ons of
thought, that the money-lender, gazing out towards the ranch, beheld a
horseman riding slowly up to the veranda of the Allandale's house. There
was nothing uncommon in the incident, but the sight riveted his
attention, and an evil light came into his usually expressionless eyes.
He recognized the horseman as the Hon. Bunning-Ford.

Lablache swung round on his revolving chair, and, in doing so, kicked
over a paper-basket. The rapidity of his movement was hardly to be
expected in one of his bulk. His thin eyebrows drew together in an ugly
frown.

"What does he want?" he muttered, under his heavy breath.

He hazarded no answer to his own question. It was answered for him. He
saw the figure of a woman step out on to the veranda.

The money-lender rose swiftly to his feet and took a pair of
field-glasses from their case. Adjusting them he gazed long and
earnestly at the house on the hill.

Jacky was talking to "Lord" Bill. She was habited in her dungaree skirt
and buckskin bodice. Presently Bill dismounted and passed into the
house.

Lablache shut his glasses with a snap and turned away from the window.
For some time he stood gazing straight before him and a swift torrent of
thought flowed through his active brain. Then, with the directness of
one whose mind is made up, he went over to a small safe which stood in
a corner of the room. From this he took an account book. The cover bore
the legend "Private." He laid it upon the table, and, for some moments,
bent over it as he scanned its pages.

He paused at an account headed John Allandale. The figures of this
account were very large, totalling into six figures. The balance against
the rancher was enormous. Lablache gave a satisfied grunt as he turned
over to another account.

"Safe--safe enough. Safe as the Day of Doom," he said slowly. His mouth
worked with a cruel smile.

He paused at the account of Bunning-Ford.

"Twenty thousand dollars--um," the look of satisfaction was changed. He
looked less pleased, but none the less cruel. "Not enough--let me see.
His place is worth fifty thousand dollars. Stock another thirty
thousand. I hold thirty-five thousand on first mortgage for the Calford
Trust and Loan Co." He smiled significantly. "This bill of sale for
twenty thousand is in my own name. Total, fifty-five thousand. Sell him
up and there would still be a margin. No, not yet, my friend."

He closed the book and put it away. Then he walked to the window.