ted
Police.

Lablache's store stands in the center of the settlement, facing on to
the market-place--the latter a vague, undefined space of waste ground on
which vendors of produce are wont to draw up their wagons. The store is
a massive building of great extent. Its proportions rise superior to its
surroundings, as if to indicate in a measure its owner's worldly status
in the district It is built entirely of stone, and roofed with
slate--the only building of such construction in the settlement.

A wonderful center of business is Lablache's store--the chief one for a
radius of fifty miles. Nearly the whole building is given up to the
stocking of goods, and only at the back of the building is to be found a
small office which answers the multifarious purposes of office, parlor,
dining-room, smoking-room--in short, every necessity of its owner,
except bedroom, which occupies a mere recess partitioned off by thin
matchwood boarding.

Wealthy as Lablache was known to be he spent little or no money upon
himself beyond just sufficient to purchase the bare necessities of life.
He had few requirements which could not be satisfied under the headings
of tobacco and food--both of which he indulged himself freely. The
saloon provided the latter, and as for the former, trade price was best
suited to his inclinations, and so he drew upon his stock. He was a
curious man, was Verner Lablache--a man who understood the golden value
of silence. He never even spoke of his nationality. Foss River was
content to call him curious--some people preferred other words to
express their opinion.

Lablache had known John Allandale for years. Who, in Foss River, had he
not known for years? Lablache would have liked to call old John his
friend, but somehow "Poker" John had never responded to the
money-lender's advances. Lablache showed no resentment. If he cared at
all he was careful to keep his feelings hidden. One thing is certain,
however, he allowed himself to think long and often of old John--and his
household. Often, when in the deepest stress of his far-reaching work,
he would heave his great bulk back in his chair and allow those fishy,
lashless, sphinx-like eyes of his to gaze out of his window in the
direction of the Foss River Ranch. His window faced in the direction of
John's house, which was plainly visible on the slope which bounded the
southern side of the settlement.

And so it came about a few days later, in one of these digressi