That was all. The bartenders breathed and looked again. Men were crowding like mad through the back doors. De Spain, at the cigar case, looked intently into the rainy street, lighted from the corner by a dingy lamp. The four men near him had not stirred, but, startled and alert, the right hand of each covered the butt of a revolver. De Spain moved first. While the pool players jammed the back doors to escape, he spoke to, without looking at, the bartender. Whats the matter with your curtains? he demanded, sheathing his revolver and pointing with an expletive to the big sheet of plate glass. Is this the way you build up business for the house?
Those close enough to the window saw that the bare pane had been cut, just above the middle, by two bullet-holes. Curious men examined both fractures when de Spain and Lefever had left the saloon. The first hole was the larger. It had been made by a high-powered rifle; the second was from a bullet of a Colts revolver; it was remarked as a miracle of gun-play that the two were hardly an inch apart.
In the street a few minutes later, de Spain and Lefever encountered Scott, who, with his back hunched up, his cheap black hat pulled well down over his ears, his hands in his trousers pockets and his thin coat collar modestly turned against the drizzling rain, was walking across the parkway from the station.
Sassoon is in town, exclaimed Lefever with certainty after he had told the story. He waited for the Indians opinion. Scott, looking through the water dripping from the brim of his seasoned derby, gave it in one word. Was, he amended with a quiet smile.
Lets make sure, insisted Lefever. Supposing he might be in town yet, Bob, where is he?
Scott gazed up the street through the rain lighted by yellow lamps on the obscure corners, and looked down the street toward the black reaches of the river. If hes here, youll find him in one of two places. Tenisons
But weve just come from Tenisons, objected Lefever.
I mean, across the street, up-stairs; or at Jim Kitchens barn. If he was hurried to get away, added Scott reflectively, he would slip up-stairs over there as the nearest place to hide; if he had time he would make for the barn, where it would be easy to cache his rifle.
Lefever took the lapel of the scouts coat in his hand. Then you, Bob, go out and see if you can get the whole story. Ill take the barn. Let Henry go over to Tenisons and wait at the head of the stairs till we can get back there. It is just around the cornersecond floora dark hall running back,
opposite the double doors that open into an anteroom. Stay there, Henry, till we come. It wont be long, and if we dont get track of him you may spot your man yourself.
De Spain found no difficulty in locating the flight of marble stairs that led to the gambling-rooms. It was the only lighted entrance in the side street. No light shone at the head of the stairs, but a doorway on the left opened into a dimly lighted anteroom and this, in turn, through a large arch, opened on a large room brilliantly lighted by chandeliersone in the centre and one near each corner. Around three sides of this room were placed the keno layouts, roulette-wheels, faro-tables, and minor gambling devices. Off the casino itself small card-rooms opened.
The big room was well filled for a wet night. The faro-tables were busy, and at the central table at the farther end of the roomthe table designated as Tenisons, because, at the rare intervals in which the proprietor dealt, he presided at this tablea group watched silently a game in progress. De Spain took a place in shadow near one side of the archway facing the street-door and at times looked within for the loosely jointed frame, crooked neck, tousled forehead, and malevolent face of the cattle thief. He could find in the many figures scattered about the room none resembling the one he sought.
A man entering the place spoke to another coming out. De Spain overheard the exchange. Duke got rid of his steers yet? asked the first.
Not yet.
Slow game.
The old man sold quite a bunch this time. The way hes playing now hell last twenty-four hours.
De Spain, following the newcomer, strolled into the room and, beginning at one side, proceeded in leisurely fashion from wheel to wheel and table to table inspecting the players. Few looked at him and none paid any attention to his presence. At Tenisons table he saw in the dealers chair the large, white, smooth face, dark eyes, and clerical expression of the proprietor, whose presence meant a real game and explained the interest of the idlers crowded about one player whom de Spain, without getting closer in among the onlookers than he wanted to, could not see.
Tenison, as de Spain approached, happened to look wearily up; his face showed the set lines of a protracted session. He neither spoke nor nodded to the newcomer, but recognized him with a mere glance. Then, though his eyes had rested for only an instant on the new face, he spoke in an impassive tone across the intervening heads: What happened to your red tie, Henry?