“I presume things of that kind seldom happen now?”
“I don’t know,” said Seaforth, who spoke in the Western idiom. “We have still a few of the good old-fashioned villains right here in this country, and that reminds me of a thing which happened to a man I know. He was a quiet man, and quite harmless so long as nobody worried him, but generally held on with a tight grip to his own, and he once got his hands into something another man wanted. That was how the fuss began.”
There was a little pause, during which Alton glanced bewilderedly at his comrade, and Deringham glanced round as he poured himself out a whisky and seltzer.
“It’s not an uncommon beginning,” said Forel. “What was the end?”
“There isn’t any,” said Seaforth, “but I can tell you the middle. One day the quiet man, who was li
