Kitabı oku: «The Secret of the Reef», sayfa 13
CHAPTER XXIII – THE FIRST ATTACK
Clay made no marked change in his mode of living, and shortly after his visit to the doctor he engaged in a struggle with a group of speculators who opposed one of his business schemes. They were clever men, with money enough to make them troublesome enemies, and Clay realized that he must spare no effort if he meant to win. He beat them and determined to exact a heavy indemnity, but the battle was stubbornly fought and during the month it lasted he had little rest by night or day. Long after the city offices were closed he entertained his supporters in his rooms at the hotel, and, rising early, altered and improved his plans before the business day began.
To his delight, he felt no bad effects; he was somewhat limp and lazy, but that, no doubt, was a natural reaction from the strain. He could now, however, afford to take a few days’ rest, and he telegraphed Aynsley that he would spend the week-end at Osborne’s house, which was always open to both. Enjoying the first-fruits of his victory, in the shape of some tempting offers, shortly before he left his office, he traveled down the Sound in high content, and, to complete his satisfaction, he learned on arriving that Aynsley had secured some large and profitable orders for lumber.
Dinner was served early on the Saturday evening, and Clay, finding that he had an excellent appetite, ate and drank more than usual. He was quite well, he told himself, but had had an anxious time and needed bracing. Miss Dexter watched him with disapproval when, after dinner was finished, he stood in the hall with a large glass in his hand. The man had a high color, but his eyes had a strained look and his lips a curious bluish tinge. He appeared to be quite sober, which caused her some surprise, but he was talking rather freely and his laugh was harsh. She thought he looked coarse and overbearing in his present mood.
The large hall was tastefully paneled in cedar, a fire of pine logs burned on the open hearth, and small lamps hung among the wooden pillars. A drawing-room and a billiard-room, both warmed and lighted, opened out of it, but Osborne left his guests to do what they liked best, and nobody seemed inclined to move. Ruth and Aynsley were talking near the hearth, Miss Dexter had some embroidery in her hands, and Osborne lounged in a deep chair beside the table. Clay, with the now empty glass in his hand, leaned negligently upon the table, feeling well satisfied with himself. His manners were not polished, but he was aware of it, and never pretended to graces he did not possess. He smiled when he caught Miss Dexter’s censorious glance.
“I’m often in trouble, ma’am, and find I can’t fight on coffee and ice-water,” he explained humorously.
“Perhaps that’s one of their advantages,” Miss Dexter replied. “But as we’re not quarrelsome people, you ought to enjoy a few days’ peace.”
“That’s so. I guess I warmed up over telling your brother-in-law about my latest battle.” He turned to Osborne. “Frame and Nesbitt were in this morning, ready to take what I’d give them on their knees. Fletcher came and tried to bluff, but he wilted when I cracked the whip. I have the gang corralled, and they’ll go broke before they get out.”
Clay’s rather obvious failings included an indulgence in coarse vainglory, though he had generally the sense to check it when it might prove a handicap. Now, however, he was in an expansive mood, inclined to make the most of his triumph.
“The joke is that they were plumb-sure they’d squeeze me dry,” he went on. “Got hold of a tip about the development land purchase plan and never guessed I’d planted it for them. Morgan cost me high, and his nerve is bad, but he’s a cute little rat, and works well in the dark.”
“I thought the opposition had bought him,” Osborne said.
“So they did,” Clay chuckled. “Now they want his blood, and I believe Denby’s mad enough about it to have him sandbagged. That plays into my hand, because the fellow will stick to me for protection. If he tries to strike me for extra pay, I’ve only to threaten I’ll throw him to the wolves. Guess the way they’re howling has scared him pretty bad.”
“Have you begun the clean-up yet?”
“Washed out the first panful before I came away,” Clay replied in miners’ phraseology. “Ten thousand dollars for two small back lots. It’s all good pay-dirt, carrying heavy metal.”
“In a way, I’m sorry for Fletcher. He’s had a bad time lately, and, as he has got into low water, I’m afraid this will finish him.”
“He joined the gang. Now he has to take the consequences.”
Clay saw that Miss Dexter was listening with disapproval. He was not averse to having an audience and he had spoken loudly.
“If you saw the people who’d conspired to rob you come to grief through their greediness, what would you do about it, Miss Dexter?” he asked.
“I should try not to gloat over their downfall,” she answered with some asperity.
“Looks better,” Clay agreed. “But when I have the fellows down, it seems prudent to see that they don’t get up again too soon.”
Miss Dexter studied him. Admitting that modesty would have become him better, she did not believe he was boasting at random. There was power in the man, though she imagined he did not often use it well. She disliked his principles, and he frequently repelled her, but sometimes she felt attracted. He had, she thought, a better side than the one he generally showed.
“Does it never pay to be merciful?” she asked.
“Very seldom. In my line of business you have, as a rule, to break or be broken hard. It’s a hard fight. I keep the rules of the ring. Sometimes they’re pretty liberally interpreted, but if you go too far, you get hustled out and disqualified. In this country the stakes are high, but I’ve been through the hardest training since I was a boy, and I’ve got to win.” He paused with a glance toward Aynsley. “Sounds pretty egotistical, doesn’t it? But I know my powers, and I can’t be stopped.”
His forceful air gave him a touch of dignity and redeemed the crude daring of his boast. Osborne looked at him curiously, but Miss Dexter felt half daunted. She thought his attitude grossly defiant; the inordinate pride he showed would bring its punishment.
“It sounds very rash,” she said. “You don’t know what you may have to contend with.”
Clay laughed harshly.
“I’ve some suspicion; but there comes a time, often after years of struggle, when a man knows he has only to hold on and win the game. Curious, isn’t it? But he does know, and sets his teeth as he braces himself for the effort that’s going to give him the prize.”
He spoke with vehemence, the color darkening in his face. Miss Dexter wondered whether the last glass of whisky and potass had gone to his head; but the flush suddenly faded and his lips turned blue. Osborne was the first to notice it. Jumping up, he grabbed Clay by the arms and shoved him toward the nearest chair. Clay fell into it heavily, and began fumbling at his vest pocket, but he soon let his hand drop in a nerveless manner. The next moment Aynsley was at his side. The hall was large, and the boy had been sitting some distance off, but he did not run and he made no noise. He had inherited his father’s swiftness of action, and Ruth, following in alarm, noticed the lithe grace of his movements. The girl’s impressions were, however, somewhat blurred, and it was not until afterward that the scene fixed itself vividly in her mind.
“Perhaps we’d better get the car out,” Aynsley said quickly. “We may want it if this is going to last.”
Osborne rang a bell and there was silence for a few moments while they waited, uncertain what to do. Clay’s face was livid and his eyes were half shut. He seemed unconscious of their presence, and they imagined that he was struggling against the weakness that was mastering him. His lips were tight set, his brows knit, and his hand was firmly clenched. Osborne gave an order to a servant, who immediately disappeared, and then Clay’s tense pose relaxed. He sank back in the chair, loose and limp, as if all power had suddenly gone out of him.
The change was more startling to those watching than the first attack. They had long known his strength and resolution; but now he lay inert, with head falling forward, a bulky, flaccid figure, suddenly stripped of everything that had made him feared. He was grotesque in his helplessness, and Ruth had a curious feeling that there was something unfitting, almost indecent, in their watching him. It appeared, however, that he was conscious, for when Osborne held a glass to his lips he feebly moved his head in refusal, and his slack fingers began to fumble at the pocket again.
“There’s something he wants there!” Ruth said sharply. “Perhaps it’s something he ought to take!”
Aynsley thrust his hand into the pocket and brought out a small bottle.
“Six drops,” he read out and was about to lift his father’s head when Miss Dexter stopped him.
“No,” she said; “you’ll spill it. Wait for a spoon.”
She brought one and with some trouble they administered the dose. For a while there was no visible result, and then Clay sighed and with a slack movement changed his pose. A little later he opened his eyes and beckoned.
“The medicine!” Aynsley requested in a hoarse voice.
“No,” said Miss Dexter firmly. “He has had six drops.”
Aynsley yielded, for it was plain that his father was recovering. A moment later Clay raised himself in his chair and looked at Miss Dexter with a feeble, apologetic smile.
“Sorry I made this disturbance.”
“Are you feeling better?” Aynsley asked.
“Quite all right in a minute.” Clay turned to Osborne. “It would be bad manners to blame your cook; guess the fault was mine. Got breakfast early, and had no time for lunch.”
Though he had made a hearty dinner, the explanation he suggested did not satisfy the others, and Ruth thought it significant that he had made it so promptly. They did not, however, trouble him with questions, and after a while he rose and walked to another chair.
“The car won’t be needed,” Aynsley said to Osborne.
“The car?” Clay interposed. “What did you want it for?”
“We had thought of sending for a doctor,” Aynsley answered deprecatingly.
Clay frowned.
“Shucks! You’re easily scared; I wouldn’t have seen him. Where’s that bottle?” He slipped it hastily into his pocket and turned to Ruth. “Very sorry all this happened; feel ashamed of myself. Now I wonder whether you’ll give us some music.”
They went into the drawing-room, and Clay chose an easy chair at some distance from the others. He cared nothing for music, but he felt shaky, and he was glad of an excuse for sitting quiet. Moreover, he wanted time to think. It looked as if the doctor, whom he had begun to doubt, had after all been right. He had had a warning which he could not neglect; and as he rather vacantly watched the girl at the piano it was borne in upon him that she had probably saved his life. The others had thought him insensible, but she had guessed that he was feeling for the remedy which had pulled him round.
It was a pity she had refused Aynsley, but he bore her no ill-will, although he was generally merciless to those who thwarted him. He would have liked to thank her, but that was inadvisable, for he must not admit that he had had a dangerous attack. Then it struck him that if he were seriously threatened, it might be well to take precautions. There was a good offer he had received for some property he wished to sell, but he had not answered because all the terms were not settled, and he did not wish to seem eager. It might be better to close the matter now. When he had thanked Ruth for the song, he quietly made his way to Osborne’s writing-room.
It was necessary to write several letters, and he found his fingers nerveless and composition difficult. Indeed, he laid the pen down and then resolutely took it up again. He was not going to be beaten by a bodily weakness, and nobody must notice that his writing was shaky. He tore up the first letter and wrote it again in a firm, legible hand, though the sweat the effort cost him gathered on his forehead. His schemes must be completed and all his affairs straightened out before he gave in. The man was ruthless and unscrupulous, but he had unflinching courage and an indomitable will.
In the billiard-room Osborne was talking to Aynsley.
“What do you think about your father?” he asked.
“I’m anxious. Of course, he made light of the matter, and, so far as I know, he’s never been troubled in this way before, but I didn’t like his look.”
“It struck me as significant that he’d seen a doctor,” Osborne remarked. “The bottle proves that. From the careful directions about the dose it must have been made up from a prescription. Anyway, he’s been overdoing it lately, and perhaps you had better go along and see what he’s about. If he’s attending to any business, make him stop and bring him down.”
Aynsley entered the writing-room and left it in a few minutes, rudely dismissed. Coming down, he made an excuse for taking Ruth into the hall.
“I know you’ll do me a favor,” he begged.
“Of course. I suppose it concerns your father?”
Aynsley nodded.
“He’s writing letters, and I’m afraid it will do him harm. He looks far from fit, but he’s in a most contrary mood, and ordered me out when I hinted that he’d better stop. Knowing what he’s capable of, I thought I’d better go.”
He spoke lightly, but Ruth saw the uneasiness he wished to conceal.
“Do you think I could persuade him?”
“I’d like you to try. Anyway, he won’t be rude to you; and I’ve a suspicion that you have some influence over him. You ought to be flattered, because nobody else has.”
Ruth went to the writing-room and stood beside Clay with a reproachful smile. She felt pitiful. The man looked ill.
“We really can’t allow you to leave us in this way,” she said. “Besides, it’s too late to think of business matters.”
“I suppose Aynsley sent you,” he answered with grim bluntness. “It would be better if you took him in hand instead of me. The boy wants looking after; he’s got no nerve.”
“You ought not to blame him for feeling anxious about you. However, I’m your hostess and I don’t think you are treating me well. When I tell you to put away those papers you can’t disobey.”
Clay gave her a steady look.
“Anything you ask me will be done,” he said. “But, as a favor, will you give me another five minutes?”
“Of course. But you might exceed it, so I think I’ll wait.”
Before the time had quite elapsed Clay closed the last envelope with a firm hand, and a few minutes later they entered the drawing-room and Aynsley gave Ruth a grateful glance.
When Clay returned to Vancouver he called at once on the doctor; and when he left his face was grim, for he had been plainly told that he was worse, and must change his mode of life at once; but this was more than Clay could consent to do. He had money in a number of ventures, none of which had yet achieved the success he looked for. Time was needed before he could bring them to the desired consummation, and if he sold out now it must be at a sacrifice of the handsome profit that might otherwise be secured. He would be left with only a moderate fortune, and he meant to be rich. Ambitious as he was for his son, he had also a keen reluctance to leaving his work half finished. In fact, it was obvious that he must hold on for a year or two longer.
Moreover, the doctor had warned him against increasing the dose of the restorative, which Clay admitted having done. The powerful drug had braced him up when he suffered from reaction after any unusual strain and he had come to regard it as a reliable standby. Now he must curtail its use, and he would feel the deprivation. Then, since he was running some risk, it was advisable to take precautions. First of all, the wreck must be destroyed. If he should be cut off suddenly, no evidence must be left behind to spoil his son’s career. Aynsley must bear an untarnished name.
The first step would be to get Jimmy Farquhar and his companions out of the way – to buy them off if possible; if not – A hard look crept into Clay’s eyes, and he sat down at once and wrote a short note to Jimmy.
CHAPTER XXIV – THE GIRL IN THE BOAT
Trade was slack in the Pacific province, and men from the interior flocked down to the coast and overflowed the employment bureaus. This made it unusually hard for Jimmy and his friends to find work. For a month they had done almost nothing, only an odd job now and then; they were in arrears with their hotel bill; and the future looked anything but bright to them.
After supper one evening they sat in the lobby of their shabby hotel in a gloomy mood. Jimmy had found temporary work, and since early morning had been loading a vessel with lumber in a pouring rain. All day he had been wet through, and he was tired and sore. He had grown thin, and had a gaunt, determined look.
“What’s this?” he exclaimed, examining Clay’s envelope, which had just been handed to him. “I have no acquaintances in Vancouver who use expensive stationery.” He read the note and then looked up with a surprised frown. “It’s from Clay! He asks me to meet him in the smoking-room of his hotel. It’s the big, smart place they’ve lately opened.”
“Oho!” said Bethune. “I’ve been expecting this. I suppose you mean to go?”
“What’s your opinion?”
“Perhaps it might be wiser to take no notice of the invitation; but I don’t know. I’d like to see the fellow and hear what he has to say. It’s curious that we haven’t met him yet, though we have felt his influence.”
“Anyway, I’m not going alone. I might make a mess of things; he’s evidently a cunning rogue. If you think it’s wise to see him, you’ll have to come.”
“We’ll all go,” said Bethune with a grin. “I believe he knows us already, and he won’t get much out of Hank.”
“I’m sure not great at talking,” Moran agreed. “Now, if he tried to have us sandbagged, and you told me to get after him – ”
“It hasn’t come to that yet,” Bethune laughed. “The fellow’s more refined in his methods, but they’re quite as dangerous.” He looked at the note. “However, it’s nearly time, and we may as well make a start.”
Clay looked up in surprise from his seat at a small table when the three walked in, and he felt half amused at Moran’s steady, defiant stare. This, he thought, was a strange companion for Bethune, whom he at once recognized as the business leader of the party. Jimmy he dismissed, after a searching glance, as less dangerous. He was the practical seaman, no doubt, but it was his partner’s intelligence that directed their affairs.
“Sit down,” Clay said, taking out his cigar-case. “I wrote to Mr. Farquhar, but I’m glad to see you all. Will you have anything to drink?”
“No, thanks,” Jimmy answered quickly; and added, “I’m afraid it’s rather an intrusion, but as we go together, I thought I might bring my friends.”
Clay understood his refusal as a declaration of hostility, but he smiled.
“As you prefer,” he said, lighting a cigar and quietly studying his callers.
The room was large and handsome, with an inlaid floor, massive pillars, and pictures of snow-clad mountains on the walls. It was then almost unoccupied, and that added to the effect of its size and loftiness, but two very smart and somewhat supercilious attendants hovered in the background. Farquhar and his friends were shabbily dressed, and Clay had hoped that they might feel themselves out of place and perhaps embarrassed by his silence, but there was no sign of this. Indeed, they seemed very much at ease. Bethune’s expression was slightly bored, while Moran glanced about with naïve curiosity. For all that, they looked worn, and there was something about them which suggested tension. They had felt the pressure he had skilfully brought to bear, but whether it had made them compliant or not remained to be seen.
“Well,” Clay began, “we must have a talk. You have undertaken some salvage operations at a wreck in the North?”
“Yes,” Jimmy answered concisely.
“You don’t seem to have been very successful.”
“I dare say our appearance proves it,” Bethune smiled. “As a matter of fact, we haven’t cleared our expenses yet.”
Clay did not know what to think of this frankness; he imagined that if the man had any wish to extort the best terms he could, he would have been less candid. He saw that he must be cautious, for he had done a risky thing in asking Farquhar to meet him. He would rather have left the fellow alone and tried to destroy the wreck before they reached it; but he knew that he might not live to do so. He had had his warnings and he could not leave the matter open.
“It’s obvious that, as the salvage people abandoned the vessel, something has happened to give you a chance,” he said. “However, as you can’t have money enough to buy a proper outfit, you’re not likely to make much use of the opportunity. You want steam and the best diving gear, and I guess you found them too expensive.”
“We might do better if we had them,” Bethune admitted.
“Very well; are you willing to take a partner?”
There was uncompromising refusal in Jimmy’s face, but he did not speak, and Clay surmised that Bethune had given him a warning kick under the table. Bethune, in fact, had done so, and was thinking hard. To refuse would imply that they expected to succeed and that the salvage could be easily accomplished with such poor apparatus as they could obtain; but this was not advisable, because it would encourage Clay to anticipate them.
“We might consider a sleeping partner who’d be content with his profit on the money he supplied,” he said.
“That means you intend to keep the practical operations in your own hands?”
“Yes,” Bethune answered; “you can take it that it does.”
“Then the arrangement wouldn’t suit me. I know more about the vessel than you do, and I’ve been accustomed to directing things. But I’ll bid you five thousand dollars for your interest in the wreck.”
“Strictly speaking, we have no interest that we could sell.”
“That’s true; but I’ll buy your knowledge of how she lies and the best way of getting at her cargo. Of course, after you have taken the money you’ll leave her alone.”
“It’s tempting,” Bethune said thoughtfully. “But perhaps we had better be frank. I understand that you were one of the owners, and, as the underwriters paid you, I don’t see what you would gain.”
“All the gold on board her wasn’t insured.”
Bethune looked hard at him and Clay smiled. “It’s true. Then, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t have a try at the salvage. I’m open to make a shot at anything that promises a moderate profit.”
“I suppose there is no reason,” Bethune agreed slowly. “Would you go up to ten thousand dollars?”
“No, sir!” Clay said firmly. “I stick to my bid.”
“Then I’m sorry we can’t make a deal.” Bethune turned to the others. “I suppose that’s your opinion?”
“Of course,” said Jimmy; and Moran nodded.
Clay was silent for a few moments. He would gladly have given ten thousand dollars to settle the matter, but he doubted whether Bethune would take it; and to bid high would rouse suspicion. It looked as if he had accomplished nothing, but he had found out that his opponents were more capable than he had imagined, and he decided that it would be safer to put no further pressure on them. He did not wish them to learn that he was the cause of the trouble they had had in finding employment, as it would indicate that he had some strong reason for preventing their return to the wreck.
“Well,” he said, “it’s a pity we can’t come to terms, but I can make no fresh suggestion. You’re up against a pretty big undertaking.”
“So it seems,” Bethune answered pleasantly. “We’ll have to do the best we can. And now, as we mustn’t take up your time, I’ll bid you good-night.”
Clay let them go, and as they went down the street Jimmy turned to Bethune.
“What do you think of the interview?” he asked.
“A drawn game. Neither side has scored; but I’ve learned two things. The first is that he has no suspicion that we have found the bogus case.”
“How do you infer that?”
“From his view of our character. You must recollect that we’re hard-up adventurers whom he wouldn’t expect to be scrupulous. He’d conclude that if we had found anything suspicious we’d have let him know and tried to sell our secret. He was waiting for some hint, and I was careful to give him none.”
“What’s the next thing?”
“That he’ll try to clean out the wreck before we get there. It was the only reason he let us go. I dare say you noticed how careful he was not to show any anxiety to buy us off. It’s curious, but I really think he spoke the truth when he said all the gold was not insured.”
“If it had been a straight deal, with nothing behind it, I think I’d have taken the five thousand dollars,” Jimmy said. “He won’t have much trouble in getting ahead of us when the ice breaks up. It will cost something to fit out the sloop, and our pockets are empty.”
“Oh, there’s time yet,” Bethune replied with a cheerful laugh. “Something may turn up.”
Fortune favored them during the next week, for Bethune secured a post as hotel clerk, and Moran went inland to assist in repairing a railroad track which a snowslide had wrecked. Soon afterward Jimmy shipped as deck-hand on a Sound steamboat and was lucky in attracting the attention of one of the directors who was on board by the cool promptness with which he prevented an accident when a passenger gangway broke. The director had a talk with him, and, learning that he was a steamship officer, placed him in charge of a gasolene launch which picked up passengers at unimportant landings and took them off to the boats. The work was easy, and paid fairly well; and Jimmy had held his post for a month with some satisfaction when he went off to meet a north-bound steamer at dusk one evening.
He had no passengers and it was blowing fresh with showers of sleet. Savage gusts whipped the leaden water into frothing white, and as he drew out from the shore the ripples which chased the launch grew larger. When he passed a headland they changed into short, breaking seas, and the craft plunged wildly as she crossed a strong run of tide. Here and there an island loomed up dimly, but the shore had faded into the haze. When Jimmy first joined her, the boat had carried another hand, but the man had gone and had not been replaced because trade was slack in winter. Jimmy thought that he might have trouble in getting his passengers on board; but they were not likely to be numerous, and the steamer would run into shelter behind an island.
He was late, for his engine was not working well, but there was no sign of the steamer when he stopped, and the boat lay rolling with the spray blowing across her rail. It rattled on Jimmy’s slickers and stung his face, but the cold was mild by comparison with what he had endured in the North, and he sat in the shelter of the coaming, glancing up the Sound every now and then. Presently a sleet-storm broke upon him, and when it blew away a blinking white light and a colored one broke out of the driving cloud. Jimmy lighted a blue flare and, starting the engine, headed for the end of the island. When he stopped, the steamer was close ahead, a lofty, gray mass, banded with rows of lights. She rolled as she crossed the tide-stream, and he could see the foam about her big side-wheels and the smoke that swept from her inclined stacks. It did not look as if she were stopping, and he was about to get out of her way when a deep blast of her whistle broke through the turmoil of the sea. In another minute he was abreast of the gangway and caught the rope thrown down, though he kept the launch off at a few yards’ distance.
The ladder was lowered, and hung banging awkwardly against the vessel’s side; and while Jimmy waited with his hand on the tiller a deck-hand ran down to the lowest step and flung a valise into the boat, and then turned to assist a woman who followed him. Jimmy could not see her well, but he noticed that she was active and not timid, which was reassuring, and he cautiously sheered the launch closer in.
“Give me your hand and jump!” he cried.
She did as he directed, and when she was safe on board he stood looking up at the gangway.
“That’s all!” somebody shouted; and when he let the rope go, the side-wheels churned and the steamer forged ahead while the launch slid clear of her with propeller rattling.
Jimmy pulled up a canvas hood which covered part of the cockpit and lighted a lantern under it before he turned to his passenger.
“If you sit here, you’ll be out of the wind and spray. Where are you going?”
“To Pine Landing.” She gave a start when Jimmy stooped over the engine where the light fell upon him. “You!” she cried. “Mr. Farquhar!”
He gazed at her in surprise, with his heart throbbing. Though she had turned her head quickly and the light was not good, he thought he had seen a flush of color in her face.
“It was too dark to recognize you until you spoke, Miss Osborne,” he said as coolly as he could. “Then, I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Our house is scarcely a mile from the Landing.”
“The pretty place in the woods? I didn’t know it was yours. I’ve seen it from a distance, but have never been there.”
“I think you are to blame for that,” she said.
“Until a few weeks ago, I was living on the Canadian side.” Jimmy laughed as he added: “Besides, I hadn’t many opportunities for making visits.”
Ruth glanced at him with quick sympathy, remembering how he had looked when she had last seen him; but he was doing something to the engine and his face was hidden.
“How did you come to be in this boat?” she asked.
“I’m her captain, but just now I wish I were an engineer,” he answered humorously. “She’s not running as she ought to do, and I’m afraid you’ll have rather a long trip. In fact, I think we had better go round behind the island where there’s smoother water. Will your people be anxious because you’re late?”
“They don’t expect me until to-morrow. Some friends were traveling by the boat, and I thought I could get home before it was dark.”
Jimmy thrilled at her nearness, but he knew that he must steel himself against her charm. Her friends were his enemies and he could not involve her in any difficulties with them. He must wait until fortune favored him, if it ever did so. But the waiting was hard.
