The Gambler by Max Brand

Author:Max Brand [Brand, Max]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Western
Publisher: Roy Glashan's Library
Published: 2020-10-29T23:00:00+00:00

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CHAPTER 18

CORCORAN, however, did not smile. He was considering all the grave possibilities which might arise out of this affair. For Dorn, like a beaten cur, was almost certain to go whining to big Henry Roland with some garbled account of what had passed between him and the gambler and of what had passed between the gambler and the girl. And if Roland were once thoroughly aroused, what might not the results be?

These thoughts made him stand for a moment at the entrance to his room, and before he had an opportunity to close the door, a fat man rose perspiring and puffing before him in the person of one no less distinguished than Mr. Theodore Rankin, who now thrust forth a fat, moist hand to be shaken by Corcoran. He bustled on into the room and stood gazing with a rather pale, uneasy smile about him.

“Flowers, dog-gone me!” exclaimed Mr. Rankin. “Why, Mr. Corcoran, you got this here room all fixed up fine as a fiddle, eh? Some folks know how to make the most of things.”

At this rather feeble attempt to propitiate his host, the host himself smiled and then invited the proprietor of the gaming house to be seated.

Mr. Rankin reposed his fat self upon the very edge of a straight chair with his hat in one hand and both his pudgy palms pressed strongly upon his knees. He gave an impression of one about to start up and race for the door at the first sign of danger.

“Was that Gabriel Dorn that I seen tryin’ to turn himself into a night hawk and fly?” asked the fat man.

“He tripped at the head of the stairs,” said Corcoran.

The other grinned broadly. This was the sort of jest at which he felt himself at home.

“Well,” he said, “I’ve heard of gents stumblin’ like that. Dog-goned if I didn’t think that he was goin’ to hit me and knock a hole in me.”

He went on genially, lowering his voice a little and glancing toward the window: “I guess there ain’t nobody in hearing of us, Mr. Corcoran?”

Corcoran went to the window and looked out. He saw half of the wide curve of the heavens, dotted with stars, and a wind laden with the fragrance of the mountain evergreens blew gently in to him. San Pablo was quieting down little by little. Far off, the music in the dance hall was breathing, but the street itself was still. The pleasure hunters had found their appropriate places and were content.

“There is no one in hearing,” he said, turning back to his guest.

“Good!” said the gambler, and rubbed his thick soft hands nervously together. “That makes it better. I got something to talk about to you, Corcoran, that don’t need to be listened in on by nobody else.” He leaned far forward in the chair and raised an admonitory forefinger for silence and attention. “What I’m goin’ to say has to do with your life, Corcoran!” He added in surprise and some anger: “It ain’t no laughin’ matter, Mr.

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