Claire and McLagan passed on, and the sight of the engineer caused a commotion and excitement that had been unknown in Beacon since the early days of the boom. It was as McLagan had said it would be. The town was already oil-crazy. The man’s progress was something in the nature of a triumphal procession. There were smiles, and greeting, and handshakes, almost every step of the way, till McLagan felt something like serious regret that he had utilised the rotund doctor as a medium for disseminating his news.
As they came to the bank, McLagan’s patience had well-nigh exhausted itself.
“We’ll get right inside for shelter, kid,” he said in desperation. “This popularity makes me sick. This darn handwagging with folks I don’t know from a bunch of fence posts couldn’t be worse if I was President of the United States. Say——”
He laughed as he discovered that Victor Burns was standing in the doorway of the bank obviously waiting for him to come up.
They were safe for the moment in Victor’s private office. The banker was sitting behind his desk while Claire was occupying the most comfortable chair the place afforded. McLagan was propped on the corner of the desk listening to the thing the banker had to tell.
“I’m glad for you, McLagan,” he said. “I’m glad for Beacon. And it didn’t take me two seconds to guess my own feelings the moment Doc blew in and handed me his story of an oil flood that nearly wrecked your camp. I’ve a private bunch of dollars that’s going to be changed into your Corporation’s stock right away. Yes, boy, I’m glad, but I’m worried.”
“How?”
“How?” The banker looked from one to the other. Then he raised a clenched fist and brought it heavily down on his desk. A frown of unusual ill-temper had suddenly depressed his pleasant face. “It’s this boy, Cy Liskard, a customer of mine, you’ll remember him. It’s that guy with the gold I showed you awhile back. The feller that you spread out on the Speedway floor on the night of the festival. They’ve hanged him, they’ve hanged him clean out of hand. It’s these boys, the Aurora bunch. And they ticketed him with their fancy label with the signature of the Chief Light.”
He snorted as he sat gazing into McLagan’s face. Claire sat up in her chair, a startled look in her eyes as she watched the unsmiling face of the man she loved.