tell. But, as it happens, you know why I did it. I've been stewed to the brim for two days. I'm through with that now, though. Until a certain job is done, I touch nothing stronger than wine. Here's my hand on it.”
I had to clear my throat. I managed to say huskily: “I can't take your hand on that, Crocker.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Very well,” he said. “If you prefer it that way. It goes, however. I drink no more now. That is one thing I really have you to thank for, Eckhart. Until you spoke out, back there on the ship, I did n't realize how much I was drinking. What you told me this morning has clinched the business. I'm through. And you will find that I am a man of my word.”
“I am glad of that,” said I, “because I believe that, with the drink out of your system, your philosophy of life will change. I hope it will.”
He shook his head at this.
“No, Eckhart. Now, see here. You have today seen deep into a man's heart. What you saw was not drink, merely; it was fact.”
His manner of saying this gave me an uncomfortable feeling that he was speaking the truth. Indeed, my increasing conviction as to the great reserve power of the man was distressing me.
“As I told you this morning,” he went on, “there is absolutely nothing you can do in the matter. Except killing me, of course—you could do that. But you won't.”
“No,” said I sadly; “I won't.”
“And I'm going to ask you to take the only course that an honorable man can take in the private quarrel of another—stand aside and try to forget what I have told you. You have my drunken confidences; forget them.”
“See here!” I broke out. “Were you faithful to your wife before she turned against you?” His eyes hardened. “What do you mean by that?” he asked.
“Precisely what I say.”
“You're talking nonsense, Eckhart—”
“I am not talking non—”
Prev.
Back
Top