ponderously
rose, and, cautiously opening the door, admitted the dark, unkempt form
of Pedro Mancha. There was no greeting; neither spoke until Lablache had
again secured the door. Then the money-lender turned his fishy eyes and
mask-like face to the newcomer. He did not suggest that his visitor
should sit down. He merely looked with his cold, cruel eyes, and spoke.

"Well?--been drinking."

The latter part of his remark was an assertion. He knew the Mexican
well. The fellow had an expressive countenance, unlike most of his race,
and the least sign of drink was painfully apparent upon it. The man was
not drunk but his wild eyes testified to his recent libations.

"Guess you've hit it right thar," he retorted indifferently.

It was noticeable that this man had adopted the high-pitched, keen tone
and pronounced accent of the typical "South-Westerner." In truth he was
a border Mexican; a type of man closely allied to the "greaser." He was
a perfect scoundrel, who had doubtless departed from his native land for
the benefit of that fair but swarming hornet's nest.

"It's a pity when you have business on hand you can't leave that 'stuff'
alone."

Lablache made no effort to conceal his contempt. He even allowed his
mask-like face to emphasize his words.

"You're almighty pertickler, mister. You ask for dirty work to be done,
an' when that dirty work's done, gorl-darn-it you croak like a
flannel-mouthed temperance lecturer. Guess I came hyar to talk straight
biz. Jest leave the temperance track, an' hit the main trail."

Pedro's face was not pretty to look upon. The ring of white round the
pupils of his eyes gave an impression of insanity or animal ferocity.
The latter was his chief characteristic. His face was thin and scored
with scars, mainly long and narrow. These, in a measure, testified to
his past. His mouth, half hidden beneath a straggling mustache, was his
worst feature. One can only liken it to a blubber-lipped gash, lined
inside with two rows of yellow fangs, all in a more or less bad state of
decay.

The two men eyed one another steadily for a moment. Lablache could in no
way terrorize this desperado. Like all his kind this man was ready to
sell his services to any master, provided the forthcoming price of such
services was sufficiently exorbitant. He was equally ready to play his
employer up should any one else offer a higher price. But Lablache, when
dealing with such men, took no chances. He rarely emp