Lando (1962) by Louis - Sackett's 08 L'amour Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Louis - Sackett's 08 L'amour
command during my absence. He is not alt pleased that I have returned."
He finished his wine and put down his glass.
"Mr. Sackett, face a man with a gun or a sword, but beware of bookkeepers. They will destroy you, Sackett. They will destroy you."
At the door of the dining room we paused, and there for a minute I was ready to high-tail it out of there, for I'd eaten in no such room before.
True, I'd heard ma speak of them, but I'd never imagined such a fine long table or such silver or glassware. Right then I blessed ma for teaching me to eat properly.
"Will the Tinker be here, sir?"
"It has been arranged."
Marsha swept into the library in a white gown, looking like a young princess. Her hair was all combed out and had a ribbon in it, and I declare, I never saw anything so pretty, or so mean.
She turned sharply away from me, her chin up, but that was nothing to the expression of distaste on her father's face when he looked up and down my shabby, trail-worn clothes.
He was short of medium height, with square shoulders and a thin nose. No man I had seen dressed more carefully than he, but there were lines of temper around his eyes and mouth, and a hollow look to his temples that I had learned to distrust.
"Really, Jonas," he said, "we are familiar with your habits and ways of life, but I scarcely think you should bring them here, in your own home, with your sisters and my niece present."
Jonas ignored him, just turning slightly to say, "Orlando Sackett, my brother-in-law, Franklyn Deckrow. When he would destroy a man he does it with red ink, not red blood, with a bookkeeper's pen, not a sword."
Before Deckrow could reply, two women came into the room. They were beautifully gowned, and lovely. "Mr. Sackett, my sister ...
Lily Anne Deckrow."
"My pleasure," I said, bowing a little.
She looked her surprise, but offered her hand.
She was a slender, graceful young woman of not more than thirty, with a pleasant but rather drawn face.
"And my other sister ... Virginia Locklear."
She was dark, and a beauty. She might have been twenty-four, and had the kind of a figure that no dress can conceal, and well she knew it.
Her lips were full, but not too full. Her eyes were dark and warm; there was some of the tempered steel in her that I had recognized in Jonas.
"Mr. Sackett," she asked, "would you take me in to dinner?"
Gin Locklear--for that was how she was known--had a gift for making a man feel important.
Whether it was an art she had acquired, or something natural to her, I did not know, nor did it matter. She rested her hand upon my arm and no king could have felt better.
Then a Negro servant stepped to the door.
"Mr. Cosmo Lengroffwas he said, and I'll be damned if it wasn't the Tinker.
It was he, but a far different Tinker than any I had seen before this, for he wore a black tailored suit that was neatly pressed (he'd bribed a servant to attend to that for him) and a white ruffled shirt with a black string tie. His hair was combed carefully, his mustache trimmed. All in all, he was a dashing and romantic-looking man.
Jonas Locklear was within my range of vision when he turned and saw the Tinker. I swear he looked as if he'd been pin-stuck. He stiffened and his lips went tight, andfora moment I thought he was about to swear. And the Tinker wasn't looking at anybody but Jonas Locklear. I knew that stance ... instant he could pick a steel blade to kill whatever stood before him.
The Tinker bowed from the hips. "After all these years, Captainffwas Virginia Locklear threw a quick, startled look at her brother, and Franklyn Deckrow's expression was tight, expectant.
They were surprised, but no more than I was.
It was the first time I'd heard the Tinker's name, if that was indeed it, nor had I any idea he had that black suit in his pack, or that he could get himself up like that.
Jonas spoke to me without turning his head.
"Were you a party to this? Did you know he knew me?" His tone was unfriendly, to say the
He finished his wine and put down his glass.
"Mr. Sackett, face a man with a gun or a sword, but beware of bookkeepers. They will destroy you, Sackett. They will destroy you."
At the door of the dining room we paused, and there for a minute I was ready to high-tail it out of there, for I'd eaten in no such room before.
True, I'd heard ma speak of them, but I'd never imagined such a fine long table or such silver or glassware. Right then I blessed ma for teaching me to eat properly.
"Will the Tinker be here, sir?"
"It has been arranged."
Marsha swept into the library in a white gown, looking like a young princess. Her hair was all combed out and had a ribbon in it, and I declare, I never saw anything so pretty, or so mean.
She turned sharply away from me, her chin up, but that was nothing to the expression of distaste on her father's face when he looked up and down my shabby, trail-worn clothes.
He was short of medium height, with square shoulders and a thin nose. No man I had seen dressed more carefully than he, but there were lines of temper around his eyes and mouth, and a hollow look to his temples that I had learned to distrust.
"Really, Jonas," he said, "we are familiar with your habits and ways of life, but I scarcely think you should bring them here, in your own home, with your sisters and my niece present."
Jonas ignored him, just turning slightly to say, "Orlando Sackett, my brother-in-law, Franklyn Deckrow. When he would destroy a man he does it with red ink, not red blood, with a bookkeeper's pen, not a sword."
Before Deckrow could reply, two women came into the room. They were beautifully gowned, and lovely. "Mr. Sackett, my sister ...
Lily Anne Deckrow."
"My pleasure," I said, bowing a little.
She looked her surprise, but offered her hand.
She was a slender, graceful young woman of not more than thirty, with a pleasant but rather drawn face.
"And my other sister ... Virginia Locklear."
She was dark, and a beauty. She might have been twenty-four, and had the kind of a figure that no dress can conceal, and well she knew it.
Her lips were full, but not too full. Her eyes were dark and warm; there was some of the tempered steel in her that I had recognized in Jonas.
"Mr. Sackett," she asked, "would you take me in to dinner?"
Gin Locklear--for that was how she was known--had a gift for making a man feel important.
Whether it was an art she had acquired, or something natural to her, I did not know, nor did it matter. She rested her hand upon my arm and no king could have felt better.
Then a Negro servant stepped to the door.
"Mr. Cosmo Lengroffwas he said, and I'll be damned if it wasn't the Tinker.
It was he, but a far different Tinker than any I had seen before this, for he wore a black tailored suit that was neatly pressed (he'd bribed a servant to attend to that for him) and a white ruffled shirt with a black string tie. His hair was combed carefully, his mustache trimmed. All in all, he was a dashing and romantic-looking man.
Jonas Locklear was within my range of vision when he turned and saw the Tinker. I swear he looked as if he'd been pin-stuck. He stiffened and his lips went tight, andfora moment I thought he was about to swear. And the Tinker wasn't looking at anybody but Jonas Locklear. I knew that stance ... instant he could pick a steel blade to kill whatever stood before him.
The Tinker bowed from the hips. "After all these years, Captainffwas Virginia Locklear threw a quick, startled look at her brother, and Franklyn Deckrow's expression was tight, expectant.
They were surprised, but no more than I was.
It was the first time I'd heard the Tinker's name, if that was indeed it, nor had I any idea he had that black suit in his pack, or that he could get himself up like that.
Jonas spoke to me without turning his head.
"Were you a party to this? Did you know he knew me?" His tone was unfriendly, to say the
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