"Well,say!This is like seeing you walk out of that picture that's running at the Teatro Palacia.You sure are ****** a hit with those moving-pictures;made me feel like I'd met somebody from home to stroll in there and see you and Lite come riding up,large as life.How is Lite,anyway?"If Art Osgood felt any embarrassment over meeting her,he certainly gave no sign of it.He sat down on the railing,pushed back his hat,and looked as though he was preparing for a real soul-feast of reminiscent gossip."Just get in?"he asked,by way of opening wider the channel of talk.He lighted a cigarette and flipped the match down into the street."I've been here three or four months.I'm part of the Mexican revolution,though I don't reckon I look it.We been keeping things pretty well stirred up,down this way.You looking for picture dope?Lubin folks are copping all kinds of good stuff here.You ain't with them,are you?"Jean braced herself against slipping into easy conver-sation with this man who seemed so friendly and unsuspicious and so conscience-free.Killing a man,she thought,evidently did not seem to him a matter of any moment;perhaps because he had since then become a professional killer of men.After planning exactly how she should meet any contingency that might arise,she found herself baffled.She had not expected to meet this attitude.She was not prepared to meet it.She had taken it for granted that Art Osgood would shun a meeting;that she would have to force him to face her.
And here he was,sitting on the porch rail and swinging one spurred and booted foot,smiling at her and talking,in high spirits over the meeting--or a genius at acting.She eyed him uncertainly,trying to adjust herself to this emergency.
Art came to a pause and looked at her inquiringly.
"What's the matter?"he demanded."You called me up here--and I sure was tickled to death to come,all right!--and now you stand there looking like I was a kid that had been caught whispering,and must be kept after school.I know the symptoms,believe me!
You're sore about something I've said.What,don't you like to have anybody talk about you being a movie-queen?You sure are all of that.You've got a license to be proud of yourself.Or maybe you didn't know you was speaking to a Mexican soldier,or something like that."He made a move to rise."Ex-cuse ME,if I've said something I hadn't ought.I'll beat it,while the beating's good.""No,you won't.You'll stay right where you are."His frank acceptance of her hostile attitude steadied Jean."Do you think I came all the way down here just to say hello?""Search me."Art studied her curiously."I never could keep track of what you thought and what you meant,and I guess you haven't grown any easier to read since I saw you last.I'll be darned if I know what you came for;but it's a cinch you didn't come just to be riding on the cars.""No,"drawled Jean,watching him."I didn't.Icame after you."
Art Osgood stared,while his cheeks darkened with the flush of confusion.He laughed a little."I sure wish that was the truth,"he said."Jean,you never would have to go very far after any man with two eyes in his head.Don't rub it in.""I did,"said Jean calmly."I came after you.I'd have found you if I had to hunt all through Mexico and fight both armies for you.""Jean!"There was a queer,pleading note in Art's voice."I wish I could believe that,but I can't.Iain't a fool."
"Yes,you are."Jean contradicted him pitilessly.
"You were a fool when you thought you could go away and no one think you knew anything at all about--Johnny Croft."
Art's fingers had been picking at a loose splinter on the wooden rail whereon he sat.He looked down at it,jerked it loose with a sharp twist,and began snapping off little bits with his thumb and forefinger.In a minute he looked up at Jean,and his eyes were different.
They were not hostile;they were merely cold and watchful and questioning "Well?""Well,somebody did think so.I've thought so for three years,and so I'm here."Jean found that her breath was coming fast,and that as she leaned back against a post and gripped the rail on either side,her arms were quivering like the legs of a frightened horse.
Still,her voice had sounded calm enough.
Art Osgood sat with his shoulders drooped forward a little,and painstakingly snipped off tiny bits of the splinter.After a short silence,he turned his head and looked at her again.
"I shouldn't think you'd want to stir up that trouble after all this while,"he said."But women are queer.
I can't see,myself,why you'd want to bother hunting me up on account of--that."Jean weighed his words,his look,his manner,and got no clue at all to what was going on back of his eyes.
On the surface,he was just a tanned,fairly good-looking young man who has been reluctantly drawn into an unpleasant subject.
"Well,I did consider it worth while bothering to hunt you up,"she told him flatly."If you don't think it's important,you at least won't object to going back with me?"Again his glance went to her face,plainly startled.
"Go back with you?"he repeated."What for?""Well--"Jean still had some trouble with her breath and to keep her quiet,smooth drawl,"let's make it a woman's reason.Because."Art's face settled to a certain hardness that still was not hostile."Becauses don't go,"he said."Not with a girl like you;they might with some.What do you want me to go back for?""Well,I want you to go because I want to clear things up,about Johnny Croft.It's time--it was cleared up."Art regarded her fixedly."Well,I don't see yet what's back of that first BECAUSE,"he sparred.
"There's nothing I can do to clear up anything.""Art,don't lie to me about it.I know--"
"What do you know?"Art's eyes never left her face,now.They seemed to be boring into her brain.
