Then as he went in a man who cooked for
his hired assistants came to meet him.
"There's a stranger inside waiting for you," he said. "Wouldn't tell
me what he wanted, but sat right down as if the place was his, and
helped himself without asking to your cigars. Wanted something to
drink, too, and smiled at me kind of wicked when I brought him the
cider."
The room was almost dark when Winston entered it, and stood still a
moment staring at a man who sat, cigar in hand, quietly watching him.
His appearance was curiously familiar, but Winston could not see his
face until he moved forward another step or two. Then he stopped once
more, and the two saying nothing looked at one another. It was Winston
who spoke first, and his voice was very even.
"What do you want here?" he asked.
The other man laughed. "Isn't that a curious question when the place
is mine? You don't seem overjoyed to see me come to life again."
Winston sat down and slowly lighted a cigar. "We need not go into
that. I asked you what you want."
"Well," said Courthorne dryly, "it is not a great ideal. Only the
means to live in a manner more befitting a gentleman than I have been
able to do lately."
"You have not been prospering?" and Winston favored his companion with
a slow scrutiny.
"No," and Courthorne laughed again. "You see, I could pick up a
tolerable living as Lance Courthorne, but there is very little to be
made at my business when you commence in new fields as an unknown man.
Pages:
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204