"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 285 - Fountain of Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

that won't agree with you."

"I know." Johnny gave a savage nod. "I'm laying off."

"Of drinks only?"

For the first time, Elder's voice was sharp, but only to force home his point. Instantly, Johnny's fists
tightened and Elder's eyes observed the action of the fingers that gripped the glass. Leaning forward,
resting his chin on his interlaced hands, Elder spoke a steady reminder.

"Revenge is not right," declared the gray-haired man. "Only justice is right."

"I know," admitted Johnny. "But I'm not thinking of those fair-weather friends who helped me drink up
what was left of the money that was owing me. I'm thinking of a gentleman named Claybourne."

Elder's gray eyebrows raised, puzzled by the name.

"Jerome Claybourne," specified Johnny. "You must have heard of him, unless I clouded the issue by
terming him a gentleman."

There was a head-shake from Elder.

"I must have been pretty incoherent," admitted Johnny, "because Claybourne was the cause of all the
howls I was making when I landed here. I must have been seeing his fat face on all those snake-heads."

"You mentioned something about your father's partner -"

"That's Claybourne. He's the gentleman - excuse the term - who swindled dad out of nearly everything.
Father would have been alive today, if he hadn't lost that last fifty thousand. If I could lay these fists on
Claybourne!"

They were tight fists, Johnny's, and as he raised them, they seemed to draw him to his feet. Into his
enlarging eyes came a wild look that directed its fury upon the man before him. In this resurgence of his
recent dementia, Johnny was in a fair way to mistake the mild and kindly features of Noble Elder for the
fat, piggish face of Jerome Claybourne. Then Elder's calming tone intervened.

"Violence is not justice. Be honest with yourself before you render judgment upon others. Opportunity
comes only to those who rightfully deserve it."

Those statements flowed from the lips of Noble Elder like the blue water that gushed from Sapphire
Springs. A month ago, Johnny Craver would have called such phrases bromides, but now they carried
the weight of a sound philosophy.

"You're right, Mr. Elder," agreed Johnny. "If anybody needed violent treatment, I did when I arrived
here. Only I didn't get it."

"Of course not, Johnny. We treat everyone as gently as we can."

"And you certainly were more than honest, before you judged me."