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Chapter IX. I Meet John Talkso · The House of Skulls

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  Chapter nine of the House of Skulls by H. Bedford Jones. Slibrivox recording
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  is in the public domain. Read by Ben Tucker. Chapter nine, I
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  meet John Talkso. In plain sight of me, walking out across the open
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  space toward my house was a man. He carried a bucket in one hand
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  and a basket in the other hand. These he sat down at the veranda
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  steps and then turned scrutinizing the lake and shore. His face showed clearly.
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  A low word escaped me as I watched. I recognized that face on the
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  instant. He was no other than the enemy of John Balliol, the man
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  whom I had met at mac Gray's tavern, the man with the queer name
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  John talk So. An instant later he had vanished inside the house. Now,
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  I said to myself, here's one mystery about to be solved in a
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  hurry. A moment longer I waited, Talksa appeared again, stooped over the
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  basket he had been carrying, and then went round to the front of my
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  house. What he did there I could not see. He reappeared, took
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  up both bucket and basket, and went into the house. I started for
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  the house with a gun under my arm, both barrels loaded. When I
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  got safely over the gate and into the yard, I knew that I had
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  my man this time. There was going to be an explanation. To judge
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  from his attire when I had seen him at mac Gray's tavern. This Tokso
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  had money, and he was going to settle what he owed me, chiefly
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  in the matter of tires. What he was doing in my house was another
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  thing. And if he had fired that bullet at me from the hills.
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  At that juncture, I heard the telephone ringing. The kitchen windows were open,
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  and I stole toward the back entrance. An instant later I heard a
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  man speaking at the telephone. Toxa was answering the call. His infernal impudence
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  made me chuckle, for at the instrument he must be standing with his back
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  to the door. He was playing directly into my hand. He's not here
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  out fishing, I heard him say. Somebody obviously was asking for me,
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  who's this? Oh hullo, this hu Sheriff West. There was a moment
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  of silence, during which time I gained the back door and paused. Talxo
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  was standing at the telephone right enough, entirely unconscious of my presence. The
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  hell you say, he exclaimed suddenly, a snarling intonation in his voice.
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  None of your cursed business what I'm doing here, mister West? What you
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  come out here? If you want to, I'll be gone by Then again
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  he paused, and again made angry response to the sheriff. Nonsense, you've
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  nothing on me. Don't try bluffing me, mister West. You can't do
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  it that shot. Go ahead and tell Desmond all you want. You know,
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  damn well, you can't prove anything on me, and I know it
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  too. I'll have Desmond out of here inside of wheat. Oh, I
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  won't eh much you know about it? With a snarling oath, he slammed
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  the receiver on the hook. As he did so, I pushed open the
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  screen door and stepped inside. Tal Soo caught the squeak of the door and
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  whirled about like a cat. I guess the sheriff was right talkso I said,
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  cordially over the sight of my shotgun. Hoist your hands, thank you.
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  That's the way it's always done in the films. So the Sheriff's coming
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  out here, Eh good, Then he can take you back with him,
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  unless we come to terms. Talxo stood perfectly motionless, his hand slightly raised.
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  The surprise of my appearance had confounded him, But now passionate rage convulsed
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  his swarthy features, and in the snaky blackness of his eyes flickered a scornful
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  hatred. The contempt expressed in his eyes rendered me uneasy. You, he
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  udded, flinging the word at me in almost inarticulate fury. What do you
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  think you're doing anyway? I don't think, I assured him. I'm perfectly
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  confident about it. My friend. By the way, did you fire a
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  shot at my car the other day, mistaking me for Balliol? I wish
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  to hell the bullet had got you, he foamed. You're a charitable cuss,
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  and since then you've given me a lot of tire trouble, to say
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  the least. What's the idea, anyhow? What's back of the feud between
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  you and Balliol? He seemed to take no notice of the question. Poor
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  fool, he said, scornfully, I could have killed you any time in
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  the past day or two. Well you didn't, I chipped in, Come
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  ahead and loosen up. Let's have an explanation. To my horror, I
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  realized that he was coming at me. He had the silky, invisible movement
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  of a snake. To blast the life out of him with that shotgun was
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  impossible. He seemed to be leaning forward, leaning toward me, farther and
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  farther, and then he was in the air and on me. He gripped
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  me and the gun together and we struggled for it. I was ready enough
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  to drop the gun and slam into him with my fists, but I saw
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  no use in letting him perforate me with my own gun, so I hung
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  on and we fought it out by arm power. In the middle of it,
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  we lost balance and went to the floor, and the shotgun went off,
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  with a deafening explosion between us. I realized quickly enough that I was
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  not hurt and rolled backward, leaping to my feet. Both barrels had exploded,
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  sending both charges into the telephone, which hung wrecked and useless against the
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  wall. Talk soa was not heard either. First thing I knew he was
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  up and coming at me with a yell, brandishing the shotgun like a club.
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  According to jiu jitsu experts, the easiest thing in the world is to
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  lay out a man bearing down on you. With a club. As it
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  happens, I am not a jiu jitsu expert. Talso had been an easy
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  mark in the road by mc gray's, but he was something else now.
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  He shoved the butt of the gun into my stomach, and when I doubled
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  up, he slammed me over the skull with the barrel. Then he swung
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  up the gun for a finishing stroke. By this time I was just beginning
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  to realize that it was me for swift action or the count, and I
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  came out of my dream to be candid. It is only in books that
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  two men get into a hot mix up and follow the Queensberry rules with meticulous
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  chivalry and a real scrap of real men. Its hit hardest with anything that
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  will count. I followed the most natural rules, and being backed against the
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  stove, I went for Toso with an iron skillet that was handy. I
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  ducked the gun, banged him over the ear, and then swung the skillet
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  on his wrist. He dropped the gun in a hurry into even matters.
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  I dropped the skillet and began to finish off his education. He knew something
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  about fighting, and he tried to fight, but that skillet had him groggy
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  from the start. In about two minutes, he was trying to get through
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  the door, so I let him out and hopped right after him. I
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  caught him by the pump and laid him out. Finally, when he came
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  to himself, I had him tied wrists and ankles with dust cloths from the
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  car, and was wasting good mineral water pumping over his torso. In spite
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  of all my kindness, however, he would do nothing except splutter curses at
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  me. So finally I tired of trying. Very well, then lie here
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  and talk to yourself, I stated, in disgusted, when the sheriff gets
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  here, maybe we'll learn a few things. I was dead right about that
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  too. End of Chapter nine.