loyed this sort of
man, preferring to do his own dirty work, but when he did, he knew it
was policy to be liberal. Pedro served him well as a rule, consequently
the Mexican was enabled to ruffle it with the best in the settlement,
whilst people wondered where he got his money from. Somehow they never
thought of Lablache being the source of this man's means; the
money-lender was not fond of parting.

"You are right, I am particular. When I pay for work to be done I don't
want gassing over a bar. I know what you are when the whisky is in you."

Lablache stood with his great back to the fire watching his man from
beneath his heavy lids. Bad as he was himself the presence of this man
filled him with loathing. Possibly deep down, somewhere in that organ he
was pleased to consider his heart, he had a faint glimmer of respect for
an honest man. The Mexican laughed harshly.

"Guess all you know of me, mister, wouldn't make a pile o' literature.
But say, what's the game to-night?"

Lablache was gnawing his fingers.

"How much did you take from the Honorable?" he asked sharply.

"You told me to lift his boodle. Time was short--he wouldn't play for
long."

"I'm aware of that. How much?"

Lablache's tone was abrupt and peremptory. Mancha was trying to estimate
what he should be paid for his work.

"See hyar, I guess we ain't struck no deal yet. What do you propose to
pay me?"

The Mexican was sharp but he was no match for his employer. He fancied
he saw a good deal over this night's work.

"You played on paper, I know," said the money-lender, quietly. He was
quite unmoved by the other's display of cunning. It pleased him rather
than otherwise. He knew he held all the cards in his hands--he generally
did in dealing with men of this stamp. "To you, the amounts he lost are
not worth the paper they are written on. You could never realize them.
He couldn't meet 'em."

Lablache leisurely took a pinch of snuff from his snuff-box. He coughed
and sneezed voluminously. His indifferent coolness, his air of
patronage, aggravated the Mexican while it alarmed him. The deal he
anticipated began to assume lesser proportions.

"Which means, I take it, you've a notion you'd like the feel of those
same papers."

Mancha had come to drive a bargain. He was aware that the I.O.U.'s he
held would take some time to realize on, in the proper quarter, but, at
the same time, he was quite aware of the fact that Bunning-Ford would
ultimately