"
The brief career of the cigarette was ended. Chantry's long fingers had
locked over his knee. He did not move.
"Sit down, please," he said. "It is precisely because I am your friend
that I will not promise."
Landor halted, a question in every line of his face.
"I think I fail to understand," he groped. "I suppose I'm dense."
"No, you're merely transparent. You were going to ask the one thing I
can't promise you."
Landor stared, in mystified uncertainty.
"Please sit down. You were going to ask me to take charge of your
affairs if anything was to happen. Is it not so?"
"Yes. But how in the world--" "Don't ask it then, please," swiftly. He
ignored the other's suggestion. "Get someone else, someone you've known
for a long time."
"I've known you for a long time--five years."
"Or leave everything in your wife's hands." Again Chantry scouted the
obvious. "If there should be need she could get a lawyer from the
city--"
"Lawyer nothing!" refuted Landor. "That's just what I wish to avoid.
Mary or the girl, either one, have about as much idea of taking care of
themselves as they have of speaking Chinese. They'd be on the county
inside a year, with no one interested to look out for them."
"But How--"
"He's as bad. He can ride a broncho, or stalk a sandhill crane where
there isn't cover to hide your hat, or manage cattle, or stretch out in
the sun and: dream; but business--He wouldn't know a bank cheque if he
saw one; and, what's worse, he doesn't want to know.
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