e after this announcement. "Poker" John
stared in blank wonderment at his companion. The expectation of such a
contingency could not have been farther from his thought. Lablache--to
many his niece--it was preposterous--ludicrous. He would not take it
seriously--he could not. It was a joke--and not a nice one.

He laughed--and in his laugh there was a ring of anger.

"Of course you are joking, Lablache," he said at last. "Why, man, you
are old enough to be the girl's father."

"I was never more serious in my life. And as for age," with a shrug, "at
least you will admit my intellect is unimpaired. Her interests will be
in safe keeping."

Having recovered from his surprise the old man solemnly shook his head.
Some inner feeling made him shrink from thoughts of Lablache as a
husband for his girl. Besides, he had no intention of retreating from
the stand he had taken.

"As far as I am concerned the matter is quite impossible. If Jacky comes
to me with a request for sanction of her marriage to you, she shall have
it. But I will express no wish upon the matter. No, Lablache, I never
thought you contemplated such a thing. You must go to her. I will not
interfere. Oh, dear! oh, dear!" and the old man laughed again nervously.

Lablache remained perfectly calm. He had expected this result; although
he had hoped that it might have been otherwise. Now he felt that he had
paved the way to methods much dearer to his heart. This refusal of
John's he intended to turn to account. He would force an acceptance from
Jacky, and induce her uncle, by certain means, to give his consent.

The money-lender remained silent while he refilled his pipe. "Poker"
John seized the opportunity.

"Come, Lablache," he said jocosely, "let us forget this little matter.
Have a drink of your own whisky--I'll join you--and let us go down to
the saloon for a gentle flutter."

He helped himself to the spirit and poured out a glass for his
companion. They silently drank, and then Lablache coughed, spat and lit
his pipe. He fumbled his hat on to his head and moved to the door.

"Come on, then," he said gutturally. And John Allandale followed him
out.

The two days before the half-breed pusky passed quickly enough for some
of those who are interested, and dragged their weary lengths all too
slowly for others. At last, however, in due course the day dawned, and
with it hopes and fears matured in the hearts of not a few of the
denizens of Foss River and th