Gunman's Reckoning

by Max Brand

  7

  He found himself in a large room which, before he could examine a singlefeature of it, was effectively curtained from his sight. Straight intohis face shot a current of violent white light that made him blink.There was the natural recoil, but in Donnegan recoils were generallyprotected by several strata of willpower and seldom showed in anyphysical action. On the present occasion his first dismay was swiftlyoverwhelmed by a cold anger at the insulting trick. This was not thetrick of a helpless invalid; Donnegan could not see a single thingbefore him, but he obeyed a very deep instinct and advanced straightinto the current of light.

  He was glad to see the light switched away. The comparative darknesswashed across his eyes in a pleasant wave and he was now able todistinguish a few things in the room. It was, as he had first surmised,quite large. The ceiling was high; the proportions comfortably spacious;but what astounded Donnegan was the real elegance of the furnishings.There was no mistaking the deep, silken texture of the rug upon which hestepped; the glow of light barely reached the wall, and there showedfaintly in streaks along yellowish hangings. Beside a table whichsupported a big reading lamp--gasoline, no doubt, from the intensity ofits light--sat Colonel Macon with a large volume spread across hisknees. Donnegan saw two highlights--fine silver hair that covered thehead of the invalid and a pair of white hands fallen idly upon thesurface of the big book, for if the silver hair suggested age thesmoothly finished hands suggested perennial youth. They were strong,carefully tended, complacent hands. They suggested to Donnegan a mansufficient unto himself.

  "Mr. Donnegan, I am sorry that I cannot rise to receive you. Now, whatpleasant accident has brought me the favor of this call?"

  Donnegan was taken aback again, and this time more strongly than by theflare of light against his eyes. For in the voice he recognized thequality of the girl--the same softness, the same velvety richness,though the pitch was a bass. In the voice of this man there was the samesuggestion that the tone would crack if it were forced either up ordown. With this great difference, one could hardly conceive of asituation which would push that man's voice beyond its monotone. Itflowed with deadly, all-embracing softness. It clung about one; itfascinated and baffled the mind of the listener.

  But Donnegan was not in the habit of being baffled by voices. Neitherwas he a lover of formality. He looked about for a place to sit down,and immediately discovered that while the invalid sat in an enormouseasy-chair bordered by shelves and supplied with wheels for raising andlowering the back and for propelling the chair about the room on itsrubber tires, it was the only chair in the room which could make anypretensions toward comfort. As a matter of fact, aside from this oneimmense chair, devoted to the pleasure of the invalid, there was nothingin the room for his visitors to sit upon except two or three miserablebackless stools.

  But Donnegan was not long taken aback. He tucked his cap under his arm,bowed profoundly in honor of the colonel's compliments, and brought oneof the stools to a place where it was no nearer the rather ominouscircle of the lamplight than was the invalid himself. With his eyesaccustomed to the new light, Donnegan could now take better stock of hishost. He saw a rather handsome face, with eyes exceedingly blue, young,and active; but the features of Macon as well as his body were blurredand obscured by a great fatness. He was truly a prodigious man, and onecould understand the stoutness with which the invalid chair was made.His great wrist dimpled like the wrist of a healthy baby, and his facewas so enlarged with superfluous flesh that the lower part of it quitedwarfed the upper. He seemed, at first glance, a man with a low foreheadand bright, careless eyes and a body made immobile by flesh andsickness. A man whose spirits despised and defied pain. Yet a secondglance showed that the forehead was, after all, a nobly proportionedone, and for all the bulk of that figure, for all the cripple-chair,Donnegan would not have been surprised to see the bulk spring lightlyout of the chair to meet him.

  For his own part, sitting back on the stool with his cap tucked underhis arm and his hands folded about one knee, he met the faint, coldsmile of the colonel with a broad grin of his own.

  "I can put it in a nutshell," said Donnegan. "I was tired; dead beat;needed a handout, and rapped at your door. Along comes a mystery in theshape of an ugly-looking woman and opens the door to me. Tries to shutme out; I decided to come in. She insists on keeping me outside; all atonce I see that I have to get into the house. I am brought in; yourdaughter tries to steer me off, sees that the job is more than she canget away with, and shelves me off upon you. And that, Colonel Macon, isthe pleasant accident which brings you the favor of this call."

  It would have been a speech both stupid and pert in the mouth ofanother; but Donnegan knew how to flavor words with a touch of mockeryof himself as well as another. There were two manners in which thisspeech could have been received--with a wink or with a smile. But itwould have been impossible to hear it and grow frigid. As for thecolonel, he smiled.

  It was a tricky smile, however, as Donnegan felt. It spread easily uponthat vast face and again went out and left all to the dominion of thecold, bright eyes.

  "A case of curiosity," commented the colonel.

  "A case of hunger," said Donnegan.

  "My dear Mr. Donnegan, put it that way if you wish!"

  "And a case of blankets needed for one night."

  "Really? Have you ventured into such a country as this without anyequipment?"

  "Outside of my purse, my equipment is of the invisible kind."

  "Wits," suggested the colonel.

  "Thank you."

  "Not at all. You hinted at it yourself."

  "However, a hint is harder to take than to make."

  The colonel raised his faultless right hand--and oddly enough his greatcorpulence did not extend in the slightest degree to his hand, butstopped short at the wrists--and stroked his immense chin. His skin waslike Lou Macon's, except that in place of the white-flower bloom his wasa parchment, dead pallor. He lowered his hand with the same slowprecision and folded it with the other, all the time probing Donneganwith his difficult eyes.

  "Unfortunately--most unfortunately, it is impossible for me toaccommodate you, Mr. Donnegan."

  The reply was not flippant, but quick. "Not at all. I am the easiestperson in the world to accommodate."

  The big man smiled sadly.

  "My fortune has fallen upon evil days, sir. It is no longer what it was.There are in this house three habitable rooms; this one; my daughter'sapartment; the kitchen where old Haggie sleeps. Otherwise you are in arat trap of a place."

  He shook his head, a slow, decisive motion.

  "A spare blanket," said Donnegan, "will be enough."

  There was another sigh and another shake of the head.

  "Even a corner of a rug to roll up in will do perfectly."

  "You see, it is impossible for me to entertain you."

  "Bare boards will do well enough for me, Colonel Macon. And if I have apiece of bread, a plate of cold beans--anything--I can entertainmyself."

  "I am sorry to see you so compliant, Mr. Donnegan, because that makes myrefusal seem the more unkind. But I cannot have you sleeping on the barefloor. Not on such a night. Pneumonia comes on one like a cat in thedark in such weather. It is really impossible to keep you here, sir."

  "H'm-m," said Donnegan. He began to feel that he was stumped, and it wasa most unusual feeling for him.

  "Besides, for a young fellow like you, with your agility, what is eightmiles? Walk down the road and you will come to a place where you will bemade at home and fed like a king."

  "Eight miles, that's not much! But on such a night as this?"

  There was a faint glint in the eyes of the colonel; was he notsharpening his wits for his contest of words, and enjoying it?

  "The wind will be at your back and buoy your steps. It will shorten theeight miles to four."

  Very definitely Donnegan felt that the other was reading him. What wasit that he saw as he turned the pages?

  "There is one thing you
fail to take into your accounting."

  "Ah?"

  "I have an irresistible aversion to walking."

  "Ah?" repeated Macon.

  "Or exercise in any form."

  "Then you are unfortunate to be in this country without a horse."

  "Unfortunate, perhaps, but the fact is that I'm here. Very sorry totrouble you, though, colonel."

  "I am rarely troubled," said the colonel coldly. "And since I have nomeans of accommodation, the laws of hospitality rest light on myshoulders."

  "Yet I have an odd thought," replied Donnegan.

  "Well? You have expressed a number already, it seems to me."

  "It's this: that you've already made up your mind to keep me here."