"
Falk was standing. His hands, a moment before lifted for a blow, rested on
the table; but the knuckles were streaked with red along the creases, and
the nails of his fingers, which were bent under, he had pressed hard
against the dull mahogany. When he had finished speaking, he sat down
heavily.
"Sign it, Ben," said Roger; "but first draw your pen through that
particular sentence."
Quick as thought I did what Roger told me, leaving a single broad line
through the words "and did what they might to make his last hours
comfortable"; then I wrote my name and laid the pen on the table.
[Illustration: "Sign that statement, Lathrop," said Captain Falk.]
Leaning over to see what I had done, Falk leaped up white with passion.
"Good God!" he yelled, "that's worse than nothing."
"Yes," said Roger coolly, "I think it is."
"What--" Falk stopped suddenly. Kipping had touched his sleeve. "Well?"
Kipping whispered to him.
"No," Falk snarled, glancing at me, "I'm going to take that young pup's
hide off his back and salt it."
Again Kipping whispered to him.
This time he seemed half persuaded. He was a weak man, even in his
passions. "All right," he said, after reflecting briefly.
Pages:
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153