The H. Bedford-Jones Pulp Fiction Megapack. H. Bedford-Jones
the old shrine.
O’Grady overshot the mark and rode past the place into the village, naturally. He soon ascertained where French was located, and came riding back again. Instead of bringing his men into the courtyard, however, as I had hoped, he left them outside the entrance of the shrine and himself came in alone.
“Hallo, French!” came his cheerful hail. “Are ye here, man?”
At this, French stirred and opened his eyes, I made him a sign of caution, and he understood, for a slight smile touched his lips. O’Grady called again, then came striding into the room. He found me on one side of him and Yu on the other, our pistols out.
For a moment he was absolutely paralyzed with incredulous amazement. He stared at me with fallen jaw, his eyes widening on mine.
“Up with ’em, O’Grady,” I said. “Yu, take his gun.”
He knew that I was real enough. For an instant, desperate resolve flickered in his eyes; he was weighing the chance that I would not shoot if he tried for his gun. But I meant to shoot, and he saw it plain enough. He took one deep breath, and lifted his hands. Yu stepped forward and took his automatic away.
“By the rock o’ Doon!” he ejaculated. “Is it real ye are, Breck, or a ghost?”
“Your drugged tea failed to reach Yu,” I said. “We took Miss French from your two men and came along by another and shorter route, that’s all. You’d better attend to those two Japs outside, Yu.”
O’Grady started. His eyes flashed, and for a moment I thought he was about to leap at me barehanded. Instead, he turned his head and shouted something, evidently in Japanese; it was quite incomprehensible to me. There was no way of checking him, short of shooting, which I would not do. Yu went darting away, and I took O’Grady by the shoulder and whirled him about.
“Cut it! Listen to me, O’Grady; you’re beaten, understand? Give me your word of honor to try no tricks against me, and I’ll trust it.”
His eyes were dancing merrily now.
“Done with you,” he responded instantly. “My word on it, Breck.”
I put up the pistol and hastened outside. A shot cracked out, and another. I was in time to see the two Japs lashing their weary mules away on the back trail, while Yu stood at the gate firing after them. One of them pitched out of the saddle, dragged in the stirrup until his mule halted, and lay quiet. The other got clear away.
“Shall I go after him, master?” demanded Yu, his eyes blazing with excitement.
“No. Let the poor devil go. Look after the other one.”
“He is dead,” said Yu calmly. I turned again and strode into the room where O’Grady stood. His eyes questioned me.
“One got away,” I said grimly. “If you’d kept quiet, neither of them would have been hurt, you idiot!”
He grinned in an exasperating way. At this juncture Janet French made her appearance, startled, alarmed by the shots. O’Grady bowed to her.
“That shooting—?”
“Was not important,” I said. “It was incidental to Mr. O’Grady’s arrival, and enforced stay. Now, O’Grady, here’s a patient for you. It seems that the bone has been set more or less. You’ll have to confirm the fact, and then arrange proper splints and bandages. Say what you need, and we’ll get it.”
O’Grady advanced to the bedside. He appeared to be in high good humor despite his overthrow, and greeted French with a smile, and a whimsical air.
“Faith, it’s a good-lookin’ patient you are! And everybody was waitin’ for the surgeon, what? Some with guns an’ some with duns, an’ some—easy now, me lad! Will ye let me have a feel o’ your back! I’ll do no hurtin’, upon me word! That’s the way. Whoever did the job for ye did it proper, I’ll grant; it’s little I can do for ye except to wrap up and bind tight, an’ wait for nature to do her part! Simple fracture, and the bone’s in place.”
French leaned back on his pillows again, a bit white, and O’Grady sent me off after splints and bandaging materials.
When I returned, O’Grady was chatting gaily with the Frenches, and he set to work at once. I might have suspected danger in his merry acceptance of the situation, but I considered him too completely beaten.
In half an hour French was resting in comfort, O’Grady was lighting his pipe, and I knew that the time had come to talk business. So I went at it bluntly.
“French, I’m here on behalf of Kohler to buy that lacquer formula of yours and to engage your services. O’Grady is here on the same errand, on behalf of certain Jap interests, but just at present he’s taking a back seat.”
“Not entirely,” put in O’Grady. “Faith, me lad, I’m empowered to offer fifty thousand in gold, and I’ve a certified check on the Bank o’ Taiwan to prove it.”
He drew from his neck the little pouch that I had taken for a scapulary and opened it. French, however, shook his head.
“Sorry, O’Grady; nothing doing. I’m dealing with Kohler alone in this matter.”
“Can you meet that offer, Breck?”
“Yes,” I said promptly. “I’ll meet it, and Kohler will guarantee whatever salary you ask to retain your services for the next five years. In return, you’re to destroy all and any papers which may hold the formula, and consign it to your memory and mine.”
“Fair enough,” said French. “That’s a bargain, then.”
“Hold on a minute, will ye?” intervened O’Grady calmly. “Don’t cheat yourself, French. Sorry I am to say it, but Breck is no more actin’ for Kohler than I am! He has bought into a lacquer factory in Canton, and he’s tryin’ to get your formula for his own ends. I have a letter to prove for whom I’m actin’, with a certified check to back it; suppose ye see what proof he has to offer that he’s actin’ for Kohler.”
Having delivered this bombshell, O’Grady sat back and enjoyed himself. As he very well knew, it was a bombshell in all verity, for I had no proof behind me, no money, nothing.
French gave me an inquiring glance. His sister was looking from one to another of us in frowning disquietude.
“I’ve an order on any Shansi banker to allow me to draw any sum I desire against the accounts of Kohler,” I said. “Is there one of them here?”
“In Kiuling? Not likely,” French dissented. His gaze was uneasy; O’Grady had wakened suspicion in him, I could see. “But you must have something to show that Kohler sent you, Breck?”
“Not a thing,” I said, telling the blunt truth. “He seemed to think that nothing would be needed, in fact, beyond my word.”
O’Grady chuckled. His gaze crossed mine and in it I read triumph.
“Suppose you let me see that Shansi bank order,” said French.
I produced the document in question and handed it over. As French examined it, we could see that the ideographs meant nothing to him. He could not read Chinese. Then he suddenly started, looked at the paper again, and handed it back to me. He was smiling.
“That’s enough, Breck. The deal is made. I know that seal of Kohler’s, and I know that it’s sufficient guarantee of what you say. No one except Kohler’s most trusted men are allowed to carry that seal. You pretty near put over a good one that time, O’Grady, but it wasn’t quite good enough.”
O’Grady’s face was a study. Chagrin and consternation sat in his eyes, for he realized that he might have won his point had he only destroyed that paper instead of giving it back to me. Then a sudden roar of laughter came to his lips and he rose, hand extended in frank congratulation.
“Breck, old man, shake! You’ve won the round; I concede everything so