Lablache pursed his sensual lips.  His expression was one of deep concern.  Then he apparently fell into a reverie, during which John was wondering how best to propose the longed-for game of cards.  The other roused himself before the desired means suggested itself to the old gambler.  And his efforts were cut short abruptly.

“Jacky ought to marry,” Lablache said without preamble.  “One never knows what may happen.  A good husband—­a man with money and business capacity, would be a great help to you, and would assure her future.”

Lablache had touched upon the one strong point which remained in John Allandale’s character.  His love for Jacky rivaled his passion for poker, and in its pure honesty was perhaps nearly as strong as that feverish zest.  The gambler suddenly became electrified into a different being.  The signs of decay—­the atmosphere of drink, as it were, fell from him in the flashing of a second, and the old vigorous rancher, like the last dying flame of a fire, shot up into being.

“Jacky shall marry when she chooses, and whatever man she prefers.  I will never profit by that dear child’s matrimonial affairs,” he said simply.

Lablache bit his lips.  He had been slightly premature.  He acquiesced with a heavy nod of the head and poured himself out some more whisky.  The example was natural and his companion followed it.

“You are quite right, John.  I merely spoke from a worldly point of view.  But your decision affects me closely.”

The other looked curiously at the money-lender, who thus found himself forced to proceed.  Hitherto he had chosen his own gait.  Now he felt himself being drawn.  The process was new to him, but it suited his purpose.

“How?”

Lablache sighed.  It was like the breathing of an adipose pig.

“I have known that niece of yours, John, ever since she came into this world.  I have watched her grow.  I understand her nature as well as you do yourself.  She is a clever, bright, winsome girl.  But she needs the guiding hand of a good husband.”

“Just so.  You are right.  I am too old to take proper care of her.  When she chooses she shall marry.”

John’s tone was decisive.  His words were non-committing and open to no argument.  Lablache went on.

“Supposing now a rich man, a very rich man, proposed marriage for her.  Presuming he was a man against whom there was no doubtful record—­who, from a worldly point of view, there could be no objection to—­should you object to him as a husband for Jacky?”

The rancher was still unsuspecting.

“What I have stated should answer your question.  If Jacky were willing I should have no objection.”

“Supposing,” the money-lender went on, “she were unwilling, but was content to abide by your decision.  What then?”

There was a passing gleam of angry protest in the rancher’s eyes as he answered.