I learned that those fearful screech-owls were human. Most ingenious on your part. You are well served.”
Iredale never moved. He smoked quite calmly. His legs were crossed and the smile still remained about his mouth. Only his eyes changed their expression, 233 but this was lost upon Hervey, for they were half closed.
“I don’t think I quite understand. Will you explain?” The rancher spoke very deliberately, his voice was well modulated but cold.
Hervey laughed boisterously to cover a slight nervousness. This attitude of Iredale’s was embarrassing. He had anticipated something different.
“Is there any need of explanation?” he asked, when his forced hilarity had abruptly terminated. “The only thing which puzzles me is that you’ve kept it up so long without being discovered.”
There was a long pause. Then Iredale removed his pipe from his mouth, knocked it out upon the heel of his boot, and returned it to his pocket. Then he rose from his seat and stood squarely before the other.
“Don’t let us beat about the bush,” he said. “I think plain speaking is best––in some cases. Now, what have you to say?”
Hervey shrugged his shoulders. His dark eyes avoided the other’s gaze; the steely flash in Iredale’s grey eyes was hard to confront.
“A good deal,” he said, with raucous intonation. “The smuggling of Chinese and consequently opium is a profitable trade. There’s room for more than one in it.”