“Not dead?  Well, Donnegan, that is unfortunate.  And after you had punctured him you had no chance to send home the finishing shot?”

Donnegan merely watched the colonel and tapped his bony finger against the point of his chin.

“Ah,” murmured the colonel, “I see another possibility.  It is almost as good—­it may even be better than his death.  You have disabled him, and having done this you at once take him to a place where he shall be under your surveillance—­this, in fact, is a very comfortable outlook—­for me and my interests.  But for you, Donnegan, how the devil do you benefit by having Jack flat on his back, sick, helpless, and in a perfect position to excite all the sympathies of Lou?”

Now, Donnegan had known cold-blooded men in his day, but that there existed such a man as the colonel had never come into his mind.  He looked upon the colonel, therefore, with neither disgust nor anger, but with a distant and almost admiring wonder.  For perfect evil always wins something akin to admiration from more common people.

“Well,” continued the colonel, a little uneasy under this silent scrutiny—­silence was almost the only thing in the world that could trouble him—­“well, Donnegan, my lad, this is your plan, is it not?”

“To shoot down Landis, then take possession of him and while I nurse him back to health hold a gun—­metaphorically speaking—­to his head and make him do as I please:  sign some lease, say, of the mines to you?”

The colonel shifted himself to a more comfortable position in his chair, brought the tips of his fingers together under his vast chin, and smiled benevolently upon Donnegan.

“It is as I thought,” he murmured.  “Donnegan, you are rare; you are exquisite!”

“And you,” said Donnegan, “are a scoundrel.”

“Exactly.  I am very base.”  The colonel laughed.  “You and I alone can speak with intimate knowledge of me.”  His chuckle shook all his body, and set the folds of his face quivering.  His mirth died away when he saw Donnegan come to his feet.

“Eh?” he called.

“Good-by,” said Donnegan.

“But where—­Landis—­Donnegan, what devil is in your eye?”

“A foolish devil, Colonel Macon.  I surrender the benefits of all my work for you and go to make sure that you do not lay your hands upon Jack Landis.”

The colonel opened and closed his lips foolishly like a fish gasping silently out of water.  It was rare indeed for the colonel to appear foolish.

“In heaven’s name, Donnegan!”

The little man smiled.  He had a marvelously wicked smile, which came from the fact that his lips could curve while his eyes remained bright and straight, and malevolently unwrinkled.  He laid his hand on the knob of the door.

“Donnegan,” cried the colonel, gray of face, “give me one minute.”

25

Donnegan stepped to a chair and sat down.  He took out his watch and held it in his hand, studying the dial, and the colonel knew that his time limit was taken literally.