her future."

Lablache had touched upon the one strong point which remained in John
Allandale's character. His love for Jacky rivaled his passion for poker,
and in its pure honesty was perhaps nearly as strong as that feverish
zest. The gambler suddenly became electrified into a different being.
The signs of decay--the atmosphere of drink, as it were, fell from him
in the flashing of a second, and the old vigorous rancher, like the last
dying flame of a fire, shot up into being.

"Jacky shall marry when she chooses, and whatever man she prefers. I
will never profit by that dear child's matrimonial affairs," he said
simply.

Lablache bit his lips. He had been slightly premature. He acquiesced
with a heavy nod of the head and poured himself out some more whisky.
The example was natural and his companion followed it.

"You are quite right, John. I merely spoke from a worldly point of
view. But your decision affects me closely."

The other looked curiously at the money-lender, who thus found himself
forced to proceed. Hitherto he had chosen his own gait. Now he felt
himself being drawn. The process was new to him, but it suited his
purpose.

"How?"

Lablache sighed. It was like the breathing of an adipose pig.

"I have known that niece of yours, John, ever since she came into this
world. I have watched her grow. I understand her nature as well as you
do yourself. She is a clever, bright, winsome girl. But she needs the
guiding hand of a good husband."

"Just so. You are right. I am too old to take proper care of her. When
she chooses she shall marry."

John's tone was decisive. His words were non-committing and open to no
argument. Lablache went on.

"Supposing now a rich man, a very rich man, proposed marriage for her.
Presuming he was a man against whom there was no doubtful record--who,
from a worldly point of view, there could be no objection to--should you
object to him as a husband for Jacky?"

The rancher was still unsuspecting.

"What I have stated should answer your question. If Jacky were willing I
should have no objection."

"Supposing," the money-lender went on, "she were unwilling, but was
content to abide by your decision. What then?"

There was a passing gleam of angry protest in the rancher's eyes as he
answered.

"What I have said still holds good," he retorted a little hotly. "I will
not influence the child."

"I am sorry. I wish to marry your girl."

There was an impressive silenc