“To-morrow night will do as well; make the old house hum if you like to-morrow.”
“I suppose I’ll have to be satisfied,” May Nell said, and Billy heard the crunch of her slippers in the gravel.
“Come out, Billy. I have time to burn,” Mr. Smith called; and as Billy entered he saw the anxiety the man could not conceal. “If anything suspicious occurs don’t wait to investigate but call up South 265, and tell ’em to come at once; then me at Tum-wah.”
“Why don’t you have—the police, is it?—on hand before—”
“I didn’t expect to have women in on this deal. And—there are times when one must have the trouble before he calls for the cure. Sometimes that makes a point in law.”
He was silent a long time. And the night, too, seemed stiller to Billy than usual. Not a breath of wind was stirring, and nothing was moving out on the road, though the hum of the distant electric car was making itself heard.
“By George, Billy! I don’t want trouble,” the man broke out suddenly. “If those Tum-wah fellows had let me alone I’d have been willing to divvy even, and they’d have had twice as much as they have now. But they’ve hogged the game. They’ve pushed their injunction suits, and fixed these Dago gardeners. Last night they tried to blow up my grade.”
“They did?” Billy began to realize that there might be a shadow of the Black Hand after all.
“But I’ve got the jump on ’em, Billy; got ’em in the neck, by George! They’ve violated their franchise,—I have the evidence in black and white; and if this night’s work meets any interference I’ll put their old once-a-some-time-in-the-day cattle cars out of business.”
He lit a cigar and puffed at it nervously. Billy had never seen him in this mood before.