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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Vagrant Duke, by George Gibbs
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Vagrant Duke
+
+Author: George Gibbs
+
+Release Date: August 6, 2009 [EBook #29617]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VAGRANT DUKE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Barbara Tozier, Barbara Kosker, Bill Tozier
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  _The_
+
+  VAGRANT DUKE
+
+
+
+
+  BY GEORGE GIBBS
+
+  The Vagrant Duke
+  The Splendid Outcast
+  The Black Stone
+  The Golden Bough
+  The Secret Witness
+  Paradise Garden
+  The Yellow Dove
+  The Flaming Sword
+  Madcap
+  The Silent Battle
+  The Maker of Opportunities
+  The Forbidden Way
+  The Bolted Door
+  Tony's Wife
+  The Medusa Emerald
+
+  D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
+  Publishers     New York
+
+[Illustration: PETER STRUCK HIM FULL ON THE HEAD]
+
+
+
+
+  _The_
+  VAGRANT DUKE
+
+
+
+
+  BY
+
+  GEORGE GIBBS
+
+  AUTHOR OF "THE SPLENDID OUTCAST," "THE YELLOW DOVE,"
+  "THE SECRET WITNESS," ETC.
+
+
+
+
+  D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
+  NEW YORK        LONDON
+  1921
+
+
+
+
+  COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY
+  D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
+
+  Copyright, 1920, by The Story Press Corporation
+  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+
+
+
+
+  CONTENTS
+
+
+  CHAPTER                                      PAGE
+
+           PROLOGUE                               1
+
+       I   INTRODUCING PETER NICHOLS             15
+
+      II   NEW YORK                              27
+
+     III   THE OVERALL GIRL                      42
+
+      IV   THE JOB                               56
+
+       V   NEW ELEMENTS                          71
+
+      VI   THE HOUSE OF TERROR                   88
+
+     VII   MUSIC                                105
+
+    VIII   THE PLACARD                          121
+
+      IX   SHAD IS UNPLEASANT                   137
+
+       X   "HAWK"                               153
+
+      XI   ANCIENT HISTORY                      170
+
+     XII   CONFESSION                           186
+
+    XIII   THE CHASE                            207
+
+     XIV   TWO LETTERS                          226
+
+      XV   SUPERMAN                             236
+
+     XVI   IDENTIFICATION                       253
+
+    XVII   PETER BECOMES A CONSPIRATOR          266
+
+   XVIII   FACE TO FACE                         276
+
+     XIX   YAKIMOV REVEALS HIMSELF              291
+
+      XX   THE RUSSIAN PAYS                     308
+
+     XXI   THE INFERNO                          326
+
+    XXII   RETRIBUTION                          343
+
+   XXIII   A VISITOR                            357
+
+
+
+
+  _The_
+  VAGRANT DUKE
+
+
+
+
+THE VAGRANT DUKE
+
+_PROLOGUE_
+
+
+_At the piano a man sat playing the "Revolutionary Étude" of Chopin. The
+room was magnificent in its proportions, its furnishings were massive,
+its paneled oak walls were hung with portraits of men and women in the
+costumes of a bygone day. Through the lofty windows, the casements of
+which were open to the evening sky there was a vista of forest and
+meadow-land stretching interminably to the setting sun. The mosquelike
+cupola of a village church, a few versts distant, glimmered like a pearl
+in the dusky setting of wooded hills, and close by it, here and there,
+tiny spirals of opalescent smoke marked the dwellings of Zukovo
+village._
+
+_But the man at the piano was detached, a being apart from this scene of
+quiet, absorbed in his piano, which gave forth the turbulence which had
+been in the soul of the great composer. The expression upon the dark
+face of the young musician was rapt and eager, until he crashed the
+chords to their triumphant conclusion when he sank back in his chair
+with a gasp, his head bent forward upon his breast, his dark gaze fixed
+upon the keys which still echoed with the tumult._
+
+_It was at this moment that a door at the side of the room was opened
+and a white-haired man in purple livery entered and stood in silence
+regarding rather wistfully the man at the piano, who raised his head
+abruptly like one startled from a dream._
+
+_"What is it, Vasili?" asked the musician._
+
+_The servant approached softly a few steps._
+
+_"I did not wish to intrude, Highness, but----"_
+
+_As the old servant hesitated, the young man shrugged and rose,
+disclosing a tall, straight figure, clad in a dark blue blouse, loose
+trousers and brown boots liberally bespattered with mud. The glow of the
+sun which shot across his face as he came forward into the light, showed
+swarthy features, level brows, a straight nose, a well turned chin, a
+small mustache and a generous mouth which revealed a capacity for humor.
+He was quite calm now, and the tones of his voice were almost boyish in
+their confidence and gayety._
+
+_"Well, what is it, Vasili?" he repeated. "You have the air of one with
+much on your conscience. Out with it. Has Sacha been fighting with you
+again?"_
+
+_"No, Master, not Sacha," said the old man clearing his throat
+nervously, "it is something worse--much worse than Sacha."_
+
+_"Impossible!" said the other with a laugh as he took up a cigarette
+from the table. "Nothing could be worse than a Russian cook when she
+gets into a rage----"_
+
+_"But it is, Master--something worse--much worse----"_
+
+_"Really! You alarm me." The Grand Duke threw himself into an armchair
+and inhaled luxuriously of his cigarette. And then with a shrug,
+"Well?"_
+
+_The old man came a pace or two nearer muttering hoarsely, "They've
+broken out in the village again," he gasped._
+
+_The Grand Duke's brow contracted suddenly._
+
+_"H-m. When did this happen?"_
+
+_"Last night. And this morning they burned the stables of Prince
+Galitzin and looted the castle."_
+
+_The young man sprang to his feet._
+
+_"You are sure of this?"_
+
+_"Yes, Master. The word was brought by Serge Andriev less than ten
+minutes ago."_
+
+_He took a few rapid paces up and down the room, stopping by the open
+window and staring out._
+
+_"Fools!" he muttered to himself. Then turning to the old servitor,
+"But, Vasili--why is it that I have heard nothing of this? To-day
+Conrad, the forester, said nothing to me. And the day before yesterday
+in the village the people swept off their caps to me--as in the old
+days. I could have sworn everything would be peaceful at Zukovo--at
+least, for the present----" he added as though in an afterthought._
+
+_"I pray God that may be true," muttered Vasili uncertainly. And then
+with unction, "In their hearts, they still love you, Highness. They are
+children--your children, their hearts still full of reverence for the
+Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch in whom runs the same blood as that which
+ran in the sacred being of the Little Father--but their brains! They are
+drunk with the poison poured into their minds by the Committeemen from
+Moscow."_
+
+_"Ah," eagerly, "they returned?"_
+
+_"Last night," replied the old man wagging his head. "And your people
+forgot all that you had said to them--all that they owe to you. They are
+mad," he finished despairingly, "mad!"_
+
+_The Grand Duke had folded his arms and was staring out of the window
+toward the white dome of the church now dyed red like a globule of blood
+in the sunset._
+
+_The old man watched him for a moment, all the fealty of his many years
+of service in his gaze and attitude._
+
+_"I do not like the look of things, Highness. What does it matter how
+good their hearts are if their brains are bad?"_
+
+_"I must go and talk with them, Vasili," said the Grand Duke quietly._
+
+_The old man took a step forward._
+
+_"If I might make so free----"_
+
+_"Speak----"_
+
+_"Not to-night, Master----"_
+
+_"Why not?"_
+
+_"It will be dangerous. Last night their voices were raised even against
+you."_
+
+_"Me! Why? Have I not done everything I could to help them? I am their
+friend--because I believe in their cause: and they will get their rights
+too but not by burning and looting----"_
+
+_"And murder, Master. Two of Prince Galitzin's foresters were killed."_
+
+_The Grand Duke turned. "That's bad. Murder in Zukovo!" He flicked his
+extinguished cigarette out of the window and made a gesture with his
+hand._
+
+_"Go, Vasili. I want to think. I will ring if I need you."_
+
+_"You will not go to Zukovo to-night?"_
+
+_"I don't know."_
+
+_And with another gesture he waved the servant away._
+
+_When Vasili had gone, the Grand Duke sat, his legs across the chair by
+the window, his arms folded along its back while his dark eyes peered
+out, beyond the hills and forests, beyond the reddened dome of the
+village church into the past where his magnificent father Nicholas
+Petrovitch held feudal sway over all the land within his vision and his
+father's fathers from the time of his own great namesake held all Russia
+in the hollow of their hands._
+
+_The Grand Duke's eyes were hard and bright above the slightly prominent
+cheek bones, the vestiges of his Oriental origin, but there was
+something of his English mother too in the contours of his chin and
+lips, which tempered the hardness of his expression. The lines at his
+brows were not the savage marks of anger, or the vengefulness that had
+characterized the pitiless blood which ran in his veins, but rather were
+they lines of disappointment, of perplexity at the problem that
+confronted him, and pity for his people who did not know where to turn
+for guidance. He still believed them to be his people, a heritage from
+his lordly parent, his children, who were responsible to him and to whom
+he was responsible. It was a habit of thought, inalienable, the product
+of the ages. But it was the calm philosophy of his English mother that
+had first given him his real sense of obligation to them, her teachings,
+even before the war began, that had shown him how terrible were the
+problems that confronted his future._
+
+_His service in the Army had opened his eyes still wider and when Russia
+had deserted her allies he had returned to Zukovo to begin the work of
+reconstruction in the ways his awakened conscience had dictated. He had
+visited their homes, offered them counsel, given them such money as he
+could spare, and had, he thought, become their friend as well as their
+hereditary guardian. All had gone well at first. They had listened to
+him, accepted his advice and his money and renewed their fealty under
+the new order of things, vowing that whatever happened elsewhere in
+Russia, blood and agony and starvation should not visit Zukovo._
+
+_But the news that Vasili brought was disquieting. It meant that the
+minds of his people were again disturbed. And the fact that Prince
+Galitzin had always been hated made the problems the Grand Duke faced
+none the less difficult. For his people had burned, pillaged and killed.
+They had betrayed him. And he had learned in the Army what fire and the
+smell of blood could do...._
+
+_With a quick nod of resolution he rose. He would go to them. He knew
+their leaders. They would listen to him. They_ must _listen...._
+
+_He closed the piano carefully, putting away the loose sheets of music,
+picked up his cap and heavy riding crop from the divan, on his way to
+the door, pausing, his hand on the bell-rope as a thought brought a
+deeper frown to his brow.... Why had Conrad Grabar, his chief forester,
+said nothing to-day? He must have known--for news such as this travels
+from leaf to leaf through the forest. Conrad! And yet he would have
+sworn by the faithfulness of his old friend and hunting companion.
+Perhaps Conrad had not known...._
+
+_The Grand Duke pulled the bell-rope, then went to the window again and
+stood as though listening for the voices of the woods. Silence. The sun
+had sunk, a dull red ball, and the dusk was falling swiftly. The aspens
+below his window quivered slightly, throwing their white leaves upwards
+as though in pain. The stately pines that he loved, mute, solemn,
+changeless, filled the air with balsam, but they gave no answer to his
+problem. It was difficult to believe that, there, in the restless souls
+of men war could rage. And yet...._
+
+_He peered out more intently. Beyond the pine forest, a murky cloud was
+rising. A storm? Hardly. For the sun had set in a clear sky. But there
+was a cloud surely, growing in darkness and intensity. He could see it
+more clearly now, billowing upward in grim portent._
+
+_The Grand Duke started and then stared again. The cloud was of smoke.
+Through the woods, tiny lights were sparkling, picked out with ominous
+brilliancy against the velvet dusk. Peter Nicholaevitch leaned far out
+of the window, straining his ears to listen. And now he seemed to hear
+the crackle of flames, the distant sound of hoarse voices, shouting and
+singing._
+
+_And while he still listened, aware that a great crisis had come into
+his life, there was a commotion just below him, the sound of voices
+close at hand and he saw a man come running from the woods, approaching
+the gateway of the Castle._
+
+_He recognized him by the gray beard and thickset figure. It was Boris
+Rylov, the Huntsman, and as he ran he shouted to some one in the
+courtyard below. The Grand Duke made out the words:_
+
+_"They're burning the Hunting Lodge--where is the Master----?"_
+
+_Peter Nicholaevitch waited at the window no longer, but ran out of the
+room and down the flight of stairs into the great hall below. For he
+knew what had happened now. The Red Terror had come to Zukovo._
+
+_He went out to the garden terrace, crossing quickly to the courtyard
+where he met the frightened group of servants that had assembled._
+
+_Boris, the Huntsman, much out of breath was waving his arms excitedly
+toward the cloud of smoke rising above the pine trees, now tinged a
+dirty orange color from beneath._
+
+_"They came from all directions, Master," he gasped, "like the black
+flies upon a dead horse--hundreds--thousands of them from the village
+and all the country round. I talked with the first that came, Anton
+Lensky, Gleb Saltykov, Michael Kuprin and Conrad Grabar----"_
+
+_"Conrad----!" gasped the Grand Duke._
+
+_"Yes, Highness," muttered Boris, his head bowed, "Conrad Grabar. They
+tried to restrain me. Michael Kuprin I struck upon the head with a
+stick--and then I fled--to warn your Highness--that they mean to come
+hither."_
+
+_The face of the Grand Duke, a trifle pale under its tan, was set in
+stern lines, but there was no fear in his manner as he quickly
+questioned, his eyes eagerly scrutinizing the frightened men and women
+about him while he spoke to them with cool decision._
+
+_"Thanks, Friend Rylov--you have done me a service I shall not forget."
+Then to the others, "If there are any of you who fear to remain with me,
+you may go. I cannot believe that they will come to Zukovo Castle, but
+we will close the gate to the courtyard at once. I will talk with them
+from the terrace wall."_
+
+_"Master! Highness!" broke in the Huntsman violently, "you do not
+understand. You cannot stay here. They are mad. They will kill you. It
+is for that they come----"_
+
+_"Nevertheless--I mean to stay----"_
+
+_"It is death----"_
+
+_"Go thou, then, and Vasili, and Ivan. For before they burn Zukovo, I
+mean to talk with them----"_
+
+_"It is madness----!"_
+
+_"Come, Highness," broke in Leo Garshin, the head-groom, eagerly, "I
+will put the saddle upon Vera, and you can go out of the iron gate from
+the stable-yard into the forest. Nothing can catch you and you can reach
+the river----"_
+
+_"No, Leo----" put in the Grand Duke kindly. "I shall stay."_
+
+_The servants glanced at one another, appalled at the Master's attitude.
+Some of them, had already disappeared into the Castle but others, less
+timorous, had already rushed to close the courtyard gate._
+
+_"You say they are many, Friend Rylov?" he asked again._
+
+_"As the hairs of your head, Master--from Ivanovna,
+Jaroslav--everywhere--and women, Highness, more terrible than the
+men----"_
+
+_"And the leaders----?"_
+
+_"Dmitri Sidorov of the Zemstvo and Michael Kositzin and Anton Lensky.
+See, yonder! Where the road turns from the clearing--they come!"_
+
+_The keen eyes of Boris saw further through the forest than those of
+most men but in a moment those of the Grand Duke Peter confirmed him.
+Figures were moving in the twilight, along the roads and bypaths._
+
+_To Peter Nicholaevitch they seemed like a great river which had flooded
+over its banks seeking new levels. Behind them the flames from the
+wooden hunting lodge roared upward painting a lurid sky. He saw that the
+flood came rapidly, and above the roar of the flames came the sound of
+voices singing the Russian version of the "Marseillaise." The Grand Duke
+stood at the terrace wall watching their approach. He knew that if they
+meant to attack the Castle the gate could not hold long, but he had hope
+that he might still be able to prevail upon them to listen to him. In a
+moment they saw him and began running forward toward the courtyard gate.
+He recognized individuals now--Anton Lensky, Michael Kuprin, with his
+head tied in a dirty handkerchief--and Conrad Grabar. The defection of
+his old instructor in wood-lore disturbed him. Conrad must have known
+what was to happen and he had said nothing. If Conrad had turned against
+him, what hope had he of prevailing against the others?_
+
+_The singing died away and in its place, shouts and cries burst forth in
+a bedlam. "Open the gate!" "Let us in!"_
+
+_The Grand Duke had heard that note in men's voices in the Carpathian
+passes, and he knew what it meant, but while his gaze sought out the fat
+figure of Michael Kositzin who was the leader of the uprising, he held
+up his hand for silence._
+
+_There was a roar of voices._
+
+_"Peter Nicholaevitch wishes to speak."_
+
+_"It is our turn to speak now."_
+
+"Nasha pora prishlà," (_our time has come_).
+
+_"Let the little master speak."_
+
+_"We know no little masters here!"_
+
+_"No, nor old ones!"_
+
+"Smiert Bourjouiam" (_Death to the bourgeoisie_).
+
+_But as the young Grand Duke began to speak the voices of the most rabid
+of the peasants were hushed for a moment by the others._
+
+_"My friends and my children" he began, "one word before you do
+something that you will forever regret. I am your friend. I am young--of
+the new generation. I have kept abreast of the new thought of the time
+and I believe in the New Life that is for you and for us all. I have
+proved it to you by bringing the New Life to Zukovo by peaceful means,
+by friendliness and brotherhood while other parts of Russia near by are
+in agony and darkness." (Cries of "That is true.") "It was in my heart
+that I had brought the Revolution to Zukovo, a Revolution against the
+old order of things which can be no more, implanting in you the strong
+seeds of Peace and Brotherhood which would kill out the ugly weeds of
+violence and enmity."_
+
+_Here a hoarse voice rang out: "Fire--only fire can clean." Then the
+reply of a woman, "Yes,_ Tovaristchi, _it is the only way."_
+
+_Peter Nicholaevitch tried to seek out the speakers with his gaze. One
+of them was Michael Kuprin whom when a child the Grand Duke had seen
+flogged in this very courtyard._
+
+_"There are sins of the past," he went on, raising his voice against the
+low murmur of the mob, "many sins against you, but one sin does not wash
+out another. Murder, rapine, vengeance will never bring peace to
+Zukovo. What you do to-day will be visited on you to-morrow. I pray
+that you will listen to me. I have fought for you and with you--with
+Gleb Saltykov and Anton Lensky, against the return of Absolutism in
+Russia. The old order of things is gone. Do not stain the new with crime
+in Zukovo. I beseech you to disperse--return to your homes and I will
+come to you to-morrow and if there are wrongs I will set them right. You
+have believed in me in the past. Believe in me now and all may yet be
+well in Zukovo. Go, my friends, before it is too late----"_
+
+_The crowd wavered, murmuring. But just then a shot rang out and the cap
+of the Grand Duke twitched around on his head._
+
+_A roar went up from near the gate,_ "Nasha pora prishlà! _Break in the
+gate!" cried the voices and there were those of women among them
+shouting_ "Tovaristchi! _Forward!"_
+
+_Over the heads of those in the front ranks, Peter Nicholaevitch saw
+some men bringing from the forest the heavy trunk of a felled pine tree.
+They meant to break down the gate. He knew that he had failed but still
+he stood upright facing them. Another shot, the bullet this time grazing
+his left arm. The sting of it angered him._
+
+_"Cowards!" he yelled, shaking his fist at them. "Cowards!"_
+
+_A volley followed but no other bullets struck him. Behind him in the
+Castle doorway he heard the voice of Boris Rylov, calling to him
+hoarsely._
+
+_"Come, Master. For the love of God! There is yet time."_
+
+_There was a crash of the heavy timbers at the gate._
+
+_"Come, Master----"_
+
+_With a shrug Peter Nicholaevitch turned and walked across the terrace
+toward the Castle._ "Bolvany!" _he muttered. "I've finished with
+them."_
+
+_Boris and Vasili stood just within the door, pleading with him to
+hurry, and together they made their way through the deserted kitchens
+and over past the vegetable gardens to the stables, where Leo Garshin
+awaited them, the saddles on several horses. Behind them they could now
+hear the triumphant cries as the courtyard gate crashed in._
+
+_"Hurry, Master!" cried Garshin eagerly._
+
+_"Where are the others?" asked the Grand Duke._
+
+_"Gone, Highness. They have fled."_
+
+_Boris Rylov was peering out past an iron door into the forest._
+
+_"There is no one there?" asked Garshin._
+
+_"Not yet. They have forgotten."_
+
+_"Come then, Highness."_
+
+_But the Grand Duke saw that the aged Vasili was mounted first and then
+they rode out of the iron gate into a path which led directly into the
+forest. It was not until they were well clear of the buildings that a
+shout at one side announced that their mode of escape had been
+discovered. Men came running, firing pistols as they ran. Boris Rylov,
+bringing up the rear, reined in his horse and turning emptied a revolver
+at the nearest of their pursuers. One man fell and the others halted._
+
+_Until they found the other horses in the stables pursuit was
+fruitless._
+
+_Peter Nicholaevitch rode at the head of the little cavalcade, down the
+familiar aisles of the forest, his head bowed, a deep frown on his
+brows. It was Vasili who first noticed the blood dripping from his
+finger ends._
+
+_"Master," he gasped, "you are wounded."_
+
+_"It is nothing," said the Grand Duke._
+
+_But Vasili bound the arm up with a handkerchief while Leo Garshin and
+Boris Rylov watched the path down which they had come. They could hear
+the crackling of the flames at the Hunting Lodge to the southward and
+the cries of the mob at the Castle, but there was no sign of pursuit.
+Perhaps they were satisfied to appease their madness with pillage and
+fire. Half an hour later Boris pointed backward. A new glow had risen, a
+redder, deeper glow._
+
+_"The Castle, Master----" wailed Vasili._
+
+_Peter Nicholaevitch drew rein at a cross-path, watched for a moment and
+then turned to his companions, for he had reached a decision._
+
+_"My good friends," he said gently, "our ways part here."_
+
+_"Master! Highness!"_
+
+_But he was resolute._
+
+_"I am going on alone. I will not involve you further in my misfortunes.
+You can do nothing for me--nor I anything for you except this. Vasili
+knows. In the vault below the wine-cellar, hidden away, are some objects
+of value. They will not find them. When they go away you will return.
+The visit will repay you. Divide what is there into equal parts--silver,
+plate and gold. As for me--forget me. Farewell!"_
+
+_They saw that he meant what he said. He offered these few faithful
+servitors his hand and they kissed his fingers--a last act of fealty and
+devotion and in a moment they stood listening to the diminishing
+hoof-beats of Vera as the young master went out of their lives._
+
+_"May God preserve him," muttered Vasili._
+
+_"Amen," said Boris Rylov and Leo Garshin._
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+INTRODUCING PETER NICHOLS
+
+
+The British refugee ship _Phrygia_ was about to sail for Constantinople
+where her unfortunate passengers were to be transferred to other vessels
+sailing for Liverpool and New York. After some difficulties the refugee
+made his way aboard her and announced his identity to the captain. If he
+had expected to be received with the honor due to one of his rank and
+station he was quickly undeceived, for Captain Blashford, a man of rough
+manners, concealing a gentle heart, looked him over critically, examined
+his credentials (letters he had happened to have about him), and then
+smiled grimly.
+
+"We've got room for one more--and that's about all."
+
+"I have no money----" began the refugee.
+
+"Oh, that's all right," shrugged the Captain, "you're not the only one.
+We've a cargo of twenty princes, thirty-two princesses, eighteen
+generals and enough counts and countesses to set up a new nation
+somewhere. Your 'Ighness is the only Duke that has reached us up to the
+present speakin' and if there are any others, they'll 'ave to be brisk
+for we're sailin' in twenty minutes."
+
+The matter-of-fact tones with which the unemotional Britisher made this
+announcement restored the lost sense of humor of the Russian refugee,
+and he broke into a grim laugh.
+
+"An embarrassment of riches," remarked the Grand Duke.
+
+"Riches," grunted the Captain, "in a manner of speakin', yes. Money is
+not so plentiful. But jools! Good God! There must be half a ton of
+diamonds, rubies and emeralds aboard. All they're got left most of 'em,
+but complaints and narvousness. Give me a cargo of wheat and I'm your
+man," growled the Captain. "It stays put and doesn't complain," and then
+turning to Peter--"Ye're not expectin' any r'yal suite aboard the
+_Phrygia_, are ye?"
+
+"No. A hammock for'rad will be good enough for me."
+
+"That's the way I like to 'ear a man talk. Good God! As man to man, I
+arsk you,--with Counts throwin' cigarette butts around an' princesses
+cryin' all over my clean white decks an' all, what's a self-respectin'
+skipper to do? But I 'ave my orders to fetch the odd lot to
+Constantinople an' fetch 'em I will. Oh! They're odd--all right. Go
+below, sir, an' 'ave a look at 'em."
+
+But Peter Nicholaevitch shook his head. He had been doing a deal of
+quiet thinking in those starry nights upon the Dnieper, and he had
+worked out his problem alone.
+
+"No, thanks," he said quietly, "if you don't mind, I think I'd rather
+preserve my incognito."
+
+"Incognito, is it? Oh, very well, suit yourself. And what will I be
+callin' your Highness?"
+
+"Peter Nichols," said the Grand Duke with a smile, "it's as good as any
+other."
+
+"Right you are, Peter Nichols. Lay for'rad and tell the bos'n to show
+you up to my cabin."
+
+So Peter Nichols went forward, avoiding the cargo aft, until within a
+day's run of the Bosphorus when he found himself accosted by no less a
+person than Prince Galitzin who had strolled out to get the morning air.
+He tried to avoid the man but Galitzin planted himself firmly in his
+path, scrutinizing him eagerly.
+
+"You too, Highness!" he said with an accent of grieved surprise.
+
+The Grand Duke regarded him in a moment of silence.
+
+"It must be evident to you, Prince Galitzin, that I have some object in
+remaining unknown."
+
+"But, Your Highness, such a thing is unnecessary. Are we not all
+dedicated to the same misfortunes? Misery loves company."
+
+"You mean that it makes you less miserable to discover that I share your
+fate?"
+
+"Not precisely that. It is merely that if one holding your liberal views
+cannot escape the holocaust that has suddenly fallen there is little
+hope for the rest of us."
+
+"No," said the Grand Duke shortly. "There is no hope, none at all, for
+us or for Russia."
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+"To America."
+
+"But, your Highness, that is impossible. We shall all have asylum in
+England until conditions change. You should go there with us. It will
+lend influence to our mission."
+
+"No."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I am leaving Russia for the present. She is outcast. For, not content
+with betraying others, she has betrayed herself."
+
+"But what are you going to do?"
+
+Peter Nicholaevitch smiled up at the sky and the fussy, fat, bejeweled
+sycophant before him listened to him in amazement.
+
+"Prince Galitzin," said the Grand Duke amusedly, "I am going to do that
+which may bring the blush of shame to your brow or the sneer of pity to
+your lips. I am going to fulfill the destiny provided for every man with
+a pair of strong hands, and a willing spirit--I am going to work."
+
+The Prince stepped back a pace, his watery eyes snapping in
+incomprehension.
+
+"But your higher destiny--your great heritage as a Prince of the Royal
+blood of Holy Russia."
+
+"There is no Holy Russia, my friend, until she is born again. Russia is
+worse than traitor, worse than liar, worse than murderer and thief. She
+is a fool."
+
+"All will come right in time. We go to England to wait."
+
+"I have other plans."
+
+"Then you will not join us? Princess Anastasie, my daughter, is here.
+General Seminoff----"
+
+"It is useless. I have made up my mind. Leave me, if you please."
+
+Prince Galitzin disappeared quickly below to spread the information of
+his discovery among the disconsolate refugees and it was not long before
+it was known from one end of the _Phrygia_ to the other that the fellow
+who called himself Peter Nichols was none other than the Grand Duke
+Peter Nicholaevitch, a cousin to his late Majesty Nicholas and a Prince
+of the Royal blood. Peter Nichols sought the Captain in his cabin,
+putting the whole case before him.
+
+"H-m," chuckled the Captain, "Found ye out, did they? There's only a few
+of you left, that's why. Better stay 'ere in my cabin until we reach
+Constantinople. I'd be honored, 'Ighness, to say nothin' of savin' you a
+bit of bother."
+
+"You're very kind."
+
+"Not at all. Make yourself at 'ome. There's cigarettes on the locker and
+a nip of the Scotch to keep the chill out. Here's a light. You've been
+worryin' me some, 'Ighness. Fact is I didn't know just how big a bug you
+were until to-day when I arsked some questions. You'll forgive me,
+'Ighness?"
+
+"Peter Nichols," corrected the Grand Duke.
+
+"No," insisted the Captain, "we'll give you yer title while we can. You
+know we British have a bit of a taste for r'yalty when we know it's the
+real thing. I don't take much stock in most of my cargo aft. And beggin'
+yer 'Ighness's pardon I never took much stock in Russia since she lay
+down on the job and left the Allies in the lurch----"
+
+"Captain Blashford," said the Grand Duke quietly. "You can't hurt my
+feelings."
+
+"But I do like you, 'Ighness, and I want to do all that I can to 'elp
+you when we get to anchor."
+
+"Thanks."
+
+"I take it that you don't want anybody ashore to know who ye are?"
+
+"Exactly. Most of these refugees are going to England. I have reasons
+for not wishing to go with them."
+
+"Where then do you propose to go?"
+
+"To the United States," said the Grand Duke eagerly.
+
+"Without money?"
+
+"I'd have no money if I went to England unless I subsisted on the
+charity of my friends. My branch of the family is not rich. The war has
+made us poorer. Such securities as I have are in a vault in Kiev. It
+would be suicide for me to attempt to reclaim them now. I'm going to try
+to make my own way."
+
+"Impossible!"
+
+The Grand Duke laughed at the Englishman's expression.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Yer 'ands, 'Ighness."
+
+The Grand Duke shrugged and grinned.
+
+"I'll risk it. I'm not without resources. Will you help me to a ship
+sailing for America?"
+
+"Yes--but----"
+
+"Oh, I'll work my passage over--if nobody bothers me."
+
+"By George! I like your spirit. Give me your 'and, sir. I'll do what I
+can. If the _Bermudian_ hasn't sailed from the Horn yet, I think I can
+manage it for ye."
+
+"And keep me clear of the rest of your passengers?" added His Highness.
+
+"Righto. They'll go on the _Semaphore_. You stay right 'ere and mum's
+the word." And Captain Blashford went out on deck leaving Peter Nichols
+to his cigarette and his meditations.
+
+Many times had the Grand Duke Peter given thanks that the blood of his
+mother flowed strongly in his veins. He was more British than Russian
+and he could remember things that had happened since he had grown to
+adolescence which had made the half of him that was English revolt
+against the Russian system. It was perhaps his musical education rather
+than his University training or his travels in England and France that
+had turned him to the _Intelligentsia_. In the vast republic of art and
+letters he had imbibed the philosophy that was to threaten the very
+existence of his own clan. The spread of the revolution had not dismayed
+him, for he believed that in time the pendulum would swing back and
+bring a constitutional government to Russia. But in the weeks of
+struggle, privation, and passion a new Peter Nicholaevitch was born.
+
+The failure of his plans in the sudden flood of anarchy which had swept
+over Zukovo, the treachery of those he had thought faithful and the
+attempt upon his life had changed his viewpoint. It takes a truly noble
+spirit to wish to kiss the finger that has pulled the trigger of a
+revolver, the bullet from which has gone through one's hat. From
+disappointment and dismay Peter Nicholaevitch had turned to anger. They
+hadn't played the game with him. It wasn't cricket. His resolution to
+sail for the United States was decided. To throw himself, an object of
+charity, upon the mercies of the Earl of Shetland, his mother's cousin,
+was not to be thought of.
+
+To his peasants he had preached the gospel of labor, humility and peace,
+in that state of life to which they had been called. He had tried to
+exemplify it to them. He could do no less now, to himself. By teaching
+himself, he could perhaps fit himself to teach them. In England it would
+perhaps be difficult to remain incognito, and he had a pride in wishing
+to succeed alone and unaided. Only the United States, whose form of
+government more nearly approached the ideal he had for Russia, could
+offer him the opportunities to discover whether or not a prince could
+not also be a man.
+
+To the Princess Anastasie he gave little thought. That their common
+exile and the chance encounter under such circumstances had aroused no
+return of an entente toward what had once been a half-sentimental
+attachment convinced him of how little it had meant to him. There were
+no royal prohibitions upon him now. To marry the Princess Anastasie and
+settle in London, living upon the proceeds of her wealthy father's
+American and British securities, was of course the easiest solution of
+his difficulties. A life of ease, music, good sportsmanship, the comfort
+that only England knows.... She was comely too--blond, petite, and
+smoked her cigarette very prettily. Their marriage had once been
+discussed. She wanted it still, perhaps. Something of all this may have
+been somewhere in the back of Prince Galitzin's ambitious mind. The one
+course would be so easy, the other----
+
+Peter Nicholaevitch rose and carefully flicked his cigarette through the
+open port. No. One does not pass twice through such moments of struggle
+and self-communion as he had had in those long nights of his escape
+along the Dnieper. He had chosen. Peter Nichols! The name amused him. If
+Captain Blashford was a man of his word to-night would be the end of the
+Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch, and the Princess Anastasie might find
+some more ardent suitor to her grace and beauty.
+
+She did not seek him out. Perhaps the hint to Galitzin had been
+sufficient and the Grand Duke from his hiding place saw her pretty
+figure set ashore among the miscellany of martyred "r'yalty." He turned
+away from his port-hole with a catch of his breath as the last vestige
+of his old life passed from sight. And then quietly took up a fresh
+cigarette and awaited the Captain.
+
+The details were easily arranged. Blashford was a man of resource and at
+night returned from a visit to the Captain of the _Bermudian_ with word
+that all was well. He had been obliged to relate the facts but Captain
+Armitage could keep a secret and promised the refugee a job under his
+steward who was short-handed. And so the next morning, after shaving and
+dressing himself in borrowed clothes, Peter Nichols shook Captain
+Blashford warmly by the hand and went aboard his new ship.
+
+Peter Nichols' new job was that of a waiter at the tables in the dining
+saloon. He was a very good waiter, supplying, from the wealth of a
+Continental experience, the deficiencies of other waiters he had known.
+He wore a black shell jacket and a white shirt front which remained
+innocent of gravy spots. The food was not very good nor very plentiful,
+but he served it with an air of such importance that it gained flavor
+and substance by the reflection of his deference. There were English
+officers bound for Malta, Frenchmen for Marseilles and Americans of the
+Red Cross without number bound for New York. Girls, too, clear-eyed,
+bronzed and hearty, who talked war and politics beneath his very nose,
+challenging his own theories. They noticed him too and whispered among
+themselves, but true to his ambition to do every task at the best of his
+bent, he preserved an immobile countenance and pocketed his fees, which
+would be useful ere long, with the grateful appreciation of one to whom
+shillings and franc pieces come as the gifts of God. Many were the
+attempts to draw him into a conversation, but where the queries could
+not be answered by a laconic "Yes, sir," or "No, sir," this paragon of
+waiters maintained a smiling silence.
+
+"I'm sure he's a prince or something," he heard one young girl of a
+hospital unit say to a young medico of the outfit. "Did you ever see
+such a nose and brows in your life? And his hands----! You can never
+mistake hands. I would swear those hands had never done menial work for
+a thousand years."
+
+All of which was quite true, but it made the waiter Peter uncomfortably
+careful. There were no women in the kitchen, but there was an amatory
+stewardess, fat and forty, upon whom the factitious technique of the
+saloon fell with singular insipidity. He fled from her. Peter, the
+waiter, was already a good democrat but he was not ready to spread his
+philosophy out so thin.
+
+He slept forward, messed abaft the galley, enriched his vocabulary and
+broadened his point of view. There is no leveler like a ship's fo'c'sle,
+no better school of philosophy than that of men upon their "beam ends."
+There were many such--Poles, Slovaks, Roumanians, an Armenian or two,
+refugees, adventurers from America, old, young, dissolute, making a
+necessity of virtue under that successful oligarchy, the ship's bridge.
+
+In the Americans Peter was interested with an Englishman's point of
+view. He had much to learn, and he invented a tale of his fortunes which
+let him into their confidences, especially into that of Jim Coast,
+waiter like himself, whose bunk adjoined his own. Jim Coast was a
+citizen of the world, inured to privation under many flags. He had been
+born in New Jersey, U. S. A., of decent people, had worked in the
+cranberry bogs, farmed in Pennsylvania, "punched" cattle in Wyoming,
+"prospected" in the Southwest, looted ranches in Mexico, fought against
+Diaz and again with the insurgents in Venezuela, worked on cattle-ships
+and so, by easy stages, had drifted across the breadth of Europe living
+by his wits at the expense of the credulous and the unwary. And now, for
+the first time in many years, he was going home--though just what that
+meant he did not know. He had missed great fortune twice--"by the skin
+of his teeth," as he picturesquely described it, once in a mine in
+Arizona and again in a land-deal in the Argentine. There were reasons
+why he hadn't dared to return to the United States before. He was a man
+with a grievance, but, however free in his confidences in other
+respects, gave the interested Peter no inkling as to what that grievance
+was.
+
+No more curious acquaintanceship could possibly be imagined, but
+privation, like politics, makes strange bedfellows, and, from tolerance
+and amusement, Pete, as the other called him, found himself yielding,
+without stint, to the fantastic spell of Jim Coast's multifarious
+attractions. He seemed to have no doubts as to the possibility of making
+a living in America and referred darkly to possible "coups" that would
+net a fortune. He was an agreeable villain, not above mischief to gain
+his ends, and Peter, who cherished an ideal, made sure that, once safe
+ashore, it would be best if they parted company. But he didn't tell Jim
+Coast so, for the conversational benefits he derived from that
+gentleman's acquaintance were a liberal education.
+
+We are admonished that they are blessed who just stand and wait, and
+Peter Nichols, three days out of New York harbor, found himself the
+possessor of forty dollars in tips from the voyage with sixty dollars
+coming to him as wages--not so bad for a first venture upon the high
+seas of industry. It was the first real money he had ever made in his
+life and he was proud of it, jingling it contentedly in his pockets and
+rubbing the bills luxuriously one against the other. But his plans
+required more than this, for he had read enough to know that in the
+United States one is often taken at one's own estimate, and that if he
+wasn't to find a job as a ditch-digger, he must make a good appearance.
+And so it was now time to make use of the one Grand Ducal possession
+remaining to him, a gold ring set with a gorgeous ruby that had once
+belonged to his father. This ring he had always worn and had removed
+from his finger at Ushan, in the fear that its magnificence might betray
+him. He had kept it carefully tied about his neck in a bag on a bit of
+string and had of course not even shown it to Jim Coast who might have
+deemed it an excuse to sever their strange friendship.
+
+Through the Head Steward he managed a message to Captain Armitage and
+was bidden to the officer's cabin, where he explained the object of his
+visit, exhibited his treasure and estimated its value.
+
+The Captain opened his eyes a bit wider as he gazed into the sanguine
+depths of the stone.
+
+"If I didn't know something of your history, Nichols," he said with a
+wink, "I might think you'd been looting the strong box of the Sultan of
+Turkey. Pigeon's blood and as big as my thumb nail! You want to sell
+it?"
+
+"I need capital."
+
+"What do you want for it?"
+
+"It's worth a thousand pounds of English money. Perhaps more, I don't
+know. I'll take what I can get."
+
+"I see. You're afraid to negotiate the sale ashore?"
+
+"Exactly. I'd be arrested."
+
+"And you don't want explanations. H-m--leave it with me over night. I'll
+see the Purser. He'll know."
+
+"Thanks."
+
+The Captain offered the waiter in the shell-jacket the hospitality of
+his cabin, but Peter Nichols thanked him gratefully and withdrew.
+
+The result of this arrangement was that the ruby ring changed owners.
+The Purser bought it for two thousand in cash. He knew a good thing when
+he saw it. But Peter Nichols was satisfied.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+NEW YORK
+
+
+The Duke-errant had prepared himself for the first glimpse of the
+battlements of lower New York, but as the _Bermudian_ came up the bay
+that rosy spring afternoon, the western sun gilding the upper half of
+the castellated towers which rose from a sea of moving shadows, it
+seemed a dream city, the fortress of a fairy tale. His fingers tingled
+to express this frozen music, to relieve it from its spell of
+enchantment, and phrases of Debussy's "Cathédrale Engloutie" came
+welling up within him from almost forgotten depths.
+
+"_Parbleu!_ She's grown some, Pete, since I saw her last!"
+
+This from his grotesque companion who was not moved by concord of sweet
+sounds. "They've buried the Trinity clean out of sight."
+
+"The Trinity?" questioned Peter solemnly.
+
+"Bless your heart----" laughed Coast, "I'd say so----But I mean, the
+church----And that must be the Woolworth Building yonder. Where's yer
+St. Paul's and Kremlin now? Some village,--what?"
+
+"Gorgeous!" muttered Peter.
+
+"Hell of a thing to tackle single-handed, though, eh, boh?"
+
+Something of the same thought was passing through Peter's mind but he
+only smiled.
+
+"I'll find a job," he said slowly.
+
+"Waitin'!" sneered Coast. "Fine job that for a man with your learnin'.
+'Hey, waiter! Some butter if you please,'" he satirized in mincing
+tones, "'this soup is cold--this beef is underdone. Oh, _cawn't_ you
+give me some service here!' I say, don't you hear 'em--people that never
+saw a servant in their own home town. Pretty occupation for an old war
+horse like me or a globe-trotter like you. No. None for me. I'll fry my
+fish in a bigger pan. _Allons!_ Pete. I like you. I'll like you more
+when you grow some older, but you've got a head above your ears that
+ain't all bone. I can use you. What d'ye say? We'll get ashore, some
+way, and then we'll show the U. S. A. a thing or two not written in the
+books."
+
+"We'll go ashore together, Jim. Then we'll see."
+
+"Righto! But I'll eat my hat if I can see you balancin' dishes in a
+Broadway Chop House."
+
+Peter couldn't see that either, but he didn't tell Jim Coast so. Their
+hour on deck had struck, for a final meal was to be served and they went
+below to finish their duties. That night they were paid off and
+discharged.
+
+The difficulties in the way of inspection and interrogation of Peter
+Nichols, the alien, were obviated by the simple expedient of his going
+ashore under cover of the darkness and not coming back to the ship--this
+at a hint from the sympathetic Armitage who gave the ex-waiter a
+handclasp and his money and wished him success.
+
+Midnight found Peter and Jim Coast on Broadway in the neighborhood of
+Forty-second Street with Peter blinking comfortably up at the electric
+signs and marveling at everything. The more Coast drank the deeper was
+his cynicism but Peter grew mellow. This was a wonderful new world he
+was exploring and with two thousand dollars safely tucked on the inside
+of his waistcoat, he was ready to defy the tooth of adversity.
+
+In the morning Peter Nichols came to a decision. And so over the coffee
+and eggs when Coast asked him what his plans were he told him he was
+going to look for a job.
+
+Coast looked at him through the smoke of his cigar and spoke at last.
+
+"I didn't think you'd be a quitter, Pete. The world owes us a
+livin'--you and me----Bah! It's easy if you'll use your headpiece. If
+the world won't give, I mean to take. The jobs are meant for little
+men."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"An enterprisin' man wouldn't ask such a question. Half the people in
+the world takes what the other half gives. You ought to know what half
+_I_ belong to."
+
+"I'm afraid I belong to the other half, Jim Coast," said Peter quietly.
+
+"_Sacré--!_" sneered the other, rising suddenly. "Where you goin' to
+wait, Pete? At the Ritz or the Commodore? In a month you'll be waitin'
+on _me_. It'll be _Mister_ Coast for you then, _mon garçon_, but you'll
+still be Pete." He shrugged and offered his hand. "Well, we won't
+quarrel but our ways split here."
+
+"I'm sorry, Jim. Good-by."
+
+He saw Coast slouch out into the street and disappear m the crowd moving
+toward Broadway. He waited for a while thinking deeply and then with a
+definite plan in his mind strolled forth. First he bought a second-hand
+suit case in Seventh Avenue, then found a store marked "Gentlemen's
+Outfitters" where he purchased ready-made clothing, a hat, shoes,
+underwear, linen and cravats, arraying himself with a sense of some
+satisfaction and packing in his suitcase what he couldn't wear, went
+forth, found a taxi and drove in state to a good hotel.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+New York assimilates its immigrants with surprising rapidity. Through
+this narrow funnel they pour into the "melting pot," their racial
+characteristics already neutralized, their souls already inoculated with
+the spirit of individualism. Prepared as he was to accept with a good
+grace conditions as he found them, Peter Nichols was astonished at the
+ease with which he fitted into the niche that he had chosen. His room
+was on the eighteenth floor, to which and from which he was shot in an
+enameled lift operated by a Uhlan in a monkey-cap. He found that it
+required a rather nice adjustment of his muscles to spring forth at
+precisely the proper moment. There was a young lady who presided over
+the destinies of the particular shelf that he occupied in this enormous
+cupboard, a very pretty young lady, something between a French Duchess
+and a lady's maid. Her smile had a homelike quality though and it was
+worth risking the perilous catapulting up and down for the mere pleasure
+of handing her his room key. Having no valuables of course but his money
+which he carried in his pockets there was no danger from unprincipled
+persons had she been disposed to connive at dishonesty.
+
+His bedroom was small but neat and his bathroom was neat but small,
+tiled in white enamel, containing every device that the heart of a clean
+man could desire. He discovered that by dropping a quarter into various
+apertures he could secure almost anything he required from tooth paste
+to razor blades. There was a telephone beside his bed which rang at
+inconvenient moments and a Bible upon the side table proclaimed the
+religious fervor of this extraordinary people. A newspaper was sent in
+to him every morning whether he rang for it or not, and every time he
+did ring, a lesser Uhlan brought a thermos bottle containing iced water.
+This perplexed him for a time but he was too much ashamed of his
+ignorance to question. You see, he was already acquiring the first
+ingredient of the American character--omniscience, for he found that in
+New York no one ever admits that he doesn't know everything.
+
+But it was all very wonderful, pulsing with life, eloquent of
+achievement. He was in no haste. By living with some care, he found that
+the money from his ruby would last for several months. Meanwhile he was
+studying his situation and its possibilities. Summing up his own
+attainments he felt that he was qualified as a teacher of the piano or
+of the voice, as an instructor in languages, or if the worst came, as a
+waiter in a fashionable restaurant--perhaps even a head-waiter--which
+from the authority he observed in the demeanor of the lord of the hotel
+dining room seemed almost all the honor that a person in America might
+hope to gain. But, in order that no proper opportunity should slip by,
+he scanned the newspapers in the hope of finding something that he could
+do.
+
+As the weeks passed he made the discovery that he was being immensely
+entertained. He was all English now. It was not in the least difficult
+to make acquaintances. Almost everybody spoke to everybody without the
+slightest feeling of restraint. He learned the meaning of the latest
+American slang but found difficulty in applying it, rejoiced in the
+syncopation of the jazz, America's original contribution to the musical
+art, and by the end of a month thought himself thoroughly acclimated.
+
+But he still surprised inquiring glances male and female cast in his
+direction. There was something about his personality which, disguise it
+as he might under American-made garments and American-made manners,
+refused to be hidden. It was his charm added to his general good nature
+and adaptability which quickly made Peter Nichols some friends of the
+better sort. If he had been willing to drift downward he would have cast
+in his lot with Jim Coast. Instead, he followed decent inclinations and
+found himself at the end of six weeks a part of a group of young
+business men who took him home to dine with their wives and gave him the
+benefit of their friendly advice. To all of them he told the same story,
+that he was an Englishman who had worked in Russia with the Red Cross
+and that he had come to the United States to get a job.
+
+It was a likely story and most of them swallowed it. But one clever girl
+whom he met out at dinner rather startled him by the accuracy of her
+intuitions.
+
+"I have traveled a good deal, Mr. Nichols," she said quizzically, "but
+I've never yet met an Englishman like you."
+
+"It is difficult for me to tell whether I am to consider that as
+flattery or disapproval," said Peter calmly.
+
+"You talk like an Englishman, but you're entirely too much interested in
+everything to be true to type."
+
+"Ah, really----"
+
+"Englishmen are either bored or presumptuous. You're neither. And
+there's a tiny accent that I can't explain----"
+
+"Don't try----"
+
+"I must. We Americans believe in our impulses. My brother Dick says
+you're a man of mystery. I've solved it," she laughed, "I'm sure you're
+a Russian Grand Duke incognito."
+
+Peter laughed and tried bravado.
+
+"You are certainly all in the mustard," he blundered helplessly.
+
+And she looked at him for a moment and then burst into laughter.
+
+These associations were very pleasant, but, contrary to Peter's
+expectations, they didn't seem to be leading anywhere. The efforts that
+he made to find positions commensurate with his ambitions had ended in
+blind alleys. He was too well educated for some of them, not well enough
+educated for others.
+
+More than two months had passed. He had moved to a boarding house in a
+decent locality, but of the two thousands dollars with which he had
+entered New York there now remained to him less than two hundred. He
+was beginning to believe that he had played the game and lost and that
+within a very few weeks he would be obliged to hide himself from these
+excellent new acquaintances and go back to his old job. Then the tide of
+his fortune suddenly turned.
+
+Dick Sheldon, the brother of the girl who was "all in the mustard,"
+aware of Peter's plight, had stumbled across the useful bit of
+information and brought it to Peter at the boarding house.
+
+"Didn't you tell me that you'd once had something to do with forestry in
+Russia?" he asked.
+
+Peter nodded. "I was once employed in the reafforestation of a large
+estate," he replied.
+
+"Then I've found your job," said Sheldon heartily, clapping Peter on the
+back. "A friend of Sheldon, Senior's, Jonathan K. McGuire, has a big
+place down in the wilderness of Jersey--thousands of acres and he wants
+a man to take charge--sort of forestry expert and general
+superintendent, money no object. I reckon you could cop out three
+hundred a month as a starter."
+
+"That looks good to me," said Peter, delighted that the argot fell so
+aptly from his lips. And then, "You're not spoofing, are you?"
+
+"Devil a spoof. It's straight goods, Nichols. Will you take it?"
+
+Peter had a vision of the greasy dishes he was to escape.
+
+"Will I?" he exclaimed delightedly. "Can I get it?"
+
+"Sure thing. McGuire is a millionaire, made a pot of money somewhere in
+the West--dabbles in the market. That's where Dad met him. Crusty old
+rascal. Daughter. Living down in Jersey now, alone with a lot of
+servants. Queer one. Maybe you'll like him--maybe not."
+
+Peter clasped his friend by the hands.
+
+"Moloch himself would look an angel of mercy to me now."
+
+"Do you think you can make good?"
+
+"Well, rather. Whom shall I see? And when?"
+
+"I can fix it up with Dad, I reckon. You'd better come down to the
+office and see him about twelve."
+
+Peter Sheldon, Senior, looked him over and asked him questions and the
+interview was quite satisfactory.
+
+"I'll tell you the truth, as far as I know it," said Sheldon, Senior
+(which was more than Peter Nichols had done). "Jonathan K. McGuire is a
+strange character--keeps his business to himself----. How much he's
+worth nobody knows but himself and the Treasury Department. Does a good
+deal of buying and selling through this office. A hard man in a deal but
+reasonable in other things. I've had his acquaintance for five years,
+lunched with him, dined with him--visited this place in Jersey, but I
+give you my word, Mr. Nichols, I've never yet got the prick of a pin
+beneath that man's skin. You may not like him. Few people do. But
+there's no harm in taking a try at this job."
+
+"I shall be delighted," said Nichols.
+
+"I don't know whether you will or not," broke in Sheldon, Senior,
+frankly. "Something's happened lately. About three weeks ago Jonathan K.
+McGuire came into this office hurriedly, shut the door behind him,
+locked it--and sank into a chair, puffing hard, his face the color of
+putty. He wouldn't answer any questions and put me off, though I'd have
+gone out of my way to help him. But after a while he looked out of the
+window, phoned for his car and went again, saying he was going down into
+Jersey."
+
+"He was sick, perhaps," ventured Peter.
+
+"It was something worse than that, Mr. Nichols. He looked as though he
+had seen a ghost or heard a banshee. Then this comes," continued the
+broker, taking up a letter from the desk. "Asks for a forester, a good
+strong man. You're strong, Mr. Nichols? Er--and courageous? You're not
+addicted to 'nerves'? You see I'm telling you all these things so that
+you'll go down to Black Rock with your eyes open. He also asks me to
+engage other men as private police or gamekeepers, who will act under
+your direction. Queer, isn't it? Rather spooky, I'd say, but if you're
+game, we'll close the bargain now. Three hundred a month to start with
+and found. Is that satisfactory?"
+
+"Perfectly," said Peter with a bow. "When do I begin?"
+
+"At once if you like. Salary begins now. Fifty in advance for expenses."
+
+"That's fair enough, Mr. Sheldon. If you will give me the directions, I
+will go to-day."
+
+"To-morrow will be time enough." Sheldon, Senior, had turned to his desk
+and was writing upon a slip of paper. This he handed to Peter with a
+check.
+
+"That will show you how to get there," he said as he rose, brusquely.
+"Glad to have met you. Good-day."
+
+And Peter felt himself hand-shaken and pushed at the same time, reaching
+the outer office, mentally out of breath from the sudden, swift movement
+of his fortunes. Sheldon, Senior, had not meant to be abrupt. He was
+merely a business man relaxing for a moment to do a service for a
+friend. When Peter Nichols awoke to his obligations he sought out
+Sheldon, Junior, and thanked him with a sense of real gratitude and
+Sheldon, Junior, gave him a warm handclasp and Godspeed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Pennsylvania Station caused the new Superintendent of Jonathan K.
+McGuire to blink and gasp. He paused, suit case in hand, at the top of
+the double flight of stairs to survey the splendid proportions of the
+waiting room where the crowds seemed lost in its great spaces. In Europe
+such a building would be a cathedral. In America it was a railway
+station. And the thought was made more definite by the Gregorian chant
+of the train announcer which sounded aloft, its tones seeking concord
+among their own echoes.
+
+This was the portal to the new life in which Peter was to work out his
+own salvation and the splendor of the immediate prospect uplifted him
+with a sense of his personal importance in the new scheme of things of
+which this was a part. He hadn't the slightest doubt that he would be
+able to succeed in the work for which he had been recommended, for apart
+from his music--which had taken so many of his hours--there was nothing
+that he knew more about or loved better than the trees. He had provided
+himself the afternoon before with two books by American authorities and
+other books and monographs were to be forwarded to his new address.
+
+As he descended the stairs and reached the main floor of the station,
+his glance caught the gaze of a man staring at him intently. The man was
+slender and dark, dressed decently enough in a gray suit and soft hat
+and wore a small black mustache. All of these facts Peter took note of
+in the one glance, arrested by the strange stare of the other, which
+lingered while Peter glanced away and went on. Peter, who had an
+excellent memory for faces, was sure that he had never seen the man
+before, but after he had taken a few steps, it occurred to him that in
+the stranger's eyes he had noted the startled distention of surprise and
+recognition. And so he stopped and turned, but as he did so the fellow
+dropped his gaze suddenly, and turned and walked away. The incident was
+curious and rather interesting. If Peter had had more time he would have
+sought out the fellow and asked him why he was staring at him, but
+there were only a few moments to spare and he made his way out to the
+concourse where he found his gate and descended to his train. Here he
+ensconced himself comfortably in the smoking car, and was presently shot
+under the Hudson River (as he afterwards discovered) and out into the
+sunshine of the flats of New Jersey.
+
+He rolled smoothly along through the manufacturing and agricultural
+districts, his keenly critical glances neglecting nothing of the waste
+and abundance on all sides. He saw, too, the unlovely evidences of
+poverty on the outskirts of the cities, which brought to his mind other
+communities in a far country whose physical evidences of prosperity were
+no worse, if no better, than these. Then there came a catch in his
+throat and a gasp which left him staring but seeing nothing. The feeling
+was not nostalgia, for that far country was no home for him now. At last
+he found himself muttering to himself in English, "My home--my home is
+here."
+
+After a while the mood of depression, recurrent moments of which had
+come to him in New York with diminishing frequency, passed into one of
+contemplation, of calm, like those which had followed his nights of
+passion on the Dnieper, and at last he closed his eyes and dozed.
+Visions of courts and camps passed through his mind--of brilliant
+uniforms and jeweled decorations; of spacious polished halls,
+resplendent with ornate mirrors and crystal pendant chandeliers; of
+diamond coronets, of silks and satins and powdered flunkies. And then
+other visions of gray figures crouched in the mud; of rain coming out of
+the dark and of ominous lights over the profile of low hills; of
+shrieks; of shells and cries of terror; of his cousin, a tall, bearded
+man on a horse in a ravine waving an imperious arm; of confusion and
+moving thousands, the creak of sanitars, the groans of men calling upon
+mothers they would never see. And then with a leap backward over the
+years, the vision of a small man huddled against the wall of a courtyard
+being knouted until red stains appeared on his gray blouse and then
+mingled faintly in the mist and the rain until the small man sank to the
+full length of his imprisoned arms like one crucified....
+
+Peter Nichols straightened and passed a hand across his damp forehead.
+Through the perspective of this modern civilization what had been
+passing before his vision seemed very vague, very distant, but he knew
+that it was not a dream....
+
+All about him was life, progress, industry, hope--a nation in the
+making, proud of her brief history which had been built around an ideal.
+If he could bring this same ideal back to Russia! In his heart he
+thanked God for America--imperfect though she was, and made a vow that
+in the task he had set for himself he should not be found wanting.
+
+Twice he changed trains, the second time at a small junction amid an
+ugliness of clay-pits and brickyards and dust and heat. There were
+perhaps twenty people on the platform. He walked the length of the
+station and as he did so a man in a gray suit disappeared around the
+corner of the building. But Peter Nichols did not see him, and in a
+moment, seated in his new train in a wooden car which reminded him of
+some of the ancient rolling stock of the St. Petersburg and Moscow
+Railroad, he was taken haltingly and noisily along the last stage of his
+journey.
+
+But he was aware of the familiar odor of the pine balsam in his
+nostrils, and as he rolled through dark coverts the scent of the growing
+things in the hidden places in the coolth and damp of the sandy loam. He
+saw, too, tea-colored streams idling among the sedges and charred
+wildernesses of trees appealing mutely with their blackened stumps like
+wounded creatures in pain, a bit of war-torn Galicia in the midst of
+peace. Miles and miles of dead forest land, forgotten and uncared for.
+There was need here for his services.
+
+With a wheeze of steam and a loud crackling of woodwork and creaking of
+brakes the train came to a stop and the conductor shouted the name of
+the station. Rather stiffly the traveler descended with his bag and
+stood upon the small platform looking about him curiously. The baggage
+man tossed out a bundle of newspapers and a pouch of mail and the train
+moved off. Apparently Peter Nichols was the only passenger with Pickerel
+River as a destination.
+
+And as the panting train went around a curve, at last disappearing, it
+seemed fairly reasonable to Peter Nichols that no one with the slightest
+chance of stopping off anywhere else would wish to get off here. The
+station was small, of but one room and a tiny office containing, as he
+could see, a telegraph instrument, a broken chair with a leather
+cushion, a shelf and a rack containing a few soiled slips of paper, but
+the office had no occupant and the door was locked. This perhaps
+explained the absence of the automobile which Mr. Sheldon had informed
+him would meet him in obedience to his telegram announcing the hour of
+his arrival. Neither within the building nor without was there any
+person or animate thing in sight, except some small birds fluttering and
+quarreling along the telegraph wires.
+
+There was but one road, a sandy one, wearing marks of travel, which
+emerged from the scrub oak and pine and definitely concluded at the
+railroad track. This, then, was his direction, and after reassuring
+himself that there was no other means of egress, he took up his black
+suitcase and set forth into the wood, aware of a sense of beckoning
+adventure. The road wound in and out, up and down, over what at one time
+must have been the floor of the ocean, which could not be far distant.
+Had it not been for the weight of his bag Peter would have enjoyed the
+experience of this complete isolation, the fragrant silences broken only
+by the whisper of the leaves and the scurrying of tiny wild things among
+the dead tree branches. But he had no means of knowing how far he would
+have to travel or whether, indeed, there had not been some mistake on
+Sheldon, Senior's, part or his own. But the directions had been quite
+clear and the road must of course lead somewhere--to some village or
+settlement at least where he could get a lodging for the night.
+
+And so he trudged on through the woods which already seemed to be
+partaking of some of the mystery which surrounded the person of Jonathan
+K. McGuire. The whole incident had been unusual and the more interesting
+because of the strange character of his employer and the evident fear he
+had of some latent evil which threatened him. But Peter Nichols had
+accepted his commission with a sense of profound relief at escaping the
+other fate that awaited him, with scarcely a thought of the dangers
+which his acceptance might entail. He was not easily frightened and had
+welcomed the new adventure, dismissing the fears of Jonathan K. McGuire
+as imaginary, the emanations of age or an uneasy conscience.
+
+But as he went on, his bag became heavier and the perspiration poured
+down his face, so reaching a cross-path that seemed to show signs of
+recent travel he put the suitcase down and sat on it while he wiped his
+brow. The shadows were growing longer. He was beginning to believe that
+there was no such place as Black Rock, no such person as Jonathan K.
+McGuire and that Sheldon, Senior, and Sheldon, Junior, were engaged in a
+conspiracy against his peace of mind, when above the now familiar
+whisperings of the forest he heard a new sound. Faintly it came at first
+as though from a great distance, mingling with the murmur of the
+sighing wind in the pine trees, a voice singing. It seemed a child's
+voice--delicate, clear, true, as care-free as the note of a
+bird--unleashing its joy to the heavens.
+
+Peter Nichols started up, listening more intently. The sounds were
+coming nearer but he couldn't tell from which direction, for every leaf
+seemed to be taking up the lovely melody which he could hear quite
+clearly now. It was an air with which he was unfamiliar, but he knew
+only that it was elemental in its simplicity and under these
+circumstances startlingly welcome. He waited another long moment,
+listening, found the direction from which the voice was coming, and
+presently noted the swaying of branches and the crackling of dry twigs
+in the path near by, from which, in a moment, a strange figure emerged.
+
+At first he thought it was a boy, for it wore a pair of blue denim
+overalls and a wide-brimmed straw hat, from beneath which the birdlike
+notes were still emitted, but as the figure paused at the sight of him,
+the song suddenly ceased--he saw a tumbled mass of tawny hair and a pair
+of startled blue eyes staring at him.
+
+"Hello," said the figure, after a moment, recovering its voice.
+
+"Good-afternoon," said Peter Nichols, bowing from the waist in the most
+approved Continental manner. You see he, too, was a little startled by
+the apparition, which proclaimed itself beneath its strange garments in
+unmistakable terms to be both feminine and lovely.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE OVERALL GIRL
+
+
+They stood for a long moment regarding each other, both in curiosity;
+Peter because of the contrariety of the girl's face and garments, the
+girl because of Peter's bow, which was the most extraordinary thing that
+had ever happened in Burlington County. After a pause, a smile which
+seemed to have been hovering uncertainly around the corners of her lips
+broke into a frank grin, disclosing dimples and a row of white teeth,
+the front ones not quite together.
+
+"Could you tell me," asked Peter very politely as he found his voice,
+"if this road leads to Black Rock?"
+
+She was still scrutinizing him, her head, birdlike, upon one side.
+
+"That depends on which way you're walkin'," she said.
+
+She dropped her "g" with careless ease, but then Peter had noticed that
+many Americans and English people, some very nice ones, did that.
+
+Peter glanced at the girl and then down the road in both directions.
+
+"Oh, yes, of course," he said, not sure whether she was smiling at or
+with him. "I came from a station called Pickerel River and I wish to go
+to Black Rock."
+
+"You're _sure_ you want to go there?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+"I guess that's because you've never been to Black Rock, Mister."
+
+"No, I haven't."
+
+The girl picked a shrub and nibbled at it daintily.
+
+"You'd better turn and go right back." Her sentence finished in a shrug.
+
+"What's the matter with Black Rock?" he asked curiously.
+
+"It's just the little end of nothin'. That's all," she finished
+decisively.
+
+The quaint expression interested him. "I must get there, nevertheless,"
+he said; "is it far from here?"
+
+"Depends on what you call far. Mile or so. Didn't the 'Lizzie' meet the
+six-thirty?"
+
+Peter stared at her vacuously, for this was Greek.
+
+"The 'Lizzie'?"
+
+"The tin 'Lizzie'--Jim Hagerman's bus--carries the mail and papers.
+Sometimes he gives me a lift about here."
+
+"No. There was no conveyance of any sort and I really expected one. I
+wish to get to Mr. Jonathan K. McGuire's."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+The girl had been examining Peter furtively, as though trying vainly to
+place him definitely in her mental collection of human bipeds. Now she
+stared at him with interest.
+
+"Oh, you're goin' to McGuire's!"
+
+Peter nodded. "If I can ever find the way."
+
+"You're one of the new detectives?"
+
+"Detective!" Peter laughed. "No. Not that I'm aware. I'm the new
+superintendent and forester."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+The girl was visibly impressed, but a tiny frown puckered her brow.
+
+"What's a forester?" she asked.
+
+"A fellow who looks after the forests."
+
+"The forests don't need any lookin' after out here in the barrens. They
+just grow."
+
+"I'm going to teach them to grow better."
+
+The girl looked at him for a long moment of suspicion. She had taken off
+her hat and the ruddy sunlight behind her made a golden halo all about
+her head. Her hands he had noted were small, the fingers slender. Her
+nose was well shaped, her nostrils wide, the angle of her jaw firmly
+modeled and her slender figure beneath the absurd garments revealed both
+strength and grace. But he did not dare to stare at her too hard or to
+question her as to her garments. For all that Peter knew it might be the
+custom of Burlington County for women to wear blue denim trousers.
+
+And her next question took him off his guard.
+
+"You city folk don't think much of yourselves, do you?"
+
+"I don't exactly understand what you mean," said Peter politely, marking
+the satirical note.
+
+"To think you can make these trees grow better!" she sniffed.
+
+"Oh, I'm just going to help them to help themselves."
+
+"That's God's job, Master."
+
+Peter smiled. She wouldn't have understood, he thought, so what was the
+use of explaining. There must have been a superior quality in Peter's
+smile, for the girl put on her hat and came down into the road.
+
+"I'm goin' to Black Rock," she said stiffly, "follow me." And she went
+off with a quick stride down the road.
+
+Peter Nichols took up his bag and started, with difficulty getting to a
+place beside her.
+
+"If you don't mind," he said, "I'd much rather walk with you than behind
+you."
+
+She shrugged a shoulder at him.
+
+"Suit yourself," she said.
+
+In this position, Peter made the discovery that her profile was quite as
+interesting as her full face, but she no longer smiled. Her reference to
+the Deity entirely eliminated Peter and the profession of forestry from
+the pale of useful things. He was sorry that she no longer smiled
+because he had decided to make friends at Black Rock and he didn't want
+to make a bad beginning.
+
+"I hope you don't mind," said Peter at last, "if I tell you that you
+have one of the loveliest voices that I have ever heard."
+
+He marked with pleasure the sudden flush of color that ran up under her
+delicately freckled tan. Her lips parted and she turned to him
+hesitating.
+
+"You--you heard me!"
+
+"I did. It was like the voice of an angel in Heaven."
+
+"Angel! Oh! I'm sorry. I--I didn't know any one was there. I just sing
+on my way home from work."
+
+"You've been working to-day?"
+
+She nodded. "Yes--Farmerettin'."
+
+"Farmer----?"
+
+"Workin' in the vineyard at Gaskill's."
+
+"Oh, I see. Do you like it?"
+
+"No," she said dryly. "I just do it for my health. Don't I look sick?"
+
+Peter wasn't used to having people make fun of him. Even as a waiter he
+had managed to preserve his dignity intact. But he smiled at her.
+
+"I was wondering what had become of the men around here."
+
+"They're so busy walkin' from one place to another to see where they can
+get the highest wages, that there's no time to work in between."
+
+"I see," said Peter, now really amused. "And does Mr. Jonathan McGuire
+have difficulty in getting men to work for him?"
+
+"Most of his hired help come from away--like you----But lately they
+haven't been stayin' long."
+
+"Why?"
+
+She slowed her pace a little and turned to look at him curiously.
+
+"Do you mean that you don't know the kind of a job you've got?"
+
+"Not much," admitted Peter. "In addition to looking after the preserve,
+I'm to watch after the men--and obey orders, I suppose."
+
+"H-m. Preserve! Sorry, Mr. what's your name----"
+
+"Peter Nichols----" put in Peter promptly.
+
+"Well, Mr. Peter Nichols, all I have to say is that you're apt to have a
+hard time."
+
+"Yes, I'm against it!" translated Peter confidently.
+
+The girl stopped in the middle of the road, put her hands on her hips
+and laughed up at the purpling sky. Her laugh was much like her
+singing--if angels in Paradise laugh (and why shouldn't they?). Then
+while he wondered what was so amusing she looked at him again.
+
+"_Up_ against it, you mean. You're English, aren't you?"
+
+"Er--yes--I am."
+
+"I thought so. There was one of you in the glass factory. He always
+muffed the easy ones."
+
+"Oh, you work in a glass factory?"
+
+"Winters. Manufacturin' whiskey and beer bottles. Now we're goin' dry,
+they'll be makin' pop and nursin' bottles, I guess."
+
+"Do you help in the factory?"
+
+"Yes, and in the office. I can shorthand and type a little."
+
+"You must be glad when a summer comes."
+
+"I am. In winter I can't turn around without breakin' something. They
+dock you for that----"
+
+"And that's why you sing when you can't break anythin'?"
+
+"I suppose so. I like the open. It isn't right to be cooped up."
+
+They were getting along beautifully and Peter was even beginning to
+forget the weight of his heavy bag. She was a quaint creature and quite
+as unconscious of him as though he hadn't existed. He was just somebody
+to talk to. Peter ventured.
+
+"Er--would you mind telling me your name?"
+
+She looked at him and laughed friendly.
+
+"You must have swallowed a catechism, Mr. Nichols. But everybody in
+Black Rock knows everybody else--more'n they want to, I guess. There's
+no reason I shouldn't tell you. I don't mind your knowin'. My name is
+Beth Cameron."
+
+"Beth----?"
+
+"Yes, Bess--the minister had a lisp."
+
+Peter didn't lack a sense of humor.
+
+"Funny, isn't it?" she queried with a smile as he laughed, "bein' tied
+up for life to a name like that just because the parson couldn't talk
+straight."
+
+"Beth," he repeated, "but I like it. It's like you. I hope you'll let me
+come to see you when I get settled."
+
+"H-m," she said quizzically. "You don't believe in wastin' your time, do
+you?" And then, after a brief pause, "You know they call us Pineys back
+here in the barrens, but just the same we think a lot of ourselves and
+we're a little offish with city folks. You can't be too particular
+nowadays about the kind of people you go with."
+
+Peter stared at her and grinned, his sense of the situation more keenly
+touched than she could be aware of.
+
+"Particular, are you? I'm glad of that. All the more credit to me if
+you'll be my friend."
+
+"I didn't say I was your friend."
+
+"But you're going to be, aren't you? I know something about singing.
+I've studied music. Perhaps I could help you."
+
+"You! You've studied? Lord of Love! You're not lyin', are you?"
+
+He laughed. "No. I'm not lying. I was educated to be a musician."
+
+She stared at him now with a new look in her eyes but said nothing. So
+Peter spoke again.
+
+"Do you mean to say you've never thought of studying singing?"
+
+"Oh, yes," she said slowly at last, "I've thought of it, just as I've
+thought of goin' in the movies and makin' a million dollars. Lots of
+good _thinkin'_ does!"
+
+"You've thought of the movies?"
+
+"Yes, once. A girl went from the glass factory. She does extra ladies.
+She visited back here last winter. I didn't like what it did to her."
+
+"Oh!" Peter was silent for a while, aware of the pellucid meaning of her
+"it." He was learning quite as much from what she didn't say as from
+what she did. But he evaded the line of thought suggested.
+
+"You do get tired of Black Rock then?"
+
+"I would if I had time. I'm pretty busy all day, and--see
+here--Mr.--er--Nichols. If I asked as many questions as you do, I'd know
+as much as Daniel Webster."
+
+"I'm sorry," said Peter, "I beg your pardon."
+
+They walked on in silence for a few moments, Peter puzzling his brain
+over the extraordinary creature that chance had thrown in his way. He
+could see that she was quite capable of looking out for herself and that
+if her smattering of sophistication had opened her eyes, it hadn't much
+harmed her.
+
+He really wanted to ask her many more questions, but to tell the truth
+he was a little in awe of her dry humor which had a kind of primitive
+omniscience and of her laughter which he was now sure was more _at_,
+than with, him. But he had, in spite of her, peered for a moment into
+the hidden places of her mind and spirit.
+
+It was this intrusion that she resented and he could hardly blame her,
+since they had met only eighteen minutes ago. She trotted along beside
+him as though quite unaware of the sudden silence or of the thoughts
+that might have been passing in his mind. It was Beth who broke the
+silence.
+
+"Is your bag heavy?" she asked.
+
+"Not at all," said Peter, mopping the perspiration from his forehead.
+"But aren't we nearly there?"
+
+"Oh, yes. It's just a mile or so."
+
+Peter dropped his bag.
+
+"That's what you said it was, back there."
+
+"Did I? Well, maybe it isn't so far as that now. Let me carry your bag a
+while."
+
+Thus taunted, he rose, took the bag in his left hand and followed.
+
+"City folks aren't much on doin' for themselves, are they? The taxi
+system is very poor down here yet."
+
+Her face was expressionless, but he knew that she was laughing at him.
+He knew also that his bag weighed more than any army pack. It seemed too
+that she was walking much faster than she had done before--also that
+there was malicious humor in the smile she now turned on him.
+
+"Seems a pity to have such a long walk--with nothin' at the end of it."
+
+"I don't mind it in the least," gasped Peter. "And if you don't object
+to my asking you just one more question," he went on grimly, "I'd like
+you to tell me what is frightening Mr. Jonathan K. McGuire?"
+
+"Oh, McGuire. I don't know. Nobody does. He's been here a couple of
+weeks now, cooped up in the big house. Never comes out. They say he
+sees ghosts and things."
+
+"Ghosts!"
+
+She nodded. "He's hired some of the men around here to keep watch for
+them and they say some detectives are coming. You'll help too, I guess."
+
+"That should be easy."
+
+"Maybe. I don't know. My aunt works there. She's housekeeper. It's
+spooky, she says, but she can't afford to quit."
+
+"But they haven't _seen_ anything?" asked Peter incredulously.
+
+"No. Not yet. I guess it might relieve 'em some if they did. It's only
+the things you don't see that scare you."
+
+"It sounds like a great deal of nonsense about nothing," muttered Peter.
+
+"All right. Wait until you get there before you do much talkin'."
+
+"I will, but I'm not afraid of ghosts." And then, as an afterthought,
+"Are you?"
+
+"Not in daylight. But from what Aunt Tillie says, it must be something
+more than a ghost that's frightenin' Jonathan K. McGuire."
+
+"What does she think it is?"
+
+"She doesn't know. Mr. McGuire won't say. He won't allow anybody around
+the house without a pass. Oh, he's scared all right and he's got most of
+Black Rock scared too. He was never like this before."
+
+"Are you scared?" asked Peter.
+
+"No. I don't think I am really. But it's spooky, and I don't care much
+for shootin'."
+
+"What makes you think there will be shooting?"
+
+"On account of the guns and pistols. Whatever the thing is he's afraid
+of, he's not goin' to let it come near him if he can help it. Aunt
+Tillie says that what with loaded rifles, shotguns and pistols lyin'
+loose in every room in the house, it's as much as your life is worth to
+do a bit of dustin'. And the men--Shad Wells, Jesse Brown, they all
+carry automatics. First thing they know they'll be killin' somebody,"
+she finished with conviction.
+
+"Who is Shad Wells----?"
+
+"My cousin, Shadrack E. Wells. He was triplets. The other two died."
+
+"Shad," mused Peter.
+
+"Sounds like a fish, doesn't it? But he isn't." And then more slowly,
+"Shad's all right. He's just a plain woodsman, but he doesn't know
+anything about making the trees grow," she put in with prim irony.
+"You'll be his boss, I guess. He won't care much about that."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because he's been runnin' things in a way. I hope you get along with
+him."
+
+"So do I----"
+
+"Because if you don't, Shad will eat you at one gobble."
+
+"Oh!" said Peter with a smile. "But perhaps you exaggerate. Don't you
+think I might take two--er--gobbles?"
+
+Beth looked him over, and then smiled encouragingly.
+
+"Maybe," she said, "but your hands don't look over-strong."
+
+Peter looked at his right hand curiously. It was not as brown as hers,
+but the fingers were long and sinewy.
+
+"They are, though. When you practice five hours a day on the piano, your
+hands will do almost anything you want them to."
+
+A silence which Peter improved by shifting his suitcase. The weight of
+it had ceased to be amusing. And he was about to ask her how much
+further Black Rock was when there was a commotion down the road ahead of
+them, as a dark object emerged from around the bend and amid a whirl of
+dust an automobile appeared.
+
+"It's the 'Lizzie'," exclaimed Beth unemotionally.
+
+And in a moment the taxi service of Black Rock was at Peter's disposal.
+
+"Carburetor trouble," explained the soiled young man at the wheel
+briefly, without apology. And with a glance at Peter's bag--
+
+"Are you the man for McGuire's on the six-thirty?"
+
+Peter admitted that he was and the boy swung the door of the tonneau
+open.
+
+"In here with me, Beth," he said to the girl invitingly.
+
+In a moment, the small machine was whirled around and started in the
+direction from which it had come, bouncing Peter from side to side and
+enveloping him in dust. Jim Hagerman's "Lizzie" wasted no time, once it
+set about doing a thing, and in a few moments from the forest they
+emerged into a clearing where there were cows in a meadow, and a view of
+houses. At the second of these, a frame house with a portico covered
+with vines and a small yard with a geranium bed, all enclosed in a
+picket fence, the "Lizzie" suddenly stopped and Beth got down.
+
+"Much obliged, Jim," he heard her say.
+
+Almost before Peter had swept off his hat and the girl had nodded, the
+"Lizzie" was off again, through the village street, and so to a wooden
+bridge across a tea-colored stream, up a slight grade on the other side,
+where Jim Hagerman stopped his machine and pointed to a road.
+
+"That's McGuire's--in the pines. They won't let me go no further."
+
+"How much do I owe you?" asked Peter, getting down.
+
+"It's paid for, Mister. Slam the door, will ye?" And in another moment
+Peter was left alone.
+
+It was now after sunset, and the depths of the wood were bathed in
+shadow. Peter took the road indicated and in a moment reached two stone
+pillars where a man was standing. Beyond the man he had a glimpse of
+lawns, a well-kept driveway which curved toward the wood. The man at the
+gate was of about Peter's age but tall and angular, well tanned by
+exposure and gave an appearance of intelligence and capacity.
+
+"I came to see Mr. McGuire," said Peter amiably.
+
+"And what's your name?"
+
+"Nichols. I'm the new forester from New York."
+
+The young man at the gate smiled in a satirical way.
+
+"Nichols. That was the name," he ruminated. And then with a shout to
+some one in the woods below, "Hey, Andy. Come take the gate."
+
+All the while Peter felt the gaze of the young man going over him
+minutely and found himself wondering whether or not this was the person
+who was going to take him at a gobble.
+
+It was. For when the other man came running Peter heard him call the
+gateman, "Shad."
+
+"Are you Mr. Shad Wells?" asked Peter politely with the pleasant air of
+one who has made an agreeable discovery.
+
+"That's my name. Who told you?"
+
+"Miss Beth Cameron," replied Peter. "We came part of the way together."
+
+"H-m! Come," he said laconically and led the way up the road toward the
+house. Peter didn't think he was very polite.
+
+Had it not been for the precautions of his guide, Peter would have been
+willing quite easily to forget the tales that had been told him of Black
+Rock. The place was very prettily situated in the midst of a very fine
+growth of pines, spruce and maple. At one side ran the tea-colored
+stream, tumbling over an ancient dam to levels below, where it joined
+the old race below the ruin that had once been a mill. The McGuire
+house emerged in a moment from its woods and shrubbery, and stood
+revealed--a plain square Georgian dwelling of brick, to which had been
+added a long wing in a poor imitation of the same style and a garage and
+stables in no style at all on the slope beyond. It seemed a most prosaic
+place even in the gathering dusk and Peter seemed quite unable to
+visualize it as the center of a mystery such as had been described. And
+the laconic individual who had been born triplets was even less
+calculated to carry out such an illusion.
+
+But just as they were crossing the lawn on the approach to the house,
+the earth beneath a clump of bushes vomited forth two men, like the
+fruit of the Dragon's Teeth, armed with rifles, who barred their way.
+Both men were grinning from ear to ear.
+
+"All right, Jesse," said Shad with a laugh. "It's me and the new
+forester." He uttered the words with an undeniable accent of contempt.
+
+The armed figures glanced at Peter and disappeared, and Peter and Mr.
+Shad Wells went up the steps of the house to a spacious portico. There
+was not a human being in sight and the heavy wooden blinds to the lower
+floor were tightly shut. Before his guide had even reached the door the
+sound of their footsteps had aroused some one within the house, the door
+was opened the length of its chain and a face appeared at the aperture.
+
+"Who is it?" asked a male voice.
+
+"Shad Wells and Mr. Nichols, the man from New York."
+
+"Wait a minute," was the reply while the door was immediately shut
+again.
+
+Peter glanced around him comparing this strange situation with another
+that he remembered, when a real terror had come, a tangible terror in
+the shape of a countryside gone mad with blood lust. He smiled toward
+the bush where the armed men lay concealed and toward the gate where
+the other armed man was standing. It was all so like a situation out of
+an _opéra bouffe_ of Offenbach.
+
+What he felt now in this strange situation was an intense curiosity to
+learn the meaning of it all, to meet the mysterious person around whom
+all these preparations centered. Peter had known fear many times, for
+fear was in the air for weeks along the Russian front, the fear of
+German shells, of poison gas, and of that worst poison of all--Russian
+treachery. But that fear was not like this fear, which was intimate,
+personal but intangible. He marked it in the scrutiny of the man who
+opened the door and of the aged woman who suddenly appeared beside him
+in the dim hallway and led him noiselessly up the stair to a lighted
+room upon the second floor. At the doorway the woman paused.
+
+"Mr. Nichols, Mr. McGuire," she said, and Peter entered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE JOB
+
+
+The room was full of tobacco smoke, through which Peter dimly made out a
+table with an oil lamp, beside which were chairs, a sofa, and beyond, a
+steel safe between the windows. As Peter Nichols entered, a man advanced
+from a window at the side, the shutter of which was slightly ajar. It
+was evident that not content to leave his safety in the hands of those
+he had employed to preserve it, he had been watching too.
+
+He was in his shirt sleeves, a man of medium height, compactly built,
+and well past the half century mark. The distinguishing features of his
+face were a short nose, a heavy thatch of brows, a square jaw which
+showed the need of the offices of a razor and his lips wore a short,
+square mustache somewhat stained by nicotine.
+
+In point of eagerness the manner of his greeting of the newcomer left
+nothing to be desired. Peter's first impression was that Jonathan K.
+McGuire was quite able to look out for himself, which confirmed the
+impression that the inspection to which Peter had been subjected was
+nothing but a joke. But when his employer began speaking rather jerkily,
+Peter noticed that his hands were unsteady and that neither the muscles
+of his face nor of his body were under complete control. Normally, he
+would have seemed much as Sheldon, Senior, had described him--a
+hard-fisted man, a close bargainer who had won his way to his great
+wealth by the sheer force of a strong personality. There was little of
+softness in his face, little that was imaginative. This was not a man
+to be frightened at the Unseen or to see terrors that did not exist.
+Otherwise, to Peter he seemed commonplace to the last degree, of Irish
+extraction probably, the kind of person one meets daily on Broadway or
+on the Strand. In a fur coat he might have been taken for a banker; in
+tweeds, for a small tradesman; or in his shirt as Peter now saw him, the
+wristbands and collar somewhat soiled from perspiration, for a laboring
+man taking his rest after an arduous day. In other words, he was very
+much what his clothes would make of him, betraying his origins in a
+rather strident voice meant perhaps to conceal the true state of his
+mind.
+
+"Glad to see you, Mr. Nichols. Thought you were never comin'," he jerked
+out.
+
+"I walked most of the way from Pickerel River. Something went wrong,
+with the 'Lizzie.'"
+
+"Oh--er--'Lizzie'. The flivver! I couldn't send my own car. I've got
+only one down here and I might need it."
+
+"It doesn't matter in the least--since I'm here."
+
+"Sit down, Mr. Nichols," went on McGuire indicating a chair. "You've
+been well recommended by Mr. Sheldon. I talked to him yesterday over
+long distance. He told you what I wanted?"
+
+"Something. Not much," said Peter with a view to getting all the
+information possible. "You wanted a forester----?"
+
+"Er--er--yes, that's it. A forester." And then he went on
+haltingly--"I've got about twenty thousand acres here--mostly scrub
+oak--pine and spruce. I've sold off a lot to the Government. A mess of
+it has been cut--there's been a lot of waste--and the fire season is
+coming around. That's the big job--the all-the-year job. You've had
+experience?"
+
+"Yes--in Russia. I'm a trained woodsman."
+
+"You're a good all-round man?"
+
+"Exactly what----?" began Peter.
+
+"You know how to look after yourself--to look after other men, to take
+charge of a considerable number of people in my employ?"
+
+"Yes. I'm used to dealing with men."
+
+"It's a big job, Mr. Nichols--a ticklish kind of a job for a
+furriner--one with some--er--unusual features--that may call for--er--a
+lot of tact. And--er--courage."
+
+It seemed to Peter that Jonathan K. McGuire was talking almost at
+random, that the general topic of forestry was less near his heart
+to-night than the one that was uppermost in Peter's mind, the mystery
+that surrounded his employer and the agencies invoked to protect him. It
+seemed as if he were loath to speak of them, as if he were holding Peter
+off at arm's length, so to say, until he had fully made up his mind that
+this and no other man was the one he wanted, for all the while he was
+examining the visitor with burning, beady, gray eyes, as though trying
+to peer into his mind.
+
+"I'm not afraid of a forester's job, no matter how big it is, if I have
+men enough," said Peter, still curious.
+
+"And you're a pretty good man in a pinch, I mean----" he put in jerkily,
+"you're not easy scared--don't lose your nerve."
+
+"I'll take my chances on that," replied Peter calmly. "I'm used to
+commanding men, in emergencies--if that's what you mean."
+
+"Yes. That's what I mean. Er--you're an Englishman, Mr. Sheldon says."
+
+"Er--yes," said Peter, "an Englishman," for this was the truth now more
+than ever before, and then repeated the story he had told in New York
+about his work in Russia. While Peter was talking, McGuire was pacing up
+and down the room with short nervous strides, nodding his head in
+understanding from time to time. When Peter paused he returned to his
+chair.
+
+"You British are a pretty steady lot," said McGuire at last. "I think
+you'll do. I like the way you talk and I like your looks. Younger than
+I'd hoped maybe, but then you're strong--Mr. Sheldon says you're strong,
+Mr. Nichols."
+
+"Oh, yes," said Peter, his curiosity now getting the better of him. "But
+it might be as well, Mr. McGuire, if you let me know just what, that is
+unusual, is to be required of me. I assume that you want me to take
+command of the men policing your grounds--and immediate property?"
+
+"Er--yes. That will have to be put in shape at once--at once." He leaned
+suddenly forward in his chair, his hairy hands clutching at his knees,
+while he blurted out with a kind of relieved tension, "No one must come
+near the house at night. No one, you understand----"
+
+"I understand, sir----" said Peter, waiting patiently for a revelation.
+
+"There'll be no excuse if any one gets near the house without my
+permission," he snarled. And then almost sullenly again--"You
+understand?"
+
+"Perfectly. That should not be difficult to----"
+
+"It may be more difficult than you think," broke in McGuire, springing
+to his feet again, and jerking out his phrases with strange fury.
+
+"Nothing is to be taken for granted. Nothing," he raged. Peter was
+silent for a moment, watching McGuire who had paced the length of the
+room and back.
+
+"I understand, sir," he said at last. "But doesn't it seem to you that
+both I and the man under me could do our work with more intelligence if
+we knew just who or what is to be guarded against?" Mr. McGuire stopped
+beside him as though transfixed by the thought. Then his fingers
+clutched at the back of a chair to which he clung for a moment in
+silence, his brows beetling. And when he spoke all the breath of his
+body seemed concentrated in a hoarse whisper.
+
+"You won't know that. You understand, I give the orders. You obey them.
+I am not a man who answers questions. Don't ask them."
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon. So long as this thing you fear is human----"
+
+"Human! A ghost! Who said I was afraid? Sheldon? Let him think it. This
+is _my_ business. There are many things of value in this house," and he
+glanced towards the safe. "I'm using the right of any man to protect
+what belongs to him."
+
+"I see," said Peter.
+
+The man's tension relaxed as he realized Peter's coolness.
+
+"Call it a fancy if you like, Mr. Nichols----" he said with a shrug. "A
+man of my age may have fancies when he can afford to gratify 'em."
+
+"That's your affair," said Peter easily. "I take it then that the
+systematic policing of the grounds is the first thing I am to consider."
+
+"Exactly. The systematic policing of the grounds--the dividing of your
+men into shifts for day and night work--more at night than in the day.
+Three more men come to-morrow. They will all look to you for orders."
+
+"And who is in charge now?"
+
+"A man named Wells--a native--the foreman from one of the sawmills--but
+he--er--well, Mr. Nichols--I'm not satisfied. That's why I wanted a man
+from outside."
+
+"I understand. And will you give the necessary orders to him?"
+
+"Wells was up here to-day, I told him."
+
+"How many men are on guard here at the house?"
+
+"Ten and with the three coming--that makes thirteen----" McGuire
+halted--"thirteen--but you make the fourteenth," he added.
+
+Peter nodded. "And you wish me to take charge at once?"
+
+"At once. To-night. To-morrow you can look over the ground more
+carefully. You'll sleep in the old playhouse--the log cabin--down by the
+creek. They'll show you. It's connected with this house by 'phone. I'll
+talk to you again to-morrow; you'd better go down and get something to
+eat."
+
+McGuire went to the door and called out "Tillie!"
+
+And as a faint reply was heard, "Get Mr. Nichols some supper."
+
+Peter rose and offered his hand.
+
+"I'll try to justify your faith in me, sir. Much obliged."
+
+"Good-night."
+
+Peter went down the stairs with mingled feelings. If the words of Beth
+Cameron had created in his mind a notion that the mystery surrounding
+Black Rock was supernatural in character, the interview with Jonathan K.
+McGuire had dispelled it. That McGuire was a very much frightened man
+was certain, but it seemed equally certain to Peter that what he feared
+was no ghost or banshee but the imminence of some human attack upon his
+person or possessions. Here was a practical man, who bore in every
+feature of his strongly-marked face the tokens of a successful struggle
+in a hard career, the beginnings of which could not have been any too
+fortunate. A westerner whose broad hands and twisted fingers spoke
+eloquently of manual labor, a man who still possessed to all appearances
+considerable physical strength--a prey to the fear of some night danger
+which was too ominous even to be talked about.
+
+It was the quality of his terror that was disturbing. Peter was well
+acquainted with the physical aspects of fear--that is the fear of
+violence and death. That kind of fear made men restless and nervous, or
+silent and preoccupied; or like liquor it accentuated their weaknesses
+of fiber in sullenness or bravado. But it did not make them furtive. He
+could not believe that it was the mere danger of death or physical
+violence that obsessed his employer. That sort of danger perhaps there
+might be, but the fear that he had seen in McGuire's fanatical gray eyes
+was born of something more than these. Whatever it was that McGuire
+feared, it reached further within--a threat which would destroy not his
+body alone, but something more vital even than that--the very spirit
+that lived within him.
+
+Of his career, Peter knew nothing more than Sheldon, Senior, had told
+him--a successful man who told nothing of his business except to the
+Treasury Department, a silent man, with a passion for making money. What
+could he fear? Whom? What specter out of the past could conjure up the
+visions he had seen dancing between McGuire's eyes and his own?
+
+These questions it seemed were not to be answered and Peter, as he sat
+down at the supper table, put them resolutely from his mind and
+addressed himself to the excellent meal provided by the housekeeper. For
+the present, at least, fortune smiled upon him. The terrors of his
+employer could not long prevail against the healthy appetite of
+six-and-twenty.
+
+But it was not long before Peter discovered that the atmosphere of the
+room upstairs pervaded the dining room, library and halls. There were a
+cook and housemaid he discovered, neither of them visible. The
+housekeeper, if attentive, was silent, and the man who had opened the
+front door, who seemed to be a kind of general factotum, as well as
+personal bodyguard to Mr. McGuire, crept furtively about the house in an
+unquiet manner which would have been disturbing to the digestion of one
+less timorous than Peter.
+
+Before the meal was finished this man came into the room and laid a
+police whistle, a large new revolver and a box of cartridges beside
+Peter's dish of strawberries.
+
+"These are for you, sir," he whispered sepulchrally. "Mr. McGuire asked
+me to give them to you--for to-night."
+
+"Thanks," said Peter, "and you----"
+
+"I'm Stryker, sir, Mr. McGuire's valet."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+Peter's accent of surprise came from his inability to reconcile Stryker
+with the soiled shirt and the three days' growth of beard on the man
+upstairs, which more than ever testified to the disorder of his mental
+condition.
+
+And as Stryker went out and his footsteps were heard no more, the
+housekeeper emerged cautiously from the pantry.
+
+"Is everything all right, Mr. Nichols?" she asked in a stage whisper.
+
+"Right as rain. Delicious! I'm very much obliged to you."
+
+"I mean--er--there ain't anythin' else ye'd like?"
+
+"Nothing, thanks," said Peter, taking up the revolver and breaking it.
+He had cut the cover of the cartridge box and had slipped a cartridge
+into the weapon when he heard the voice of the woman at his ear.
+
+"D'ye think there's any danger, sir?" she whispered, while she nervously
+eyed the weapon.
+
+"I'm sure I don't know. Not to you, I'd say," he muttered, still putting
+the cartridges in the pistol. As an ex-military man, he was taking
+great delight in the perfect mechanism of his new weapon.
+
+"What is it----? I mean, d'ye think----," she stammered, "did Mr.
+McGuire say--just what it is he's afraid of?"
+
+"No," said Peter, "he didn't." And then with a grin, "Do you know?"
+
+"No, sir. I wish t'God I did. Then there'd be somethin' to go by."
+
+"I'm afraid I can't help you, Mrs. ----"
+
+"Tillie Bergen. I've been housekeeper here since the new wing was put
+on----"
+
+"Oh, yes," said Peter, pausing over the last cartridge as the thought
+came to him. "Then you must be Beth Cameron's aunt?"
+
+"Beth?" The woman's sober face wreathed in a lovely smile. "D'ye know
+Beth?"
+
+"Since this afternoon. She showed me the way."
+
+"Oh. Poor Beth."
+
+"Poor!"
+
+"Oh, we're all poor, Mr. Nichols. But Beth she's--different from the
+rest of us somehow."
+
+"Yes, she _is_ different," admitted Peter frankly.
+
+Mrs. Bergen sighed deeply. "Ye don't know how different. And now
+that--all this trouble has come, I can't get home nights to her. And she
+can't come to see me without permission. How long d'ye think it will
+last, sir?"
+
+"I don't know," said Peter, slipping the revolver and cartridges into
+his pockets. And then gallantly, "If I can offer you my services, I'd be
+glad to take you home at night----"
+
+"It's against orders. And I wouldn't dare, Mr. Nichols. As it is I've
+got about as much as I can stand. If it wasn't for the money I wouldn't
+be stayin' in the house another hour."
+
+"Perhaps things won't be so bad after a time. If anything is going to
+happen, it ought to be pretty soon."
+
+She regarded him wistfully as he moved toward the door. "An' ye'll tell
+me, sir, if anything out o' the way happens."
+
+"I hope nothing is going to happen, Mrs. Bergen," said Peter cheerfully.
+
+Stryker appeared mysteriously from the darkness as Peter went out into
+the hall.
+
+"The upstairs girl made up your bed down at the cabin, sir. The
+chauffeur took your bag over. You'll need these matches. If you'll wait,
+sir, I'll call Mr. Wells."
+
+Peter wondered at the man in this most unconventional household, for
+Stryker, with all the prescience of a well-trained servant, had already
+decided that Peter belonged to a class accustomed to being waited on.
+Going to the door he blew one short blast on a police whistle, like
+Peter's, which he brought forth from his pocket.
+
+"That will bring him, sir," he said. "If you'll go out on the portico,
+he'll join you in a moment."
+
+Peter obeyed. The door was closed and fastened behind him and almost
+before he had taken his lungs full of the clean night air (for the house
+had been hot and stuffy), a shadow came slouching across the lawn in the
+moonlight. Peter joined the man at once and they walked around the
+house, while Peter questioned him as to the number of men and their
+disposition about the place. There were six, he found, including Wells,
+with six more to sleep in the stable, which was also used as a
+guardhouse. Peter made the rounds of the sentries. None of them seemed
+to be taking the matter any too seriously and one at least was sound
+asleep beneath some bushes. Peter foresaw difficulties. Under the
+leadership of Shad Wells the strategic points were not covered, and, had
+he wished, he could have found his way, by using the cover of shadow and
+shrubbery, to the portico without being observed. He pointed this out to
+Wells who, from a supercilious attitude, changed to one of defiance.
+
+"You seem to think you know a lot, Mister?" he said. "I'd like to see ye
+try it."
+
+Peter laughed.
+
+"Very well. Take your posts and keep strict watch, but don't move. If I
+don't walk across the lawn from the house in half an hour I'll give you
+ten dollars. In return you can take a shot if you see me."
+
+He thought the men needed the object lesson. Peter was an excellent
+"point." He disappeared into the woods behind him and making his way
+cautiously out, found a road, doubling to the other side of the garage
+along which he went on his hands and knees and crawling from shrub to
+shrub in the shadows reached the portico without detection. Here he
+lighted a fag and quietly strolled down to the spot where he had left
+Shad Wells, to whom he offered a cigarette by way of consolation. Wells
+took it grudgingly. But he took it, which was one point gained.
+
+"Right smart, aren't ye?" said Shad.
+
+"No," said Peter coolly. "Anybody could have done it,--in three ways.
+The other two ways are through the pine grove to the left and from the
+big sycamore by the stream."
+
+"And how do you know all that?"
+
+"I was in the Army," said Peter. "It's a business like anything else."
+
+And he pointed out briefly where the five men should be stationed and
+why, and Shad, somewhat mollified by the cigarette, shrugged and
+agreed.
+
+"We'll do sentry duty in the regular way," went on Peter cheerfully,
+"with a corporal of the guard and a countersign. I'll explain in detail
+to-morrow." And then to Shad, "I'll take command until midnight, when
+you'll go on with the other shift until four. I'll make it clear to the
+other men. The countersign is the word 'Purple.' You'd better go and
+turn in. I'll call you at twelve."
+
+Peter watched the figure of the woodsman go ambling across the lawn in
+the direction of the garage and smiled. He also marked the vertical line
+of light which showed at a window on the second floor where another kept
+watch. The man called Jesse, the one who had been asleep beneath the
+bushes, and who, fully awake, had watched Peter's exhibition of
+scouting, now turned to Peter with a laugh.
+
+"I guess you're right, Mister. S'long's we're paid. But I'd like to know
+just what this 'ere thing is the ol' man's skeered of."
+
+"You know as much as I do. It will probably have two legs, two hands and
+a face and carry a gun. You'd better be sure you're not asleep when it
+comes. But if you care to know what I think, you can be pretty sure that
+it's coming--and before very long."
+
+"To-night?"
+
+"How do I know? Have a cigarette? You cover from the road to the big
+cedar tree; and keep your eyes open--especially in the shadows--and
+don't let anybody get you in the back."
+
+And so making the rounds, instilling in their minds a sense of real
+emergency, Peter gave the men their new sentry posts and made friends.
+He had decided to stay up all night, but at twelve he called Shad Wells
+and went down to look over his cabin which was a quarter of a mile away
+from the house near Cedar Creek (or "Crick" in the vernacular). The key
+was in the cabin door so he unlocked it and went in, and after striking
+a match found a kerosene lamp which he lighted and then looked about
+him.
+
+The building had only one room but it was of large dimensions and
+contained a wooden bed with four posts, evidently some one's heirloom, a
+bureau, washstand, two tables and an easy chair or two. Behind the bed
+was a miscellaneous lot of rubbish, including a crib, a rocking horse, a
+velocipede, beside some smaller toys. Whom had these things belonged to?
+A grandson of McGuire's? And was the daughter of McGuire like her
+father, unlovely, soiled and terror-stricken? His desultory mental
+queries suddenly stopped as he raised his eyes to the far corner of the
+room, for there, covered with an old shawl, he made out the lines of a
+piano. He opened the keyboard and struck a chord. It wasn't so bad--a
+little tuning--he could do it himself....
+
+So this was his new home! He had not yet had the time or the opportunity
+to learn what new difficulties were to face him on the morrow, but the
+personal affairs of his employer had piqued his interest and for the
+present he had done everything possible to insure his safety for the
+night. To-morrow perhaps he would learn something more about the causes
+of this situation. He would have an opportunity too to look over the
+property and make a report as to its possibilities. To a man inured as
+Peter was to disappointments, what he had found was good. He had made up
+his mind to fit himself soldierlike into his new situation and he had to
+admit now that he liked the prospect. As though to compensate for past
+mischief, Fate had provided him with the one employment in the new land
+for which he was best suited by training and inclination. It was the one
+"job" in which, if he were permitted a fair amount of freedom of action
+and initiative, he was sure that he could "make good." The trees he
+could see were not the stately pines of Zukovo, but they were pines, and
+the breeze which floated in to him through the cabin door was laden with
+familiar odors.
+
+The bed looked inviting, but he resolutely turned his back to it and
+unpacked his suitcase, taking off his tailor-made clothing and putting
+on the flannel shirt, corduroy trousers and heavy laced boots, all of
+which he had bought before leaving New York. Then he went to the doorway
+and stood looking out into the night.
+
+The moonbeams had laid a patine of silver upon the floor of the small
+clearing before the door, and played softly among the shadows. So silent
+was the night that minute distant sounds were clearly audible--the
+stream seemed to be tinkling just at his elbow, while much farther away
+there was a low murmur of falling water at the tumbling dam, mingling
+with the sighs of vagrant airs among the crowns of the trees, the rustle
+and creak of dry branches, the whispering of leaf to leaf. Wakeful birds
+deceived by the moon piped softly and were silent. An owl called. And
+then for the briefest moment, except for the stream, utter silence.
+
+Peter strode forth, bathed himself in the moonlight and drank deep of
+the airs of the forest. America! He had chosen! Her youth called to his.
+He wanted to forget everything that had gone before, the horrors through
+which he had passed, both physical and spiritual,--the dying struggles
+of the senile nation, born in intolerance, grown in ignorance and
+stupidity which, with a mad gesture, had cast him forth with a curse. He
+had doffed the empty prerogatives of blood and station and left them in
+the mire and blood. The soul of Russia was dead and he had thought that
+his own had died with hers, but from the dead thing a new soul might
+germinate as it had now germinated in him. He had been born again.
+_Novaya Jezn!_ The New Life! He had found it.
+
+He listened intently as though for its heartbeats, his face turned up
+toward the silent pines. For a long while he stood so and then went
+indoors and sat at the old piano playing softly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+NEW ELEMENTS
+
+
+Some of the men on guard in the middle watch reported that they had
+heard what seemed to be the sounds of music very far away in the woods
+and were disturbed at the trick their ears had played upon them. But
+Peter didn't tell them the truth. If listening for the notes of a piano
+would keep them awake, listen they should. He slept until noon and then
+went to the house for orders.
+
+Morning seemed to make a difference in the point of view. If the moon
+had made the night lovely, the sun brought with it the promise of every
+good thing. The walk through the woods to Black Rock House was a joy,
+very slightly alleviated by the poor condition of the trees under which
+Peter passed. It was primeval forest even here, with valuable trees
+stunted and poor ones vastly overgrown according to nature's law which
+provides for the survival of the fittest. This was the law too, which
+was to be applied to Peter. Would he grow straight and true in this
+foreign soil or gnarled and misshapen like the cedars and the maples
+that he saw? Yes. He would grow and straight ... straight.
+
+Optimism seemed to be the order of the new day. At the house he found
+that his employer had put on a clean shirt and was freshly shaven. The
+windows of the room were opened wide to the sunlight which streamed into
+the room, revealing its darkest corners. McGuire himself seemed to have
+responded to the effulgence of the sun and the balmy air which swept
+across his table. His manner was now calm, his voice more measured.
+
+When Peter came into the room, Mr. McGuire closed the heavy doors of the
+steel safe carefully and turned to greet him.
+
+"Oh, glad to see you, Nichols," he said more cheerfully. "A quiet night,
+I understand."
+
+"Yes," laughed Nichols, "except for the man who got through the guards
+and smoked a cigarette on your portico."
+
+"What!" gasped McGuire.
+
+"Don't be alarmed, sir. It was only myself. I wanted to show Shad Wells
+the defects of his police system."
+
+"Oh! Ah! Ha, ha, yes, of course. Very good. And you weren't shot at?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir--though I'd given them leave to pot me if they could. But I
+think you're adequately protected now."
+
+"Good," said McGuire. "Have a cigar. I'm glad you've come. I wanted to
+talk to you."
+
+And when they had lighted their cigars, "It's about this very guard.
+I--I'm afraid you'll have to keep your men under cover at least in the
+daytime."
+
+"Under cover?"
+
+"Well, you see," went on McGuire in some hesitation, "my daughter (he
+called it darter) Peggy is motoring down from New York to-day. I don't
+want her, but she's coming. I couldn't stop her. She doesn't know
+anything about this--er--this guarding the house. And I don't want her
+to know. She mustn't know. She'd ask questions. I don't want questions
+asked. I'll get her away as soon as I can, but she mustn't be put into
+any danger."
+
+"I see," said Peter examining the ash of his cigar. "You don't want her
+to know anything about the impending attempts upon your life and
+property."
+
+"Yes, that's it," said McGuire impatiently. "I don't want her to find
+out. Er--she couldn't understand. You know women, Nichols. They talk too
+much." He paused "It's--er--necessary that none of her friends in New
+York or mine should know of--er--any danger that threatens me. And of
+course--er--any danger that threatens me would--in a way--threaten her.
+You see?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+"I've put all weapons under cover. I don't want her to see 'em. So when
+she comes--which may be at any moment--nothing must be said about the
+men outside and what they're there for. In the daytime they must be
+given something to do about the place--trimming the lawns, pruning trees
+or weeding the driveway. Pay 'em what they ask, but don't let any of 'em
+go away. You'll explain this to the new men. As for yourself--er--of
+course you're my new superintendent and forester."
+
+McGuire got up and paced the floor slowly looking at Peter out of the
+tail of his eye.
+
+"I like you, Nichols. We'll get along. You've got courage and
+intelligence--and of course anybody can see you're a gentleman. You'll
+keep on taking your meals in the house----"
+
+"If you'd like me to go elsewhere----"
+
+"No. I see no reason why Peggy shouldn't like you. I hope she will. But
+she's very headstrong, has been since a kid. I suppose I humor her a
+bit--who wouldn't? I lost my oldest girl and her boy with the 'flu.' Her
+husband's still in France. And Peggy's got a will of her own, Peg has,"
+he finished in a kind of admiring abstraction. "Got a society bee in her
+bonnet. Wants to go with all the swells. I'm backin' her, Nichols.
+She'll do it too before she's through," he finished proudly.
+
+"I haven't a doubt of it," said Peter soberly, though very much amused
+at his employer's ingenuousness. Here then, was the weak spot in the
+armor of this relentless millionaire--his daughter. The older one and
+her child were dead. That accounted for the toys in the cabin. Peggy
+sounded interesting'--if nothing else, for her vitality.
+
+"I'd better see about this at once, then. If she should come----"
+
+Peter rose and was about to leave the room when there was a sound of an
+automobile horn and the sudden roar of an exhaust outside. He followed
+McGuire to the window and saw a low red runabout containing a girl and a
+male companion emerging from the trees. A man in the road was holding up
+his hands in signal for the machine to stop and had barely time to leap
+aside to avoid being run down. The car roared up to the portico, the
+breathless man, who was Shad Wells, pursuing. Peter was glad that he had
+had the good sense not to shoot. He turned to his employer, prepared for
+either anger or dismay and found that McGuire was merely grinning and
+chuckling softly as though to himself.
+
+"Just like her!" he muttered, "some kid, that!"
+
+Meanwhile Shad Wells, making a bad race of it was only halfway up the
+drive, when at a signal and shout from McGuire, he stopped running,
+stared, spat and returned to his post.
+
+There was a commotion downstairs, the shooting of bolts, the sounds of
+voices and presently the quick patter of feminine footsteps which
+McGuire, now completely oblivious of Peter, went to meet.
+
+"Well, daughter!"
+
+"Hello, Pop!"
+
+Peter caught a glimpse of a face and straggling brown hair, quickly
+engulfed in McGuire's arms.
+
+"What on earth----" began McGuire.
+
+"Thought we'd give you a little touch of high life, Pop. It was so hot
+in town. And the hotel's full of a convention of rough necks. I brought
+Freddy with me and Mildred and Jack are in the other car. We thought the
+rest might do us good."
+
+The voice was nasal and pitched high, as though she were trying to make
+herself audible in a crowd. Peter was ready to revise his estimate that
+her face was pretty, for to him no woman was more beautiful than her own
+voice.
+
+"But you can't stay here, Peg," went on McGuire, "not more than over
+night--with all these people. I'm very busy----"
+
+"H-m. We'll see about that. I never saw the woods look prettier. We came
+by Lakewood and Brown's Mills and--Why who----?"
+
+As she sidled into the room she suddenly espied Peter who was still
+standing by the window.
+
+"Who----? Why--Oh, yes, this is my new superintendent and forester. Meet
+my daughter,--Mr. Nichols."
+
+Peter bowed and expressed pleasure. Miss McGuire swept him with a quick
+glance that took in his flannel shirt, corduroy breeches and rough
+boots, nodded pertly and turned away.
+
+Peter smiled. Like Beth Cameron this girl was very particular in
+choosing her acquaintances.
+
+"I nearly killed a guy in the driveway," she went on, "who was he, Pop?"
+
+"Er--one of the gardeners, I've told them to keep people off the place."
+
+"Well. I'd like to see him keep _me_ off! I suppose he'll be trying to
+hold up Mildred and Jack----"
+
+She walked to the window passing close beside Peter, paying as little
+attention to his presence as if he had been, an article of furniture.
+
+"Can't you get this man to go down," she said indicating Peter, "and
+tell them it's all right?"
+
+"Of course," said Peter politely. "I'll go at once. And I'd like to
+arrange to look over part of the estate with Wells, Mr. McGuire," he
+added.
+
+"All right, Nichols," said the old man with a frown. And then
+significantly--"But remember what I've told you. Make careful
+arrangements before you go."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+Peter went down the stairs, amused at his dismissal. On the veranda he
+found a young man sitting on some suitcases smoking a cigarette. This
+was Freddy, of course. He afterwards learned that his last name was
+Mordaunt, that he was a part of Peggy's ambitions, and that he had been
+invalided home from a camp and discharged from the military service. As
+Freddy turned, Peter bowed politely and passed on. Having catalogued him
+by his clothing, Freddy like Peggy had turned away, smoking his
+cigarette.
+
+Peter thought that some Americans were born with bad manners, some
+achieved bad manners, and others had bad manners thrust upon them.
+Impoliteness was nothing new to him, since he had been in America. It
+was indigenous. Personally, he didn't mind what sort of people he met,
+but he seemed to be aware that a new element had come to Black Rock
+which was to make disquietude for Jonathan K. McGuire and difficulty for
+himself. And yet too there was a modicum of safety, perhaps, in the
+presence of these new arrivals, for it had been clear from his
+employer's demeanor that the terrors of the night had passed with the
+coming of the day.
+
+He commented on this to Shad Wells, who informed him that night was
+always the old man's bad time.
+
+"Seems sort o' like he's skeered o' the dark. 'Tain't nateral. 'Fraid o'
+ghosts, they say," he laughed.
+
+"Well," said Peter, "we've got our orders. And the thing he fears isn't
+a ghost. It's human."
+
+"Sure?"
+
+"Yes. And since he's more afraid after dark he has probably had his
+warning. But we're not to take any chances."
+
+Having given his new orders to Jesse, who was to be in charge during
+their absence, they struck into the woods upon the other side of the
+Creek for the appraisal of a part of the strip known as the "Upper
+Reserve." From an attitude of suspicion and sneering contempt Peter's
+companion had changed to one of indifference. The unfailing good humor
+of the new superintendent had done something to prepare the ground for
+an endurable relation between them. Like Beth Cameron Shad had sneered
+at the word "forester." He was the average lumberman, only interested in
+the cutting down of trees for the market--the commercial aspect of the
+business--heedless of the future, indifferent to the dangers of
+deforestation. Peter tried to explain to him that forestry actually
+means using the forest as the farmer uses his land, cutting out the
+mature and overripe trees and giving the seedlings beneath more light
+that they may furnish the succeeding crop of timber. He knew that the
+man was intelligent enough, and explained as well as he could from such
+statistics as he could recall how soon the natural resources of the
+country would be exhausted under the existing indifference.
+
+"Quite a bit of wood here, Mister--enough for my job," said Shad.
+
+But after a while Peter began to make him understand and showed him what
+trees should be marked for cutting and why. They came to a burned patch
+of at least a hundred acres.
+
+"Is there any organized system for fighting these fires?" Peter asked.
+
+"System! Well, when there's a fire we go and try to put it out----"
+laughed Wells.
+
+"How do the fires start?"
+
+"Campers--hunters mos'ly--in the deer season. Railroads sometimes--at
+the upper end."
+
+"And you keep no watch for smoke?"
+
+"Where would we watch from?"
+
+"Towers. They ought to be built--with telephone connection to
+headquarters."
+
+"D'ye think the old man will stand for that?"
+
+"He ought to. It's insurance."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"It looks to me, Wells," said Peter after a pause, "that a good 'crown'
+fire and a high gale, would turn all this country to cinders--like
+this."
+
+"It's never happened yet."
+
+"It may happen. Then good-by to your jobs--and to Black Rock too
+perhaps."
+
+"I guess Black Rock can stand it, if the old man can."
+
+They walked around the charred clearing and mounted a high sand dune,
+from which they could see over a wide stretch of country. With a high
+wooden platform here the whole of the Upper Reserve could be watched.
+They sat for a while among the sandwort and smoked, while Peter
+described the work in the German forests that he had observed before the
+war. Shad had now reached the point of listening and asking questions as
+the thought was more and more borne into his mind that this new
+superintendent was not merely talking for talk's sake, but because he
+knew more about the woods than any man the native had ever talked with,
+and wanted Shad to know too. For Peter had an answer to all of his
+questions, and Shad, though envious of Peter's grammar--for he had
+reached an age to appreciate it--was secretly scornful of Peter's white
+hands and carefully tied black cravat.
+
+This dune was at the end of the first day's "cruise" and Shad had risen
+preparatory to returning toward Black Rock when they both heard a
+sound,--away off to their right, borne down to them clearly on the
+breeze--the voice of a girl singing.
+
+"Beth," said Shad with a kindling eye. And then carelessly spat, to
+conceal his emotions.
+
+"What on earth can she be doing in here?" asked Peter.
+
+"Only half a mile from the road. It's the short cut from Gaskill's."
+
+"I see," from Peter.
+
+"Do you reckon you can find your way back alone, Nichols?" said Shad,
+spitting again.
+
+Peter grinned. "I reckon I can try," he said.
+
+Shad pointed with his long arm in the general direction of Heaven. "That
+way!" he muttered and went into the scrub oak with indecent haste.
+
+Peter sat looking with undisguised interest at the spot where he had
+disappeared, tracing him for a while through the moving foliage,
+listening to the crackling of the underbrush, as the sounds receded.
+
+It was time to be turning homeward, but the hour was still inviting, the
+breeze balmy, the sun not too warm, so Peter lay back among the grasses
+in the sand smoking a fresh cigarette. Far overhead buzzards were
+wheeling. They recalled those other birds of prey that he had often
+watched, ready to swoop down along the lines of the almost defenseless
+Russians. Here all was so quiet. The world was a very beautiful place if
+men would only leave it so. The voice of the girl was silent now. Shad
+had probably joined her. Somehow, Peter hadn't been able to think of any
+relationship, other than the cousinly one, between Shad Wells and Beth.
+He had only known the girl for half an hour but as Aunt Tillie Bergen
+had said, her niece seemed different from the other natives that Peter
+had met. Her teeth were sound and white, suggesting habits of personal
+cleanliness; her conversation, though careless, showed at the very
+least, a grammar school training. And Shad--well, Shad was nothing but a
+"Piney."
+
+Pity--with a voice like that--she ought to have had opportunities--this
+scornful little Beth. Peter closed his eyes and dozed. He expected to
+have no difficulty in finding his way home, for he had a pocket compass
+and the road could not be far distant. He liked this place. He would
+build a tower here, a hundred-foot tower, of timbers, and here a man
+should be stationed all day--to watch for wisps of smoke during the
+hunting season. Smoke ... Tower ... In a moment he snored gently.
+
+"Halloo!" came a voice in his dream. "Halloo! Halloo!"
+
+Peter started rubbing his eyes, aware of the smoking cigarette in the
+grasses beside him.
+
+Stupid, that! To do the very thing he had been warning Shad Wells
+against. He smeared the smoking stub out in the sand and sat up yawning
+and stretching his arms.
+
+"Halloo!" said the voice in his dream, almost at his ear. "Tryin' to set
+the woods afire?"
+
+The question had the curious dropping intonation at its end. But the
+purport annoyed him.
+
+Nothing that she could have said could have provoked him more! Behind
+her he saw the dark face of Shad Wells break into a grin.
+
+"I fell asleep," said Peter, getting to his feet.
+
+Beth laughed. "Lucky you weren't burnt to death. _Then_ how would the
+trees get along?"
+
+Peter's toe burrowed after the defunct cigarette.
+
+"I know what I'm about," he muttered, aware of further loss of dignity.
+
+"Oh, do you? Then which way were you thinkin' of goin' home?"
+
+Peter glanced around, pointed vaguely, and Beth Cameron laughed.
+
+"I guess you'd land in Egg Harbor, or thereabouts."
+
+Her laugh was infectious and Peter at last echoed it.
+
+"You's better be goin' along with us. Shad asked me to come and get you,
+didn't you, Shad?"
+
+Peter glanced at the woodsman's black scowl and grinned, recalling his
+desertion and precipitate disappearance into the bushes.
+
+"I'm sure I'm very much obliged to you both," said Peter diplomatically.
+"But I think I can find my way in."
+
+"Not if you start for Hammonton or Absecon, you can't. I've known people
+to spend the night in the woods a quarter of a mile from home."
+
+"I shouldn't mind that."
+
+"But Shad would. He'd feel a great responsibility if you didn't turn up
+for the ghost-hunt. Wouldn't you, Shad?"
+
+Shad wagged his head indeterminately, and spat. "Come on," he said
+sullenly, and turned, leading the way out to the northward, followed by
+Beth with an inviting smile. She still wore her denim overalls which
+were much too long for her and her dusty brown boots seemed like a
+child's. Between moments of avoiding roots and branches, Peter watched
+her strong young figure as it followed their leader. Yesterday, he had
+thought her small; to-day she seemed to have increased in stature--so
+uncertain is the masculine judgment upon any aspect of a woman. But his
+notions in regard to her grace and loveliness were only confirmed. There
+was no concealing them under her absurd garments. Her flanks were long
+and lithe, like a boy's, but there was something feminine in the way she
+moved, a combination of ease and strength made manifest, which could
+only come of well-made limbs carefully jointed. Every little while she
+flashed a glance over her shoulder at him, exchanging a word, even
+politely holding back a branch until he caught it, or else when he was
+least expecting it, letting it fly into his face. From time to time Shad
+Wells would turn to look at them and Peter could see that he wasn't as
+happy as he might have been. But Beth was very much enjoying herself.
+
+They had emerged at last into the road and walked toward Black Rock,
+Beth in the center and Peter and Shad on either side.
+
+"I've been thinkin' about what you said yesterday," said Beth to Peter.
+
+"About----?"
+
+"Singin' like an angel in Heaven," she said promptly aware of Shad's
+bridling glance.
+
+"Oh, well," repeated Peter, "you do--you know."
+
+"It was very nice of you--and you a musician."
+
+"Musician!" growled Shad. "He ain't a musician."
+
+"Oh, yes, he is, and he says I've a voice like an angel. _You_ never
+said that, Shad Wells."
+
+"No. Nor I won't," he snapped surlily.
+
+Peter would have been more amused if he hadn't thought that Shad Wells
+was unhappy.
+
+He needed the man's allegiance and he had no wish to make an enemy of
+him.
+
+"Musician!" Shad growled. "Then it was you the men heard last night."
+
+"I found a piano in the cabin. I was trying it," said Peter. Shad said
+nothing in reply but he put every shade of scorn into the way in which
+he spat into the road.
+
+"A piano----!" Beth gasped. "Where? What cabin?"
+
+"The playhouse--where I live," said Peter politely.
+
+"Oh."
+
+There was a silence on the part of both of his companions, awkwardly
+long.
+
+So Peter made an effort to relieve the tension, commenting on the new
+arrivals at Black Rock House.
+
+At the mention of Peggy's name Beth showed fresh excitement.
+
+"Miss McGuire! Here? When----?"
+
+"This morning. Do you know her?"
+
+"No. But I've seen her. I think she's just lovely."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"She wears such beautiful clothes and--and hats and veils."
+
+Peter laughed. "And that's your definition of loveliness."
+
+"Why, yes," she said in wonder. "Last year all the girls were copyin'
+her, puttin' little puffs of hair over their ears--I tried it, but it
+looked funny. Is she going to be here long? Has she got a 'beau' with
+her? She always had. It's a wonder she doesn't run over somebody, the
+way she drives."
+
+"She nearly got me this mornin'," growled Shad.
+
+"I wish she would--if you're going to look like a meat-ax, Shad Wells."
+
+There was no reconciling them now, and when Beth's home was reached, all
+three of them went different ways. What a rogue she was! And poor Shad
+Wells who was to have taken Peter at a gobble, seemed a very poor sort
+of a creature in Beth's hands.
+
+She amused Peter greatly, but she annoyed him a little too, ruffled up
+the shreds of his princely dignity, not yet entirely inured to the
+trials of social regeneration. And Shad's blind adoration was merely a
+vehicle for her amusement. It would have been very much better if she
+hadn't used Peter's compliment as a bait for Shad. Peter had come to
+the point of liking the rough foreman even if he was a new kind of human
+animal from anything in Peter's experience.
+
+And so was Beth. A new kind of animal--something between a harrier and a
+skylark, but wholesome and human too, a denim dryad, the spirit of
+health, joy and beauty, a creature good to look at, in spite of her envy
+of the fashionable Miss Peggy McGuire with her modish hats, cerise veils
+and ear puffs, her red roadsters and her beaux. Poverty sat well upon
+Beth and the frank blue eyes and resolute chin gave notice that whatever
+was to happen to her future she was honorable and unafraid.
+
+But if there was something very winning about her, there was something
+pathetic too. Her beauty was so unconscious of her ridiculous clothing,
+and yet Peter had come to think of it as a part of her, wondering indeed
+what she would look like in feminine apparel, in which he could not
+imagine her, for the other girls of Black Rock had not so far blessed
+his vision. Aunt Tillie Bergen had told him, over his late breakfast, of
+the difficulties that she and Beth had had to keep their little place
+going and how Beth, after being laid off for the summer at the factory,
+had insisted upon working in the Gaskill's vineyard to help out with the
+household. There ought to be something for Beth Cameron, better than
+this--something less difficult--more ennobling.
+
+Thinking of these things Peter made his way back to the cabin. Nothing
+of a disturbing nature had happened around Black Rock House, except the
+arrival of the remainder of McGuire's unwelcome house party, which had
+taken to wandering aimlessly through the woods, much to the disgust of
+Jesse Brown, who, lost in the choice between "dudes" and desperadoes,
+had given up any attempt to follow Peter's careful injunctions in regard
+to McGuire. It was still early and the supper hour was seven, so Peter
+unpacked his small trunk which had arrived in his absence and then,
+carefully shutting door and windows, sat at the piano and played quietly
+at first, a "Reverie" of Tschaikowsky, a "Berceuse" of César Cui, the
+"Valse Triste" of Jean Sibelius and then forgetting himself--launched
+forth into Chopin's C Minor Étude. His fingers were stiff for lack of
+practice and the piano was far from perfect, but in twenty minutes he
+had forgotten the present, lost in memories. He had played this for
+Anastasie Galitzin. He saw the glint of the shaded piano lamp upon her
+golden head, recalled her favorite perfume.... Silver nights upon the
+castle terrace.... Golden walks through the autumn forest....
+
+Suddenly a bell rang loudly at Peter's side, it seemed. Then while he
+wondered, it rang again. Of course--the telephone. He found the
+instrument in the corner and put the receiver to his ear. It was
+McGuire's voice.
+
+"That you, Nichols?" it asked in an agitated staccato.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Well, it's getting dark, what have you done about to-night?"
+
+"Same as last night," said Peter smiling, "only more careful."
+
+"Well, I want things changed," the gruff voice rose. "The whole d--n
+house is open. I can't shut it with these people here. Your men will
+have to move in closer--but keep under cover. Can you arrange it?"
+
+"Yes, I think so."
+
+"I'll want you here--with me--you understand. You were coming to
+supper?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Well--er--I've told my daughter and so--would you mind putting on a
+dress suit----? Er--if you have one--a Tuxedo will do."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Peter. "That's all right."
+
+"Oh--er--thanks. You'll be up soon?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Good-by."
+
+With a grin, Peter hung up the receiver, recalling the soiled,
+perspiring, unquiet figure of his employer last night. But it seemed as
+though McGuire were almost as much in awe of his daughter as of the
+danger that threatened, for, in the McGuire household, Miss Peggy, it
+appeared, was paramount.
+
+Peter's bathroom was Cedar Creek. In his robe, he ran down the dusky
+path for a quick plunge. Then, refreshed and invigorated, he lighted his
+lamp and dressed leisurely. He had come to his cravat, to which he was
+wont to pay more than a casual attention, when he was aware of a feeling
+of discomfort--of unease. In the mirror something moved, a shadow, at
+the corner of the window. He waited a moment, still fingering his
+cravat, and then sure that his eyes had made no mistake, turned quickly
+and, revolver in hand, rushed outside. Just as he did so a man with a
+startled face disappeared around the corner of the cabin. Peter rushed
+after him, shouting and turned the edge just in time to see his shape
+leap into the bushes.
+
+"Who goes there?" shouted Peter crisply. "Halt, or I'll fire."
+
+But the only reply was a furious crashing in the undergrowth. Peter
+fired twice at the sound, then followed in, still calling.
+
+No sound. Under the conditions a chase was hopeless, so Peter paused
+listening. And then after a few moments a more distant crackling advised
+him that his visitor had gotten well away. And so after a while he
+returned to the cabin and with his weapon beside him finished his
+interrupted toilet.
+
+But his brows were in a tangle. The mystery surrounding him seemed
+suddenly to have deepened. For the face that he had seen at the window
+was that of the stranger who had stared at him so curiously--the man of
+the soft hat and dark mustache--who had seemed so startled at seeing him
+in the Pennsylvania Station when he was leaving New York.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE HOUSE OF TERROR
+
+
+Who--what was this stranger who seemed so interested in his whereabouts?
+Peter was sure that he had made no mistake. It was an unusual face,
+swarthy, with high cheek bones, dark eyes, a short nose with prominent
+nostrils. Perhaps it would not have been so firmly impressed on his
+memory except for the curious look of startled recognition that Peter
+had surprised on it at the station in New York. This had puzzled him for
+some moments in the train but had been speedily lost in the interest of
+his journey. The man had followed him to Black Rock. But why? What did
+he want of Peter and why should he skulk around the cabin and risk the
+danger of Peter's bullets? It seemed obvious that he was here for some
+dishonest purpose, but what dishonest purpose could have any interest in
+Peter? If robbery, why hadn't the man chosen the time while Peter was
+away in the woods? Peter grinned to himself. If the man had any private
+sources of information as to Peter's personal assets, he would have
+known that they consisted of a two-dollar watch and a small sum in
+money. If the dishonest purpose were murder or injury, why hadn't he
+attacked Peter while he was bathing, naked and quite defenseless, in the
+creek?
+
+There seemed to be definite answers to all of these questions, but none
+to the fact of the man's presence, to the fact of his look of
+recognition, or to the fact of his wish to be unobserved. Was he a part
+of the same conspiracy which threatened McGuire? Or was this a little
+private conspiracy arranged for Peter alone? And if so, why? So far as
+Peter knew he hadn't an enemy in America, and even if he had made one,
+it was hardly conceivable that any one should go to such lengths to
+approach an issue and then deliberately avoid it.
+
+But there seemed no doubt that something was up and that, later, more
+would be heard from this curious incident. It seemed equally certain
+that had the stranger meant to shoot Peter he could easily have done so
+in perfect safety to himself through the window, while Peter was
+fastening his cravat. Reloading his revolver and slipping it into his
+pocket, Peter locked the cabin carefully, and after listening to the
+sounds of the woods for awhile, made his way up the path to Black Rock
+House.
+
+He had decided to say nothing about the incident which, so far as he
+could see, concerned only himself, and so when the men on guard
+questioned him about the shots that they had heard he told them that he
+had been firing at a mark. This was quite true, even if the mark had
+been invisible. Shad Wells was off duty until midnight so Peter went the
+rounds, calling the men to the guardhouse and telling them of the change
+in the orders. They were to wait until the company upon the portico went
+indoors and then, with Jesse in command, they were to take new stations
+in trees and clumps of bushes which Peter designated much nearer the
+house. The men eyed his dinner jacket with some curiosity and not a
+little awe, and Peter informed them that it was the old man's order and
+that he, Peter, was going to keep watch from inside the house, but that
+a blast from a whistle would fetch him out. He also warned them that it
+was McGuire's wish that none of the visitors should be aware of the
+watchmen and that therefore there should be no false alarms.
+
+Curiously enough Peter found McGuire in a state very nearly bordering
+on calm. He had had a drink. He had not heard the shots Peter had fired
+nor apparently had any of the regular occupants of the house. The
+visitors had possibly disregarded them. From the pantry came a sound
+with which Peter was familiar, for Stryker was shaking the cocktails.
+And when the ladies came downstairs the two men on the portico came in
+and Peter was presented to the others of the party, Miss Delaplane, Mr.
+Gittings and Mr. Mordaunt. The daughter of the house examined Peter's
+clothing and then, having apparently revised her estimate of him, became
+almost cordial, bidding him sit next Miss Delaplane at table.
+
+Mildred Delaplane was tall, handsome, dark and aquiline, and made a foil
+for Peggy's blond prettiness. Peter thought her a step above Peggy in
+the cultural sense, and only learned afterward that as she was not very
+well off, Peggy was using her as a rung in the social ladder. Mordaunt,
+Peter didn't fancy, but Gittings, who was jovial and bald, managed to
+inject some life into the party, which, despite the effect of the
+cocktails, seemed rather weary and listless.
+
+McGuire sat rigidly at the head of the table, forcing smiles and
+glancing uneasily at doors and windows. Peter was worried too, not as to
+himself, but as to any possible connection that there might be between
+the man with the dark mustache and the affairs of Jonathan McGuire.
+Mildred Delaplane, who had traveled in Europe in antebellum days, found
+much that was interesting in Peter's fragmentary reminiscences. She knew
+music too, and in an unguarded moment Peter admitted that he had
+studied. It was difficult to lie to women, he had found.
+
+And so, after dinner, that information having transpired, he was
+immediately led to the piano-stool by his hostess, who was frequently
+biased in her social judgments by Mildred Delaplane. Peter played Cyril
+Scott's "Song from the East," and then, sure of Miss Delaplane's
+interest, an Étude of Scriabine, an old favorite of his which seemed to
+express the mood of the moment.
+
+And all the while he was aware of Jonathan McGuire, seated squarely in
+the middle of the sofa which commanded all the windows and doors, with
+one hand at his pocket, scowling and alert by turns, for, though the
+night had fallen slowly, it was now pitch black outside. Peter knew that
+McGuire was thinking he hadn't hired his superintendent as a musician to
+entertain his daughter's guests, but that he was powerless to interfere.
+Nor did he wish to excite the reprobation of his daughter by going up
+and locking himself in his room. Peggy, having finished her cigarette
+with Freddy on the portico, had come in again and was now leaning over
+the piano, her gaze fixed, like Mildred's, upon Peter's mobile fingers.
+
+"You're really too wonderful a superintendent to be quite true," said
+Peggy when Peter had finished. "But _do_ give us a 'rag.'"
+
+Peter shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't do ragtime."
+
+"Quit your kidding! I want to dance."
+
+"I'm not--er--kidding," said Peter, laughing. "I can't play it at
+all--not at all."
+
+Peggy gave him a look, shrugged and walked to the door.
+
+"Fred-die-e!" she called.
+
+Peter rose from the piano-stool and crossed to McGuire. The man's cigar
+was unsmoked and tiny beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.
+
+"I don't think you need worry, sir," whispered Peter. "The men are all
+around the house, but if you say, I'll go out for another look around."
+
+"No matter. I'll stick it out for a while."
+
+"You're better off here than anywhere, I should say. No one would
+dare----"
+
+Here Freddy at the piano struck up "Mary" and further conversation was
+drowned in commotion. Mildred Delaplane was preëmpted by Mr. Gittings
+and Peggy came whirling alone toward Peter, arms extended, the passion
+for the dance outweighing other prejudices.
+
+Peter took a turn, but four years of war had done little to improve his
+steps.
+
+"I'm afraid all my dancing is in my fingers," he muttered.
+
+Suddenly, as Freddy Mordaunt paused, Peggy stopped and lowered her arms.
+
+"Good Lord!" she gasped. "What's the matter with Pop?"
+
+McGuire had risen unsteadily and was peering out into the darkness
+through the window opposite him, his face pallid, his lips drawn into a
+thin line. Peggy ran to him and caught him by the arm.
+
+"What is it, Pop? Are you sick?"
+
+"N-no matter. Just a bit upset. If you don't mind, daughter, I think
+I'll be going up."
+
+"Can I do anything?"
+
+"No. Stay here and enjoy yourselves. Just tell Stryker, will you,
+Nichols, and then come up to my room."
+
+Peggy was regarding him anxiously as he made his way to the door and
+intercepted Peter as he went to look for the valet.
+
+"What is it, Mr. Nichols?" she asked. "He may be sick, but it seems to
+me----" she paused, and then, "Did you see his eyes as he looked out of
+the window?"
+
+"Indigestion," said Peter coolly.
+
+"You'll see after him, won't you? And if he wants me, just call over."
+
+"I'm sure he won't want you. A few home remedies----"
+
+And Peter went through the door. Stryker had appeared mysteriously from
+somewhere and had already preceded his master up the stair. When Peter
+reached the landing, McGuire was standing alone in the dark, leaning
+against the wall, his gaze on the lighted bedroom which, the valet was
+carefully examining.
+
+"What is it, sir?" asked Peter coolly. "You thought you saw something?"
+
+"Yes--out there--on the side portico----"
+
+"You must be mistaken--unless it was one of the watchmen----"
+
+"No, no. I saw----"
+
+"What, sir?"
+
+"No matter. Do you think Peggy noticed?"
+
+"Just that you didn't seem quite yourself----"
+
+"But not that I seemed--er----"
+
+"Alarmed? I said you weren't well."
+
+Peter took the frightened man's arm and helped him into his room.
+
+"I'm not, Nichols," he groaned. "I'm not myself."
+
+"I wouldn't worry, sir. I'd say it was physically impossible for any one
+to approach the house without permission. But I'll go down and have
+another look around."
+
+"Do, Nichols. But come back up here. I'll want to talk to you."
+
+So Peter went down. And, evading inquiries in the hallway, made his way
+out through the hall and pantry. Here a surprise awaited him, for as he
+opened the door there was a skurry of light footsteps and in a moment he
+was in the pantry face to face with Beth Cameron, who seemed much
+dismayed at being discovered.
+
+"What on earth are you doing here?" he asked in amazement.
+
+She glanced at his white shirt front and then laughed.
+
+"I came to help Aunt Tillie dish up."
+
+"You!" He didn't know why he should have been so amazed at finding her
+occupying a menial position in this household. She didn't seem to belong
+to the back stairs! And yet there she was in a plain blue gingham dress
+which made her seem much taller, and a large apron, her tawny hair
+casting agreeable shadows around her blue eyes, which he noticed seemed
+much darker by night than by day.
+
+She noticed the inflection of his voice and laughed.
+
+"Why not? I thought Aunt Tillie would need me--and besides I wanted to
+peek a little."
+
+"Ah, I see. You wanted to see Miss Peggy's new frock through the
+keyhole?"
+
+"Yes--and the other one. Aren't they pretty?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"I listened, too. I couldn't help it."
+
+"Eavesdropping!"
+
+She nodded. "Oh, Mr. Nichols, but you do play the piano beautifully!"
+
+"But not like an angel in Heaven," said Peter with a smile.
+
+"Almost--if angels play. You make me forget----" she paused.
+
+"What----?"
+
+"That's there's anything in the world except beauty."
+
+In the drawing-room Freddy, having found himself, had swept into a song
+of the cabarets, to which there was a "close harmony" chorus.
+
+"There's that----," he muttered, jerking a thumb in the direction from
+which he had come.
+
+But she shook her head. "No," she said. "That's different."
+
+"How--different?"
+
+"Wrong--false--un--unworthy----"
+
+As she groped for and found the word he stared at her in astonishment.
+And in her eyes back of the joy that seemed to be always dancing in them
+he saw the shadows of a sober thought.
+
+"But don't you like dance music?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, I do, but it's only for the feet. Your music is for--for _here_."
+And with a quick graceful gesture she clasped her hands upon her breast.
+
+"I'm glad you think so, because that's where it comes from."
+
+At this point Peter remembered his mission, which Beth's appearance had
+driven from his mind.
+
+"I'll play for you sometime," he said.
+
+He went past her and out to the servants' dining-room. As he entered
+with Beth at his heels, Mrs. Bergen, the housekeeper, turned in from the
+open door to the kitchen garden, clinging to the jamb, her lips
+mumbling, as though she were continuing a conversation. But her round
+face, usually the color and texture of a well ripened peach, was the
+color of putty, and seemed suddenly to have grown old and haggard. Her
+eyes through her metal-rimmed spectacles seemed twice their size and
+stared at Peter as though they saw through him and beyond. She faltered
+at the door-jamb and then with an effort reached a chair, into which she
+sank gasping.
+
+Beth was kneeling at her side in a moment, looking up anxiously into her
+startled eyes.
+
+"Why, what is it, Aunt Tillie?" she whispered quickly. "What it is? Tell
+me."
+
+The coincidence was too startling. Could the same Thing that had
+frightened McGuire have frightened the housekeeper too? Peter rushed
+past her and out of the open door. It was dark outside and for a moment
+he could see nothing. Then objects one by one asserted themselves, the
+orderly rows of vegetable plants in the garden, the wood-box by the
+door, the shrubbery at the end of the portico, the blue spruce tree
+opposite, the loom of the dark and noncommittal garage. He knew that one
+of his men was in the trees opposite the side porch and another around
+the corner of the kitchen, in the hedge, but he did not want to raise a
+hue and cry unless it was necessary. What was this Thing that created
+terror at sight? He peered this way and that, aware of an intense
+excitement, in one hand his revolver and in the other his police
+whistle. But he saw no object move, and the silence was absolute. In a
+moment--disappointed--he hurried back to the servants' dining-room.
+
+Mrs. Bergen sat dazed in her chair, while Beth, who had brought her a
+glass of water, was making her drink of it.
+
+"Tell me, what is it?" Beth was insisting.
+
+"Nothing--nothing," murmured the woman.
+
+"But there is----"
+
+"No, dearie----"
+
+"Are you sick?"
+
+"I don't feel right. Maybe--the heat----"
+
+"But your eyes look queer----"
+
+"Do they----?" The housekeeper tried to smile.
+
+"Yes. Like they had seen----"
+
+A little startled as she remembered the mystery of the house, Beth cast
+her glance into the darkness outside the open door.
+
+"You _are_--frightened!" she said.
+
+"No, no----"
+
+"What was it you saw, Mrs. Bergen," asked Peter gently.
+
+He was just at her side and at the sound of his voice she half arose,
+but recognizing Peter she sank back in her chair.
+
+Peter repeated his question, but she shook her head.
+
+"Won't you tell us? What was it you saw? A man----?"
+
+Her eyes sought Beth's and a look of tenderness came into them,
+banishing the vision. But she lied when she answered Peter's question.
+
+"I saw nothin', Mr. Nichols--I think I'll go up----"
+
+She took another swallow of the water and rose. And with her strength
+came a greater obduracy.
+
+"I saw nothin'----" she repeated again, as she saw that he was still
+looking at her. "Nothin' at all."
+
+Peter and Beth exchanged glances and Beth, putting her hand under the
+housekeeper's arm, helped the woman to the back stairs.
+
+Peter stood for a moment in the middle of the kitchen floor, his gaze on
+the door through which the woman had vanished. Aunt Tillie too! She had
+seen some one, some Thing--the same some one or Thing that McGuire had
+seen. But granting that their eyes had not deceived them, granting that
+each had seen Something, what, unless it were supernatural, could have
+frightened McGuire and Aunt Tillie too? Even if the old woman had been
+timid about staying in the house, she had made it clear to Peter that
+she was entirely unaware of the kind of danger that threatened her
+employer. Peter had believed her then. He saw no reason to disbelieve
+her now. She had known as little as Peter about the cause for McGuire's
+alarm. And here he had found her staring with the same unseeing eyes
+into the darkness, with the same symptoms of nervous shock as McGuire
+had shown. What enemy of McGuire's could frighten Aunt Tillie into
+prostration and seal her lips to speech? Why wouldn't she have dared to
+tell Peter what she had seen? What was this secret and how could she
+share it with McGuire when twenty-four hours ago she had been in
+complete ignorance of the mystery? Why wouldn't she talk? Was the
+vision too intimate? Or too horrible?
+
+Peter was imaginative, for he had been steeped from boyhood in the
+superstitions of his people. But the war had taught him that devils had
+legs and carried weapons. He had seen more horrible sights than most men
+of his years, in daylight, at dawn, or silvered with moonlight. He
+thought he had exhausted the possibilities for terror. But he found
+himself grudgingly admitting that he was at the least a little
+nervous--at the most, on the verge of alarm. But he put his whistle in
+his mouth, drew his revolver again and went forth.
+
+First he sought out the man in the spruce tree. It was Andy. He had seen
+no one but the people on the porch and in the windows. It was very dark
+but he took an oath that no one had approached the house from his side.
+
+"You saw no one talking with Mrs. Bergen by the kitchen door?"
+
+"No. I can't see th' kitchen door from here."
+
+Peter verified. A syringa bush was just in line.
+
+"Then you haven't moved?" asked Peter.
+
+"No. I was afraid they'd see me."
+
+"They've seen something----"
+
+"You mean----?"
+
+"I don't know. But look sharp. If anything comes out this way, take a
+shot at it."
+
+"You think there's something----"
+
+"Yes--but don't move. And keep your eyes open!"
+
+Peter went off to the man in the hedge behind the kitchen--Jesse Brown.
+
+"See anything?" asked Peter.
+
+"Nope. Nobody but the chauffeur."
+
+"The chauffeur?"
+
+"He went up to th' house a while back."
+
+"Oh--how long ago?"
+
+"Twenty minutes."
+
+"I see." And then, "You didn't see any one come away from the kitchen
+door?"
+
+"No. He's thar yet, I reckon."
+
+Peter ran out to the garage to verify this statement. By the light of a
+lantern the chauffeur in his rubber boots was washing the two cars.
+
+"Have you been up to the house lately?"
+
+"Why, no," said the man, in surprise.
+
+"You're sure?" asked Peter excitedly.
+
+"Sure----"
+
+"Then come with me. There's something on."
+
+The man dropped his sponge and followed Peter, who had run back quickly
+to the house.
+
+It was now after eleven. From the drawing-room came the distracting
+sounds from the tortured piano, but there was no one on the portico. So
+Peter, with Jesse, Andy and the chauffeur made a careful round of the
+house, examining every bush, every tree, within a circle of a hundred
+yards, exhausting every possibility for concealment. When they reached
+the kitchen door again, Peter rubbed his head and gave it up. A screech
+owl somewhere off in the woods jeered at him. All the men, except Jesse,
+were plainly skeptical. But he sent them back to their posts and, still
+pondering the situation, went into the house.
+
+It was extraordinary how the visitor, whoever he was, could have gotten
+away without having been observed, for though the night was black the
+eyes of the men outside were accustomed to it and the lights from the
+windows sent a glimmer into the obscurity. Of one thing Peter was now
+certain, that the prowler was no ghost or banshee, but a man, and that
+he had gone as mysteriously as he had come.
+
+Peter knew that his employer would be anxious until he returned to him,
+but he hadn't quite decided to tell McGuire of the housekeeper's share
+in the adventure. He had a desire to verify his belief that Mrs. Bergen
+was frightened by the visitor for a reason of her own which had nothing
+to do with Jonathan McGuire. Any woman alarmed by a possible burglar or
+other miscreant would have come running and crying for help. Mrs. Bergen
+had been doggedly silent, as though, rather than utter her thoughts, she
+would have bitten out her tongue. It was curious. She had seemed to be
+talking as though to herself at the door, and then, at the sound of
+footsteps in the kitchen behind her, had turned and fallen limp in the
+nearest chair. The look in her face, as in McGuire's, was that of
+terror, but there was something of bewilderment in both of them too,
+like that of a solitary sniper in the first shock of a shrapnel wound, a
+look of anguish that seemed to have no outlet, save in speech, which was
+denied.
+
+To tell McGuire what had happened in the kitchen meant to alarm him
+further. Peter decided for the present to keep the matter from him,
+giving the housekeeper the opportunity of telling the truth on the
+morrow if she wished.
+
+He crossed the kitchen and servants' dining-room and just at the foot of
+the back stairs met Mrs. Bergen and Beth coming down. So he retraced his
+steps into the kitchen, curious as to the meaning of her reappearance.
+
+At least she had recovered the use of her tongue.
+
+"I couldn't go to bed, just yet, Mr. Nichols," she said in reply to
+Peter's question. "I just couldn't."
+
+Peter gazed at her steadily. This woman held a clew to the mystery. She
+glanced at him uncertainly but she had recovered her self-possession,
+and her replies to his questions, if anything, were more obstinate than
+before.
+
+"I saw nothin', Mr. Nichols--nothin'. I was just a bit upset. I'm all
+right now. An' I want Beth to go home. That's why I came down."
+
+"But, Aunt Tillie, if you're not well, I'm going to stay----"
+
+"No. Ye can't stay here. I want ye to go." And then, turning excitedly
+to Peter, "Can't ye let somebody see her home, Mr. Nichols?"
+
+"Of course," said Peter. "But I don't think she's in any danger."
+
+"No, but she can't stay here. She just can't."
+
+Beth put her arm around the old woman's shoulder.
+
+"I'm not afraid."
+
+Aunt Tillie was already untying Beth's apron.
+
+"I know ye're not, dearie. But ye can't stay here. I don't want ye to. I
+don't want ye to."
+
+"But if you're afraid of something----"
+
+"Who said I was afraid?" she asked, glaring at Peter defiantly. "I'm
+not. I just had a spell--all this excitement an' extra work--an'
+everything."
+
+She lied. Peter knew it, but he saw no object to be gained in keeping
+Beth in Black Rock House, so he went out cautiously and brought the
+chauffeur, to whom he entrusted the safety of the girl. He would have
+felt more comfortable if he could have escorted her himself, but he knew
+that his duty was at the house and that whoever the mysterious person
+was it was not Beth that he wanted.
+
+But what was Mrs. Bergen's reason for wishing to get rid of her?
+
+As Beth went out of the door he whispered in her ear, "Say nothing of
+this--to any one."
+
+She nodded gravely and followed the man who had preceded her.
+
+When the door closed behind Beth and the chauffeur, Peter turned quickly
+and faced the housekeeper.
+
+"Now," he said severely, "tell me the truth."
+
+She stared at him with a falling jaw in a moment of alarm--then closed
+her lips firmly. And, as she refused to reply,
+
+"Do you want me to tell Mr. McGuire that you were talking to a stranger
+at the kitchen door?"
+
+She trembled and sinking in a chair buried her face in her hands.
+
+"I don't want to be unkind, Mrs. Bergen, but there's something here that
+needs explaining. Who was the man you talked to outside the door?"
+
+"I--I can't tell ye," she muttered.
+
+"You must. It's better. I'm your friend and Beth's----"
+
+The woman raised her haggard face to his.
+
+"Beth's friend! Are ye? Then ask me no more."
+
+"But I've got to know. I'm here to protect Mr. McGuire, but I'd like to
+protect you too. Who is this stranger?"
+
+The woman lowered her head and then shook it violently. "No, no. I'll
+not tell."
+
+He frowned down at her head.
+
+"Did you know that to-night McGuire saw the stranger--the man that _you_
+saw--and that he's even more frightened than you?"
+
+The woman raised her head, gazed at him helplessly, then lowered it
+again, but she did not speak. The kitchen was silent, but an obbligato
+to this drama, like the bray of the ass in the overture to "Midsummer
+Night's Dream," came from the drawing-room, where Freddy Mordaunt was
+now singing a sentimental ballad.
+
+"I'm sorry, Mrs. Bergen, but if Mr. McGuire is in danger to-night, I've
+got to know it."
+
+"To-night!" she gasped, as though clutching at a straw. "Not to-night.
+Nothin'll happen to-night. I'm sure of that, Mr. Nichols."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+She threw out her arms in a wide gesture of desperation. "For the love
+o' God, go 'way an' leave me in peace. Don't ye see I ain't fit to talk
+to anybody?" She gasped with a choking throat. "_He_ ain't comin' back
+again--not to-night. I'll swear it on th' Bible, if ye want me to."
+
+Their glances met, hers weary and pleading, and he believed her.
+
+"All right, Mrs. Bergen," he said soothingly. "I'll take your word for
+it, but you'll admit the whole thing is very strange--very startling."
+
+"Yes--strange. God knows it is. But I--I can't tell ye anything."
+
+"But what shall I say to Mr. McGuire--upstairs. I've got to go up--now."
+
+"Say to him----?" she gasped helplessly, all her terrors renewed. "Ye
+can't tell him I was talkin' to anybody." And then more wildly, "Ye
+mustn't. I wasn't. I was talkin' to myself--that's the God's truth, I
+was--when ye come in. It was so strange--an' all. Don't tell him, Mr.
+Nichols," she pleaded at last, with a terrible earnestness, and
+clutching at his hand. "For my sake, for Beth's----"
+
+"What has Beth to do with it?"
+
+"More'n ye think. Oh, God----" she broke off. "What am I sayin'----?
+Beth don't know. She mustn't. He don't know either----"
+
+"Who? McGuire?"
+
+"No--no. Don't ask any more questions, Mr. Nichols," she sobbed. "I
+can't speak. Don't ye see I can't?"
+
+So Peter gave up the inquisition. He had never liked to see a woman cry.
+
+"Oh, all right," he said more cheerfully, "you'd better be getting to
+bed. Perhaps daylight will clear things up."
+
+"And ye won't tell McGuire?" she pleaded.
+
+"I can't promise anything. But I won't if I'm not compelled to."
+
+She gazed at him uncertainly, her weary eyes wavering, but she seemed to
+take some courage from his attitude.
+
+"God bless ye, sir."
+
+"Good-night, Mrs. Bergen."
+
+And then, avoiding the drawing-room, Peter made his way up the stairs
+with a great deal of mental uncertainty to the other room of terror.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+MUSIC
+
+
+Stryker, who kept guard at the door of McGuire's room, opened it
+cautiously in response to Peter's knock. He found McGuire sitting
+rigidly in a rocking-chair at the side of the room, facing the windows,
+a whisky bottle and glass on the table beside him. His face had lost its
+pallor, but in his eyes was the same look of glassy bewilderment.
+
+"Why the H---- couldn't you come sooner?" He whined the question, not
+angrily, but querulously, like a child.
+
+"I was having a look around," replied Peter coolly.
+
+"Oh! And did you find anybody?"
+
+"No."
+
+"H-m! I thought you wouldn't."
+
+Peter hesitated. He meant to conceal the housekeeper's share in the
+night's encounters, but he knew that both Andy and the chauffeur would
+talk, and so,
+
+"There _was_ somebody outside, Mr. McGuire," he said. "You were not
+mistaken, a man prowling in the dark near the kitchen. Andy thought it
+was the chauffeur, who was in the garage washing the cars."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+McGuire started up, battling for his manhood. It seemed to Peter that
+his gasp was almost one of relief at discovering that his eyes had not
+deceived him, that the face he had seen was that of a real person,
+instead of the figment of a disordered mind.
+
+"Ah! Why didn't they shoot him?"
+
+"I've just said, sir, Andy thought it was the chauffeur."
+
+McGuire was pacing the floor furiously.
+
+"He has no business to think. I pay him to act. And you--what did you
+do?"
+
+"Three of us searched the whole place--every tree, every bush--every
+shadow----. The man has gone."
+
+"Gone," sneered the other. "A H---- of a mess you're making of this
+job!"
+
+Peter straightened angrily, but managed to control himself.
+
+"Very well, Mr. McGuire," he said. "Then you'd better get somebody else
+at once."
+
+He had never given notice before but the hackneyed phrase fell crisply
+from his lips. For many reasons, Peter didn't want to go, but he bowed
+and walked quickly across the room. "Good-night," he said.
+
+Before he had reached the door the frightened man came stumbling after
+him and caught him by the arm.
+
+"No, no, Nichols. Come back. D'ye hear? You mustn't be so d---- touchy.
+Come back. You can't go. I didn't mean anything. Come now!"
+
+Peter paused, his hand on the knob, and looked down into the man's
+flabby, empurpled countenance.
+
+"I thought you meant it," he said.
+
+"No. I--I didn't. I--I like you, Nichols--liked you from the very
+first--yesterday. Of course you can't be responsible for all the
+boneheads here."
+
+Peter had "called the bluff." Perhaps the lesson might have a salutary
+effect. And so, as his good humor came back to him, he smiled
+pleasantly.
+
+"You see, Mr. McGuire, you could hardly expect Andy to shoot the
+chauffeur. They're on excellent terms."
+
+McGuire had settled down into a chair near the table, and motioned Peter
+to another one near him.
+
+"Sit down, Nichols. Another glass, Stryker. So." He poured the whisky
+with an assumption of ease and they drank.
+
+"You see, Nichols," he went on as he set his empty glass down, "I know
+what I'm about. There _is_ somebody trying to get at me. It's no
+dream--no hallucination. You know that too, now. I saw him--I would have
+shot him through the window--if it hadn't been for Peggy--and the
+others--but I--I didn't dare--for reasons. She mustn't know----" And
+then eagerly, "She doesn't suspect anything yet, does she, Nichols?"
+
+Peter gestured over his shoulder in the direction of the sounds which
+still came from below.
+
+"No. They're having a good time."
+
+"That's all right. To-morrow they'll be leaving for New York, I hope.
+And then we'll meet this issue squarely. You say the man has gone. Why
+do you think so?"
+
+"Isn't it reasonable to think so? His visit was merely a reconnoissance.
+I think he had probably been lying out in the underbrush all day,
+getting the lay of the land, watching what we were doing--seeing where
+the men were placed. But he must know now that he'll have to try
+something else--that he hasn't a chance of getting to you past these
+guards, if you don't want him to."
+
+"But he nearly succeeded to-night," mumbled McGuire dubiously.
+
+Peter was silent a moment.
+
+"I'm not supposed to question and I won't. But it seems to me, Mr.
+McGuire, that if this visitor's plan were to murder you, to get rid of
+you, he would have shot you down to-night, through the window. From his
+failure to do so, there is one definite conclusion to draw--and that is
+that he wants to see you--to talk with you----"
+
+McGuire fairly threw himself from his chair as he roared,
+
+"I can't see him. I won't. I won't see anybody. I've got the law on my
+side. A man's house is his castle. A fellow prowls around here in the
+dark. He's been seen--if he's shot it's his own lookout. And he _will_
+be shot before he reaches me. You hear me? Your men must shoot--shoot to
+kill. If they fail I'll----"
+
+He shrugged as if at the futility of his own words, which came stumbling
+forth, born half of fear, half of braggadocio.
+
+Peter regarded him soberly. It was difficult to conceive of this man,
+who talked like a madman and a spoiled child, as the silent, stubborn,
+friendless millionaire, as the power in finance that Sheldon, Senior,
+had described him to be. The love of making money had succumbed to a
+more primitive passion which for the time being had mastered him. From
+what had been revealed, it seemed probable that it was not death or
+bodily injury that he feared, for Peter had seen him stand up at the
+window, a fair target for any good marksman, but an interview with this
+nocturnal visitor who seemed bent upon bringing it about. Indeed, the
+childish bravado of his last speech had voiced a wish, but beneath the
+wish Peter had guessed a protest against the inevitable.
+
+Peter acknowledged McGuire's right to seclusion in his own house, but he
+found himself wondering whether death for the intruder as proposed by
+his employer were a justifiable means of preserving it, especially if
+the strange visitor did not himself use violence to gain his ends. And
+so, when McGuire presently poured himself another glass of whisky, and
+drank it, Peter took the liberty of asking the question.
+
+"I am ignorant of your laws in this country, Mr. McGuire, but doesn't it
+seem that short of forcible entry of this house we would hardly be
+justified in shooting the man?"
+
+"I take the responsibility for that."
+
+"I understand. But what I was going to propose was a hunt through the
+woods to-morrow. A description of this man would be helpful. For
+instance, whether he was smoothly shaven or whether he had a
+beard--or--or a mustache?"
+
+McGuire scowled.
+
+"The man has a slight growth of beard--of mustache. But what difference
+does that make? No one has a right here--without my permission."
+
+Peter sipped at his glass. As he had suspected, there were two of them.
+
+"That's true. But even with this, we can move with more intelligence.
+This forest is your property. If we find any person who can't give an
+account of himself, we could take him into custody and turn him over to
+the proper authorities."
+
+"No. No," cried McGuire. "And have him set loose after a trivial
+examination? Little good that would do. This man who is trying to reach
+me----"
+
+McGuire stopped suddenly, glaring at his superintendent with bloodshot
+eyes, and Peter very politely waited for him to go on. But he brought
+his empty glass down on the table with a crash which shattered it.
+
+"He mustn't reach me," he roared. "I won't see him. That's understood.
+He's a man I'd have no more compunction about shooting than----"
+
+McGuire, with a curious suddenness, stopped again. Then rose and resumed
+his habit of pacing the floor. For a moment it had almost seemed as if
+he were on the point of a revelation. But the mood passed. Instead of
+speaking further he threw out his arms in a wide gesture.
+
+"I've said enough," he growled, "more than enough. You know your duty."
+And he gestured toward the door. "Do it!" he finished brusquely.
+
+Peter had already risen, and Stryker unemotionally opened the door for
+him.
+
+"I'll stay on duty all night, Mr. McGuire," he said quietly. "I'd advise
+you to turn in and get some sleep. You need it."
+
+"Yes. Yes, I will. Thanks, Nichols," said McGuire, following him to the
+door and offering a flabby hand. "Don't mind what I've said to-night. I
+think we understand each other. Stryker will see that the house is
+locked when the young people come up. Keep your men to the mark and take
+no chances."
+
+"Good-night."
+
+The remainder of the night, as Mrs. Bergen had predicted, proved
+uneventful, and at daylight Peter went to his cabin and tumbled into
+bed, too tired to think further of McGuire's visitors--or even of the
+man with the black mustache.
+
+The next day he lay abed luxuriously for a while after he had awakened,
+but no amount of quiet thinking availed to clarify the mystery. There
+were two men, one bearded, interested in watching McGuire, another with
+a black mustache, interested in Peter. And so, after wondering again for
+some puzzling moments as to how Mrs. Bergen, the housekeeper, had come
+to be involved in McGuire's fortunes, he gave the problem up.
+
+Foreseeing difficulties over breakfast at the house, he had arranged to
+make his own coffee on a small oil stove which happened to be available,
+and so Peter set the pot on to boil and while he dressed turned over in
+his mind the possibilities of the future. It seemed quite certain that
+the antagonism, whatever its nature, between his employer and the
+prowling stranger must come to an issue of some sort almost at once. The
+intruder, if he were the sort of man who could inspire terror, would
+not remain content merely to prowl fruitlessly about with every danger
+of being shot for his pains, and McGuire could hardly remain long in his
+present situation without a physical or mental collapse.
+
+Why hadn't McGuire taken flight? Why indeed had he come to Black Rock
+House when it seemed that he would have been much safer amongst the
+crowds of the city, where he could fall back upon the protection of the
+police and their courts for immunity from this kind of persecution?
+
+Pieced together, the phrases his employer had let slip suggested the
+thought that he had come to Black Rock to escape publicity in anything
+that might happen. And McGuire's insistence upon the orders that the
+guards should shoot to kill also suggested, rather unpleasantly, the
+thought that McGuire knew who the visitor was and earnestly desired his
+death.
+
+But Mrs. Bergen could have no such wish, for, unlike McGuire, she had
+shown a reticence in her fears, as though her silence had been intended
+to protect rather than to accuse. Beth Cameron, too, was in some way
+unconsciously involved in the adventure. But how? He drank his coffee
+and ate his roll, a prey to a very lively curiosity. Beth interested
+him. And if Aunt Tillie Bergen, her only near relative, showed signs of
+inquietude on the girl's account, the mysterious visitor surely had it
+in his power to make her unhappy. As he washed up the dishes and made
+his bed, Peter decided that he would find Beth to-night when she came
+back from work and ask her some questions about her Aunt Tillie.
+
+Beth Cameron saved him that trouble. He was sitting at the piano,
+awaiting a telephone call to Black Rock House, where he was to have a
+conference with his employer on the forestry situation. He was so deeply
+absorbed in his music that he was unaware of the figure that had stolen
+through the underbrush and was now hidden just outside the door. It was
+Beth. She stood with the fingers of one hand lightly touching the edge
+of the door-jamb, the other hand at her breast, while she listened,
+poised lightly as though for flight. But a playful breeze twitched at
+the hem of her skirt, flicking it out into the patch of sunlight by the
+doorsill, and Peter caught the glint of white from the tail of his eye.
+
+The music ceased suddenly and before Beth could flee into the bushes
+Peter had caught her by the hand.
+
+Now that she was discovered she made no effort to escape him.
+
+"I--I was listening," she gasped.
+
+"Why, Beth," he exclaimed, voicing the name in his thoughts. "How long
+have you been here?"
+
+"I--I don't know. Not long."
+
+"I'm so glad."
+
+She was coloring very prettily.
+
+"You--you told me you--you'd play for me sometime," she said demurely.
+
+"Of course. Won't you come in? It's rather a mess here, but----"
+
+He led her in, glancing at her gingham dress, a little puzzled.
+
+"I thought you'd be farmeretting," he said.
+
+But she shook her head.
+
+"I quit--yesterday."
+
+He didn't ask the reason. He was really enjoying the sight of her. Few
+women are comely in the morning hours, which have a merciless way of
+exaggerating minute imperfections. Beth hadn't any minute imperfections
+except her freckles, which were merely Nature's colorings upon a
+woodland flower. She seemed to fill the cabin with morning fragrance,
+like a bud just brought in from the garden.
+
+"I'm very glad you've come," he said gallantly, leading her over to the
+double window where there was a chintz-covered seat. "I've wanted very
+much to talk to you."
+
+She followed him protestingly.
+
+"But I didn't come to be talked to. I came to listen to you play."
+
+"You always arrive in the midst of music," he laughed. "I played you in,
+without knowing it. That was an Elfentanz----"
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"A dance of the Elves--the fairies." And then, with a laugh, "And the
+little devils."
+
+"The little devils? You mean _me_!"
+
+"Elf--fairy and devil too--but mostly elf."
+
+"I'm not sure I like that--but I _do_ like the music. Please play it
+again."
+
+She was so lovely in her eagerness that he couldn't refuse, his fingers
+straying from the dance by slow transitions into something more quiet,
+the "Romance" of Sibelius, and then after that into a gay little
+_scherzo_, at the end of which he turned suddenly to find her flushed
+and breathless, regarding him in a kind of awe.
+
+"How lovely!" she whispered. "There were no devils in that."
+
+"No, only fairies."
+
+"Angels too--but somethin' else--that quiet piece--like the--the memory
+of a--a--sorrow."
+
+"'Romance,' it's called," he explained gently.
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"The things we dream. The things that ought to be, but aren't."
+
+She took a deep breath. "Yes, that's it. That's what it meant. I felt
+it." And then, as though with a sudden shyness at her self-revelation,
+she glanced about. "What a pretty place! I've never been here before."
+
+"How did you find your way?"
+
+"Oh, I knew where the cabin was. I came through the woods and across the
+log-jam below the pool. Then I heard the music. I didn't think you'd
+mind."
+
+"Mind! Oh, I say. I don't know when I've been so pleased."
+
+"Are you really? You _say_ a lot."
+
+"Didn't I play it?"
+
+That confused her a little.
+
+"Oh!" she said demurely.
+
+"And now, will you talk to me?"
+
+"Yes, of course. But----"
+
+"But what----?"
+
+"I--I'm not sure that I ought to be here."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"It's kind of--unusual."
+
+He laughed. "You wouldn't be you, if you weren't unusual."
+
+She glanced at him uneasily.
+
+"You see, I don't know you very well."
+
+"You're very exclusive in Black Rock!" he laughed.
+
+"I guess we _have_ to be exclusive whether we want to or not," she
+replied.
+
+"Don't you think I'll do?"
+
+"Maybe. I oughtn't to have come, but I just couldn't keep away."
+
+"I'm glad you did. I wanted to see you."
+
+"It wasn't that," she put in hastily. "I had to hear you play again.
+That's what I mean."
+
+"I'll play for you whenever you like."
+
+"Will you? Then play again, now. It makes me feel all queer inside."
+
+Peter laughed. "Do you feel that way when you sing?"
+
+"No. It all comes out of me then."
+
+"Would you mind singing for me, Beth?" he asked after a moment.
+
+"I--I don't think I dare."
+
+He got up and went to the piano.
+
+"What do you sing?"
+
+But she hadn't moved and she didn't reply. So he urged her.
+
+"In the woods when you're coming home----?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know----It just comes out--things I've heard--things I make
+up----"
+
+"What have you heard? I don't know that I can accompany you, but I'll
+try."
+
+She was flushing painfully. He could see that she wanted to sing for
+him--to be a part of this wonderful dream-world in which he belonged,
+and yet she did not dare.
+
+"What have you heard?" he repeated softly, encouraging her by running
+his fingers slowly over the simple chords of a major key.
+
+Suddenly she started up and joined him by the piano.
+
+"That's it--'The long, long trail a-windin'----" and in a moment was
+singing softly. He had heard the air and fell in with her almost at
+once.
+
+    "There's a long, long trail a-winding
+    Into the land of my dreams,
+    Where the nightingale is singing
+    And a bright moon beams----"
+
+Like the good musician that he was, Peter submerged himself, playing
+gently, his gaze on his fingers, while he listened. He had made no
+mistake. The distances across which he had heard her had not flattered.
+Her voice was untrained, of course, but it seemed to Peter that it had
+lost nothing by the neglect, for as she gained confidence, she forgot
+Peter, as he intended that she should, and sang with the complete
+abstraction of a thrush in the deep wood. Like the thrush's note, too,
+Beth's was limpid, clear, and sweet, full of forest sounds--the falling
+brook, the sigh of night winds....
+
+When the song ended he told her so.
+
+"You do say nice things, don't you?" she said joyously.
+
+"Wouldn't you--if it cost you nothing and was the truth? You must have
+your voice trained."
+
+"Must! I might jump over the moon if I had a broomstick."
+
+"It's got to be managed somehow."
+
+"Then you're not disappointed in the way it sounds, close up?"
+
+She stood beside him, leaning against the piano, her face flushed, her
+breath rapid, searching his face eagerly. Peter knew that it was only
+the dormant artist in her seeking the light, but he thrilled warmly at
+her nearness, for she was very lovely. Peter's acquaintance with women
+had been varied, but, curiously enough, each meeting with this girl
+instead of detracting had only added to her charm.
+
+"No. I'm not disappointed in it," he said quite calmly, every impulse in
+him urging a stronger expression. But he owed a duty to himself.
+_Noblesse oblige!_ It was one of the mottoes of his House--(not always
+followed--alas!). With a more experienced woman he would have said what
+was in his mind. He would probably have taken her in his arms and kissed
+her at once, for that was really what he would have liked to do. But
+Beth....
+
+Perhaps something in the coolness of his tone disconcerted her, for she
+turned away from the piano.
+
+"You're very kind," she said quietly.
+
+He had a feeling that she was about to slip away from him, so he got up.
+
+"Won't you sing again, Beth?"
+
+But she shook her head. For some reason the current that had run between
+them was broken. As she moved toward the door, he caught her by the
+hand.
+
+"Don't go yet. I want to talk to you."
+
+"I don't think I ought." And then, with a whimsical smile, "And you
+ought to be out makin' the trees grow."
+
+He laughed. "There's a lot of time for that."
+
+She let him lead her to the divan again and sat, her fingers dovetailed
+around a slender knee.
+
+"I--I'm sorry I made fun of you the other day," she confessed
+immediately.
+
+"I didn't mind in the least."
+
+"But you _did_ seem to know it all," she said. And then smiled in the
+direction of the piano. "Now--I'm comin' to think you do. Even Shad says
+you're a wonder. I--I don't think he likes you, though----" she
+admitted.
+
+"I'm sorry to hear that."
+
+"Don't you care. Shad don't like anybody but himself and
+Goda'mighty--with God trailin' a little."
+
+Peter smiled. Her singing voice may have been impersonal but one could
+hardly think that of her conversation.
+
+"And you, Beth--where do _you_ come in?"
+
+She glanced at him quickly.
+
+"Oh, I----," she said with a laugh, "I just trail along after God."
+
+Her irony meant no irreverence but a vast derogation of Shad Wells.
+Somehow her point of view was very illuminating.
+
+"I'm afraid you make him very unhappy," he ventured.
+
+"That's _his_ lookout," she finished.
+
+Peter was taking a great delight in watching her profile, the blue eyes
+shadowed under the mass of her hair, eyes rather deeply set and
+thoughtful in repose, the straight nose, the rather full underlip ending
+in a precipitous dent above her chin. He liked that chin. There was
+courage there and strength, softened at once by the curve of the throat,
+flowing to where it joined the fine deep breast. Yesterday she had
+seemed like a boy. To-day she was a woman grown, feminine in every
+graceful conformation, on tiptoe at the very verge of life.
+
+But there was no "flapper" here. What she lacked in culture was made up
+in refinement. He had felt that yesterday--the day before. She belonged
+elsewhere. And yet to Peter it would have seemed a pity to have changed
+her in any particular. Her lips were now drawn in a firm line and her
+brows bore a curious frown.
+
+"You don't mind my calling you Beth, do you?"
+
+She flashed a glance at him.
+
+"That's what everybody calls me."
+
+"My name is Peter."
+
+"Yes, I know." And then, "That's funny."
+
+"Funny!"
+
+"You look as if your name ought to be Algernon."
+
+"Why?" he asked, laughing.
+
+"Oh, I don't know. It's the name of a man in a book I read--an
+Englishman. You're English, you said."
+
+"Half English," said Peter.
+
+"What's the other half?"
+
+"Russian." He knew that he ought to be lying to her, but somehow he
+couldn't.
+
+"Russian! I thought Russians all had long hair and carried bombs."
+
+"Some of 'em do. I'm not that kind. The half of me that's English is the
+biggest half, and the safest."
+
+"I'm glad of that. I'd hate to think of you as bein' a Bolshevik."
+
+"H-m. So would I."
+
+"But Russia's where you get your music from, isn't it? The band leader
+at Glassboro is a Russian. He can play every instrument. Did you learn
+music in Russia?"
+
+Beth was now treading dangerous ground and so it was time to turn the
+tables.
+
+"Yes, a little," he said, "but music has no nationality. Or why would I
+find a voice like yours out here?"
+
+"Twenty miles from nowhere," she added scornfully.
+
+"How did you come here, Beth? Would you mind telling me? You weren't
+born here, were you? How did you happen to come to Black Rock?"
+
+"Just bad luck, I guess. Nobody'd ever come to Black Rock just because
+they want to. We just came. That's all."
+
+"Just you and Aunt Tillie? Is your father dead?" he asked.
+
+She closed her eyes a moment and then clasped her knees again.
+
+"I don't like to talk about family matters."
+
+"Oh, I----"
+
+And then, gently, she added,
+
+"I never talk about them to any one."
+
+"Oh, I'm sorry," said Peter, aware of the undercurrent of sadness in her
+voice. "I didn't know that there was anything painful to you----"
+
+"I didn't know it myself, until you played it to me, just now, the piece
+with the sad, low voices, under the melody. It was like somebody dead
+speakin' to me. I can't talk about the things I feel like that."
+
+"Don't then----Forgive me for asking."
+
+He laid his fingers softly over hers. She withdrew her hand quickly, but
+the look that she turned him found his face sober, his dark eyes warm
+with sympathy. And then with a swift inconsequential impulse born of
+Peter's recantation,
+
+"I don't s'pose there's any reason why I shouldn't tell you," she said
+more easily. "Everybody around here knows about me--about us. Aunt
+Tillie and I haven't lived here always. She brought me here when I was a
+child."
+
+She paused again and Peter remained silent, watching her intently. As
+she glanced up at him, something in the expression of his face gave her
+courage to go on.
+
+"Father's dead. His name was Ben Cameron. He came of nice people," she
+faltered. "But he--he was no good. We lived up near New Lisbon. He used
+to get drunk on 'Jersey Lightnin'' and tear loose. He was all right
+between whiles--farmin'--but whisky made him crazy, and then--then he
+would come home and beat us up."
+
+"Horrible!"
+
+"It was. I was too little to know much, but Aunt Tillie's husband came
+at last and there was a terrible fight. Uncle Will was hurt--hurt so
+bad--cut with a knife--that he never was the same again. And my--my
+father went away cursing us all. Then my mother died--Uncle Will
+too--and Aunt Tillie and I came down here to live. That's all. Not much
+to be proud of," she finished ruefully.
+
+Peter was silent. It was a harrowing, sordid story of primitive passion.
+He was very sorry for her.
+
+Beth made an abrupt graceful movement of an arm across her brows, as
+though to wipe out the memory.
+
+"I don't know why I've told you," she said. "I never speak of this to
+any one."
+
+"I'm so sorry."
+
+He meant it. And Beth knew that he did.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE PLACARD
+
+
+The look that she had given him showed her sense of his sympathy. So he
+ventured,
+
+"Did you hear from your father before he died?"
+
+"Aunt Tillie did,--once. Then we got word he'd been killed in a railway
+accident out West. I was glad. A man like that has no right to live."
+
+"You and Aunt Tillie have had a pretty hard time----" he mused.
+
+"Yes. She's an angel--and I love her. Why is it that good people have
+nothin' but trouble? She had an uncle who went bad too--he was younger
+than she was--my great-uncle--Jack Bray--he forged a check--or somethin'
+up in Newark--and went to the penitentiary."
+
+"And is he dead too?"
+
+"No--not at last accounts. He's out--somewhere. When I was little he
+used to come to Aunt Tillie for money--a tall, lantern-jawed man. I saw
+him once three years ago. He was here. Aunt Tillie tried to keep me out
+of the kitchen. But I thought he was up to some funny business and
+stayed. He took a fancy to me. He said he was camera man in the movies.
+He wanted me to go with him--thought I could be as good as Mary
+Pickford. I'm glad I didn't go--from what I know now. He was a bad man.
+Aunt Tillie was scared of him. Poor soul! She gave him all she had--most
+of what was left from the old farm, I guess."
+
+"Do you think----" began Peter, then paused. And as she glanced at him
+inquiringly, "Did you notice that your Aunt Tillie seemed--er--frightened
+last night?" he asked at last.
+
+"I thought so for a while, but she said she was only sick. She never
+lies to me."
+
+"She seemed very much disturbed."
+
+"Her nerve's not what it used to be--especially since Mr. McGuire's
+taken to seein' things----"
+
+"You don't believe then that she could have seen John Bray--that he had
+come back again last night?"
+
+"Why, no," said Beth, turning in surprise. "I never thought of it--and
+yet," she paused, "yes,--it might have been----"
+
+She became more thoughtful but didn't go on. Peter was on the trail of a
+clew to the mystery, but she had already told him so much that further
+questions seemed like personal intrusion. And so,
+
+"I'd like to tell you, Beth," he said, "that I'm your friend and Mrs.
+Bergen's. If anything should turn up to make you unhappy or to make your
+aunt unhappy and I can help you, won't you let me know?"
+
+"Why--do you think anything is goin' to happen?" she asked.
+
+His reply was noncommittal.
+
+"I just wanted you to know you could count on me----" he said soberly.
+"I think you've had trouble enough."
+
+"But I'm not afraid of Jack Bray," she said with a shrug, "even if Aunt
+Tillie is. He can't do anything to me. He can't _make_ me go to New York
+if I don't want to."
+
+She had clenched her brown fists in her excitement and Peter laughed.
+
+"I think I'd be a little sorry for anybody who tried to make you do
+anything you didn't want to do," he said.
+
+She frowned. "Why, if I thought that bandy-legged, lantern-jawed, old
+buzzard was comin' around here frightenin' Aunt Tillie, I'd--I'd----"
+
+"What would you do?"
+
+"Never you mind what I'd do. But I'm not afraid of Jack Bray," she
+finished confidently.
+
+The terrors that had been built up around the house of McGuire, the
+mystery surrounding the awe-inspiring prowler, the night vigils, the
+secrecy--all seemed to fade into a piece of hobbledehoy buffoonery at
+Beth's contemptuous description of her recreant relative. And he smiled
+at her amusedly.
+
+"But what would you say," he asked seriously, "if I told you that last
+night Mr. McGuire saw the same person your Aunt Tillie did, and that he
+was terrified--almost to the verge of collapse?"
+
+Beth had risen, her eyes wide with incredulity.
+
+"Merciful Father! McGuire! Did he have another spell last night? You
+don't mean----?"
+
+"I went up to his room. He was done for. He had seen outside the
+drawing-room window the face of the very man he's been guarding himself
+against."
+
+"I can't believe----," she gasped. "And you think Aunt Tillie----?"
+
+"Your Aunt Tillie talked to a man outside the door of the kitchen. You
+didn't hear her. I did. The same man who had been frightening Mr.
+McGuire."
+
+"Aunt Tillie!" she said in astonishment.
+
+"There's not a doubt of it. McGuire saw him. Andy saw him too,--thought
+he was the chauffeur."
+
+Beth's excitement was growing with the moments.
+
+"Why, Aunt Tillie didn't know anything about what was frightening Mr.
+McGuire--no more'n I did," she gasped.
+
+"She knows now. She wasn't sick last night, Beth. She was just
+bewildered--frightened half out of her wits. I spoke to her after you
+went home. She wouldn't say a word. She was trying to conceal something.
+But there was a man outside and she knows who he is."
+
+"But what could Jack Bray have to do with Mr. McGuire?" she asked in
+bewilderment.
+
+Peter shrugged. "You know as much as I do. I wouldn't have told you this
+if you'd been afraid. But Mrs. Bergen is."
+
+"Well, did you _ever?_"
+
+"No, I never did," replied Peter, smiling.
+
+"It does beat _anything_."
+
+"It does. It's most interesting, but as far as I can see, hardly
+alarming for you, whatever it may be to Mr. McGuire or Mrs. Bergen. If
+the man is only your great-uncle, there ought to be a way to deal with
+him----"
+
+"I've just got to talk to Aunt Tillie," Beth broke in, moving toward the
+door. Peter followed her, taking up his hat.
+
+"I'll go with you," he said.
+
+For a few moments Beth said nothing. She had passed through the stages
+of surprise, anger and bewilderment, and was now still indignant but
+quite self-contained. When he thought of Beth's description of the Ghost
+of Black Rock House, Peter was almost tempted to forget the terrors of
+the redoubtable McGuire. A man of his type hardly lapses into hysteria
+at the mere thought of a "bandy-legged buzzard." And yet McGuire's
+terrors had been so real and were still so real that it was hardly
+conceivable that Bray could have been the cause of them. Indeed it was
+hardly conceivable that the person Beth described could be a source of
+terror to any one. What was the answer?
+
+"Aunt Tillie doesn't know anything about McGuire," Beth said suddenly.
+"She just couldn't know. She tells me everything."
+
+"But of course it's possible that McGuire and this John Bray could have
+met in New York----"
+
+"What would Mr. McGuire be doin' with him?" she said scornfully.
+
+Peter laughed.
+
+"It's what he's doing with McGuire that matters."
+
+"I don't believe it's Bray," said Beth confidently. "I don't believe
+it."
+
+They had reached a spot where the underbrush was thin, and Beth, who had
+been looking past the tree trunks toward the beginnings of the lawns,
+stopped suddenly, her eyes focusing upon some object closer at hand.
+
+"What's that?" she asked, pointing.
+
+Peter followed the direction of her gaze. On a tree in the woods not far
+from the path was a square of cardboard, but Beth's eyes were keener
+than Peter's, and she called his attention to some writing upon it.
+
+They approached curiously. With ironic impudence the message was
+scrawled in red crayon upon the reverse of one of Jonathan McGuire's
+neat trespass signs, and nailed to the tree by an old hasp-knife. Side
+by side, and intensely interested, they read:
+
+      TO MIKE MCGUIRE
+
+      I'VE COME BACK.
+
+      YOU KNOW WHAT I'VE GOT AND I KNOW WHAT YOU'VE GOT.
+      ACT PRONTO. I'LL COME FOR MY ANSWER AT ELEVEN FRIDAY
+      NIGHT--AT THIS TREE.  NO TRICKS. IF THERE'S NO
+      ANSWER--YOU KNOW WHAT I'LL DO.
+
+      HAWK.
+
+"Hawk!" muttered Beth, "who on earth----?"
+
+"Another----," said Peter cryptically.
+
+"You see!" cried Beth triumphantly, "I knew it couldn't be Jack Bray!"
+
+"This chap seems to be rather in earnest, doesn't he? _Pronto!_ That
+means haste."
+
+"But it's only a joke. It must be," cried Beth.
+
+Peter loosened the knife, took the placard down and turned it over,
+examining it critically.
+
+"I wonder." And then, thoughtfully, "No, I don't believe it is. It's
+addressed to McGuire. I'm going to take it to him."
+
+"Mike McGuire," corrected Beth. And then, "But it really does look
+queer."
+
+"It does," assented Peter; "it appears to me as if this message must
+have come from the person McGuire saw last night."
+
+Beth looked bewildered.
+
+"But what has Aunt Tillie got to do with--with Hawk? She never knew
+anybody of that name."
+
+"Probably not. It isn't a real name, of course."
+
+"Then why should it frighten Mr. McGuire?" she asked logically.
+
+Peter shook his head. All the props had fallen from under his theories.
+
+"Whether it's real to McGuire or not is what I want to know. And I'm
+going to find out," he finished.
+
+When they reached a path which cut through the trees toward the creek,
+Beth stopped, and held out her hand.
+
+"I'm not goin' up to the house with you and I don't think I'll see Aunt
+Tillie just now," she said. "Good-by, Mr.----"
+
+"Peter----," he put in.
+
+"Good-by, Mr. Peter."
+
+"Just Peter----" he insisted.
+
+"Good-by, Mr. Just Peter. Thanks for the playin'. Will you let me come
+again?"
+
+"Yes. And I'm going to get you some music----"
+
+"Singin' music?" she gasped.
+
+He nodded.
+
+"And you'll let me know if I can help--Aunt Tillie or you?"
+
+She bobbed her head and was gone.
+
+Peter stood for a while watching the path down which she had
+disappeared, wondering at her abrupt departure, which for the moment
+drove from his mind all thought of McGuire's troubles. It was difficult
+to associate Beth with the idea of prudery or affectation. Her visit
+proved that. She had come to the Cabin because she had wanted to hear
+him play, because she had wanted to sing for him, because too his
+promises had excited her curiosity about him, and inspired a hope of his
+assistance. But the visit had flattered Peter. He wasn't inured to this
+sort of frankness. It was perhaps the greatest single gift of tribute
+and confidence that had ever been paid him--at least by a woman. A visit
+of this sort from a person like Anastasie Galitzin or indeed from almost
+any woman in the world of forms and precedents in which he had lived
+would have been equivalent to unconditional surrender.
+
+The girl had not stopped to question the propriety of her actions. That
+the Cabin was Peter's bedroom, that she had only seen him twice, that he
+might not have understood the headlong impulse that brought her, had
+never occurred to Beth. The self-consciousness of the first few moments
+had been wafted away on the melody of the music he had played, and after
+that he knew they were to be friends. There seemed to be no doubt in
+Peter's mind that she could have thought they would be anything else.
+
+And Peter was sure that he had hardly been able, even if he had wished,
+to conceal his warm admiration for her physical beauty. She had been
+very near him. All he would have had to do was to reach out and take
+her. That he hadn't done so seemed rather curious now. And yet he
+experienced a sort of mild satisfaction that he had resisted so trying a
+temptation. If she hadn't been so sure of him.... Idealism? Perhaps. The
+same sort of idealism that had made Peter believe the people at Zukovo
+were fine enough to make it worth while risking his life for them--that
+had made him think that the people of Russia could emerge above Russia
+herself. He had no illusions as to Zukovo now, but Beth was a child--and
+one is always gentle with children.
+
+He puzzled for another moment over her decision not to be seen coming
+with him from the Cabin. Had this sophistication come as an
+afterthought, born of something that had passed between them? Or was it
+merely a feminine instinct seeking expression? Peter didn't care who
+knew or saw, because he really liked Beth amazingly. She had a gorgeous
+voice. He would have to develop it. He really would.
+
+All the while Peter was turning over in his fingers the placard bearing
+the strange message to "Mike" McGuire from the mysterious "Hawk." He
+read and reread it, each time finding a new meaning in its wording.
+Blackmail? Probably. The "_pronto_" was significant. This message could
+hardly have come from Beth's "bandy-legged buzzard." He knew little of
+movie camera men, but imagined them rather given to the depiction of
+villainies than the accomplishment of them. And a coward who would prey
+upon an old woman and a child could hardly be of the metal to attempt
+such big game as McGuire. The mystery deepened. The buzzard was now a
+hawk. "Hawk," whatever his real name, was the man McGuire had seen last
+night through the window. Was he also the man who had frightened Mrs.
+Bergen? And if so, how and where had she known him without Beth's being
+aware of it? And why should Beth be involved in the danger?
+
+Peter was slowly coming to the belief that there had been two men
+outside the house last night, "Hawk" and John Bray. And yet it seemed
+scarcely possible that the men on guard should not have seen the second
+man and that both men could have gotten away without leaving a trace.
+And where was the man with the black mustache? Was he John Bray?
+Impossible. It was all very perplexing. But here in his hand he held the
+tangible evidence of McGuire's fears. "You know what I've got and I know
+what you've got." The sentence seemed to have a cabalistic
+significance--a pact--a threat which each man held over the other.
+Perhaps it wasn't money only that "Hawk" wanted. Whatever it was, he
+meant to have it, and soon. The answer the man expected was apparently
+something well understood between himself and McGuire, better understood
+perhaps since the day McGuire had seen him in New York and had fled in
+terror to Sheldon, Senior's, office. And if McGuire didn't send the
+desired answer to the tree by Friday night, there would be the very
+devil to pay--if not "Hawk."
+
+Peter was to be the bearer of ill tidings and with them, he knew, all
+prospect of a business discussion would vanish. The situation interested
+him, as all things mysterious must, and he could not forget that he was,
+for the present, part policeman, part detective; but forestry was his
+real job here and every day that passed meant so many fewer days in
+which to build the fire towers. And these he considered to be a prime
+necessity to the security of the estate.
+
+He rolled the placard up and went toward the house. On the lawn he
+passed the young people, intent upon their own pursuits. He was glad
+that none of them noticed him and meeting Stryker, who was hovering
+around the lower hall, he sent his name up to his employer.
+
+"I don't think Mr. McGuire expects you just yet, sir," said the man.
+
+"Nevertheless, tell him I must see him," said Peter. "It's important."
+
+Though it was nearly two o'clock, McGuire was not yet dressed and his
+looks when Peter was admitted to him bespoke a long night of anxiety and
+vigil. Wearing an incongruous flowered dressing gown tied at the waist
+with a silken cord, he turned to the visitor.
+
+"Well," he said rather peevishly.
+
+"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. McGuire, but something has happened that
+I thought----"
+
+"What's happened?" the other man snapped out, eying the roll of
+cardboard in Peter's hand. "What----?" he gasped.
+
+Peter smiled and shrugged coolly.
+
+"It may be only a joke, sir--and I hardly know whether I'm even
+justified in calling it to your attention, but I found this placard
+nailed to a tree near the path to the Cabin."
+
+"Placard!" said McGuire, his sharp glance noting the printing of the
+trespass sign. "Of course--that's the usual warning----"
+
+"It's the other side," said Peter, "that is unusual." And unrolling it
+carefully, he laid it flat on the table beside his employer's breakfast
+tray and then stood back to note the effect of the disclosure.
+
+McGuire stared at the headline, starting violently, and then, as though
+fascinated, read the scrawl through to the end. Peter could not see his
+face, but the back of his neck, the ragged fringe of moist hair around
+his bald spot were eloquent enough. And the hands which held the
+extraordinary document were far from steady. The gay flowers of the
+dressing gown mocked the pitiable figure it concealed, which seemed
+suddenly to sag into its chair. Peter waited. For a long while the
+dressing gown was dumb and then as though its occupant were slowly
+awakening to the thought that something was required of him it stirred
+and turned slowly in the chair.
+
+"You--you've read this?" asked McGuire weakly.
+
+"Yes, sir. It was there to read. It was merely stuck on a tree with this
+hasp-knife," and Peter produced the implement and handed it to McGuire.
+
+McGuire took the knife--twisting it slowly over in his fingers. "A
+hasp-knife," he repeated dully.
+
+"I thought it best to bring them to you," said Peter, "especially on
+account of----"
+
+"Yes, yes. Of course." He was staring at the red crayon scrawl and as he
+said nothing more Peter turned toward the door, where Stryker stood on
+guard.
+
+"If there's nothing else just now, I'll----"
+
+"Wait!" uttered the old man, and Peter paused. And then, "Did any one
+else see this--this paper?"
+
+"Yes--Mrs. Bergen's niece--she saw it first."
+
+"My housekeeper's niece. Any one else?"
+
+"I don't know. I hardly think so. It seemed quite freshly written."
+
+"Ah----" muttered McGuire. He was now regarding Peter intently.
+"Where--where is the tree on which you found it?"
+
+"A maple--just in the wood--at the foot of the lawn."
+
+"Ah!" He stumbled to the window, the placard still clutched in his
+hands, and peered at the woods as though seeking to pick out the single
+tree marked for his exacerbation. Then jerked himself around and faced
+the bearer of these tidings, glaring at him as though he were the author
+of them.
+
+"G---- d---- you all!" he swore in a stifled tone.
+
+"I beg pardon," said Peter with sharp politeness.
+
+McGuire glanced at Peter and fell heavily into the nearest armchair. "It
+can't--be done," he muttered, half to himself, and then another oath. He
+was showing his early breeding now.
+
+"I might 'a' known----," he said aloud, staring at the paper.
+
+"Then it isn't a joke?" asked Peter, risking the question.
+
+"Joke!" roared McGuire. And then more quietly, "A joke? I don't want it
+talked about," he muttered with a senile smile. And then, "You say a
+woman read it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"She must be kept quiet. I can't have all the neighborhood into my
+affairs."
+
+"I think that can be managed. I'll speak to her. In the meanwhile if
+there's anything I can do----"
+
+McGuire looked up at Peter and their glances met. McGuire's glance
+wavered and then came back to Peter's face. What he found there seemed
+to satisfy him for he turned to Stryker, who had been listening
+intently.
+
+"You may go, Stryker," he commanded. "Shut the door, but stay within
+call."
+
+The valet's face showed surprise and some disappointment, but he merely
+bowed his head and obeyed.
+
+"I suppose you're--you're curious about this message, Nichols--coming in
+such a way," said McGuire, after a pause.
+
+"To tell the truth, I am, sir," replied Peter. "We've done all we could
+to protect you. This 'Hawk' must be the devil himself."
+
+"He is," repeated McGuire. "Hell's breed. The thing can't go on. I've
+got to put a stop to it--and to him."
+
+"He speaks of coming again Friday night----"
+
+"Yes--yes--Friday." And then, his fingers trembling along the placard,
+"I've got to do what he wants--this time--just this time----"
+
+McGuire was gasping out the phrases as though each of them was wrenched
+from his throat. And then, with an effort at self-control,
+
+"Sit down, Nichols," he muttered. "Since you've seen this, I--I'll have
+to tell you more. I--I think--I'll need you--to help me."
+
+Peter obeyed, flattered by his employer's manner and curious as to the
+imminent revelations.
+
+"I may say that--this--this 'Hawk' is a--an enemy of mine, Nichols--a
+bitter enemy--unscrupulous--a man better dead than alive. I--I wish to
+God you'd shot him last night."
+
+"Sorry, sir," said Peter cheerfully.
+
+"I--I've got to do what he wants--this time. I can't have this sort of
+thing goin' on--with everybody in Black Rock reading these damn things.
+You're sure my daughter Peggy knows nothing?"
+
+"I'd be pretty sure of that----"
+
+"But she might--any time--if he puts up more placards. I've got to stop
+that, Nichols. This thing mustn't go any further."
+
+"I think you may trust me."
+
+"Yes. I think I can. I've _got_ to trust you now, whether I want to or
+no. The man who wrote this scrawl is the man I came down here to get
+away from." Peter waited while McGuire paused. "You may think it's very
+strange. It is strange. I knew this man--called 'Hawk,' many years ago.
+I--I thought he was dead, but he's come back."
+
+McGuire paused again, the placard in his hands, reading the line which
+so clearly announced that fact.
+
+"He speaks of something I've got--something he's got, Nichols. It's a
+paper--a--er--a partnership paper we drew up years ago--out West and
+signed. That paper is of great value to me. As long as he holds it
+I----," McGuire halted to wipe the sweat from his pallid brow. "He holds
+it as a--well--not exactly as a threat--but as a kind of menace to my
+happiness and Peggy's."
+
+"I understand, sir," put in Peter quietly. "Blackmail, in short."
+
+"Exactly--er--blackmail. He wanted five thousand dollars--in New York. I
+refused him--there's no end to blackmail once you yield--and I came down
+here--but he followed me. But I've got to get that paper away from him."
+
+"If you were sure he had it with him----"
+
+"That's just it. He's too smart for that. He's got it hidden somewhere.
+I've got to get this money for him--from New York--I haven't got it in
+the house--before Friday night----"
+
+"But blackmail----!"
+
+"I've got to, Nichols--this time. I've got to."
+
+"I wouldn't, sir," said Peter stoutly.
+
+"But you don't know everything. I've only told you part," said McGuire,
+almost whining. "This is no ordinary case--no ordinary blackmail. I've
+got to be quick. I'm going to get the money--I'm going to get you to go
+to New York and get it."
+
+"Me!"
+
+"Yes. Yes. This is Wednesday. I can't take any chances of not having it
+here Friday. Peggy is going back this afternoon. I'll get her to drive
+you up. I'll 'phone Sheldon to expect you--he'll give you the money and
+you can come back to-morrow."
+
+"But to-night----"
+
+"He knows the danger of trying to reach me. That's why he wrote this. I
+won't be bothered to-night. I'll shut the house tight and put some of
+the men inside. If he comes, we'll shoot."
+
+"But Friday----Do you mean, sir, that you'll go out to him with five
+thousand dollars and risk----"
+
+"No, I won't. _You_ will," said McGuire, watching Peter's face craftily.
+
+"Oh, I see," replied Peter, aware that he was being drawn more deeply
+into the plot than he had wished. "You want me to meet him."
+
+McGuire noted Peter's dubious tone and at once got up and laid his hands
+upon his shoulders.
+
+"You'll do this for me, won't you, Nichols? I don't want to see this
+man. I can't explain. There wouldn't be any danger. He hasn't anything
+against you. Why should he have? I haven't any one else that I can
+trust--but Stryker. And Stryker--well--I'd have to tell Stryker. _You_
+know already. Don't say you refuse. It's--it's a proof of my confidence.
+You're just the man I want here. I'll make it worth your while to stay
+with me--well worth your while."
+
+Peter was conscious of a feeling partly of pity, partly of contempt, for
+the cringing creature pawing at his shoulders. Peter had never liked to
+be pawed. It had always rubbed him the wrong way. But McGuire's need was
+great and pity won.
+
+"Oh, I'll do it if you like," he said, turning aside and releasing
+himself from the clinging fingers, "provided I assume no
+responsibility----"
+
+"That's it. No responsibility," said McGuire, in a tone of relief.
+"You'll just take that money out--then come away----"
+
+"And get nothing in return?" asked Peter in surprise. "No paper--no
+receipt----?"
+
+"No--just this once, Nichols. It will keep him quiet for a month or so.
+In the meanwhile----" The old man paused, a crafty look in his eyes,
+"In the meanwhile we'll have time to devise a way to meet this
+situation."
+
+"Meaning--precisely what?" asked Peter keenly.
+
+McGuire scowled at him and then turned away toward the window.
+
+"That needn't be your affair."
+
+"It won't be," said Peter quickly. "I'd like you to remember that I came
+here as a forester and superintendent. I agreed also to guard your house
+and yourself from intrusion, but if it comes to the point of----"
+
+"There, there, Nichols," croaked McGuire, "don't fly off the handle.
+We'll just cross this bridge first. I--I won't ask you to do anything
+a--a gentleman shouldn't."
+
+"Oh, well, sir," said Peter finally, "that's fair enough."
+
+McGuire came over and faced Peter, his watery eyes seeking Peter's.
+
+"You'll swear, Nichols, to say nothing of this to any one?"
+
+"Yes. I'll keep silent."
+
+"Nothing to Sheldon?"
+
+"No."
+
+"And you'll see this--this niece of the housekeeper's?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The man gave a gasp of relief and sank into his chair.
+
+"Now go, Nichols--and shift your clothes. Peggy's going about four. Come
+back here and I'll give you a letter and a check."
+
+Peter nodded and reached the door. As he opened it, Stryker straightened
+and bowed uncomfortably. But Peter knew that he had been listening at
+the keyhole.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+SHAD IS UNPLEASANT
+
+
+Peter returned from New York on Thursday night, having accomplished his
+curious mission. He had first intercepted Beth on her way to the kitchen
+and sworn her to secrecy, advising her to say nothing to Mrs. Bergen
+about the events of the previous night. And she had agreed to respect
+his wishes. On the way to New York he had sat in the rumble of the low
+red runabout, Miss Peggy McGuire at the wheel, driving the fashionable
+Freddy. Miss McGuire after having yielded, the night before, to the
+musical predilections of Miss Delaplane, had apparently reconsidered
+Peter's social status and had waved him to the seat in the rear with a
+mere gesture and without apologies. And Peter, biting back a grin and
+touching his hat, had obeyed. The familiarities tolerable in such a
+wilderness as Black Rock could not of course be considered in the halls
+of the fashionable hotel where Miss Peggy lived in New York, and where
+by dint of great care and exclusiveness she had caught a hold of the
+fringe of society. But Peter sat up very straight, trying not to hear
+what was said in front. If he could only have worn his Colonel's uniform
+and decorations, or his Grand Ducal coronet, and have folded his arms,
+the irony would have been perfection.
+
+He had gone to Sheldon, Senior, in the morning and in return for
+McGuire's check had been given cash in the shape of ten virginal five
+hundred dollar bills. This money had been put into an envelope and was
+now folded carefully in Peter's inside pocket. Sheldon, Senior, to be
+sure, had asked questions, but with a good grace Peter had evaded him.
+Dick Sheldon was out of town, so Peter put in the remaining period
+before his train-time in a music store where he spent all the money that
+remained of his salary, on books, a few for the piano but most of them
+for Beth. Peter had wasted, as he had thought, two perfectly good years
+in trying to learn to sing. But those two years were not going to be
+wasted now--for Beth was to be his mouthpiece. He knew the beginnings of
+a training--how to give her the advantage of the instruction he had
+received from one of the best teachers in Milan. He was lucky enough to
+find books on the Italian method of voice production and on the way back
+to McGuire's, armed with these, he stopped off at the Bergen house in
+Black Rock village and returned Beth's call.
+
+There he found Shad Wells, in his shirt-sleeves, smoking a pipe in the
+portico, and looking like a thundercloud. In response to Peter's query,
+he moved his right shoulder half an inch in the direction of the door,
+and then spat in the geranium bed. So Peter knocked at the door, softly
+at first, then loudly, when Beth emerged, her sleeves rolled to her
+shoulders and her arms covered with soapsuds.
+
+"Why, Shad," she said witheringly, after she had greeted Peter, "you
+might have let me know! Come in, Mr. Nichols. Excuse my appearance.
+Wash-day," she explained, as he followed her into the dark interior.
+
+"I can't stop," said the visitor, "I just came to bring these books----"
+
+"For _me_!" she exclaimed, hurriedly wiping her arms on her apron.
+
+"I got them in New York----"
+
+She pulled up the shade at the side, letting in the sunlight, an act
+permissible in the parlors of Black Rock only on state occasions, for
+the sunlight (as every one knew) was not kind to plush-covered
+furniture.
+
+"For _me_!" Beth repeated softly. "I didn't think you meant it."
+
+"_Tone production--Exercises_," explained Peter, "and here's one on _The
+Lives of the Great Composers_. I thought you might be interested in
+reading it."
+
+"Oh, yes. I am--I will be. Thank you ever so much----"
+
+"Of course you can't do much by yourself just yet--not without a
+piano--to get the pitch--the key--but I've brought a tuning fork
+and----"
+
+"But I've got the harmonium----," Beth broke in excitedly. "It's a
+little out of tune, but----"
+
+"The harmonium!" asked the bewildered Peter. "What's that?"
+
+Beth proudly indicated a piece of furniture made of curly walnut which
+stood in the corner of the room. There were several books on the top of
+it--_Gospel Tunes_--_Moody and Sankey_, a Methodist Episcopal hymn book,
+and a glass case containing wax flowers.
+
+"We play it Sundays----," said Beth, "but it ought to help----"
+
+"You play----!" he said in surprise.
+
+"Aunt Tillie and I--oh, just hymns----." She sat, while Peter watched,
+began pumping vigorously with her feet and presently the instrument
+emitted a doleful sound. "It has notes anyhow," said Beth with a laugh.
+
+"Splendid!" said Peter. "And when I've told you what to do you can
+practice here. You'll come soon?"
+
+She nodded. "When?"
+
+"To-morrow--sometime?" And then, "What's the matter with Wells?" he
+asked.
+
+She frowned. "He just asked me to marry him. It's the twenty-seventh
+time."
+
+"Oh----"
+
+"I can't be botherin' with Shad--not on wash-day--or any other day," she
+added as though in an afterthought.
+
+Peter laughed. He was quite sure that nobody would ever make her do
+anything she didn't want to do.
+
+"He knows I was at the Cabin yesterday," she said in a low voice. "He
+was watchin'."
+
+Peter was silent a moment, glancing at the books he had just brought
+her.
+
+"Of course if he has any claim on you, perhaps----," he began, when she
+broke in.
+
+"Claim! He hasn't," she gasped. "I'll do as I please. And he'd better
+quit pesterin' me or I'll----"
+
+"What?"
+
+She laughed.
+
+"I'll put him through the clothes-wringer."
+
+Peter grinned. "He almost looks as though you'd done that already."
+
+And as she followed him to the door, "I thought I ought to tell you
+about Shad. When he gets ugly--he's ugly an' no mistake."
+
+"Do you still think he'll--er--swallow me at one gobble?" he asked.
+
+She stared at him a moment and then laughed with a full throat. "I hope
+he don't--at least not 'til I've had my singin' lessons."
+
+"I think I can promise you that," said Peter.
+
+She followed him out to the porch, where they looked about for Shad. He
+had disappeared. And in the "Lizzie," which had been panting by the side
+of the road, Peter was conducted by the soiled young man at the wheel to
+Black Rock House.
+
+Nothing unusual had happened in his absence, nor had any other message
+or warning been posted, for Stryker, released for this duty, had
+searched all the morning and found nothing. "Hawk" was waiting, biding
+his hour.
+
+Curiously enough, an astonishing calm seemed to have fallen over the
+person of Jonathan K. McGuire. When Peter arrived he found his employer
+seated on the portico in a wicker chair, smoking his after-supper cigar.
+True, the day guards were posted near by and Stryker hovered as was his
+wont, but the change in his employer's demeanor was so apparent that
+Peter wondered how such a stolid-looking creature could ever have lost
+his self-control. It was difficult to understand this metamorphosis
+unless it could be that, having come to a decision and aware of the
+prospect of immunity, if only a temporary one, McGuire had settled down
+to make the best of a bad job and await with stoicism whatever the
+future was to bring. This was Peter's first impression, nothing else
+suggesting itself, but when he followed the old man up to his room and
+gave him the money he had brought he noted the deeply etched lines at
+nostril and jaw and felt rather than saw the meaning of them--that
+Jonathan McGuire was in the grip of some deep and sinister resolution.
+There was a quality of desperation in his calmness, a studied
+indifference to the dangers which the night before last had seemed so
+appalling.
+
+He put the money in the safe, carefully locked the combination and then
+turned into the room again.
+
+"Thanks, Nichols," he said. "You'd better have some supper and get to
+bed to-night. I don't think you'll be needed." And then, as Peter's look
+showed his surprise, "I know my man better than you do. To-morrow night
+we shall see."
+
+He closed his lips into a thin line, shot out his jaw and lowered his
+brows unpleasantly. Courage of a sort had come back to him, the courage
+of the animal at bay, which fights against the inevitable.
+
+To Peter the time seemed propitious to state the need for the
+observation towers and he explained in detail his projects. But McGuire
+listened and when Peter had finished speaking merely shook his head.
+
+"What you say is quite true. The towers must be built. I've thought so
+for a long time. In a few days we will speak of that again--_after
+to-morrow night_," he finished significantly.
+
+"As you please," said Peter, "but every day lost now may----"
+
+"We'll gain these days later," he broke in abruptly. "I want you to stay
+around here now."
+
+On Friday morning he insisted on having Peter show him the tree where
+the placard had been discovered, and Peter, having taken lunch with him,
+led him down to the big sugar maple, off the path to the cabin. Peter
+saw that he scanned the woods narrowly and walked with a hand in his
+waist-band, which Peter knew held an Army Colt revolver, but the whine
+was gone from his voice, the trembling from his hands. He walked around
+the maple with Peter, regarding it with a sort of morbid abstraction and
+then himself led the way to the path and to the house. Why he wanted to
+look at the tree was more than Peter could understand, for it was Peter,
+and not he, who was to keep this costly assignation.
+
+"You understand, Nichols," he said when they reached the portico,
+"you've agreed to go--to-night--at eleven."
+
+"I wish you'd let me meet him--without the money."
+
+"No--no. I've made up my mind----," gasped McGuire with a touch of his
+old alarm, "there can't be any change in the plan--no change at all."
+
+"Oh, very well," said Peter, "it's not my money I'm giving away."
+
+"It won't matter, Nichols. I--I've got a lot more----"
+
+"But the principle----" protested Peter.
+
+"To H---- with the principle," growled the old man.
+
+Peter turned and went back to the Cabin, somewhat disgusted with his
+whole undertaking. Already he had been here for five days and, except
+for two walks through the woods for purposes of investigation, nothing
+that he had come to do had been accomplished. He had not yet even
+visited the sawmills which were down on the corduroy road five miles
+away. So far as he could see, for the present he was merely McGuire's
+handy man, a kind of upper servant and messenger, whose duties could
+have been performed as capably by Stryker or Shad Wells, or even Jesse
+Brown. The forest called him. It needed him. From what he had heard he
+knew that down by the sawmills they were daily cutting the wrong trees.
+He had already sent some instructions to the foreman there, but he could
+not be sure that his orders had been obeyed. He knew that he ought to
+spend the day there, making friends with the men and explaining the
+reasons for the change in orders, but as long as McGuire wanted him
+within telephone range, there was nothing to do but to obey.
+
+He reached the Cabin, threw off his coat, and had hardly settled down at
+the table to finish his drawing, a plan of the observation towers, when
+Beth appeared. He rose and greeted her. Her face was flushed, for she
+had been running.
+
+"Has Shad been here?" she asked breathlessly.
+
+"No."
+
+"Oh!" she gasped. "I was afraid he'd get here before me. I took the
+short cut through the woods."
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+"He said he--he was going to break you to bits----"
+
+"To bits! Me? Why?"
+
+"Because he--he says I oughtn't to come here----"
+
+"Oh, I see," he muttered, and then, with a grin, "and what do _you_
+think about it, Beth?"
+
+"I'll do what I please," she said. "So long as I think it's all right.
+What business has he got to stop me!"
+
+Peter laughed. "Don't let's bother then. Did you bring your books?"
+
+She hadn't brought them. She had come in such a hurry.
+
+"But aren't you afraid--when he comes?" she asked.
+
+"I don't know," said Peter. "Do you think I ought to be?"
+
+"Well, Shad's--he's what they call a Hellion around here."
+
+"What's a--er--Hellion?"
+
+"A--a scrapper."
+
+"Oh, a fighting man?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Peter sat down at the piano and struck loudly some strident discords in
+the bass. "Like this!" he laughed. "Isn't it ugly, Beth--that's what
+fighting is--I had it day and night for years. If Shad had been in the
+war he wouldn't ever want to fight again."
+
+"Were you in the war?" asked Beth in amazement.
+
+"Of course. Where would I have been?" And before she could reply he had
+swept into the rumbling bass of the "Revolutionary Étude." She sank into
+a chair and sat silent, listening, at first watching the door, and then
+as the soul of the artist within her awoke she forgot everything but the
+music.
+
+There was a long silence at the end when Peter paused, and then he heard
+her voice, tense, suppressed.
+
+"I could see it--you made me see it!" she gasped, almost in a whisper.
+"War--revolution--the people--angry--mumbling--crowding, pushing ... a
+crowd with guns and sticks howling at a gate ... and then a man trying
+to speak to them--appealing----"
+
+Peter turned quickly at the words and faced her. Her eyes were like
+stars, her soul rapt in the vision his music had painted. Peter had
+lived that scene again and again, but how could Beth know unless he had
+made her see it? There was something strange--uncanny--in Beth's vision
+of the great drama of Peter's life. And yet she had seen. Even now her
+spirit was afar.
+
+"And what happened to the man who was appealing to them?" he asked
+soberly.
+
+She closed her eyes, then opened them toward him, shaking her head.
+"I--I don't know--it's all gone now."
+
+"But you saw what I played. That is what happened."
+
+"What do you mean?" She questioned, startled in her turn.
+
+Peter shrugged himself into the present moment. "Nothing. It's
+just--revolution. War. War is like that, Beth," he went on quietly after
+a moment. "Like the motif in the bass--there is no end--the threat of it
+never stops--day or night. Only hell could be like it."
+
+Beth slowly came out of her dream.
+
+"You fought?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+Another silence. "I--I think I understand now why you're not afraid."
+
+"But I _am_ afraid, Beth," he said with a smile. "I was always afraid in
+the war. Because Death is always waiting just around the corner. Nobody
+who has been in the war wants ever to fight again."
+
+He turned to the piano. "They all want happiness, Beth. Peace. This!" he
+finished, and his roving fingers played softly the Tschaikowsky
+"Reverie."
+
+When he had finished he turned to her, smiling.
+
+"What vision do you see in that, Beth?"
+
+She started as though from a dream. "Oh, happiness--and sadness, too."
+
+"Yes," said Peter soberly. "No one knows what it is to be happy unless
+one has been sad."
+
+"That's true, isn't it?" she muttered, looking at him in wonder. "I
+never knew what unhappiness was for--but I guess that's it."
+
+He caught the minor note in her voice and smiled.
+
+"Come now," he said, "we'll have our first lesson."
+
+"Without the books?"
+
+"Yes. We'll try breathing."
+
+"Breathing?"
+
+"Yes--from the diaphragm."
+
+And as she looked bewildered, "From the stomach--not from the
+chest--breathe deeply and say 'Ah.'"
+
+She obeyed him and did it naturally, as though she had never breathed in
+any other way.
+
+"Fine," he cried and touched a note on the piano. "Now sing it. Throw it
+forward. Softly first, then louder----"
+
+It was while she was carrying out this instruction that a shadow
+appeared on the doorsill, followed in a moment by the figure of Shad
+Wells. Beth's "Ah" ceased suddenly. The visitor stood outside, his hands
+on his hips, in silent rage.
+
+Peter merely glanced at him over his shoulder.
+
+"How are you, Wells?" he said politely. "Won't you come in? We've having
+a singing lesson."
+
+Shad did not move or speak as Peter went on, "Take the chair by the
+door, old man. The cigarettes are on the table. Now, Beth----"
+
+But Beth remained as she was, uneasily regarding the intruder, for she
+knew that Shad was there for no good purpose. Peter caught her look and
+turned toward the door, deliberately ignoring the man's threatening
+demeanor.
+
+"We won't be long," he began coolly, "not over half an hour----"
+
+"No, I know ye won't," growled Shad. And then to the girl, "Beth, come
+out o' there!"
+
+If Shad's appearance had caused Beth any uncertainty, she found her
+spirit now, for her eyes flashed and her mouth closed in a hard line.
+
+"Who are you to say where I come or go?" she said evenly.
+
+But Shad stood his ground.
+
+"If you don't know enough to know what's what I'm here to show you."
+
+"Oh, I say----," said Peter coolly.
+
+"You can say what you like, Mister. And I've got somethin' to say to you
+when this lady goes."
+
+"Oh,----" and then quietly to Beth, "Perhaps you'd better go. Bring the
+books to-morrow--at the same time."
+
+But Beth hadn't moved, and only looked at Peter appealingly. So Peter
+spoke.
+
+"This man is impolite, not to say disagreeable to you. Has he any right
+to speak to you like this?"
+
+"No," said Beth uneasily, "but I don't want any trouble."
+
+Peter walked to the door and faced Shad outside.
+
+"There won't be any trouble unless Wells makes it." And then, as if a
+new thought had come to him, he said more cheerfully, "Perhaps he
+doesn't quite understand----"
+
+"Oh, I understand, all right. Are you goin', Beth?"
+
+She glanced at Peter, who nodded toward the path, and she came between
+them.
+
+"Go on back, Shad," she said.
+
+"No."
+
+"Do you mean it? If you do I'm through with you. You understand?"
+
+Peter took the girl by the arm and led her gently away.
+
+"Just wait a minute, Wells," he flung over his shoulder at the man,
+"I'll be back in a second."
+
+The careless tone rather bewildered the woodsman, who had expected to
+find either fear or anger. The forester-piano-player showed
+neither--only careless ease and a coolness which could only be because
+he didn't know what was coming to him.
+
+"D--n him! I'll fix him!" muttered Shad, quivering with rage. But Peter
+having fortified himself with a cigarette was now returning. Wells
+advanced into an open space where there was plenty of room to swing his
+elbows and waited.
+
+"Now, Wells," said Peter alertly, "you wanted to see me?"
+
+"Yes, I did, ye stuck-up piano-playin', psalm-singin' ---- ---- ----
+----." And suiting the action to the word leaped for Peter, both fists
+flying.
+
+The rugged and uncultured often mistake politeness for effeminacy,
+sensibility for weakness. Shad was a rough and tumble artist of a high
+proficiency, and he had a reputation for strength and combativeness. He
+was going to make short work of this job.
+
+But Peter had learned his boxing with his cricket. Also he had practiced
+the _Savate_ and was familiar with _jiu jitsu_--but he didn't need
+either of them.
+
+Wells rushed twice but Peter was not where he rushed. The only damage he
+had done was to tear out the sleeve of Peter's shirt.
+
+"Stand up an' fight like a man," growled Shad.
+
+"There's no hurry," said Peter, calmly studying Shad's methods.
+
+"Oh, _ain't_ there!"
+
+This bull-like rush Peter stopped with a neat uppercut, straightening
+Shad's head which came up with a disfigured nose and before he could
+throw down his guard, Peter landed hard on his midriff. Shad winced but
+shot out a blow which grazed Peter's cheek. Then Peter countered on
+Shad's injured nose. Shad's eyes were now regarding Peter in
+astonishment. But in a moment only one of them was, for Peter closed the
+other.
+
+"We'd better stop now," gasped Peter, "and talk this over."
+
+"No, you ---- ---- ----," roared Shad, for he suspected that somewhere
+in the bushes Beth was watching.
+
+Peter lost what remained of his shirt in the next rush and sprained a
+thumb. It didn't do to fight Shad "rough and tumble." But he got away at
+last and stood his man off, avoiding the blind rushes and landing almost
+at will.
+
+"Had enough?" he asked again, as politely as ever.
+
+"No," gulped the other.
+
+So Peter sprang in and struck with all the force of his uninjured hand
+on the woodsman's jaw, and then Shad went down and lay quiet. It had
+been ridiculously easy from the first and Peter felt some pity for Shad
+and not a little contempt for himself. But he took the precaution of
+bending over the man and extracting the revolver that he found in Shad's
+hip pocket.
+
+As he straightened and turned he saw Beth standing in the path regarding
+him.
+
+"Beth!" he exclaimed with a glance at Shad. "You saw?"
+
+"Yes." She covered her face with her hands. "It was horrible."
+
+"I tried to avoid it," he protested.
+
+"Yes, I know. It was his own fault. Is he badly hurt?"
+
+"No, I think not. But you'd better go."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"It will only make matters worse if he sees you."
+
+She understood, turned and vanished obediently.
+
+Then Peter went to the house, got a basin and, fetching some water from
+the creek, played the Samaritan. In a while Shad gasped painfully and
+sat up, looking at the victor.
+
+"Sorry," said Peter, "but you _would_ have it."
+
+Shad blinked his uninjured eye and rose, feeling at his hip.
+
+"I took your revolver," said Peter calmly.
+
+"Give it here."
+
+"A chap with a bad temper has no business carrying one," said Peter
+sternly.
+
+"Oh----." The man managed to get to his feet.
+
+"I'm sorry, Shad," said Peter again, and held out his hand. "Let's be
+friends."
+
+Shad looked at the hand sullenly for a moment. "I'll fix _you_, Mister.
+I'll fix you yet," he muttered, then turned and walked away.
+
+If Peter had made one friend he had also made an enemy.
+
+The incident with Shad Wells was unfortunate, but Peter didn't see how
+it could have been avoided. He was thankful nevertheless for his English
+schooling, which had saved him from a defeat at the hands of a
+"roughneck" which could have been, under the circumstances, nothing less
+than ignominious. For if Shad Wells had succeeded in vanquishing him,
+all Peter's authority, all his influence with the rest of the men in
+McGuire's employ would have gone forever, for Shad Wells was not the
+kind of man upon whom such a victory would have lightly sat. If he had
+thrashed Peter, Shad and not Peter would have been the boss of Black
+Rock and Peter's position would have been intolerable.
+
+As Peter laved his broken knuckles and bruised cheek, he wondered if,
+after all, the affair hadn't been for the best. True, he had made an
+enemy of Shad, but then according to the girl, Shad had already been his
+enemy. Peter abhorred fighting, as he had told Beth, but, whatever the
+consequences, he was sure that the air had cleared amazingly. He was
+aware too that the fact that he had been the champion of Beth's
+independence definitely stood forth. Whatever the wisdom or the
+propriety, according to the standards of Black Rock society, of Beth's
+visits to the Cabin, for the purpose of a musical education or for any
+other purposes, Peter was aware that he had set the seal of his approval
+upon them, marked, that any who read might run, upon the visage of Mr.
+Wells. Peter was still sorry for Shad, but still more sorry for Beth,
+whose name might be lightly used for her share in the adventure.
+
+He made up his mind to say nothing of what had happened, and he felt
+reasonably certain that Shad Wells would reach a similar decision. He
+was not at all certain that Beth wouldn't tell everybody what had
+happened for he was aware by this time that Beth was the custodian of
+her own destinies and that she would not need the oracles of Black Rock
+village as censors of her behavior.
+
+But when he went up to the house for supper he made his way over the
+log-jam below the pool and so to the village, stopping for a moment at
+the Bergen house, where Beth was sitting on the porch reading _The Lives
+of the Great Composers_. She was so absorbed that she did not see him
+until he stood at the little swing gate, hat in hand.
+
+She greeted him quietly, glancing up at his bruised cheek.
+
+"I'm so sorry," she said, "that it was on my account."
+
+"I'm not--now that I've done the 'gobbling,'" he said with a grin. And
+then, "Where's Shad?"
+
+"I haven't seen him. I guess he's gone in his hole and pulled it in
+after him."
+
+Peter smiled. "I just stopped by to say that perhaps you'd better say
+nothing. It would only humiliate him."
+
+"I wasn't goin' to--but it served him right----"
+
+"And if you think people will talk about your coming to the Cabin, I
+thought perhaps I ought to give you your lessons here."
+
+"Here!" she said, and he didn't miss the note of disappointment in her
+tone.
+
+"If your cousin Shad disapproves, perhaps there are others."
+
+She was silent for a moment and then she looked up at him shyly.
+
+"If it's just the same to you--I--I'd rather come to the Cabin," she
+said quietly. "It's like--like a different world--with your playin' an'
+all----" And then scornfully, "What do I care what they think!"
+
+"Of course--I'm delighted. I thought I ought to consult you, that's all.
+And you'll come to-morrow?"
+
+"Yes--of course."
+
+He said nothing about the meeting that was to take place that night with
+the mysterious "Hawk" at the maple tree. He meant to find out, if
+possible, how Beth could be concerned (if she was concerned) in the
+fortunes of the mysterious gentleman of the placard, but until he
+learned something definite he thought it wiser not to take Beth further
+into his confidence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+"HAWK"
+
+
+Three months ago it would have been difficult for His Highness, Grand
+Duke Peter Nicholaevitch, to imagine himself in his present situation as
+sponsor for Beth Cameron. He had been no saint. Saintly attributes were
+not usually to be found in young men of his class, and Peter's training
+had been in the larger school of the world as represented in the
+Continental capitals. He had tasted life under the tutelage of a father
+who believed that women, bad as well as good, were a necessary part of a
+gentleman's education, and Peter had learned many things.... Had it not
+been for his music and his English love of fair play, he would have
+stood an excellent chance of going to the devil along the precipitous
+road that had led the Grand Duke Nicholas Petrovitch there.
+
+But Peter had discovered that he had a mind, the needs of which were
+more urgent than those of his love of pleasure. Many women he had known,
+Parisian, Viennese, Russian--and one, Vera Davydov, a musician, had
+enchained him until he had discovered that it was her violin and not her
+soul that had sung to him ... Anastasie Galitzin ... a dancer in Moscow
+... and then--the War.
+
+In that terrible alembic the spiritual ingredients which made Peter's
+soul had been stirred until only the essential remained. But that
+essence was the real Peter--a wholesome young man steeped in idealism
+slightly tinged with humor. It was idealism that had made him attempt
+the impossible, humor that had permitted him to survive his failure, for
+no tragedy except death itself can defy a sense of humor if it's
+whimsical enough. There was something about the irony of his position in
+Black Rock which interested him even more than the drama that lay hidden
+with McGuire's Nemesis in the pine woods. And he couldn't deny the fact
+that this rustic, this primitive Beth Cameron was as fine a little lady
+as one might meet anywhere in the wide world. She had amused him at
+first with originality, charmed him with simplicity, amazed him later
+with talent and now had disarmed him with trust in his integrity. If at
+any moment the idea had entered Peter's head that here was a wild-flower
+waiting to be gathered and worn in his hat, she had quickly disabused
+his mind of that chimera. Curious. He found it as difficult to conceive
+of making free with Beth as with the person of the Metropolitan of
+Moscow, or with that of the President of the Pennsylvania Railroad. She
+had her dignity. It was undeniable. He imagined the surprise in her
+large blue eyes and the torrent of ridicule of which her tongue could be
+capable. He had felt the sting of its humor at their first meeting. He
+had no wish to test it again.
+
+And now, after a few days of acquaintanceship, he found himself Beth's
+champion, the victor over the "Hellion" triplet, and the guardian of her
+good repute. He found, strangely enough, the responsibility
+strengthening his good resolves toward Beth and adding another tie to
+those of sympathy and admiration. The situation, while not altogether of
+his making, was not without its attractions. He had given Beth her
+chance to withdraw from the arrangement and she had persisted in the
+plan to come to the Cabin. Very well. It was his cabin. She should come
+and he would teach her to sing. But he knew that Peter Nichols was
+throwing temptation in the way of Peter Nicholaevitch.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+McGuire was quiet that night and while they smoked Peter talked at
+length on the needs of the estate as he saw them. Peter went down to the
+Cabin and brought up his maps and his plans for the fire towers. McGuire
+nodded or assented in monosyllables, but Peter was sure that he heard
+little and saw less, for at intervals he glanced at the clock, or at his
+watch, and Peter knew that his obsession had returned. Outside,
+somewhere in the woods, "Hawk" was approaching to keep his tryst and
+McGuire could think of nothing else. This preoccupation was marked by a
+frowning thatch of brow and a sullen glare at vacancy which gave no
+evidence of the fears that had inspired him, but indicated a mind made
+up in desperation to carry out his plans, through Peter, whatever
+happened later. Only the present concerned him. But underneath his
+outward appearance of calm, Peter was aware of an intense alertness, for
+from time to time his eyes glowed suddenly and the muscles worked in his
+cheeks as he clamped his jaws shut and held them so.
+
+As the clock struck ten McGuire got to his feet and walked to the safe,
+which he opened carefully and took out the money that Peter had brought.
+Then he went to a closet and took out an electric torch which he tested
+and then put upon the table.
+
+"You're armed, Nichols?" he asked.
+
+Peter nodded. "But of course there's no reason why your mysterious
+visitor should take a pot at me," he said. And then, curiously, "Do you
+think so, Mr. McGuire?"
+
+"Oh, no," said the other quickly. "You have no interest in this affair.
+You're my messenger, that's all. But I want you to follow my
+instructions carefully. I've trusted you this far and I've got to go the
+whole way. This man will say something. You will try to remember word
+for word what he says to you, and you're to repeat that message to me."
+
+"That shouldn't be difficult."
+
+McGuire was holding the money in his hand and went on in an abstraction
+as though weighing words.
+
+"I want you to go at once to the maple tree. I want you to go now so
+that you will be there when this man arrives. You will stand waiting for
+him and when he comes you will throw the light into his face, so that
+you can see him when you talk to him, and so that he can count this
+money and see that the amount is correct. I do not want you to go too
+close to him nor to permit him to go too close to you--you are merely to
+hand him this package and throw the light while he counts the money.
+Then you are to say to him these words, 'Don't forget the blood on the
+knife, Hawk Kennedy.'"
+
+"'Don't forget the blood on the knife, Hawk Kennedy,'" murmured Peter in
+amazement. And then, "But suppose he wants to tell me a lot of things
+you don't want me to know----"
+
+"I'll have to risk that," put in McGuire grimly. "I want you to watch
+him carefully, Nichols. Are you pretty quick on the draw?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean, can you draw your gun and shoot quickly--surely? If you can't,
+you'd better have your gun in your pocket, keep him covered and at the
+first sign, shoot through your coat."
+
+Peter took out his revolver and examined it quizzically. "I thought you
+said, Mr. McGuire," he put in coolly, "that I was not to be required to
+do anything a gentleman couldn't do."
+
+"Exactly," said the old man jerkily.
+
+"I shouldn't say that shooting a defenseless man answers that
+requirement."
+
+McGuire threw up his hands wildly.
+
+"There you go--up in the air again. I didn't say you were to shoot him,
+did I?" he whined. "I'm just warning you to be on the lookout in case he
+attacks you. That--that's all."
+
+"Why should he attack me?"
+
+"He shouldn't, but he might be angry because I didn't come myself."
+
+"I see. Perhaps you'd better go, sir. Then you can do your killing
+yourself."
+
+McGuire fell back against the table, to which he clung, his face gray
+with apprehension, for he saw that Peter had guessed what he hoped.
+
+"You want this man killed," Peter went on. "It's been obvious to me from
+the first night I came here. Well, I'm not going to be the one to do
+it."
+
+McGuire's glance fell to the rug as he stammered hoarsely, "I--I never
+asked you to do it. Y-you must be dreaming. I--I'm merely making plans
+to assure your safety. I don't want you hurt, Nichols. That's all.
+You're not going to back out now?" he pleaded.
+
+"Murder is a little out of my line----"
+
+"You're not going to fail me----?" McGuire's face was ghastly. "You
+_can't_," he whispered hoarsely. "You can't let me down now. _I_ can't
+see this man. I can't tell Stryker all you know. You're the only one.
+You promised, Nichols. You promised to go."
+
+"Yes. And I'll keep my word--but I'll do it in my own way. I'm not
+afraid of any enemy of yours. Why should I be? But I'm not going to
+shoot him. If that's understood give me the money and I'll be off."
+
+"Yes--yes. That's all right, Nichols. You're a good fellow--and honest.
+I'll make it worth your while to stay with me here." He took up the
+money and handed it to Peter, who counted it carefully and then put it
+in an inside pocket. "I don't see why you think I wanted you to kill
+Hawk Kennedy," McGuire went on, whining. "A man's got a right to protect
+himself, hasn't he? And you've got a right to protect _yourself_, if he
+tries to start anything."
+
+"Have you any reason to believe that he might?"
+
+"No. I can't say I have."
+
+"All right. I'll take a chance. But I want it understood that I'm not
+responsible if anything goes wrong."
+
+"That's understood."
+
+Peter made his way downstairs, and out of the front door to the portico.
+Stryker, curiously enough, was nowhere to be seen. Peter went out across
+the dim lawn into the starlight. Jesse Brown challenged him by the big
+tree and Peter stopped for a moment to talk with him, explaining that he
+would be returning to the house later.
+
+"The old man seems to be comin' to life, Mister," said Jesse.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Not so skeered-like. He was out here when you went to the Cabin for
+them plans----"
+
+"Out here?" said Peter in amazement.
+
+Andy nodded. "He seemed more natural-like,--asked what the countersign
+was and said mebbe we'd all be goin' back to the mills after a night or
+so."
+
+"Oh, did he? That's good. You're pretty tired of this night work?"
+
+"Not so long as it pays good. But what did he mean by changin' the
+guards?"
+
+"He didn't say anything to me about it," said Peter, concealing his
+surprise.
+
+"Oh, didn't he? Well, he took Andy off the privet hedge and sent him
+down to the clump of pines near the road."
+
+"I see," said Peter. "Why?"
+
+"You've got me, Mister. If there's trouble to-night, there ain't no one
+at the back of the house at all. We're one man short."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Shad Wells. He ain't showed up."
+
+"Ah, I see," muttered Peter. And then, as he lighted a cigarette, "Oh,
+well, we'll get along somehow. But look sharp, just the same."
+
+Peter went down the lawn thoughtfully. From the first he hadn't been any
+too pleased with this mission. Though Peter was aware that in the realm
+of big business it masqueraded under other names, blackmail, at the
+best, was a dirty thing. At the worst--and McGuire's affair with the
+insistent Hawk seemed to fall into this classification,--it was both
+sinister and contemptible. To be concerned in these dark doings even as
+an emissary was hardly in accordance with Peter's notion of his job, and
+he had acceded to McGuire's request without thinking of possible
+consequences, more out of pity for his employer in his plight than for
+any other reason. But he remembered that it usually required a guilty
+conscience to make blackmail possible and that the man who paid always
+paid because of something discreditable which he wished to conceal.
+
+McGuire's explanations had been thin and Peter knew that the real reason
+for the old man's trepidations was something other than the ones he had
+given. He had come to Black Rock from New York to avoid any possible
+publicity that might result from the visits of his persecutor and was
+now paying this sum of money for a respite, an immunity which at the
+best could only be temporary. It was all wrong and Peter was sorry to
+have a hand in it, but he couldn't deny that the interest with which he
+had first approached Black Rock House had now culminated in a curiosity
+which was almost an obsession. Here, close at hand, was the solution of
+the mystery, and whether or not he learned anything as to the facts
+which had brought McGuire's discomfiture, he would at least see and talk
+with the awe-inspiring Hawk who had been the cause of them. Besides,
+there was Mrs. Bergen's share in the adventure which indicated that
+Beth's happiness, too, was in some way involved. For Peter, having had
+time to weigh Beth's remarks with the housekeeper's, had come to the
+conclusion that there had been but one man near the house that night.
+The man who had talked with Mrs. Bergen at the kitchen door was not John
+Bray the camera-man, or the man with the dark mustache, but Hawk Kennedy
+himself.
+
+Peter entered the path to the Cabin, and explored it carefully,
+searching the woods on either side and then, cutting into the scrub oak
+at the point where he and Beth had first seen the placard, made his way
+to the maple tree. There was no one there. A glance at his watch under
+the glare of the pocket torch showed that he was early for the tryst, so
+he walked around the maple, flashing his light into the undergrowth and
+at last sat down, leaning against the trunk of the tree, lighted another
+cigarette and waited.
+
+Under the depending branches of the heavy foliage it was very dark, and
+he could get only the smallest glimpses of the starlit sky. At one point
+toward Black Rock House beyond the boles of the trees he could see short
+stretches of the distant lawn and, in the distance, a light which he
+thought must be that of McGuire's bedroom, for to-night, Peter had
+noticed, the shutters had been left open. It was very quiet too. Peter
+listened for the sounds of approaching footsteps among the dry leaves,
+but heard only the creak of branches overhead, the slight stir of the
+breeze in the leaves and the whistle of a locomotive many miles away, on
+the railroad between Philadelphia and Atlantic City.
+
+The sound carried his mind beyond the pine-belt out into the great world
+from which he had come, and he thought of many things that might have
+been instead of this that was--the seething yeast that was Russia, the
+tearing down of the idols of centuries and the worship of new gods that
+were no gods at all--not even those of brass or gold--only
+visions--will-o'-the-wisps.... The madness had shown itself here too.
+Would the fabric of which the American Ideal was made be strong enough
+to hold together against the World's new madness? He believed in
+American institutions. Imperfect though they were, fallible as the human
+wills which controlled them, they were as near Liberty, Equality,
+Fraternity as one might yet hope to attain in a form of government this
+side of the millennium.
+
+Peter started up suddenly, for he was sure that he had heard something
+moving in the underbrush. But after listening intently and hearing
+nothing more he thought that his ears had deceived him. He flashed his
+lantern here and there as a guide to Hawk Kennedy but there was no
+sound. Complete silence had fallen again over the woods. If McGuire's
+mysterious enemy was approaching he was doing it with the skill of an
+Indian scout. And it occurred to Peter at this moment that Hawk Kennedy
+too might have his reasons for wishing to be sure that he was to be
+fairly dealt with. The placard had indicated the possibility of
+chicanery on the part of McGuire. "No tricks," Hawk had written. He
+would make sure that Peter was alone before he showed himself. So Peter
+flashed his lamp around again, glanced at his watch, which showed that
+the hour of the appointment had passed, then lighted a third cigarette
+and sank down on the roots of the tree to wait.
+
+There was no other sound. The breeze which had been fitful at best had
+died and complete silence had fallen. Peter wasn't in the least alarmed.
+Why should he be? He had come to do this stranger a favor and no one
+else except McGuire could know of the large sum of money in his
+possession. The trees were his friends. Peter's thoughts turned back
+again, as they always did when his mind was at the mercy of his
+imagination. What was the use of it all? Honor, righteousness, pride,
+straight living, the ambition to do, to achieve something real by his
+own efforts--to what end? He knew that he could have been living snugly
+in London now, married to the Princess Galitzin, drifting with the
+current in luxury and ease down the years, enjoying those things----
+
+Heigho! Peter sat up and shrugged the vision off. He must not be
+thinking back. It wouldn't do. The new life was here. _Novaya Jezn._
+Like the seedling from the twisted oak, he was going to grow straight
+and true--to be himself, the son of his mother, who had died with a
+prayer on her lips that Peter might not be what his father had been.
+Thus far, he had obeyed her. He had grown straight, true to the memory
+of that prayer.
+
+Yes, life was good. He tossed away his cigarette, ground it into the
+ground with his heel, then lay back against the tree, drinking in great
+drafts of the clean night air. The forest was so quiet that he could
+hear the distant tinkle of Cedar Creek down beyond the Cabin. The time
+was now well after eleven. What if Hawk Kennedy failed to appear? And
+how long must----?
+
+A tiny sound close at hand, clear, distinct. Peter took a chance and
+called out,
+
+"Is that you, Hawk Kennedy?"
+
+Silence and then a repetition of the sound a little louder now and from
+directly overhead. Peter rose, peering upward in amazement.
+
+"Yes, I'm here," said a low voice among the leaves above him.
+
+And presently a foot appeared, followed by legs and a body, emerging
+from the gloom above. Peter threw the light of his torch up into the
+tree.
+
+"Hey! Cut that," commanded a voice sharply.
+
+And Peter obeyed. In a moment a shape swung down and stood beside him.
+After the glare of the torch Peter couldn't make out the face under the
+brim of the cap, but he could see that it wore a mustache and short
+growth of beard. In size, the stranger was quite as tall as Peter.
+
+Hawk Kennedy stood for a moment listening intently and Peter was so
+astonished at the extraordinary mode of his entrance on the scene that
+he did not speak.
+
+"You're from McGuire?" asked the man shortly.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Why didn't he come himself?"
+
+The voice was gruff, purposely so, Peter thought, but there was
+something about it vaguely reminiscent.
+
+"Answer me. Why didn't he come?"
+
+Peter laughed.
+
+"He didn't tell me why. Any more than you'd tell me why you've been up
+this tree."
+
+"I'm takin' no chances this trip. I've been watchin'--listenin'," said
+the other grimly. "Well, what's the answer? And who--who the devil are
+you?"
+
+The bearded visage was thrust closer to Peter's as though in
+uncertainty, but accustomed as both men now were to the darkness,
+neither could make out the face of the other.
+
+"I'm McGuire's superintendent. He sent me here to meet you--to bring you
+something----"
+
+"Ah--he comes across. Good. Where is it?"
+
+"In my pocket," said Peter coolly, "but he told me to tell you first not
+to forget the blood on the knife, Hawk Kennedy."
+
+The man recoiled a step.
+
+"The blood on the knife," he muttered. And then, "McGuire asked you to
+say that?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Anything else?"
+
+"No. That's all."
+
+Another silence and then he demand in a rough tone,
+
+"Well, give me the money!"
+
+Impolite beggar! What was there about this shadow that suggested to
+Peter the thought that this whole incident had happened before? That
+this man belonged to another life that Peter had lived? Peter shrugged
+off the illusion, fumbled in his pocket and produced the envelope
+containing the bills.
+
+"You'd better count it," said Peter, as the envelope changed hands.
+
+"It's not 'phoney'----?" asked Hawk's voice suspiciously.
+
+"Phoney?"
+
+"Fake money----?"
+
+"No. I got it in New York myself yesterday."
+
+"Oh----." There was a silence in which the shade stood uncertainly
+fingering the package, peering into the bushes around him and listening
+intently. And then, abruptly,
+
+"I want to see the color of it. Switch on your light."
+
+Peter obeyed. "You'd better," he said.
+
+In the glow of lamp Hawk Kennedy bent forward, his face hidden by his
+cap brim, fingering the bills, and Peter saw for the first time that his
+left hand held an automatic which covered Peter now, as it had covered
+him from the first moment of the interview.
+
+"Five hundreds--eh," growled Kennedy. "They're real enough, all right.
+One--two--three--four----"
+
+A roar from the darkness and a bullet crashed into the tree behind
+them.... Another shot! Peter's startled finger relaxed on the button of
+the torch and they were in darkness. A flash from the trees to the
+right, the bullet missing Peter by inches.
+
+"A trick! By ----!" said Hawk's voice in a fury, "but I'll get _you_ for
+this."
+
+Peter was too quick for him. In the darkness he jumped aside, striking
+Kennedy with his torch, and then closed with the man, whose shot went
+wild. They struggled for a moment, each fighting for the possession of
+the weapon, McGuire's money ground under their feet, but Peter was the
+younger and the stronger and when he twisted Hawk's wrist the man
+suddenly relaxed and fell, Peter on his chest.
+
+The reason for this collapse was apparent when Peter's hand touched the
+moisture on Kennedy's shoulder.
+
+"Damn you!" Hawk was muttering, as he struggled vainly.
+
+Events had followed so rapidly that Peter hadn't had time to think of
+anything but his own danger. He had acted with the instinct of
+self-preservation, which was almost quicker than his thought, but as he
+knew now what had happened he realized that he, too, had been tricked by
+McGuire and that the murderous volley directed at Hawk Kennedy had come
+perilously near doing for himself. With the calm which followed the
+issue of his struggle with Kennedy, came a dull rage at McGuire for
+placing him in such danger, which only showed his employer's desperate
+resolve and his indifference to Peter's fate. For Hawk Kennedy had been
+within his rights in supposing Peter to be concerned in the trick and
+only the miracle of the expiring torch which had blinded the intruder
+had saved Peter from the fate intended for Hawk. Peter understood now
+the meaning of McGuire's explicit instructions and the meaning of the
+changing of the guards. The old man had hoped to kill his enemy with one
+shot and save himself the recurrence of his terror. What had become of
+him now? There was no sound among the bushes or any sign of him. He had
+slipped away like the poltroon that he was, leaving Peter to his fate.
+
+"Damn you!" Hawk muttered again. "What did _you_ want to come meddling
+for!"
+
+The man couldn't be dangerously hurt if he possessed the power of
+invective and so, having possessed himself of Hawk's automatic, Peter
+got off his chest and fumbled around for the electric torch.
+
+"It won't do you any good to lie there cursing me. Get up, if you're
+able to."
+
+"Got me in the shoulder," muttered the man.
+
+"And he might have gotten _me_," said Peter, "which would have been
+worse."
+
+"You mean--you didn't--_know_," groaned Hawk, getting up into a sitting
+posture.
+
+"No. I didn't," replied Peter.
+
+He had found the torch now and was flashing it around on the ground
+while he picked up the scattered money.
+
+"I'll fix him for this," groaned the stranger.
+
+Peter glanced at him.
+
+"His men will be down here in a moment. You'd better be getting up."
+
+"I'm not afraid. They can't do anything to _me_. They'd better leave me
+alone. McGuire don't want me to talk. But I'll squeal if they bother
+me." Peter was aware that the man was watching him as he picked up the
+bills and heard him ask haltingly, "What are you--going to do--with that
+money?"
+
+"My orders were to give it to you. Don't you want it?"
+
+Peter turned and for the first time flashed the lamp full in the injured
+man's face. Even then Peter didn't recognize him, but he saw Hawk
+Kennedy's eyes open wide as he stared at Peter.
+
+"Who----?" gasped the man. And then, "_You_ here! '_Cré nom!_ It's Pete,
+the waiter!"
+
+Peter started back in astonishment.
+
+"Jim Coast!" he said.
+
+Hawk Kennedy chuckled and scrambled to his feet, halfway between a laugh
+and a groan.
+
+"Well, I'm damned!"
+
+Peter was still staring at him, the recovered bills loose in his hand.
+Jim Coast thrust out an arm for them.
+
+"The money," he demanded. "The money, Pete."
+
+Without a word Peter handed it to him. It was none of his. Coast counted
+the bills, the blood dripping from his fingers and soiling them, but he
+wiped them off with a dirty handkerchief and put them away into his
+pocket. Blood money, Peter thought, and rightly named.
+
+"And now, _mon gars_, if it's all the same to you, I'd like you to take
+me to some place where we can tie up this hole in my shoulder."
+
+This was like Coast's impudence. He had regained his composure again
+and, in spite of the pain he was suffering, had become his proper self,
+the same Jim Coast who had bunked with Peter on the _Bermudian_, full of
+smirking assertiveness and sinister suggestion. Peter was too full of
+astonishment to make any comment, for it was difficult to reconcile the
+thought of Jim Coast with Hawk Kennedy, and yet there he was, the terror
+of Black Rock House revealed.
+
+"Well, Pete," he growled, "goin' to be starin' at me all night?"
+
+"You'd better be off," said Peter briefly.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"They'll be here in a minute. You've got your money."
+
+"Let 'em come. They'll have to take me to McGuire----"
+
+"Or the lock-up at Egg Harbor----"
+
+"All right. I'll go. But when I open my mouth to speak, McGuire will
+wish that Hell would open for him." And then, "See here, Pete, do you
+know anything of what's between me and McGuire?"
+
+"No--except that he fears you."
+
+"Very well. If you're workin' for him you'll steer these guys away from
+me. I mean it. Now think quick."
+
+Peter did. Angry as he was at McGuire, he knew that Jim Coast meant what
+he said and that he would make trouble. Also Peter's curiosity knew no
+subsidence.
+
+"You go to my cabin. It's hidden in the woods down this path at the
+right----"
+
+"That's where you live, is it?"
+
+"Yes. You'll find water there and a towel on the washstand. I'll be
+there to help you when I sheer these men off."
+
+Coast walked a few steps and then turned quickly.
+
+"No funny business, Pete."
+
+"No. You can clear out if you like. I don't care. I only thought if you
+were badly hurt----"
+
+"Oh, all right. Thanks."
+
+Peter watched the dim silhouette merge into the shadows and disappear.
+Then flashed his light here and there that the men who must be
+approaching now might be guided to him. In a moment they were crashing
+through the undergrowth, Jesse and Andy in the lead.
+
+"What's the shootin'?" queried Jesse Brown breathlessly.
+
+"A man in the woods. I'm looking for him," said Peter. "He got away."
+
+"Well, don't it beat Hell----"
+
+"But it may be a plan to get you men away from the house," said Peter as
+the thought came to him. "Did you see McGuire?"
+
+"McGuire! No. What----?"
+
+"All right. You'd better hurry back. See if he's all right. I'll get
+along----"
+
+"Not if you go flashin' _that_ thing. I could a got ye with my rifle as
+easy as----"
+
+"Well, never mind. Get back to the house. I'll poke around here for a
+while. Hurry!"
+
+In some bewilderment they obeyed him and Peter turned his footstep
+toward the Cabin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+ANCIENT HISTORY
+
+
+Peter wasn't at all certain that he had done the right thing. One event
+had followed another with such startling rapidity that there hadn't been
+time to deliberate. Jim Coast was wounded, how badly Peter didn't know,
+but the obvious duty was to give him first aid and sanctuary until Peter
+could get a little clearer light on Coast's possibilities for evil. None
+of this was Peter's business. He had done what McGuire had asked him to
+do and had nearly gotten killed for his pains. Two fights already and he
+had come to Black Rock to find peace!
+
+In his anger at McGuire's trick he was now indifferent as to what would
+happen to the old man. There was no doubt that Jim Coast held all the
+cards and, unless he died, would continue to hold them. It was evident
+that McGuire, having failed in accomplishing the murder, had placed
+himself in a worse position than before, for Coast was not one to relax
+or to forgive, and if he had gotten his five thousand dollars so easily
+as this, he would be disposed to make McGuire pay more heavily now.
+Peter knew nothing of the merits of the controversy, but it seemed
+obvious that the two principals in the affair were both tarred with the
+same stick. _Arcades Ambo_. He was beginning to believe that Coast was
+the more agreeable villain of the two. At least he had made no bones
+about the fact of his villainy.
+
+Peter found Coast stripped to the waist, sitting in a chair by the
+table, bathing his wounded shoulder. But the hemorrhage had stopped and
+Peter saw that the bullet had merely grazed the deltoid, leaving a clean
+wound, which could be successfully treated by first aid devices. So he
+found his guest a drink of whisky, which put a new heart into him, then
+tore up a clean linen shirt, strips from which he soaked in iodine and
+bandaged over the arm and shoulder.
+
+Meanwhile Coast was talking.
+
+"Well, _mon vieux_, it's a little world, ain't it? To think I'd find
+_you_, my old bunkie, Pete, the waiter, out here in the wilds, passin'
+the buck for Mike McGuire! Looks like the hand o' Fate, doesn't it?
+Superintendent, eh? Some job! Twenty thousand acres--if he's got an
+inch. An' me thinkin' all the while you'd be slingin' dishes in a New
+York chop house!"
+
+"I studied forestry in Germany once," said Peter with a smile, as he
+wound the bandage.
+
+"Right y'are! Mebbe you told me. I don't know. Mebbe there's a lot o'
+things you _didn't_ tell me. Mebbe there's a lot of things I didn't tell
+_you_. But I ought to 'a' known a globe trotter like you never would 'a'
+stayed a waiter. A waiter! _Nom de Dieu!_ Remember that (sanguine)
+steward on the _Bermudian_? Oily, fat little beef-eater with the gold
+teeth? Tried to make us 'divy' on the tips? But we beat him to it, Pete,
+when we took French leave. H-m! I'm done with waitin' now, Pete. So are
+you, I reckon. Gentleman of leisure, _I_ am!"
+
+"There you are," said Peter as he finished the bandage, "but you'll have
+to get this wound dressed somewhere to-morrow."
+
+"Right you are. A hospital in Philly will do the trick. And McGuire pays
+the bill."
+
+Jim Coast got up and moved his arm cautiously.
+
+"Mighty nice of you, Pete. That's fine. I'll make him pay through the
+nose for this." And then turning his head and eyeing Peter narrowly,
+"You say McGuire told you nothin'!"
+
+"Nothing. It's none of my affair."
+
+The ex-waiter laughed. "He knows his business. Quiet as death, ain't he?
+He's got a right to be. And scared. He's got a right to be scared too.
+I'll scare him worse before I'm through with him."
+
+He broke off with a laugh and then, "Funny to find you guardin' _him_
+against _me_. House all locked--men with guns all over the place. He
+wanted one of those guys to kill me, didn't he? But I'm too slick for
+him. No locked doors can keep out what's scarin' Mike McGuire----"
+
+He broke off suddenly and held up his empty glass. "Another drink of the
+whisky, _mon gars_, and I'm yer friend for life."
+
+Peter was still curious, so he obeyed and after cleaning up the mess
+they had made he sank into a chair, studying the worn features of his
+old companion. He had taken the precaution to pull in the heavy shutter
+of the window which had been opened and to lock the door. Peter did not
+relish the idea of a murder committed in this cabin.
+
+"Not apt to come now, are they, Pete? Well, let 'em," he answered
+himself with a shrug. "But they won't if McGuire has his way. Murder is
+the only thing that will suit McGuire's book. He can't do that--not with
+witnesses around. Ain't he the slick one, though? I was watchin' for
+just what happened. That's why I stayed in the tree so long--listenin'.
+He must of slipped in like a snake. How he did it I don't know. I'm a
+worse snake than he is but I always rattle before I strike."
+
+He laughed again dryly.
+
+"I've got _him_ rattled all O. K. Mebbe he'd of shot straighter if he
+hadn't been. He used to could--dead shot. But I reckon his talents are
+runnin' different _now_. Millions he has they say, _mon vieux_,
+millions. And I'll get my share of 'em."
+
+Jim Coast smoked for a moment in contented silence.
+
+"See here, Pete. I like you. Always did. Straight as a string--you are.
+You've done me a good turn to-night. You might of put me out--killed me
+when you had me down----"
+
+"I'm no murderer, Jim."
+
+"Right. Nor I ain't either. I don't want to hurt a hair of McGuire's
+head. Every one of 'em is precious as refined gold. I want him to
+live--to keep on livin' and makin' more money because the more money
+he's got the more I'll get--see."
+
+"Blackmail," said Peter shortly.
+
+Coast glanced at him, shrugged and laughed.
+
+"Call it that if you like. It's a dirty word, but I'll stand for it,
+seein' it's you. Blackmail! What's a waiter's tip but blackmail for good
+service? What's a lawyer's fee from a corporation but money paid by men
+to keep them out of the jail? What's a breach of promise case?
+Blackmail--legal blackmail. I'm doin' nothin' less an' nothin' more than
+a million other men--but I'm not workin' with a lawyer. I'll turn the
+trick alone. What would you say if I told you that half of every dollar
+McGuire has got is mine--a full half--to say nothin' of payment for the
+years I was wanderin' an' grubbin' over the face of the earth, while he
+was livin' easy. Oh! You're surprised. You'd better be. For that's the
+God's truth, _mon ami_."
+
+"You mean--he--he----" Peter's credulity was strained and he failed to
+finish his query.
+
+"Oh, you don't believe? Well, you needn't. But there's no blackmail when
+you only take what belongs to you. The money--the money that made his
+millions was as much mine as his. I'm going to have my share with
+compound interest for fifteen years--and perhaps a bit more."
+
+"You surprise me. But it seems that if there's any justice in your
+claim, you could establish it legally."
+
+Jim Coast laughed again.
+
+"There's a quicker--a safer way than that. I'm takin' it." He filled his
+glass again and went on, leaning far over the table toward Peter.
+"_Voyons_, Pete. When we came ashore, I made you an offer to play my
+game. You turned me down. It's not too late to change your mind. The old
+man trusts you or he wouldn't of sent you out with that money. I may
+need some help with this business and you're fixed just right to lend me
+a hand. Throw in with me, do what I want, and I'll see that you're fixed
+for life."
+
+Peter shook his head slowly from side to side.
+
+"No, Jim. He pays me well. I'm no traitor."
+
+"H-m. Traitor!" he sneered. "_He_ wasn't overparticular about _you_. He
+might of killed you or _I_ might of, if you hadn't been too damn quick
+for me. What do you think Mike McGuire cares about _you_?" he laughed
+bitterly.
+
+"Nothing. But that makes no difference. I----"
+
+A loud jangle of a bell from the corner and Jim Coast sprang to his
+feet.
+
+"The telephone," explained Peter, indicating the instrument. "That's
+McGuire now." He rose and moved toward it, but Coast caught him by the
+arm.
+
+"Worried, eh?" he said with a grin. "Wants to know what's happened! All
+right. Tell him--tell the----." And then, as Peter released himself,
+"Wait a minute. Tell him you've got me here," laughed Coast, "a
+prisoner. Tell him I'm talking. Ask for instructions. He'll tell you
+what to do with me, damn quick," he sneered.
+
+Peter waited a moment, thinking, while the bell tinkled again, and then
+took down the receiver. He was in no mood to listen to McGuire.
+
+"Hello--Yes, this is Nichols.... All right, yes. Shot at from the
+dark--while paying the money. You hit Hawk Kennedy in the shoulder....
+Yes, _you_. I'm no fool, McGuire.... He's here--at the Cabin. I've just
+fixed his shoulder----. All right----. What shall I do with him----?
+Yes--Yes, he's talking.... Let him go----! Hello! Let him go, you say?
+Yes----"
+
+"Let me get to him----," growled Coast, pushing close to the
+transmitter. "Hello--Mike McGuire--hello----"
+
+"He's gone," said Peter.
+
+"'Let him go,'" sneered Coast. "You'd bet he'd let me go." Then he
+looked at Peter and laughed. "He's scared all right--beat it like a
+cottontail. Seems a shame to take the money, Pete--a real shame."
+
+He laughed uproariously, then sauntered easily over to the table, took
+another of Peter's cigarettes and sank into the easy chair again. Peter
+eyed him in silence. He was an unwelcome guest but he hadn't yet
+gratified Peter's curiosity.
+
+"Well, what are you going to do?" asked Peter.
+
+"Me?" Coast inhaled Peter's cigarette luxuriously, and smiled. "I'm
+goin' West, _pronto_--to get my facts straight--all at the expense of
+the party of the first part. I might stop off at the Grand Cañon first
+for the view. I need a rest, Pete. I ain't as young as I was--or I
+mightn't of let you put me out so easy to-night. I'm glad of that,
+though. Wouldn't like to of done you hurt----"
+
+"And then----?" asked Peter steadily.
+
+"Then? Oh, I'll beat it down to Bisbee and ask a few questions. I just
+want to hook up a few things I _don't_ know with the things I _do_ know.
+I'll travel light but comfortable. Five thousand dollars makes a heap of
+difference in your point of view--and other people's. I'll be an
+eastern millionaire lookin' for investments. And what I won't know about
+Jonathan K. McGuire, alias Mike McGuire--won't be worth knowin'." He
+broke off and his glance caught the interested expression on the face of
+his host.
+
+"H-m. Curious, ain't you, Pete?"
+
+"Yes," said Peter frankly. "I am. Of course it's none of my business,
+but----"
+
+"But you'd like to know, just the same. I get you." He flicked off the
+ash of his cigarette and picked up his whisky glass. "Well----," he went
+on, "I don't see why I shouldn't tell you--some of it--that is. It won't
+do any harm for you to know the kind of skunk you're workin' for.
+There's some of it that nobody on God's earth will ever know but me and
+Mike McGuire--unless he slips up on one of his payments, and then
+everybody's goin' to know. _Everybody_--but his daughter first of all."
+
+Coast was silent a long moment while he drained the whisky and slowly
+set the glass down upon the table. The shadows upon his face were
+unpleasant, darkened perceptibly as they marked the years his thoughts
+followed, and the lines at his lips and nostrils became more deeply
+etched in bitterness and ugly resolve.
+
+"It was down in the San Luis valley I first met up with Mike McGuire. He
+was born in Ireland, of poor but honest parents, as the books tell us.
+He changed his name to 'Jonathan K.' when he made his first 'stake.'
+That meant he was comin' up in the world--see? Me and Mike worked
+together up in Colorado, punchin' cattle, harvestin', ranchin'
+generally. We were 'buddies,' _mon gars_, like you an' me, eatin',
+sleepin' together as thick as thieves. He had a family somewhere, same
+as me--the wife had a little money but her old man made him quit--some
+trouble. After awhile we got tired of workin' for wages, grub staked,
+and beat it for the mountains. That was back in nineteen one or two, I
+reckon. We found a vein up above Wagon Wheel Gap. It looked good and we
+staked out claims and worked it, hardly stoppin' to eat or sleep." Coast
+stopped with a gasp and a shrug. "Well, the long an' short of that, _mon
+vieux_, was a year of hard work with only a thousand or so apiece to
+show for it. It was only a pocket. Hell!" He broke off in disgust and
+spat into the fireplace. "Don't talk to me about your gold mines. There
+ain't any such animal. Well, Mike saved his. I spent mine. Faro. You
+know--an' women. Then I got hurt. I was as good as dead--but I pulled
+through. I ain't easy to kill. When I came around, I 'chored' for a
+while, doin' odd jobs where I could get 'em and got a little money
+together and went to Pueblo. When I struck town I got pretty drunk and
+busted a faro bank. I never _did_ have any luck when I was sober."
+
+"Yes, you've told me about that," said Peter.
+
+"So I did--on the _Bermudian_. Well, it was at Pueblo I met up with Mike
+McGuire, and we beat it down into Arizona where the copper was. Bisbee
+was only a row of wooden shacks, but we got some backin', bought an
+outfit and went out prospectin' along the Mexican border. And what with
+'greasers' and thievin' redskins it was some job in those days. But we
+made friends all right enough and found out some of the things we wanted
+to know.
+
+"Now, Pete, if I was to tell you all that went on in that long trail
+into the Gila Desert and what happened when we got what we went for,
+you'd know as much as I do. You'd know enough to hold up Mike McGuire
+yourself if you'd a mind to. This is where the real story stops. What
+happened in between is my secret and Mike McGuire's. We found the mine
+we were lookin' for.... That's sure----How we got it you'll never know.
+But we got it. And here's where the real story begins again. We were
+miles out in the Gila Desert and if ever there's a Hell on earth, it's
+there. Sand, rocks, rocks and sand and the sun. It was Hell with the
+cover off and no mistake! No water within a hundred miles.
+
+"Now, this is where the fine Eyetalian hand of Mike McGuire shows
+itself. We were rich. Any fool with half an eye could see that. The
+place was lousy--fairly lousy! It was ours----," Coast's brow darkened
+and his eyes glittered strangely as a darting demon of the past got
+behind them. "Yes--_ours_. _Sacré bleu!_ Any man who went through what
+we did deserved it, by G----! We were rich. There was plenty enough for
+two, but McGuire didn't think so. And here's what he does to me. In the
+middle of the night while I'm asleep he sneaks away as neat as you
+please, with the horses and the pack-mules and the water, leavin' me
+alone with all the money in the world, and a devourin' thirst, more than
+a hundred miles from nowhere."
+
+"Murder," muttered Peter.
+
+Coast nodded. "You bet you. Murder. Nothin' less. Oh, he knew what _he_
+was about all right. And I saw it quick. Death! That's what it meant.
+Slow but sure. Hadn't I seen the bones bleaching all along the trail? He
+left me there to die. He thought I would die. _Dios!_ That thirst!"
+Coast reached for the pitcher and splashed rather than poured a glass of
+water which he gulped down avidly. "There was nothin' for it but to try
+afoot for Tucson, which was due east. Every hour I waited would of made
+me an hour nearer to bein' a mummy. So I set out through the hot sand,
+the sun burnin' through me, slowly parchin' my blood. My tongue swelled.
+I must of gone in circles. Days passed--nights when I lay gaspin' on my
+back, like a fish out of water, tryin' to suck moisture out of dry
+air.... Then the red sun again--up over the edge of that furnace,
+mockin' at me. I was as good as dead and I knew it. Only the mummy of
+me, parched black, stumbled on, fallin', strugglin' up again, fallin' at
+last, bitin' at the sand like a mad dog...."
+
+"Horrible," muttered Peter.
+
+"It was. I reckon I died--the soul of me, or what was left of it. I came
+to life under the starlight, with a couple of 'greasers' droppin' water
+on my tongue. They brought me around, but I was out of my head for a
+week. I couldn't talk the lingo anyhow. I just went with 'em like a
+child. There wasn't anything else to do. Lucky they didn't kill me. I
+guess I wasn't worth killin'. We went South. They were makin' for
+Hermosillo. Revolutionists. They took all my money--about three hundred
+dollars. But it was worth it. They'd saved my life. But I couldn't go
+back now, even if I wanted to. I had no money, nor any way of gettin'
+any."
+
+Jim Coast leaned forward, glowering at the rag carpet.
+
+"But I--I didn't want to go back just then. The fear of God was in me.
+I'd looked into Hell."
+
+He laughed bitterly.
+
+"Then I joined the 'greasers' against Diaz. I've told you about that.
+And the 'Rurales' cleaned us up all right. A girl saved my life. Instead
+of shootin' me against a mud wall, they put me to work on a railroad. I
+was there three years. I escaped at last and reached the coast, where I
+shipped for South America. It was the only way out, but all the while I
+was thinkin' of Mike McGuire and the copper mine. You know the rest,
+Pete--the Argentine deal that might of made me rich an' how it fell
+through. Don't it beat Hell how the world bites the under dog!"
+
+"But why didn't you go back to America and fight your claim with
+McGuire?" asked Peter, aware of the sinister, missing passage in the
+story.
+
+Coast shot a sharp glance at his questioner.
+
+"There were two reasons--one of which you won't know. The other was that
+I couldn't. I was on the beach an' not too popular. The only ships out
+of Buenos Aires were for London. That was the easiest way back to
+America anyhow. So I shipped as a cattle hand. And there you are. I
+lived easy in London. That's me. Easy come easy go. There it was I wrote
+a man I knew out in Bisbee--the feller that helped stake us--and he
+answered me that McGuire was dead, and that the mine was a flivver--too
+far away to work. You see he must of showed the letter to McGuire, and
+McGuire told him what to write. That threw me off the track. I forgot
+him and went to France...."
+
+Coast paused while he filled his glass again.
+
+"It wasn't until I reached New York that I found out McGuire was alive.
+It was just a chance while I was plannin' another deal. I took it. I
+hunted around the brokers' offices where they sell copper stocks. It
+didn't take me long to find that my mine was the 'Tarantula.' McGuire
+had developed it with capital from Denver, built a narrow gauge in. Then
+after a while had sold out his share for more than half a million
+clear."
+
+Peter was studying Coast keenly, thinking hard. But the story held with
+what he already knew of the man's history.
+
+"That's when Mike McGuire tacked the 'Jonathan K.' onto his name," Coast
+went on. "And that money's mine, the good half of it. Figure it out for
+yourself. Say five hundred thou, eight per cent, fifteen years--I
+reckon I could worry along on that even if he wouldn't do better--which
+he will.
+
+"Well, Pete--to shorten up--I found McGuire was here--in New York--and I
+laid for him. I watched for a while and then one day I got my nerve up
+and tackled him on the street. You ought to of seen his face when I told
+him who I was and what I'd come for. We were in the crowd at Broadway
+and Wall, people all about us. He started the 'high and mighty' stuff
+for a minute until I crumpled him up with a few facts. I thought he was
+goin' to have a stroke for a minute, when I made my brace for the five
+thou--then he turned tail and ran into the crowd pale as death. I lost
+him then. But it didn't matter. I'd find him again. I knew where his
+office was--and his hotel. It was dead easy. But he beat it down here.
+It took me awhile to pick up the trail. But here I am, Pete--here I
+am--safe in harbor at last."
+
+Coast took the bills out of his pocket and slowly counted them again.
+
+"And when you come back from the West, what will you do?" asked Peter.
+
+"Oh, now you're talkin', Pete. I'm goin' to settle down and live
+respectable. I like this country around here. I came from Jersey, you
+know, in the first place. I might build a nice place--keep a few horses
+and automobiles and enjoy my old age--run over to gay Paree once a
+year--down to Monte Carlo in the season. Oh, I'd know how to _live_ now.
+You bet you. I've seen 'em do it--those swells. They won't have anything
+on me. I'll live like a prince----"
+
+"On blackmail----," said Peter.
+
+"See here, Pete----!"
+
+"I meant it." Peter had risen and faced Coast coolly. "Blackmail! You
+can't tell me that if you had any legal claim on McGuire you couldn't
+prove it."
+
+"I mightn't be able to----," he shrugged.
+
+"What is McGuire frightened about? Not about what he owes you. He could
+pay that ten times over. It's something else--something that happened
+out there at the mine that you dare not tell----"
+
+"That I _won't_ tell," laughed Coast disagreeably.
+
+"That you _dare_ not tell--that McGuire dares not tell. Something that
+has to do with his strange message about the blood on the knife, and
+your placard about what you've got holding over him----"
+
+"Right you are," sneered the other.
+
+"It's dirty money, I tell you--bloody money. I know it. And I know who
+you are, Jim Coast."
+
+Coast started up and thrust the roll deep into his trousers pocket.
+
+"You don't know anything," he growled.
+
+Peter got up too. His mind had followed Coast's extraordinary story, and
+so far as it had gone, believed it to be true. Peter wanted to know what
+had happened out there at the mine in the desert, but more than that he
+wanted to know how the destinies of this man affected Beth. And so the
+thought that had been growing in his mind now found quick utterance.
+
+"I know this--that you've come back to frighten McGuire, but you've also
+come back to bring misery and shame to others who've lived long in peace
+and happiness without you----"
+
+"What----?" said Coast incredulously.
+
+"I know who you are. You're Ben Cameron," said Peter distinctly.
+
+The effect of this statement upon Jim Coast was extraordinary. He
+started back abruptly, overturning a chair, and fell rather than leaned
+against the bedpost--his eyes staring from a ghastly face.
+
+"What--what did--you say?" he gasped chokingly.
+
+"You're Ben Cameron," said Peter again.
+
+Coast put the fingers of one hand to his throat and straightened slowly,
+still staring at Peter. Then uneasily, haltingly, he made a sound in his
+throat that grew into a dry laugh----
+
+"Me--B-Ben Cameron! That's damn good. Me--Ben Cameron! Say, Pete,
+whatever put _that_ into your head?"
+
+"The way you frightened the old woman at the kitchen door."
+
+"Oh!" Coast straightened in relief. "I get you. You've been talkin' to
+_her_."
+
+"Yes. What did you say to her?"
+
+"I--I just gave her a message for McGuire. I reckon she gave it to him."
+
+"A message?"
+
+"Oh, you needn't say you don't know, Pete. It didn't fetch him. So I put
+up the placard."
+
+Peter was now more bewildered than Coast. "Do you deny that you're Ben
+Cameron?" he asked.
+
+Coast pulled himself together and took up his coat.
+
+"Deny it? Sure! I'm not--not him--not Ben Cameron--not Ben Cameron.
+Don't I know who I am?" he shouted. Then he broke off with a violent
+gesture and took up his cap. "Enough of your damn questions, I say. I've
+told you what I've told you. You can believe it or not, as you choose.
+I'm Jim Coast to you or Hawk Kennedy, if you like, but don't you go
+throwin' any more of your dirty jokes my way. Understand?"
+
+Peter couldn't understand but he had had enough of the man. So he
+pointed toward the door.
+
+"Go," he ordered. "I've had enough of you--get out!"
+
+Coast walked a few paces toward the door, then paused and turned and
+held out his hand.
+
+"Oh, Hell, Pete. Don't let's you and me quarrel. You gave me a start
+back there. I'm sorry. Of course, you knew. You been good to me
+to-night. I'm obliged. I need you in my business. More'n ever."
+
+"No," said Peter.
+
+"Oh, very well. Suit yourself," said Coast with a shrug. "There's plenty
+of time. I'll be back in a month or six weeks. Think it over. I've made
+you a nice offer--real money--to help me a bit. Take it or leave it, as
+you please. I'll get along without you, but I'd rather have you with me
+than against me."
+
+"I'm neither," said Peter. "I want nothing to do with it."
+
+Coast shrugged. "I'm sorry. Well, so long. I've got a horse back in the
+dunes. I'll take the milk train from Hammonton to Philadelphia. You
+won't tell, Pete?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Good-night."
+
+Peter didn't even reply. And when the man had gone he opened the door
+and windows to let in the night air. The room had been defiled by the
+man's very presence. Ben Cameron? Beth's father? The thing seemed
+impossible, but every fact in Peter's knowledge pointed toward it. And
+yet what the meaning of Jim Coast's strange actions at the mention of
+his name? And what were the facts that Jim Coast _didn't_ tell? What had
+happened at the mine that was too terrible even to speak about? What was
+the bond between these two men, which held the successful one in terror,
+and the other in silence? Something unspeakably vile. A hideous pact----
+
+The telephone bell jangled again. Peter rose and went to it. But he was
+in no humor to talk to McGuire.
+
+"Hello," he growled. "Yes--he's gone. I let him go. You told me to....
+Yes, he talked--a long while.... No. He won't be back for a month....
+We'll talk that over later.... No. Not to-night. I'm going to bed....
+No. Not until to-morrow. I've had about enough of this.... All right.
+Good-night."
+
+And Peter hung up the receiver, undressed and went to bed.
+
+It had been rather a full day for Peter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+CONFESSION
+
+
+In spite of his perplexities, Peter slept soundly and was only awakened
+by the jangling of the telephone bell. But Peter wanted to do a little
+thinking before he saw McGuire, and he wanted to ask the housekeeper a
+few questions, so he told McGuire that he would see him before ten
+o'clock. The curious part of the telephone conversation was that McGuire
+made no mention of the shooting. "H-m," said Peter to himself as he hung
+up, "going to ignore that trifling incident altogether, is he? Well,
+we'll see about that. It doesn't pay to be too clever, old cock." His
+pity for McGuire was no more. At the present moment Peter felt nothing
+for him except an abiding contempt which could hardly be modified by any
+subsequent revelations.
+
+Peter ran down to the creek in his bath robe and took a quick plunge,
+then returned, shaved and dressed while his coffee boiled, thinking with
+a fresh mind over the events and problems of the night before. Curiously
+enough, he found that he considered them more and more in their relation
+to Beth. Perhaps it was his fear for her happiness that laid stress on
+the probability that Jim Coast was Ben Cameron, Beth's father. How
+otherwise could Mrs. Bergen's terror be accounted for? And yet why had
+Coast been so perturbed at the mere mention of Ben Cameron's name? That
+was really strange. For a moment the man had stared at Peter as though
+he were seeing a ghost. If he _were_ Ben Cameron, why shouldn't he have
+acknowledged the fact? Here was the weak point in the armor of mystery.
+Peter had to admit that even while Coast was telling his story and the
+conviction was growing in Peter's mind that this was Beth's father, the
+very thought of Beth herself seemed to make the relationship grotesque.
+This Jim Coast, this picturesque blackguard who had told tales on the
+_Bermudian_ that had brought a flush of shame even to Peter's
+cheeks--this degenerate, this scheming blackmailer--thief, perhaps
+murderer, too, the father of Beth! Incredible! The merest contact with
+such a man must defile, defame her. And yet if this were the fact, Coast
+would have a father's right to claim her, to drag her down, a prey to
+his vile tongue and drunken humors as she had once been when a child.
+Her Aunt Tillie feared this. And Aunt Tillie did not know as Peter now
+did of the existence of the vile secret that sealed Coast's lips and
+held McGuire's soul in bondage.
+
+Instead of going directly up the lawn to the house Peter went along the
+edge of the woods to the garage and then up the path, as Coast must have
+done a few nights before. The housekeeper was in the pantry and there
+Peter sought her out. He noted the startled look in her eyes at the
+moment he entered the room and then the line of resolution into which
+her mouth was immediately drawn. So Peter chose a roundabout way of
+coming to his subject.
+
+"I wanted to talk to you about Beth, Mrs. Bergen," he began cheerfully.
+She offered him a chair but Peter leaned against the windowsill looking
+out into the gray morning. He told her what he had discovered about her
+niece's voice, that he himself had been educated in music and that he
+thought every opportunity should be given Beth to have her voice
+trained.
+
+He saw that Mrs. Bergen was disarmed for the moment as to the real
+purpose of his visit and he went on to tell her just what had happened
+at the Cabin with Shad Wells the day before, and asking her, as Beth's
+only guardian, for permission to carry out his plan to teach her all
+that he knew, after which he hoped it would be possible for her to go to
+New York for more advanced training.
+
+Mrs. Bergen listened in wonder, gasping at the tale of Shad Wells's
+undoing, which Peter asked her to keep in confidence. From Mrs. Bergen's
+comments he saw that she took little stock in Shad, who had been
+bothering Beth for two years or more, and that her own love for the girl
+amounted to a blind adoration which could see no fault in anything that
+she might do. It was clear that she was delighted with the opportunities
+Peter offered, for she had always known that Beth sang "prettier than
+anybody in the world." As to going to the Cabin for the lessons, that
+was nobody's business but Beth's. She was twenty-two--and able to look
+out for herself.
+
+"I'm an old woman, Mr. Nichols," she concluded timidly, "an' I've seen a
+lot of trouble, one kind or another, but I ain't often mistaken in my
+judgments. I know Beth. She ain't nobody's fool. And if she likes you,
+you ought to be glad of it. If she's willin' to come to your cabin, I'm
+willin' that she should go there--no matter who don't like it or why.
+She can look after herself--aye, better than I can look after her." She
+sighed. And then with some access of spirit, "You're different from most
+of the folks around here, but I don't see nothin' wrong with you. If you
+say you want to help Beth, I'm willin' to believe you. But if I thought
+you meant her any harm----"
+
+She broke off and stared at him with her mild eyes under brows meant to
+be severe.
+
+"I hope you don't want to think that, Mrs. Bergen," said Peter gently.
+
+"No. I don't want to. Beth don't take up with every Tom, Dick and Harry.
+And if she likes you, I reckon she knows what's she's about."
+
+"I want to help her to make something of herself," said Peter calmly.
+"And I know I can. Beth is a very unusual girl."
+
+"Don't you suppose I know that? She always was. She ain't the same as
+the rest of us down here. She always wanted to learn. Even now when
+she's through school, she's always readin'--always."
+
+"That's it. She ought to complete her education. That's what I mean. I
+want to help her to be a great singer. I can do it if you'll let me."
+
+"Where's the money comin' from?" sighed Mrs. Bergen.
+
+"No need to bother about that, yet. I can give her a beginning, if you
+approve. After that----" Peter paused a moment and then, "We'll see," he
+finished.
+
+He was somewhat amazed at the length to which his subconscious thought
+was carrying him, for his spoken words could infer nothing less than his
+undertaking at his own expense the completion of the girl's education.
+The housekeeper's exclamation quickly brought him to a recognition of
+his meaning.
+
+"You mean--that _you_----!" she halted and looked at him over her
+glasses in wonder.
+
+"Yes," he said blandly, aware of an irrevocable step. "I do, Mrs.
+Bergen."
+
+"My land!" she exclaimed. And then again as though in echo, "My land!"
+
+"That's one of the reasons why I've come here to you to-day," he went on
+quickly. "I want to help Beth and I want to help _you_. I know that
+everything isn't going right for you at Black Rock House. I've been
+drawn more deeply into--into McGuire's affairs than I expected to be and
+I've learned a great many things that aren't any business of mine. And
+one of the things I've learned is that your peace of mind and Beth's
+happiness are threatened by the things that are happening around you."
+
+The housekeeper had risen and stood leaning against the dresser,
+immediately on her guard.
+
+"Mrs. Bergen," he went on firmly, "there's no use of trying to evade
+this issue--because it's here! I know more than you think I do. I'm
+trying to get at the root of this mystery because of Beth. You told me
+the other night that Beth's happiness was involved when that stranger
+came to the kitchen porch----"
+
+"No, no," gasped the woman. "Don't ask me. I'll tell you nothin'."
+
+"You saw this man--outside the kitchen door in the dark," he insisted.
+"You talked with him----"
+
+"No--no. Don't ask me, Mr. Nichols."
+
+"Won't you tell me what he said? I saw him last night--talked with him
+for an hour----"
+
+"_You_--talked--with him!" she gasped in alarm. And then, haltingly,
+"What did he say to you? What did he do? Is he coming back?"
+
+She was becoming more disturbed and nervous, so Peter brought a chair
+and made her sit in it.
+
+"No. He's not coming back--not for a month or more," he replied
+reassuringly. "But if I'm to help you, I've got to know something more
+about him, and for Beth's sake you've got to help me." And then quietly,
+"Mrs. Bergen, was this man who came to the kitchen door, Ben Cameron,
+Beth's father?"
+
+"My God!" said the housekeeper faintly, putting her face in her hands.
+
+"Won't you tell me just what happened?" Peter asked.
+
+"I--I'm scared, Mr. Nichols," she groaned. "The whole thing has been too
+much for me--knowin' how scared Mr. McGuire is too. I can't understand,
+I can't even--think--no more."
+
+"Let me do your thinking for you. Tell me what happened the other night,
+Mrs. Bergen."
+
+The woman raised a pallid face, her colorless eyes blinking up at him
+beseechingly.
+
+"Tell me," he whispered. "It can do no possible harm."
+
+She glanced pitifully at him once more and then haltingly told her
+story.
+
+"I--I was sittin' in the kitchen there, the night of the supper
+party--by the door--restin' and tryin' to get cool--when--when a knock
+come on the door-jamb outside. It sounded queer--the door bein'
+open--an' my nerves bein' shook sorter with the goin's on here. But I
+went to the door an' leaned out. There was a man standin' in the
+shadow----"
+
+Mrs. Bergen paused in a renewed difficulty of breathing.
+
+"And then----?" Peter urged.
+
+"He--he leaned forward toward me an' spoke rough-like. 'You're the cook,
+ain't you?' he says. I was that scared I--I couldn't say nothin'. An' he
+went on. 'You tell McGuire to meet me at the end of the lawn to-morrow
+night.'"
+
+"And what did you say?"
+
+"Nothin'. I couldn't."
+
+"What else did he tell you?"
+
+Mrs. Bergen bent her head but went on with an effort.
+
+"He says, 'Tell McGuire Ben--Ben Cameron's come back.'"
+
+"I see. And you were more frightened than ever?"
+
+"Yes. More frightened--terrible. I didn't know what to do. I mumbled
+somethin'. Then you an' Beth come in----"
+
+"And _was_ it Ben Cameron that you saw?"
+
+The poor creature raised her gaze to Peter's again.
+
+"B-Ben Cameron? Who else could it 'a' been? An' I thought he was dead,
+Mr. Nichols--years ago."
+
+"You didn't recognize him, then?"
+
+"I--I don't know. It was all so sudden--like seein' a corpse--speakin'
+that name."
+
+"He wore a short beard?"
+
+"Yes. But Ben Cameron was smooth shaved."
+
+"Did Ben Cameron have any distinguishing mark--anything you could
+remember him by?"
+
+"Yes. Ben Cameron's little finger of his left hand was missin'----. But
+of course, Mr. Nichols, I couldn't see nothin' in the dark."
+
+"No, of course," said Peter with a gasp of relief. "But his voice----?"
+
+"It was gruff--hoarse--whisperin'-like."
+
+"Was the Ben Cameron you knew, your brother-in-law--was he tall?"
+
+She hesitated, her brows puckering.
+
+"That's what bothered me some. Beth's father wasn't over tall----"
+
+"I see," Peter broke in eagerly, "and this man was tall--about my
+size--with a hook nose--black eyes and----"
+
+"Oh, I--I couldn't see his face," she muttered helplessly. "The night
+was too dark."
+
+"But you wouldn't swear it was Ben Cameron?"
+
+She looked up at him in a new bewilderment. "But who else could it 'a'
+been--sayin' that name--givin' that message?"
+
+Peter rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
+
+"Queer, isn't it? I don't wonder that you were alarmed--especially for
+Beth, knowing the kind of man he was."
+
+"It's terrible, Mr. Nichols. A man like Ben Cameron never gets made
+over. He's bad clear through. If you only knew----" Mrs. Bergen's pale
+eyes seemed to be looking back into the past. "He means no good to
+Beth--that's what frightens me. He could take her away from me. She's
+his daughter----"
+
+"Well--don't worry," said Peter at last. "We'll find a way to protect
+you." And then, "Of course you didn't take that message to McGuire?" he
+asked.
+
+"Why, no--Mr. Nichols. I couldn't. I'd 'a' died first. But what does it
+all mean? _Him_ bein' scared of Ben Cameron, too. I can't make it
+out--though I've thought and thought until I couldn't think no more."
+
+She was on the point of tears now, so Peter soothed her gently.
+
+"Leave this to me, Mrs. Bergen." And then, "You haven't said anything of
+this to any one?"
+
+"Not a soul--I--I was hopin' it might 'a' been just a dream."
+
+Peter was silent for a moment, gazing out of the window and thinking
+deeply.
+
+"No. It wasn't a dream," he said quietly at last. "You saw a man by the
+kitchen door, and he gave you the message about Ben Cameron, _but the
+man you saw wasn't Ben Cameron_, Mrs. Bergen, because, unless I'm very
+much mistaken, Ben Cameron is dead----"
+
+"How do you----?"
+
+"He didn't die when you thought he did, Mrs. Bergen--but later. I can't
+tell you how. It's only a guess. But I'm beginning to see a light in
+this affair--and I'm going to follow it until I find the truth. Good-by.
+Don't worry."
+
+And Peter, with a last pat on the woman's shoulder and an encouraging
+smile, went out of the door and into the house.
+
+Eagerly Peter's imagination was trying to fill the gap in Jim Coast's
+story, and his mind, now intent upon the solution of the mystery, groped
+before him up the stair. And what it saw was the burning Gila Desert ...
+the mine among the rocks--"lousy" with outcroppings of ore ... "Mike"
+McGuire and "Hawk" Kennedy, devious in their ways, partners in a vile
+conspiracy....
+
+But Peter's demeanor was careless when Stryker admitted him to McGuire's
+room and his greeting in reply to McGuire's was casual enough to put his
+employer off his guard. After a moment's hesitation McGuire sent the
+valet out and went himself and closed and locked the door. Peter refused
+his cigar, lighting one of his own cigarettes, and sank into the chair
+his host indicated. After the first words Peter knew that his surmise
+had been correct and that his employer meant to deny all share in the
+shooting of the night before.
+
+"Well," began the old man, with a glance at the door, "what did he say?"
+
+Peter shook his head judicially. He had already decided on the direction
+which this conversation must take.
+
+"No. It won't do, Mr. McGuire," he said calmly.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Merely that before we talk of what Hawk Kennedy said to me, we'll
+discuss your reasons for unnecessarily putting my life in danger----"
+
+"This shooting you've spoken of----"
+
+"This attempted _murder_!"
+
+"You're dreaming."
+
+Peter laughed at him. "You'll be telling me in a moment that you didn't
+hear the shots." And then, leaning forward so that he stared deep into
+his employer's eyes, "See here, Mr. McGuire, I'm not to be trifled with.
+I know too much of your affairs--more than you think I do----"
+
+"He talked----?" McGuire's poise was slipping from him.
+
+"One moment, if you please. I want this thing perfectly understood. Your
+arrangements were cleverly made--changing the guards--your instructions
+to me--the flashlight and all the rest. You didn't want to kill me if
+you could help it. I'm obliged for this consideration. You forgot that
+your hand isn't as steady now as it was when you were a dead shot out in
+Arizona--Ah! I see that you already understand what I mean."
+
+McGuire had started forward in his chair, his face livid.
+
+"You know----?"
+
+"Yes. More than I wanted to know--more than I would ever have known if
+you'd played fair with me. You cared nothing for my life. You shot,
+twice, missed killing your man and then when the light went out, sneaked
+away like the coward that you are----"
+
+"D----n you," croaked McGuire feebly, falling back in his chair.
+
+"Leaving me to the mercies of your ancient enemy in the dark--who
+thought _me_ your accomplice. You can hardly blame him under the
+circumstances. But I got the best of him--luckily for me, and disarmed
+him. If you had remained a few moments longer you might have taken part
+in our very interesting conversation. Do you still deny all this?"
+
+McGuire, stifled with his fear and fury, was incapable of a reply.
+
+"Very good. So long as we understand each other thus far, perhaps you
+will permit me to go on. As you know, I came to you in good faith. I
+wanted to help you in any way that a gentleman could do. Last night you
+tricked me, and put my life in danger. If you had killed Kennedy
+everything would have been all right for _you_. And I would have been
+accused of the killing. If _I_ had been killed no harm would have been
+done at all. That was your idea. It was a clever little scheme. Pity it
+didn't work out."
+
+McGuire's faltering courage was coming back.
+
+"Go on!" he muttered desperately.
+
+"Thanks," said Peter, "I will. One shot of yours scraped Kennedy's
+shoulder. He was bleeding badly, so I took him to the Cabin and fixed
+him up. He was rather grateful. He ought to have been. I gave him a
+drink too--several drinks. You said he wouldn't talk, but he did."
+
+"You _made_ him talk, d----n you," McGuire broke in hoarsely.
+
+"No. He volunteered to talk. I may say, he insisted upon it. You see, I
+happened to have the gentleman's acquaintance----"
+
+"You----!"
+
+"We met on the steamer coming over when we were escaping from Russia.
+His name was Jim Coast then. He was a waiter in the dining saloon. So
+was I. Funny, isn't it?"
+
+To McGuire it seemed far from that, for at this revelation his jaw
+dropped and he stared at Peter as though the entire affair were beyond
+his comprehension.
+
+"You knew him! A waiter, _you_!"
+
+"Yes. Misfortune makes strange bedfellows. It was either that or
+starvation. I preferred to wait."
+
+"For--for the love of God--go on," growled McGuire. His hands were
+clutching the chair arm and there was madness in his shifting eyes, so
+Peter watched him keenly.
+
+"I will. He told me how you and he had worked together out in Colorado,
+up in the San Luis valley, of the gold prospect near Wagon Wheel Gap, of
+its failure--how you met again in Pueblo and then went down into the
+copper country--Bisbee, Arizona."
+
+Peter had no pity now. He saw McGuire straighten again in his chair, his
+gaze shifting past Peter from left to right like a trapped animal. His
+fingers groped along the chair arms, along the table edge, trembling,
+eager but uncertain. But the sound of Peter's narrative seemed to
+fascinate--to hypnotize him.
+
+"Go on----!" he whispered hoarsely. "Go on!"
+
+"You got an outfit and went out into the Gila Desert," continued Peter,
+painting his picture leisurely, deliberately. "It was horrible--the
+heat, the sand, the rocks--but you weren't going to fail this time.
+There was going to be something at the end of this terrible pilgrimage
+to repay you for all that you suffered, you and Hawk Kennedy. There was
+no water, but what you carried on your pack-mules--no water within a
+hundred miles, nothing but sand and rocks and the heat. No chance at all
+for a man, alone without a horse, in that desert. You saw the bones of
+men and animals bleaching along the trail. That was the death that
+awaited any man----"
+
+"You lie!"
+
+Peter sprang for the tortured man as McGuire's fingers closed on
+something in the open drawer of the table, but Peter twisted the weapon
+quickly out of his hand and threw it in the corner of the room.
+
+"You fool," he whispered quickly as he pinioned McGuire in his chair,
+"do you want to add another murder to what's on your conscience?"
+
+But McGuire had already ceased to resist him. Peter hadn't been too
+gentle with him. The man had collapsed. A glance at his face showed his
+condition. So Peter poured out a glass of whisky and water which he
+poured between his employer's gaping lips. Then he waited, watching the
+old man. He seemed really old now to Peter, a hundred at least, for his
+sagging facial muscles seemed to reveal the lines of every event in his
+life--an old man, though scarcely sixty, yet broken and helpless. He
+came around slowly, his heavy gaze slowly seeking Peter's.
+
+"What--what are you going to do?" he managed at last.
+
+"Nothing. I'm no blackmailer." And then, playing his high card, "I've
+heard what Hawk said about Ben Cameron," said Peter. "Now tell me the
+truth."
+
+At the sound of the name McGuire started and then his eyes closed for a
+moment.
+
+"You know--everything," he muttered.
+
+"Yes, _his_ side," Peter lied. "What's yours?"
+
+McGuire managed to haul himself upright in his chair, staring up at
+Peter with bloodshot eyes.
+
+"He's lied to you, if he said I done it----," he gasped, relapsing into
+the vernacular of an earlier day. "It was Hawk. He stabbed him in the
+back. I never touched him. I never had a thing to do with the killin'. I
+swear it----"
+
+Peter's lips set in a thin line.
+
+"So Hawk Kennedy killed Ben Cameron!" he said.
+
+"He did. I swear to God----"
+
+"And then _you_ cleared out with all the water, leaving Hawk to die.
+_That_ was murder--cold-blooded murder----"
+
+"My God, don't, Nichols!" the old man moaned. "If you only knew----"
+
+"Well, then--tell me the truth."
+
+Their glances met. Peter's was compelling. He had, when he chose, an air
+of command. And there was something else in Peter's look, inflexible as
+it was, that gave McGuire courage, an unalterable honesty which had been
+so far tried and not found wanting.
+
+"You know--already," he stammered.
+
+"Tell me your story," said Peter bluntly.
+
+There was a long moment of hesitation, and then,
+
+"Get me a drink, Nichols. I'll trust you. I've never told it to a living
+man. I'll tell--I'll tell it all. It may not be as bad as you think."
+
+He drank the liquor at a gulp and set the glass down on the table beside
+him.
+
+"This--this thing has been hanging over me for fifteen years,
+Nichols--fifteen years. It's weighted me down, made an old man of me
+before my time. Maybe it will help me to tell somebody. It's made me
+hard--silent, busy with my own affairs, bitter against every man who
+could hold his head up. I knew it was going to come some day. I knew it.
+You can't pull anything like that and get away with it forever. I'd made
+the money for my kids--I never had any fun spending it in my life. I'm a
+lonely man, Nichols. I always was. No happiness except when I came back
+to my daughters--to Peggy and my poor Marjorie...."
+
+McGuire was silent for a moment and Peter, not taking his gaze from his
+face, patiently waited. McGuire glanced at him just once and then went
+on, slipping back from time to time into the speech of a bygone day.
+
+"I never knew what his first name was. He was always just 'Hawk' to us
+boys on the range. Hawk Kennedy was a bad lot. I knew it up there in the
+San Luis valley but I wasn't no angel from Heaven myself. And he had a
+way with him. We got on all right together. But when the gold mine up at
+the Gap petered out he quit me--got beaten up in a fight about a woman.
+I didn't see him for some years, when he showed up in Pueblo, where I
+was workin' in a smelter. He was all for goin' South into the copper
+country. He had some money--busted a faro bank he said, and talked big
+about the fortune he was goin' to make. Ah, he could talk, when he had
+something on his mind.... I had some money saved up too and so I quit my
+job and went with him down to Bisbee, Arizona. I wish to God I never
+had. I'd gotten pretty well straightened out up in Pueblo, sendin' money
+East to the wife and all----. But I wanted to be rich. I was forty-five
+and I had to hurry. But I could do it yet. Maybe this was my chance.
+That's the way I thought. That's why I happened to listen to Hawk
+Kennedy and his tales of the copper country.
+
+"Well, we got an outfit in Bisbee and set out along the Mexican border.
+We had a tip that let us out into the desert. It was just a tip, that's
+all. But it was worth following up. It was about this man Ben Cameron.
+He'd come into town all alone, get supplies and then go out again next
+day. He let slip something over the drink one night. That was the tip we
+were followin' up. We struck his trail all right--askin' questions of
+greasers and Indians. We knew he'd found somethin' good or he wouldn't
+have been so quiet about it.
+
+"I swear to God, I had no idea of harmin' him. I wanted to find what Ben
+Cameron had found, stake out near him and get what I could. Maybe Hawk
+Kennedy had a different idea even then. I don't know. He never said what
+he was thinkin' about.
+
+"We found Ben Cameron. Perched up in a hill of rocks, he was, livin' in
+the hole he'd dug where he'd staked his claim. But we knew he hadn't
+taken out any papers. He never thought anybody'd find him out there in
+that Hell-hole. It was Hell all right. Even now whenever I think of what
+Hell must be I think of what that gulch looked like. Just rocks and
+alkali dust and heat.
+
+"It all comes back to me. Every little thing that was said and
+done--every word. Ben Cameron saw us first--and when we came up, he was
+sittin' on a rock, his rifle acrost his knees, a hairy man, thin,
+burnt-out, black as a greaser. Hawk Kennedy passed the time of day, but
+Ben Cameron only cursed at him and waved us off. 'Get the Hell out of
+here,' he says--ugly. But we only laughed at him--for didn't we both see
+the kind of an egg Ben Cameron was settin' on?
+
+"'Don't be pokin' jokes at the Gila Desert, my little man,' say Hawk,
+polite as you please. 'It's Hell that's here and here it will remain.'
+And then we said we were short of water--which we were not--and had he
+any to spare? But he waved us on with his rifle, never sayin' a word. So
+we moved down the gulch a quarter of a mile and went into camp. There
+was ore here, too, but nothin' like what Ben Cameron had.
+
+"Hawk was quiet that night--creepin' about among the rocks, but he
+didn't say what was on his mind. In the mornin' he started off to talk
+to Ben Cameron an' I went with him. The man was still sittin' on his
+rock, with the rifle over his knees--been there all night, I reckon. But
+he let us come to hailin' distance.
+
+"'Nice claim you got there, pardner,' says Hawk.
+
+"'Is it?' says he.
+
+"'Ain't you afraid of rubbin' some o' that verdigris off onto your
+pants,' says Hawk.
+
+"'They're my pants,' says Cameron. 'You ain't here for any good. Get
+out!' And he brings his rifle to his hip. We saw he was scared all
+right, maybe not so much at what we'd do to him as at sharin' what he'd
+found.
+
+"'The Gila Desert ain't _all_ yours, is it, pardner? Or maybe you got a
+mortgage on the earth!' says Hawk, very polite. 'You ain't got no
+objection to our stakin' alongside of you, have you? Come along, now.
+Let's be neighbors. We see what you've got. That's all right. We'll take
+your leavin's. We've got a right to them.'
+
+"And so after a while of palaverin' with him, he lets us come up and
+look over his claim. It didn't take any eye at all to see what he'd got.
+He wasn't much of a man--Ben Cameron--weak-eyed, rum-dum--poor too. You
+could see that by his outfit--worse off than we were. Hawk told him we
+had a lot of friends with money--big money in the East. Maybe we could
+work it to run a railroad out to tap the whole ridge. That kind of got
+him and we found he had no friends in this part of the country--so we
+sat down to grub together, Ben Cameron, like me, unsuspectin' of what
+was to happen.
+
+"My God, Nichols, I can see it all like it had happened yesterday. Hawk
+Kennedy stood up as though to look around and then before I knew what he
+was about had struck Ben Cameron in the back with his knife.
+
+"It was all over in a minute. Ben Cameron reached for his gun but before
+his hand got to it he toppled over sideways and lay quiet.
+
+"I started up to my feet but Hawk had me covered and I knew from what
+had happened that he'd shoot, too.
+
+"'Don't make a fuss,' he says. 'Give me your gun.' I knew he had me to
+rights and I did what he said. 'Now,' he says, 'it's yours and mine.'"
+
+McGuire made a motion toward the glass. Peter filled it for him and he
+drank.
+
+"And then--what happened?" asked Peter quietly.
+
+"Hawk Kennedy had me dead to rights. There was only one thing to do--to
+make believe I was 'with him.' We buried Ben Cameron, then went down and
+brought our outfit up, Hawk watchin' me all the while. He'd taken my gun
+and Ben Cameron's and unloaded them and carried all the ammunition about
+him. But I didn't know what I was in for. That night he made me sit down
+while he drew up a paper, torn from an old note book of Ben Cameron's--a
+partnership agreement, a contract."
+
+McGuire broke off suddenly and got up, moving nervously to the safe,
+from one of the drawers of which he took a blue linen envelope and
+brought forth a paper which he handed to Peter.
+
+"That's the hellish thing, Nichols," he said hoarsely. "That's why I'm
+afraid of Hawk Kennedy. A lie that he forced me to sign! And there's
+another paper like this in his possession. Read it, Nichols."
+
+Peter took the paper in his fingers and looked at it curiously. It was
+soiled and worn, broken at the edges, written over in lead pencil, but
+still perfectly legible.
+
+      AGREEMENT BETWEEN HAWK KENNEDY AND MIKE McGUIRE
+
+      Us two found Ben Cameron on his copper claim in Madre Gulch.
+      We killed him. Both of us had a hand in it. This mine is
+      Hawk Kennedy's and Mike McGuire's and we are pardners in the
+      same until death us do part, so help us God.
+
+      (Signed) MIKE MCGUIRE.
+               HAWK KENNEDY.
+
+
+"He wanted it on me----" McGuire gasped. "You see? To keep me quiet."
+
+"I understand," said Peter. "This is 'what you've got and what I've got'
+referred to in the placard."
+
+"Yes," said McGuire. "A partnership agreement and a confession--of
+something I didn't do."
+
+Peter's eyes were searching him through and through.
+
+"You swear it?"
+
+McGuire held up his right hand and met Peter's gaze without flinching.
+
+"Before God, I do."
+
+Peter was silent for a moment, thinking.
+
+"And then, you left Hawk Kennedy there to die," he said slowly, watching
+the man.
+
+McGuire sank into his chair with a sigh, the perspiration now beaded on
+his pale forehead.
+
+"I didn't know what to do, I tell you," he almost whispered. "He had
+me. I was unarmed. I'd 'a' killed him if I'd had a gun. But I waited a
+few days after we buried Cameron--makin' believe I was satisfied with
+everything and he believed me, and at last he fell asleep tired with
+keepin' watch on me. He was all in. I bored holes in Ben Cameron's
+barrels, lettin' the water out down the rocks, then took the three
+horses and the mules with all the water that was left and got away
+before he woke up.
+
+"It was a terrible thing to do, Nichols--call it murder if you like. But
+it served him right. It was comin' to him--and I got away with it. At
+first when I reached water I had a thought of goin' back--to save him
+before he died--to get that paper I couldn't get that was inside his
+shirt."
+
+McGuire leaned forward, his face in his hands for a moment, trying to
+finish.
+
+"But I didn't go back, Nichols. I didn't go back. That's the crime I'm
+payin' for now--not the other--not the murder of Ben Cameron--I didn't
+do that--the murder of Hawk Kennedy--who has come back."
+
+"What happened then?"
+
+"I turned Ben Cameron's horse and burros loose where there was water and
+grass and went on to Bisbee. I told them my buddy had died of a fever. I
+thought he had by now. They didn't ask any questions. I was safe. The
+rest was easy. I filed a claim, found some real money and told what I'd
+found. I waited a month, then went back to Madre Gulch with Bill Munroe,
+the fellow that helped stake us. There was no one there. We searched the
+rocks and plains for miles around for signs of Hawk Kennedy's body, for
+we knew he couldn't have got far in that heat without water. But we
+found nothin'. Hawk Kennedy had disappeared."
+
+"Then," said Peter, "you built a railroad in and sold out for half a
+million dollars----?"
+
+McGuire looked up, mystified.
+
+"Or thereabouts," he muttered. "But Hawk Kennedy was alive. I found that
+out later when he wrote from London. We steered him off the track. But I
+knew he'd come back some day with that paper I'd signed. That's what's
+been hangin' over me. An' now it's fallen. I've told you the truth. I
+had to. You believe me, don't you?" he asked appealingly.
+
+Peter had watched him keenly. There seemed little doubt that what he
+told was the truth. There was no flaw in the tale.
+
+"Yes," he said after a pause. "I believe you've told me the truth. But
+you can hardly blame Hawk Kennedy, murderer though he is, for hating you
+and wanting what he thinks is his."
+
+"No. That's true."
+
+"And you can't blame me for being angry at the trick you played me----"
+
+"I was desperate. I've been desperate since I saw him in New York.
+Sometimes I've been a bit queer, I reckon--thinkin' about Peggy hearin'
+this. I wanted to kill him. It was a good chance last night. Nobody
+would have blamed me, after his being around the place. It was an easy
+shot--but my hand wasn't steady----"
+
+"Pity you didn't know that before you put me in danger."
+
+"I'm sorry, Nichols--sorry. I'll do anything you like. What do you want
+me to do?"
+
+Instead of replying at once Peter took out a cigarette and lighted it
+carefully. And then,
+
+"You've never taken the trouble to make any inquiries as to the
+whereabouts of the family of Ben Cameron?" he asked.
+
+The old man shook his head.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I was afraid to ask."
+
+"I see. Don't you think it's about time you did? It's _his_ money that
+made your fortune."
+
+"He was no good. Nobody knew him. So far as I ever heard, nobody ever
+asked about him."
+
+"Nevertheless he must have had some friends somewhere."
+
+"Maybe. I don't know. I'm willing to help them if I can, providing this
+thing can be kept quiet." And then, pleadingly, "You're not going to
+talk--to use it against me, Nichols?"
+
+Peter's pity for McGuire had come back. The man's terror, his
+desperation of the past weeks had burned him out, worn him to a shell.
+
+"No, I'm not going to talk. Hawk Kennedy didn't dare tell what you've
+told me. That's why I believe you."
+
+"And you'll stay on here and help me?"
+
+"Yes----We'll see how we can balk Hawk Kennedy."
+
+"I'll pay him fifty thousand--a hundred thousand--for that
+agreement----"
+
+"Not a dollar. I've got a better use for your money than that."
+
+McGuire thought Peter referred to the necessary improvements of the
+estate. But Peter had another idea in mind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE CHASE
+
+
+Peter had discovered the means of providing for Beth's musical
+education. Upon inquiry he had found that McGuire hardly knew Beth
+except as a dependent relative of Mrs. Bergen, who came in sometimes to
+help her aunt with the cleaning--usually before McGuire came down from
+New York. Their little home was not on his visiting list.
+
+He delayed telling McGuire. There was plenty of time and there was no
+doubt of his employer's doing the right thing by the daughter of the
+murdered man. Meanwhile, having completed his plans for the estate, he
+had suggested that McGuire go off for a trip somewhere to rest and
+recover his poise. Peter had promised his allegiance to McGuire when
+Hawk Kennedy returned, but he knew that he would have to fight fire with
+fire. For Hawk had proved himself both skillful and dangerous, and would
+struggle desperately to get what he thought was his own. It was his last
+chance to make a big stake--to be independent for the rest of his life.
+He was tasting luxury now and wouldn't give up without a fight to the
+death. Something must be thought of--some plan to outwit him, to
+circumvent the schemes which would come out of his visit of
+investigation to the copper country.
+
+Peter had said nothing to Beth or to Mrs. Cameron of what he had
+discovered. He was under no oath of secrecy to the old man, but he
+realized that while Hawk Kennedy held the "confession" McGuire was in a
+predicament which would only be made more difficult if the facts got
+abroad. And so Peter had gone about his work silently, aware that the
+burden of McGuire's troubles had been suddenly shifted to his own
+shoulders. He spent most of his days at the lumber camp and now had
+every detail of the business at his fingers' ends. Timbers had been
+hauled to the appointed sites and under his direction the fire towers
+were now half way to completion.
+
+He had found Shad Wells down at the mills, morose, sullen and disposed
+to question his authority, but McGuire had visited the bunk-house one
+night before he went away, and it was soon discovered that Peter and no
+other was the boss of the job. Peter for reasons of his own retained
+Shad, much to that gentleman's surprise, as foreman of the lumbering
+gang, but Peter wasn't at all satisfied with conditions as he had found
+them at the lumber camp and mills and, as he discovered later, the
+continuance of Shad in the foreman's job was a mistake. If Peter had
+hoped by this act of conciliation to heal Shad's wounds and bring about
+a spirit of useful coöperation with the man, he soon found that the very
+reverse of this had been accomplished. The lumbermen were an
+unregenerate lot, some of them "pineys," a few Italians, but most of
+them the refuse of the factories and shipyards, spoiled by the fatal
+"cost plus" contracts of war time. All of these facts Peter learned
+slowly, aware of an undercurrent moving against him and yet entirely
+dependent upon this labor--which was the best, indeed the only labor, to
+be had. He made some improvements in the bunk-house for their comfort,
+increased the supply of food and posted notices that all complaints of
+whatever nature would be promptly investigated. But day after day new
+stories came to him of shirking, of dissatisfaction and continued
+trouble-making.
+
+This labor trouble was no new thing at Black Rock, and had existed
+practically since the beginning of the work on the lumber contract six
+months before Peter had been employed. But it was not long before Peter
+discovered through Jesse Brown, whose confidence he had gained, that
+there were agitators in the camp, undoubtedly receiving their
+inspiration and pay from sources inimical to all capital in the abstract
+and to all order and decency at Black Rock in the concrete, who were
+fomenting the unrest and dissatisfaction among the men. In order to
+investigate the difficulties personally Peter went down to the camp and
+lived there for a time, bunking with the men and listening to their
+stories, winning some of them to his side and tracing as far as he could
+the troubles to their sources, two men named Flynn and Jacobi. He
+discharged these two men and sent them out of the camp over Wells's
+protest. But even then he had a sense of failure. The trouble was deeper
+than was manifest upon the surface. No mere raise in wages would clear
+it away. It was born of the world's sickness, with which the men from
+the cities had been inoculated.
+
+One night while he sat in the bunk-house smoking a pipe and talking with
+Jesse Brown, Shad Wells suddenly appeared in the doorway, framed against
+the darkness. Shad's gaze and Peter's met--then Peter's glance turned to
+Shad's companion. As this man saw Peter he turned his head and went down
+the length of the bunk-house. Peter got up at once, followed him and
+faced him. The man now wore a dark beard, but there was no mistake. It
+was the fellow of the black mustache--the stranger whom Peter had seen
+in the Pennsylvania Station in New York, the same man he had caught
+prowling some weeks ago around his cabin in the darkness.
+
+Peter stared at him for a moment but the man would not meet his gaze.
+
+"Who are you?" asked Peter at last. And then, as he made no reply,
+"What were you doing prowling around my cabin up by the creek?"
+
+The stranger shook his head from side to side.
+
+"No understan'," he muttered.
+
+At this point, Shad Wells, who had followed with Jesse Brown, came in
+between them.
+
+"That's right, Nichols," he growled. "No understan'--He's a 'guinea.'"
+To Wells all men were "guineas" who didn't speak his own language.
+
+"Italian? Are you? French? Spanish? Slovak?"
+
+Each time the man shook his head. And then, with an inspiration, Peter
+shot at him a quick phrase in Russian. But the man gave no sign of
+comprehension.
+
+"Who put this man on?" asked Peter, turning to Wells.
+
+"I did," said the native sullenly.
+
+"Why?" said Peter, growing warmer. "Didn't I tell you that in future I
+would hire all the men myself?"
+
+"We're short-handed, since you fired two of the best axmen we got----"
+
+"You disobeyed orders----"
+
+"_Orders_--Hell!"
+
+"All right. We'll see who's running this camp, you or me. To-morrow
+morning Jesse Brown starts as foreman here. Understand?"
+
+Shad's eyes shot fire, then smoldered and went out as he turned with a
+sneering laugh and walked away.
+
+"As for you," said Peter to the stranger, who stood uncertainly, "you go
+to the office in the morning and get your envelope." Then repeated the
+sentence in Russian. "If you don't understand--find somebody who does."
+
+That the stranger had understood Peter's demeanor if not his language
+was evident, for in the morning he had vanished.
+
+After that clearing of the air things went somewhat better at the camp.
+Jesse Brown, though not aggressive, was steady and honest and had a
+certain weight with the Jerseymen. As to the others, there was doubt as
+to whether anything would have satisfied them. For the present, at
+least, it was a question of getting on as well as possible with the
+means at hand. There was a limit to Peter's weekly pay roll and other
+men were not to be had. Besides, Peter had promised McGuire to keep the
+sawmills busy. He knew that when he had come to Black Rock the work on
+the lumber contract had already fallen behind the schedule, and that
+only by the greatest perseverance could he make up the time already
+lost.
+
+As he rode back to his cabin on the afternoon after his encounter with
+Shad Wells and the stranger with the black mustache, he found himself
+quite satisfied with regard to his summary dismissal of them both. On
+Beth's account he had hesitated to depose Shad. He knew that before he
+had come to Black Rock they had been friends as well as distant
+relatives, and Beth in her frequent meetings with Peter had expressed
+the hope that Shad would "come around." Peter had given him every
+chance, even while he had known that the Jerseyman was working against
+both McGuire's and Peter's interests. Flynn and Jacobi, the men Peter
+had sent away, were radicals and agitators. Flynn had a police record
+that did not bear close inspection, and Jacobi was an anarchist out and
+out. Before Peter had come to Black Rock they had abused Shad's
+credulity and after the fight at the Cabin, he had been their willing
+tool in interrupting the completion of the contract. For of course Shad
+had hoped that if Peter couldn't get the lumber out when promised,
+McGuire would put the blame on the new superintendent and let him go.
+That was Shad's idea. If he had ever been decent enough to warrant
+Beth's friendship, his jealousy had warped his judgment. Peter was no
+longer sorry for Shad Wells. He had brought all his troubles on
+himself.
+
+As to the stranger with the black mustache, that was a more serious
+matter. Every circumstance--the recognition in New York, the skill with
+which the man had traced him to Black Rock, the craft with which he had
+watched Peter and his success in finally getting into the camp and
+gaining Shad's confidence, made a certainty in Peter's mind that the
+stranger had some object in remaining near Peter and keeping him under
+observation. And what other object than a political one? The trail he
+had followed had begun with the look of recognition in the Pennsylvania
+Station in New York. And where could that look of recognition have
+sprung from unless he had identified Peter Nichols as the Grand Duke
+Peter Nicholaevitch? It seemed incredible, but there could be no other
+explanation. The man had seen him somewhere--perhaps in Russia--perhaps
+in Paris or London, or perhaps had only identified him by his portraits
+which had been published frequently in the Continental magazines and
+newspapers. But that he had really identified him there could not be the
+slightest doubt and Peter's hope that he would have been able to lose
+his identity in the continent of America and become merged into a
+different civilization where he could work out the personal problem of
+existence in his own time, by his own efforts and in his own way, seemed
+destined to failure.
+
+If the stranger knew that Peter was in New Jersey there was no doubt
+that there were others who knew it also, those who employed him--those
+in whose interests he was working. Who? The same madmen who had done
+Nicholas to death and had killed one by one the misguided Empress, Olga,
+Tania, the poor little Czarevitch and the rest.... Did they consider
+him, Peter Nichols, lumber-jack extraordinary, as a possible future
+claimant to the throne of Russia? Peter smiled grimly. They were
+"straining at a gnat while swallowing the camel." And if they feared
+him, why didn't they strike? The stranger had already had ample
+opportunity to murder him if he had been so disposed, could still do it
+during Peter's daily rides back and forth from the Cabin to the camp and
+to the Upper Reserve.
+
+All of these thoughts percolated slowly, as a result of the sudden
+inspiration at the bunk-house which had liberated a new train of ideas,
+beginning with the identification of the Russian characteristics of the
+new lumberman, which were more clearly defined under the beard and
+workman's shirt than under the rather modish gray slouch hat and
+American clothing in which Peter had seen him earlier. And Peter had
+merely let the man go. He had no proof of the fellow's purposes, and if
+he had even discovered exactly what those purposes were, there was no
+recourse for Peter but to ask for the protection of Washington, and this
+he had no desire to do.
+
+If the man suspected from the quickly spoken Russian sentence that Peter
+now guessed his mission, he had given no sign of it. But that meant
+nothing. The fellow was clever. He was doubtless awaiting instructions.
+And unless Peter took his case to the Department of Justice he could
+neither expect any protection nor hope for any security other than his
+own alertness.
+
+At the Cabin Beth was waiting for him. These hours of music and Beth
+were now as much a part of Peter's day as his breakfast or his dinner.
+And he had only failed her when the pressure of his responsibilities was
+too great to permit of his return to the Cabin. The hour most convenient
+for him was that at the close of the day, and though weary or
+discouraged, Peter always came to the end of this agreeable hour rested
+and refreshed, and with a sense of something definitely achieved. For
+whatever the days brought forth of trouble and disappointment, down at
+the logging camp or the mills, here was Beth waiting for him, full of
+enthusiasm and self-confidence, a tangible evidence of success.
+
+The diligence with which she applied his instructions, the ease with
+which she advanced from one step to another, showed her endowed with an
+intelligence even beyond his early expectations. She was singing simple
+ballads now, English and French, and already evinced a sense of
+interpretation which showed the dormant artist. He tried at first, of
+course, to eliminate all striving for effect, content to gain the purity
+of tone for which he was striving, but she soared beyond him sometimes,
+her soul defying limitations, liberated into an empyrean of song. If
+anything, she advanced too rapidly, and Peter's greatest task was to
+restrain her optimism and self-confidence by imposing the drudgery of
+fundamental principles. And when he found that she was practicing too
+long, he set her limits of half-hour periods beyond which she must not
+go. But she was young and strong and only once had he noted the
+slightest symptom of wear and tear on her vocal chords, when he had
+closed the piano and prohibited the home work for forty-eight hours.
+
+As to their personal relations, Peter had already noticed a difference
+in his own conduct toward Beth, and in hers toward him,--a shade of
+restraint in Beth's conversation when not on the topic of music, which
+contrasted rather strangely with the candor of their first meetings.
+Peter couldn't help smiling at his memories, for now Beth seemed to be
+upon her good behavior, repaying him for her earlier contempt with a
+kind of awe at his attainments. He caught her sometimes in unguarded
+moments looking at him curiously, as though in wonder at a mystery which
+could not be explained. And to tell the truth, Peter wondered a little,
+too, at his complete absorption in the task he had set himself. He tried
+to believe that it was only the music that impelled him, only the joy of
+an accomplished musician in the discovery of a budding artist, but he
+knew that it was something more than these. For reducing the theorem to
+different terms, he was obliged to confess that if the girl had been any
+one but Beth, no matter how promising her voice, he must have been bored
+to extinction. No. He had to admit that it was Beth that interested him,
+Beth the primitive, Beth the mettlesome, Beth the demure. For if now
+demure she was never dull. The peculiarity of their situation--of their
+own choosing--lent a spice to the relationship which made each of them
+aware that the other was young and desirable--and that the world was
+very far away.
+
+However far Beth's thoughts may have carried her in the contemplation of
+the personal pulchritude of her music master (somewhat enhanced by the
+extirpation of the Hellion triplet in her own behalf) it was Peter
+Nicholaevitch who made the task of Peter Nichols difficult. It was the
+Grand Duke Peter who wanted to take this peasant woman in his arms and
+teach her what other peasant girls had been taught by Grand Dukes since
+the beginning of the autocratic system of which he had been a part--but
+it was Peter Nichols who restrained him. Peter Nicholaevitch feared
+nothing, knew no restraint, lived only for the hour--for the moment.
+Peter Nichols was a coward--or a gentleman--he was not quite certain
+which.
+
+When Peter entered the Cabin on the evening after the appointment of
+Jesse Brown as foreman at the lumber camp, Beth could not help noticing
+the clouds of worry that hung over Peter's brows.
+
+"You're tired," she said. "Is anything wrong at the camp?"
+
+But he only shook his head and sat down at the piano. And when she
+questioned him again he evaded her and went on with the lesson. Music
+always rested him, and the sound of her voice soothed. It was the
+"Elégie" of Massenet that he had given her, foolishly perhaps, a
+difficult thing at so early a stage, because of its purity and
+simplicity, and he had made her learn the words of the French--like a
+parrot--written them out phonetically, because the French words were
+beautiful and the English, as written, abominable. And now she sang it
+to him softly, as he had taught her, again and again, while he corrected
+her phrasing, suggesting subtle meanings in his accompaniment which she
+was not slow to comprehend.
+
+"I didn't know that music could mean so much," she sighed as she sank
+into a chair with a sense of failure, when the lesson was ended. "I
+always thought that music just meant happiness. But it means sorrow
+too."
+
+"Not to those who hear you sing, Beth," said Peter with a smile, as he
+lighted and smoked a corncob pipe, a new vice he had discovered at the
+camp. Already the clouds were gone from his forehead.
+
+"No! Do you really think that, Mr. Nichols?" she asked joyously.
+
+She had never been persuaded to call him by his Christian name, though
+Peter would have liked it. The "Mr." was the tribute of pupil to master,
+born also of a subtler instinct of which Peter was aware.
+
+"Yes," he replied generously, "you'll sing that very well in time----"
+
+"When I've suffered?" she asked quickly.
+
+He glanced up from the music in his hand, surprised at her intuition.
+
+"I don't like to tell you so----"
+
+"But I think I understand. Nobody can sing what she doesn't feel--what
+she hasn't felt. Oh, I know," she broke off suddenly. "I can sing songs
+of the woods--the water--the pretty things like you've been givin' me.
+But the deep things--sorrow, pain, regret--like this--I'm not 'up' to
+them."
+
+Peter sat beside her, puffing contentedly.
+
+"Don't worry," he muttered. "Your voice will ripen."
+
+"And will I ripen too?"
+
+He laughed. "I don't want you ever to be any different from what you
+are."
+
+She was thoughtful a moment, for Peter had always taken pains to be
+sparing in personalities which had nothing to do with her voice.
+
+"But I don't want always to be what I am," she protested, "just growin'
+close to the ground like a pumpkin or a squash."
+
+He laughed. "You might do worse."
+
+"But not much. Oh, I know. You're teachin' me to think--and to feel--so
+that I can make other people do the same--the way you've done to me. But
+it don't make me any too happy to think of bein' a--a squash again."
+
+"Perhaps you won't have to be," said Peter quietly.
+
+"And the factory--I've got to make some money next winter. I can't use
+any of Aunt Tillie's savin's. But when I know what I _might_ be doin',
+it's not any too easy to think of goin' back _there_!"
+
+"Perhaps you won't have to go," said Peter again.
+
+Her eyes glanced at him quickly, looked away, then returned to his face
+curiously.
+
+"I don't just understand what you mean."
+
+"I mean," said Peter, "that we'll try to find the means to keep you out
+of the glass factory--to keep on with the music."
+
+"But how----? I can't be dependent on----" She paused with a glance at
+him. And then quickly, with her characteristic frankness that always
+probed straight to her point, "You mean that _you_ will pay my way?"
+
+"Merely that I'm going to find the money--somehow."
+
+But she shook her head violently. "Oh, no, I couldn't let you do that,
+Mr. Nichols. I couldn't think of it."
+
+"But you've got to go on, Beth. I've made up my mind to that. You'll go
+pretty fast. It won't be long before you'll know all that I can teach
+you. And then I'm going to put you under the best teacher of this method
+in New York. In a year or so you'll be earning your own way----"
+
+"But I can't let you do this for me. You're doin' too much as it is--too
+much that I can't pay back."
+
+"We won't talk of money. You've given me a lot of enjoyment. That's my
+pay."
+
+"But this other--this studyin' in New York. No, I couldn't let you do
+that. I couldn't--I can't take a cent from you or from any man--woman
+either, for that matter. I'll find some way--workin' nights. But I'm not
+goin' back," she added almost fiercely between her teeth, "not to the
+way I was before. I won't. I can't."
+
+"Good. That's the way great careers are made. I don't intend that you
+shall. I'm going to make a great singer of you, Beth."
+
+She colored with joy.
+
+"Are you, Mr. Nichols? Are you? Oh, I want to make good--indeed I do--to
+learn French and Italian----" And then, with a sharp sigh, "O Lord, if
+wishes were horses----!" She was silent again, regarding him wistfully.
+"Don't think I'm not grateful. I'm afraid you might. I _am_ grateful.
+But--sometimes I wonder what you're doin' it all for, Mr. Nichols. And
+whether----"
+
+As she paused again Peter finished for her.
+
+"Whether it wouldn't have been better if I hadn't let you just
+remain--er," he grinned, "a peach, let's say? Well, I'll tell you,
+Beth," he went on, laying his pipe aside, "I came here, without a
+friend, to a strange job in a strange country. I found you. Or rather
+_you_ found _me_--lost like a babe in the woods. You made fun of me.
+Nobody had ever done that before in my life, but I rather liked it. I
+liked your voice too. You were worth helping, you see. And then along
+came Shad. I couldn't have him ordering you about, you know--not the way
+he did it--if he hadn't any claim on you. So you see, I had a sense of
+responsibility for you after that----About you, too----," he added, as
+though thinking aloud.
+
+His words trailed off into silence while Beth waited for him to explain
+about his sense of responsibility. She wasn't altogether accustomed to
+have anybody responsible for her. But as he didn't go on, she spoke.
+
+"You mean that you--that I--that Shad forced me on you?"
+
+"Bless your heart, child--no."
+
+"Then what _did_ you mean?" she insisted.
+
+Peter thought he had a definite idea in his mind about what he felt as
+to their relationship. It was altruistic he knew, gentle he was sure,
+educational he was positive. But half sleepily he spoke, unaware that
+what he said might sound differently to one of Beth's independent mind.
+
+"I mean," he said, "that I wanted to look after you--that I wanted our
+friendship to be what it has proved to be--without the flaw of
+sentiment. I wouldn't spoil a single hour by any thought of yours or
+mine that led us away from the music."
+
+And then, while her brain worked rapidly over this calm negation of his,
+"But you can't be unaware, Beth, that you're very lovely."
+
+Now "sentiment" is a word over which woman has a monopoly. It is her
+property. She understands its many uses as no mere man can ever hope to
+do. The man who tosses it carelessly into the midst of a delicate
+situation is courting trouble. Beth perked up her head like a startled
+fawn. What did he mean? All that was feminine in her was up in arms, nor
+did she lay them down in surrender at his last phrase, spoken with such
+an unflattering air of commonplace.
+
+Suddenly she startled Peter with a rippling laugh which made him sit up
+blinking at her. "Are you apologizin' for not makin' love to me?" she
+questioned impertinently. "Say--that's funny." And she went off into
+another disconcerting peal of laughter.
+
+But it wasn't funny for Peter, who was now made aware that she had
+turned his mind inside out upon the table between them, so to speak,
+that she might throw dust in the wheels. And so he only gasped and
+stared at her--startlingly convinced that in matters of sentiment the
+cleverest man is no match for even the dullest woman and Beth could
+hardly be considered in this category. At the challenge of his half
+expressed thought the demureness and sobriety of the lesson hour had
+fallen from her like a doffed cloak.
+
+Peter protested blandly.
+
+"You don't understand what----"
+
+But she broke in swiftly. "Maybe you were afraid I might be fallin' in
+love with _you_," she twitted him, and burst into laughter again.
+
+"I--I had no such expectation," said Peter, stiffening, sure that his
+dignity was a poor thing.
+
+"Or maybe----," she went on joyfully, "maybe you were afraid _you_ might
+be fallin' in love with _me_." And then as she rose and gathered up her
+music, tantalizingly, "What _did_ you mean, Mr. Nichols?"
+
+He saw that he was losing ground with every word she uttered, but his
+sense of humor conquered.
+
+"You little pixie!" he cried, dashing for her, with a laugh. "Where have
+you hidden this streak of impudence all these weeks?" But she eluded
+him nimbly, running around the table and out of the door before he could
+catch up with her.
+
+He halted at the doorsill and called to her. She emerged cautiously from
+behind a bush and made a face at him.
+
+"Beth! Come back!" he entreated. "I've got something to say to you."
+
+"What?" she asked, temporizing.
+
+"I want to talk to you--seriously."
+
+"Good Lord--seriously! You're not goin' to--to take the risk of--of
+havin' me 'vamp' you, are you?"
+
+"Yes. I'll risk that," he grinned.
+
+But she only broke off a leaf and nibbled at it contemplatively. "Maybe
+_I_ won't risk it. 'I don't want to spoil a single hour,'" she repeated,
+mocking his dignity, 'by any thought of yours or mine that would lead us
+away from the music.' Maybe _I'm_ in danger." And then, "You know
+_you're_ not so bad lookin' yourself, Mr. Nichols!"
+
+"Stop teasing, Beth."
+
+"I won't."
+
+"I'll make you." He moved a step toward her.
+
+"Maybe I hadn't better come any more," she said quizzically.
+
+"Beth!"
+
+"Suppose I _was_ learnin' to love you a little," she went on ironically,
+"with you scared I might be--and not knowin' how to get out of it.
+Wouldn't that be terrible! For me, I mean. 'She loved and lost, in seven
+reels.'"
+
+She was treading on precarious ground, and she must have seen her danger
+in Peter's face, for as he came toward her she turned and ran down the
+path, laughing at him. Peter followed in full stride but she ran like a
+deer and by the time he had reached the creek she was already halfway
+over the log-jam below the pool. Her laugh still derided him and now,
+eager to punish her, he leaped after her. But so intent he was on
+keeping her in sight upon the farther bank that his foot slipped on a
+tree trunk and he went into the water. A gay peal of laughter echoed in
+his ears. And he caught a last glimpse of her light frock as it vanished
+into the underbrush. But he scrambled up the bank after her and darted
+along the path--lost her in the dusk, and then deep in the woods at one
+side saw her flitting from tree to tree away from him. But Peter's blood
+was now warm with the chase--and it was the blood of Peter Nicholaevitch
+too. Forgotten were the studious hours of patience and toil. Here was a
+girl who challenged his asceticism--a beautiful young female animal who
+dared to mock at his self-restraint. She thought that she could get
+away. But he gained on her. She had stopped laughing at him now.
+
+"Beth! You little devil!" he cried breathlessly, as he caught her. "You
+little devil, I'll teach you to laugh at me."
+
+"Let me go----"
+
+"No----"
+
+He held her in his arms while she struggled vainly to release herself.
+Her flushed face was now a little frightened and her large blue eyes
+stared in dismay at what she saw in his face.
+
+"Let me go?" she whispered. "I didn't mean it----"
+
+But he only held her closer while she struggled, as he kissed her--on
+the brows, the chin, the cheeks, and as she relaxed in sheer
+weakness--full on the lips--again--again.
+
+"Do you think I haven't been trying to keep my hands off you all these
+weeks?" he whispered. "Do you think I haven't wanted you--to teach you
+what women were meant for? It's for this, Beth--and this. Do you think
+I haven't seen how lovely you are? Do you think I'm a saint--an
+anchorite? Well, I'm not. I'll make you love me--love me----"
+
+Something in the reckless tones of his voice--in his very words aroused
+her to new struggles. "Oh, let me go," she gasped. "I don't love you. I
+won't. Let me go."
+
+"You shall!"
+
+"No. Let me loose or I--I'll despise you----"
+
+"Beth!"
+
+"I mean it. Let me go."
+
+If a moment ago when she was relaxed in his arms he had thought that he
+had won her, he had no such notion now, for with a final effort of her
+strong young arms, she thrust away from him and stood panting and
+disordered, staring at him as though at one she had never seen before.
+
+"Oh--how I hate you!"
+
+"Beth!"
+
+"I mean it. You--you----," she turned away from him, staring at the torn
+music on the ground as at a symbol of her disillusionment. Peter saw her
+look, felt the meaning of it, tried to recall the words he had said to
+her and failed--but sure that they were a true reflection of what had
+been in his heart. He had wanted her--then--nothing else had
+mattered--not duty or his set resolve....
+
+"You mocked at me, Beth," he muttered. "I couldn't stand that----"
+
+"And is _this_ the way you punish me? Ah, if you'd only--if you'd
+only----"
+
+And then with another glance at the torn music, she leaned against the
+trunk of a tree, sobbing violently.
+
+"Beth----" he whispered, gently, "don't----"
+
+"Go away. Oh, go. Go!"
+
+"I can't. I won't. What did you want me to say to you? That I love you?
+I do, Beth--I do," he whispered. It was Peter Nichols, not Peter
+Nicholaevitch, who was whispering now.
+
+"Was this what your teachin' meant?" she flashed at him bitterly. "Was
+this what you meant when you wanted to pay my way in New York? Oh, how
+you shame me! Go! Go away from me, please."
+
+"Please don't," he whispered. "You don't understand. I never meant that.
+I--I love you, Beth. I can't bear to see you cry."
+
+She made a valiant effort to control her heaving shoulders. And then,
+
+"Oh, you--you've spoiled it all. S-spoiled it all, and it was so
+beautiful."
+
+Had he? Her words sobered him. No, that couldn't be. He cursed his
+momentary madness, struggling for words to comfort her, but he had known
+that she had seen the look in his eyes, felt the roughness of his
+embrace. Love? The love that she had sung to him was not of these. He
+wanted now to touch her again--gently, to lift up her flushed face, wet
+like a flower with the fresh dew of her tears, and tell her what love
+was. But he didn't dare--he couldn't, after what he had said to her. And
+still she wept over her broken toys--the music--the singing--for they
+had mattered the most. Very childlike she seemed, very tender and
+pathetic.
+
+"Beth," he said at last, touching her fingers gently. "Nothing is
+changed, Beth. It can't be changed, dear. We've got to go on. It means
+so much to--to us both."
+
+But she paid no attention to the touch of his fingers and turned away,
+leaving the music at her feet, an act in itself significant.
+
+"Let me go home. Please. Alone. I--I've got to think."
+
+She did not look at him, but Peter obeyed her. There was nothing else
+to do. There was something in the clear depths of her eyes that had
+daunted him. And he had meant her harm. Had he? He didn't know. He
+passed his hand slowly across his eyes and then stood watching her until
+she had disappeared among the trees. When she had gone he picked up the
+torn music. It was Massenet's "Elégie."
+
+    O doux printemps d'autrefois....
+    Tout est flétrie.
+
+The lines of the torn pieces came together. Spring withered! The joyous
+songs of birds--silenced! Beth's song? He smiled. No, that couldn't be.
+He folded the music up and strode off slowly, muttering to himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+TWO LETTERS
+
+
+Peter passed a troublous evening and night--a night of self-revelations.
+Never that he could remember had he so deeply felt the sting of
+conscience. He, the Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch, in love with this
+little rustic? Impossible! It was the real Peter, tired of the sham and
+make-believe of self-restraint and virtue, who had merely kissed a
+country girl. He was no anchorite, no saint. Why had he tied himself to
+such a duty from a motive of silly sentimentalism?
+
+He winced at the word. Was it that? Sentimentalism. He had shown her the
+best side of him--shown it persistently, rather proud of his capacity
+for self-control, which had ridden even with his temptations. Why should
+it matter so much to him what this girl thought of him? What had he said
+to her? Nothing much that he hadn't said to other women. It was the fact
+that he had said it to Beth that made the difference. The things one
+might say to other women meant something different to Beth--the things
+one might do.... He had been a fool and lost his head, handled her
+roughly, spoken to her wildly, words only intended for gentle moods,
+softer purposes. Shrewd little Beth, whose wide, blue eyes had seen
+right down into the depths of his heart. He had been clumsy, if nothing
+else, and he had always thought that clumsiness was inexcusable. He had
+a guilty sense that while Beth was still the little lady to her finger
+tips, born to a natural nobility, he, the Grand Duke Peter, had been the
+boor, the vulgar proletarian. The look in her eyes had shamed him as
+the look in his own eyes had shamed her. She had known what his wooing
+meant, and it hadn't been what she wanted. The mention of love on lips
+that kissed as his had done was blasphemy.
+
+Yes. He cared what she thought of him--and he vainly cast about for a
+way in which to justify himself. To make matters worse Beth still
+believed that this was the payment he exacted for what he had done for
+her, what he had proposed to do for her, that he measured her favors in
+terms of value received. What else could she think but that? Every hour
+of his devotion to her music defamed her.
+
+The situation was intolerable. In the morning he went seeking her at her
+home. The house was open. No one in Black Rock village locked doors by
+day or night. Beth was not there. A neighbor said that she had gone
+early alone into the woods and Peter understood. If she hadn't cared for
+him she wouldn't have needed to go to the woods to be alone. Of course
+she didn't appear at the Cabin the next day, and Peter searched for
+her--fruitlessly. She weighed on his conscience, like a sin unshrived.
+He had to find her to explain the unexplainable, to tell her what her
+confidence had meant to him, to recant his blasphemy of her idols in
+gentleness and repentance.
+
+As he failed to find her, he wrote her a note, asking her forgiveness,
+and stuck it in the mirror of the old hat-rack in the hall. Many women
+in Europe and elsewhere, ladies of the great world that Beth had only
+dreamed about, would have given their ears (since ear puffs were in
+fashion) to receive such a note from Peter. It was a beautiful note
+besides--manly, gentle, breathing contrition and self-reproach. Beth
+merely ignored it. Whatever she thought of it and of Peter she wanted
+to deliberate a longer while.
+
+And so another music lesson hour passed while Peter sat alone in the
+Cabin waiting. That night two letters were brought to him. The
+superscription of one was scrawled in a boyish hand. The other was
+scented, dainty, of pale lavender, and bore a familiar handwriting and a
+familiar coronet. In amazement he opened this first. It was from the
+Princess Galitzin, written in the polyglot of French, English and
+Russian which she affected.
+
+      "CHERE PIERRE," it ran,--in the English, somewhat
+      as follows: "You will no doubt be surprised at hearing from
+      me in far-off America and amazed at the phenomenon of your
+      discovered address at the outlandish place you've chosen for
+      your domicile. It's very simple. In America you have been
+      watched by agents of the so-called government of our
+      wretched country. We know this here in London, because one
+      of _our_ agents is also a part of their secret organization.
+      He came upon the report of your doings and knowing that
+      father was interested, detailed the information to us.
+
+      "So far as I can learn at the present writing you are in no
+      immediate danger of death, but we do not know here in London
+      how soon the word may be sent forth to 'remove' persons of
+      your importance in the cosmic scheme. It seems that your
+      desire to remain completely in hiding is looked upon with
+      suspicion in Russia as evidence of a possible intention on
+      your part to come to light at the beginnings of a Bourbon
+      movement and proclaim yourself as the leader of a Royalist
+      party. Your uncles and cousins have chosen the line of least
+      resistance in yielding to the inevitable, living in
+      Switzerland, and other spots where their identities are well
+      known.
+
+      "I pray, my well remembered and _bel ami_, that the cause of
+      Holy Russia is still and ever present in your heart of
+      hearts and that the thing these devils incarnate fear may
+      one day come to pass. But I pray you to be discreet and
+      watchful, if necessary changing your place of abode to one
+      in which you will enjoy greater security from your enemies.
+      There is at last one heart in London that ever beats fondly
+      in memory of the dear dead days at Galitzin and Zukovo.
+
+      "_Helas!_ London is dead sea fruit. People are very kind to
+      us. We have everything that the law allows us, but life
+      seems to have lost its charm. I have never quite forgiven
+      you, _mon Pierre_, for your desertion of us at
+      Constantinople, though doubtless your reasons for preserving
+      your incognito were of the best. But it has saddened me to
+      think that you did not deem me worthy of a closer
+      confidence. You are doubtless very much alone and
+      unhappy--also in danger not only from your political
+      enemies, but also from the American natives in the far away
+      woods in which you have been given occupation. I trust, such
+      as it is, that you have taken adequate measures to protect
+      yourself. I know little of America, but I have a longing to
+      go to that splendid country, rugged in its primitive
+      simplicity, in spite of inconveniences of travel and the
+      mass of uncultured beings with whom one must come into
+      contact. Do you think it would be possible for a spoiled
+      creature like me to find a boudoir with a bath--that is, in
+      the provinces, outside of New York?
+
+      "It is terrible that you can have no music in your life! I
+      too miss your music, _Pietro mio_, as I miss you. Perhaps
+      one day soon you will see me. I am restless and bored to
+      extinction, with these ramrods of Englishmen who squeeze my
+      rings into my fingers. But if I come I will be discreet
+      toward Peter Nichols. That was a clever invention of yours.
+      It really sounds--quite--American.
+
+      "_Garde toi bien, entendez vous? Tout de suite je viendrai.
+      Au revoir._
+
+      "ANASTASIE."
+
+Peter read the letter through twice, amused, astounded and dismayed by
+turns. His surmise in regard to the stranger with the black mustache had
+been correct then. The man was a spy of the Russian Soviets. And so
+instead of having been born immaculate into a new life, as he had
+hoped--a man without a past, and only a future to be accounted for--he
+was only the Grand Duke Peter after all. And Anastasie! Why the devil
+did she want to come nosing about in America, reminding him of all the
+things that he wanted to forget? The odor of her sachet annoyed him. A
+bath and boudoir! He realized now that she had always annoyed him with
+her pretty silly little affectations and her tawdry smatterings of the
+things that were worth while. He owed her nothing. He had made love to
+her, of course, because that was what a woman of her type expected from
+men of his. But there had been no damage done on either side, for he had
+not believed that she had ever really cared. And now distance, it
+seemed, had made her heart grow fonder, distance and the romantic
+circumstances of his exile.
+
+It was kind of her, of course, to let him know of his danger, but only
+human after all. She could have done no less, having the information.
+And now she was coming to offer him the charity of her wealth, to tempt
+him with ease, luxury and London. He would have none of them.
+
+He picked up the other letter with even more curiosity until he read the
+postmark, and then his interest became intense, for he knew that it was
+from Jim Coast--Hawk Kennedy. The letter bore the heading, "Antlers
+Hotel, Colorado Springs."
+
+      "DEAR PETE," he read, through the bad spelling,
+      "Here I am back at the 'Springs,' at the 'Antlers,' after a
+      nice trip down Bisbee way, and out along the 'J. and A.' to
+      the mine. It's there all right and they're workin' it yet to
+      beat the cards with half a mountain still to be tapped. I
+      ain't going into particulars--not in a letter, except to
+      tell you that I got what I went for--names, dates and
+      amounts--also met the gents our friend sold out to--nice
+      people. Oh, I'm 'A1' with that outfit, old dear. I'm just
+      writing this to show you I'm on the job and that if you've
+      got an eye to business you'd better consider my proposition.
+      I'll make it worth your while. You can help all right. You
+      did me a good turn that night. I'll give you yours if you'll
+      stand in proper and make McG. do what's right. It ain't what
+      you said it was--it's justice all around. That's all I'm
+      asking--what's right and proper.
+
+      "I ain't coming back just yet, not for a month, maybe. I'm
+      living easy and there's a lady here that suits my fancy. So
+      just drop me a line at the above address, letting me know
+      everything's O. K. Remember I'm no piker and I'll fix you up
+      good.
+
+      "Your friend,
+
+      "JIM."
+
+Peter clenched the paper in his fist and threw it on the floor, frowning
+angrily at the thought of the man's audacity. But after a while he
+picked the crumpled note up and straightened it out upon the table,
+carefully rereading it. Its very touch seemed to soil his fingers, but
+he studied it for a long while, and then folded it up and put it in his
+pocket. It was a very careful game that Peter would have to play with
+Hawk Kennedy, a game that he had no liking for. But if he expected to
+succeed in protecting McGuire, he would have to outwit Jim Coast--or
+Hawk Kennedy, as he now thought of him--by playing a game just a little
+deeper than his own.
+
+Of course he now had the advantage of knowing the whole of McGuire's
+side of the story, while Kennedy did not believe the old man would have
+dared to tell. And to hold these cards successfully it would be
+necessary to continue in Kennedy's mind the belief that Peter did not
+share McGuire's confidences. It would also be necessary for Peter to
+cast in his lot, apparently, with Kennedy against McGuire. It was a
+dirty business at best, but he meant to carry it through if he could,
+and get the signed agreement from the blackmailer.
+
+Peter seemed to remember an old wallet that Jim Coast had always
+carried. He had seen it after Coast had taken slips of paper from it and
+showed them to Peter,--newspaper clippings, notes from inamorata and the
+like--but of course, never the paper now in question. And if he had
+carried it all these years, where was it now? In the vault of some bank
+or trust company probably, and this would make Peter's task difficult,
+if not impossible.
+
+Peter got up and paced the floor, thinking deeply of all these things in
+their relation to Beth. And then at last he went out into the night, his
+footsteps impelled toward the village. After all, the thoughts uppermost
+in his mind were of Beth herself. Whatever the cost to his pride, he
+would have to make his peace with her. He knew that now. Why otherwise
+did his restless feet lead him out into the pasture back of the little
+post office toward the rear of Mrs. Bergen's house? Yet there he found
+himself presently, smoking his corncob pipe for comfort, and staring at
+the solitary light in Tillie Bergen's parlor, which proclaimed its
+occupant. Mrs. Bergen's house stood at a little distance from its
+nearest neighbor, and Peter stole slowly through the orchard at the rear
+toward the open window. It was then that he heard the music for the
+first time, the "harmonium" wailing softly, while sweet and clear above
+the accompaniment (worked out painstakingly but lovingly by the girl
+herself) came Beth's voice singing the "Elégie."
+
+Peter came closer until he was just at the edge of the shadow outside
+the window. He knew that her back would be turned to him and so he
+peered around the shutter at her unconscious back. She sang the song
+through until the end and then after a pause sang it again. Peter had no
+ear now for the phrasing, for faults in technique, or inaccuracies in
+enunciation. What he heard was the soul of the singer calling. All that
+he had taught her in the hours in the Cabin was in her voice--and
+something more that she had learned elsewhere.... Her voice was
+richer--deeper, a child's voice no longer, and he knew that she was
+singing of his mad moment in the woods, which had brought the end of all
+things that had mattered in her life. It was no girl who sang now, but a
+woman who had learned the meaning of the song, the plaint of birds once
+joyous, of woodland flowers once gay--at the memory of a spring that was
+no more. He had told her that she would sing that song well some day
+when she learned what it meant. She would never sing it again as she had
+sung it to-night. All the dross that Peter had worn in the world was
+stripped from him in that moment, all that was petty and ignoble in his
+heart driven forth and he stood with bowed head, in shame for what he
+had been, and in gentleness for this dear creature whose idols he had
+cast down.
+
+At the end of the second verse, her fingers slipped from the keys and
+fell to her sides while she bowed her head and sat for a moment
+immovable. And then her shoulders moved slightly and a tiny smothered
+sound came from her throat. Suddenly her head bent and she fell forward
+on her arms upon the muted keys.
+
+Noiselessly he passed over the low windowsill and before she even knew
+that he was there, fell to his knees beside her.
+
+"Beth," he whispered. "Don't--child--don't!"
+
+She straightened, startled and incredulous at the sight of him, and
+tried to move away, but he caught one of her hands and with bent head
+gently laid his lips upon it.
+
+"Don't, Beth--please. I can't bear to see you cry----"
+
+"I--I'm _not_ crying," she stammered helplessly, while she winked back
+her tears, "I--I've just--just got the--the--stomachache."
+
+She tried to laugh--failing dismally in a sob.
+
+"Oh, Beth--don't----" he whispered.
+
+"I--I can't help it--if I--I've got a--a pain," she evaded him.
+
+"But I can," he murmured. "It's in your heart, Beth. I'm sorry for
+everything. Forgive me."
+
+"There's nothing to forgive."
+
+"Please!"
+
+"There's nothing to forgive," she repeated dully. But she had controlled
+her voice now and her fingers in his were struggling for release.
+
+"I was a brute, Beth. I'd give everything to have those moments back. I
+wouldn't hurt you for the world. See--how changed I am----"
+
+She released her fingers and turned slightly away.
+
+"I--I'm changed too, Mr. Nichols," she murmured.
+
+"No. You mustn't be, Beth. And I've got to have you back. You've got to
+come back to me, Beth."
+
+"Things can't be the same now."
+
+"Yes--just the same----"
+
+"No. Something's gone."
+
+"But if something else has taken its place----"
+
+"Nothing can----"
+
+"Something greater----"
+
+"I don't care for the sample you showed me," she returned quietly.
+
+"I was crazy, Beth. I lost my head. It won't happen again."
+
+"No. I know it won't----"
+
+"You don't understand. It couldn't. I've made a fool of myself. Isn't it
+enough for me to admit that?"
+
+"I knew it all the time." She was cruel, and from her cruelty he guessed
+the measure of her pride.
+
+"I've done all I can to atone. I want you to know that I love you. I do,
+Beth. I love you----"
+
+There was a note in his voice different from that she had heard the
+other day. His head was bent and he did not hear the little gasp or see
+the startled look in her eyes, which she controlled before he raised his
+head. With great deliberateness she answered him.
+
+"Maybe you and I--have a different idea of what love ought to be," she
+said. But he saw that her reproof was milder.
+
+"I know," he insisted. "You've sung it to me----"
+
+"No--not to you--not love," she said, startled. And then, "You had no
+right to be listenin'." And then, with a glance at Aunt Tillie's clock,
+"You have no right to be here now. It's late."
+
+"But I can't go until you understand what I want to do for you. You say
+that I can't know what love is. It asks nothing and only gives. I swear
+I wanted to give without thought of a return--until you laughed at me.
+And then--I wanted to punish you because you wouldn't understand----"
+
+"Yes. You punished me----"
+
+"Forgive me. You shouldn't have laughed at me, Beth. If you knew
+everything, you'd understand that I'm doing it all without a hope of
+payment,--just because I've got to."
+
+Her eyes grew larger. "What do you mean?"
+
+"I can't tell you now--but something has happened that will make a great
+difference to you."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Forgive me. Come to-morrow and perhaps I'll tell you. We've already
+wasted two days."
+
+"I'm not so sure they've been wasted," said Beth quietly.
+
+"I don't care if you'll only come. Will you, Beth? To-morrow?"
+
+She nodded gravely at last.
+
+"Perhaps," she said. And then, gently, "Good-night, Mr. Nichols."
+
+So Peter kissed her fingers as though she had been his Czarina and went
+out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+SUPERMAN
+
+
+Of course Beth Cameron knew nothing of Russia's grand dukes. The only
+Duke that she had ever met was in the pages of the novel she had read in
+which the hero was named Algernon. That Duke was of the English variety,
+proud, crusty, and aged and had only made an unpleasant impression upon
+her because she had liked Algernon, who had fallen in love with the
+daughter of the Duke, and the Duke had been very horrid to him in
+consequence or by reason of that mishap. When she had said to Peter that
+he reminded her of Algernon she had meant it, and that was really very
+nice of her, because she thought Algernon all that a self-respecting
+hero should be. It was true that Peter, though mostly an Englishman,
+didn't play polo and ride to hounds or swagger around a club and order
+people about, because he was too poor and was obliged to work for his
+living.
+
+But he did remind her of Algernon somehow. He had a way with him, as
+though if there _had_ been butlers and valets at Black Rock he _could_
+have swaggered and ordered them around if he'd had a mind to. He was
+good looking too. She had noted that even from the very first when she
+had found him lugging his suitcase down on the road from Pickerel River.
+Then too he did say things to her, nicer things than any fellow had ever
+known how to say to her before, and he was much more polite than she had
+ever believed it possible for any one, to be without seeming queer. But
+when, eavesdropping at McGuire's, she had heard Peter play the piano,
+she felt herself conducted into a new world which had nothing at all to
+do with glass factories and vineyards. Even the sartorial splendor of
+Miss Peggy McGuire paled into insignificance beside the new visions
+which the music of Peter Nichols had invoked. He hadn't just lied to
+her. He _was_ a musician. He _could_ play. She had never heard anybody
+bring from a piano sounds like these. And he had said he wanted her to
+sing for him.
+
+Beth had sung always--just as she had always breathed--but she had never
+heard any good music except on a talking machine at the boarding house
+at Glassboro--an old record of Madame Melba's that they played
+sometimes. But even that song from an opera ("Lay Boheem" they called
+it), mutilated as it was, had shown her that there was something more
+wonderful than the popular melodies that the other people liked. Beth's
+taste for good music, like her taste for nice people, was instinctive.
+And she had found that in her walk of life the one was about as
+difficult to find as the other. She had had her awakenings and her
+disillusionments, with women as well as men, but had emerged from her
+experiences of two winters in a factory town with her chin high and her
+heart pure--something of an achievement for one as pretty as Beth.
+
+All in all, she had liked Shad Wells better than any of the men she had
+met. He was rough, but she had discovered that good manners didn't
+always mean good hearts or clean minds.
+
+It was this discovery that had made her look askance at Peter Nichols
+when she had first met him on the road, for he was politer than anybody
+she had ever met. If her philosophy was to be consistent this new
+superintendent would need watching. But his music disarmed her and
+captured her imagination. And then came the incident of the jealous
+Shad and the extraordinary outcome of Mr. Nichols's championship of her
+rights. She had witnessed that fight from the shelter of the bushes. It
+had been dreadful but glorious. Peter's chivalry appealed to her--also
+his strength. From that moment he was superman.
+
+Then had followed the long wonderful weeks of music at the Cabin, in
+which she had learned the beginnings of culture and training. Her
+music-master opened new and beautiful vistas for her, told her of the
+great musicians and singers that the world had known, described the
+opera houses of Europe, the brilliant audiences, the splendid ballets,
+the great orchestras, and promised her that if she worked hard, she
+might one day become a part of all this. She had learned to believe him
+now, for she saw that as time went on he was more exacting with her
+work, more sparing in his praise of her, and she had worked hard--in
+despair at times, but with a slowly growing confidence in her star of
+destiny.
+
+And all the while she was wondering why Peter Nichols was doing this for
+her and what the outcome of it all was to be. He spoke little of the
+future except to hint vaguely at lessons elsewhere when he had taught
+her all that he knew. The present it seemed was sufficient for them
+both. His moods of soberness, of joy, of enthusiasm, were all catching
+and she followed him blindly, aware of this great new element in her
+life which was to make the old life difficult, if not impossible. He
+treated her always with respect, not even touching her arms or waist in
+passing--an accepted familiarity of men by girls of her social class.
+Beth understood that it was a consideration due to a delicate situation,
+the same consideration which had impelled her always to call him Mr.
+Nichols.
+
+And yet it was this very consideration of Peter's that vexed her. It
+wasn't an air of superiority, for she couldn't have stood that. It was
+just discretion, maybe, or something else, she couldn't decide what. But
+Beth didn't want to be put in a glass case like the wax flowers at home.
+Her voice was a mere mechanical instrument, as he had taken pains so
+often to tell her, but he seemed to be making the mistake of thinking
+_her_ a mechanical instrument too. She wasn't. She was very much alive,
+tingling with vitality, very human under her demure aspect during the
+singing lessons, and it had bothered her that Peter shouldn't know it.
+His ignorance, his indifference affronted her. Didn't he see what she
+looked like? Didn't he see that she might be worth making love to ...
+just a little, a very little ... once in a while?
+
+The clouds had broken suddenly, almost without warning, when he had
+talked like a professor--about sentiment--apologized--that was what he
+had done--_apologized_ for not making love to her! Oh!
+
+And then things had happened swiftly--incredible, unbelievable things.
+The lightning had flashed and it had shown an ugly Mr. Nichols--a
+different Mr. Nichols from anything that she could have imagined of him.
+The things he had said to her ... his kisses ... shameful things! A
+hundred times she had brushed them off like the vision of him from her
+mind. And still they returned, warm and pulsing to her lips. And still
+the vision of him returned--remained. He _had_ been so nice to her
+before....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now Beth sat in the big chair opposite Peter in the Cabin by the log
+fire (for the evenings were getting cool) while he finished telling her
+about the death of Ben Cameron, of the murder and of Jonathan K.
+McGuire's share in the whole terrible affair. It was with some
+misgivings, even after swearing her to secrecy, that he told her what he
+had learned through Kennedy and McGuire. And she had listened,
+wide-eyed. Her father of course was only the shadow of a memory to her,
+the evil shade in a half-forgotten dream, and therefore it was not grief
+that she could feel, not even sorrow for one who in life had been so
+vile, even if his miserable death had been so tragic--only horror and
+dismay at the thought of the perpetrator of the infamy. And not until
+Peter had come to the end of the story did she realize what this
+revelation meant, that the very foundation of McGuire's great fortune
+was laid upon property which belonged to her.
+
+"Out of all this evil must come some good, Beth," he finished soberly.
+"That copper mine was yours. McGuire took it and he is going to pay you
+what he owes."
+
+Beth had already exhausted all the expletives of horror and amazement,
+and now for a moment this last information staggered her and she stared
+at him unbelieving.
+
+"Pay me? I can't believe----"
+
+"It was your property by every law of God and man, and I mean that you
+shall have it." He paused and smiled softly. "You see, Beth, you won't
+need to depend on me now for your training."
+
+"Oh--then this was what you meant----"
+
+"What I meant when I said that you should owe me nothing--that I----"
+
+"But I _will_ owe you--everything. I shall still owe you everything."
+And then, wonderingly, "And just to think of my livin' here all this
+time so near the man--and not knowin' about----" Her words trailed off
+into silent astonishment.
+
+"Yes. And to think of his making his fortune on money that belonged to
+you! Millions. And he's going to pay you what he got out of the
+Tarantula mine--every dollar with interest to date."
+
+"But how can you make him do that?" she cried eagerly. "What proof have
+you got?"
+
+He smiled grimly into the fire as he poked a fallen log into the blaze.
+
+"Blackmail is an ugly word, Beth. But it shouldn't be blackmail, if
+silence is the price of getting what really belongs to you. McGuire is
+using your money--and he must give it to you. It's your money--not his.
+If he won't give it to you of his own free will, he will give it against
+his will."
+
+"But how can you make him do that?" asked Beth timidly.
+
+"By saving him from Hawk Kennedy. That's my price--and yours."
+
+"But how can you?"
+
+"I don't know. I've got to fight Kennedy with his own weapons--outwit
+him. And I've thought out a plan----"
+
+"But he's dangerous. You mustn't take any further risks with a man like
+that for me."
+
+Peter only smiled.
+
+"It will amuse me, Beth. And besides----" He bent forward to tend the
+fire, his face immediately grave again. "Besides--I think I owe you
+that, now."
+
+She understood what he meant and thrilled gently. Her joy had come back
+to her with a rush. All through the music lesson and through the recital
+of the tale of mystery she had hung breathlessly on his words and
+watched the changing expression on his features as he talked into the
+fire. This was _her_ Mr. Nichols who was speaking now, her friend and
+mentor, who wanted her to understand that this was his way of atonement.
+But she ignored his last remark, to Beth the most important of the
+entire conversation.
+
+"How--how much will the--the money amount to?" she asked timidly.
+
+Peter laughed.
+
+"Figure it out for yourself. Half a million--six per cent--fifteen
+years----"
+
+"Half a million dollars----!"
+
+"A million--or more!"
+
+"A million! God-a-mercy!"
+
+Peter recognized one of Aunt Tillie's expressions, Beth's vocabulary
+being inadequate to the situation.
+
+"But you haven't got it yet," he said.
+
+"And I daren't think of gettin' it. I won't think of it. I'd get my
+brain so full of things I wanted it would just naturally _bust_. Oh
+lordy!"
+
+Peter laughed.
+
+"You do want a lot of things, don't you?"
+
+"Of course. A silk waist, a satin skirt, some silk stockings--but most
+of all, a real sure enough piano," she gasped. And then, as though in
+reproach of her selfishness, "And I could pay off the mortgage on Aunt
+Tillie's farm back in the clearing!"
+
+"How much is that?"
+
+"Three thousand dollars. I've already paid off three hundred."
+
+"There ought to be enough for that," said Peter soberly.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Nichols. I hope you don't think I'm an awful fool talkin' this
+way."
+
+"Not unless you think _I_ am."
+
+"But it _is_ nice to dream of things sometimes."
+
+"Yes. I do that too. What do you dream of, Beth?"
+
+"Oh, of bein' a great singer, mostly--standin' on a stage with people
+lookin' up and clappin' their hands at me."
+
+"What else?"
+
+"Oh," she laughed gayly, "I used to dream of marryin' a prince--all
+girls do. But there ain't any princes now to marry."
+
+"No, that's true," he assented. "The old world hasn't any use for
+princes now." And then, "But why did you want to marry a prince?" he
+asked.
+
+"Oh, I don't know. It's just fairy tales. Haven't you ever lived in a
+fairy tale and loved a princess?"
+
+"Yes, I've lived in a fairy tale, but I've never loved a princess."
+
+"I guess if everybody knew," said Beth with conviction, "the princes in
+Europe are a pretty bad lot."
+
+"Yes," said Peter slowly, "I guess they are."
+
+She paused a moment, looking into the fire. And then, "Were you ever
+acquainted with any princes in Europe, Mr. Nichols?"
+
+Peter smiled. "Yes, Beth. I did know one prince rather
+intimately--rather too intimately."
+
+"Oh. You didn't like him?"
+
+"No, not much. He was an awful rotter. The worst of it was that he had
+good instincts and when he went wrong, he went wrong in spite of 'em.
+You see--he was temperamental."
+
+"What's temperamental?"
+
+"Having the devil and God in you both at the same time," muttered Peter
+after a moment.
+
+"I know," she said. "Satan and God, with God just sittin' back a little
+to see how far Satan will go."
+
+He smiled at her. "You don't mean that you have temptations too, Beth?"
+
+She ignored his question, her face sober, and went back to her subject.
+
+"I guess your prince wasn't any better or any worse than a lot of other
+people. Maybe he didn't give God a chance?"
+
+"No. Maybe not," said Peter.
+
+"It seems to me he must have been kind of human, somehow," Beth
+commented reflectively. "What's become of him now?" she asked, then.
+
+"Oh, he's out of it," replied Peter.
+
+"Dead?"
+
+"Yes. His country has chucked all the nobility out on the dust heap."
+
+"Russia?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Did they kill him?"
+
+"They tried to, but couldn't."
+
+"Where is he now?"
+
+"A wanderer on the face of the earth."
+
+"I'm so sorry. It must be terrible to have to eat pork and beans when
+your stomach's only used to chocolate sundaes."
+
+Peter grinned.
+
+"Some of 'em were glad enough to get off with stomachs to put beans and
+pork into. Oh, you needn't waste your pity, Beth."
+
+"I don't. I read the papers. I guess they got what they deserved. The
+workin' people in the world ain't any too keen on buyin' any more
+diamond tiaras for loafers. I reckon it was about time for a new deal
+all around without the face cards."
+
+"Perhaps, Beth. But there's always the ten spot to take the deuce."
+
+"I hadn't thought of that," said Beth reflectively. "People aren't
+really equal--are they? Some apples _are_ better than others. I guess,"
+she sighed, "that the real trouble with the world is because there ain't
+enough friendship in it."
+
+Peter was silent for a moment.
+
+"Yes, that's true," he said, "not enough friendship--not enough love.
+And it's all on account of money, Beth. There wouldn't have been any
+European war if some people hadn't wanted property that belonged to
+somebody else."
+
+"I hope wanting this money won't make me hate anybody or make anybody
+hate me. I don't want to make Mr. McGuire unhappy or Miss McGuire----"
+
+"You needn't worry," said Peter dryly. "You see, it's your money."
+
+Beth gave a deep sigh.
+
+"I can't help it. I _would_ like to have a sport coat and a _cerise_
+veil like Peggy wears."
+
+"You shall have 'em. What else?"
+
+"Some pretty patent leather shoes with rhinestone buckles----"
+
+"Yes----"
+
+"And a black velvet hat and nice _lingerie_----" (Beth pronounced it
+lingery).
+
+"Of course. And the piano----"
+
+"Oh, yes. A piano and books--lots of books."
+
+"And a red automobile?"
+
+"Oh, I wouldn't dare wish for that."
+
+"Why not? It's just as easy to wish for an automobile as a piano."
+
+"Yes, I suppose so." She became immediately grave again. "But I can't
+seem to believe it all. I'm afraid."
+
+"Of what?"
+
+"Of Hawk Kennedy. I feel that he's going to make trouble for us all, Mr.
+Nichols. I'm afraid. I always seem to feel things before they happen.
+Any man who could do what he did--murder!"
+
+"There will be some way to get around him."
+
+"But it's dangerous. I don't feel I've got the right to let you do this
+for me."
+
+"Oh, yes, you have. I'd do it anyhow. It's only justice."
+
+"But suppose he--suppose----"
+
+"What----?"
+
+"He might kill you, too."
+
+Peter laughed. "Not a chance. You see, I wasn't born to die a violent
+death. If I had been, I'd have been dead months ago."
+
+"Oh--the war, you mean?" she asked soberly.
+
+"Yes--the war. Everything is tame after that. I'm not afraid of Hawk
+Kennedy."
+
+"But there's danger just the same."
+
+"I hope not. I won't cross that bridge until I come to it."
+
+Beth was silent for a long moment and then with a glance at the clock on
+the mantel slowly gathered her music, aware of his voice close at her
+ear.
+
+"And if I do this, Beth,--if I get what belongs to you, will you believe
+that I have no motive but friendship for you, that I care for you enough
+to want you to forgive me for what has happened?"
+
+He had caught her fingers in his own but she did not try to release
+them.
+
+"Oh, don't speak of that--_please_! I want to forget you--that day."
+
+"Can't you forget it more easily by remembering me as I am now, Beth?
+See. I want you as much now as I did then--just as much, but I cannot
+have you until you give yourself to me."
+
+What did he mean? She wasn't sure of him. If marriage was what he meant,
+why didn't he say so? Marriage. It was such an easy word to say. Her
+fingers struggled in his.
+
+"Please, Mr. Nichols," she gasped.
+
+"You mean that you won't--that you don't care enough----?"
+
+"I--I'm not sure of you----"
+
+"I love you, Beth----"
+
+"You _say_ so----"
+
+"I do--better than anything in the world."
+
+"Enough to--enough to...?"
+
+She was weakening fast. She felt her danger in the trembling of her
+fingers in his. Why didn't he finish her question for her? Marriage. It
+was such a little word. And yet he evaded it and she saw that he meant
+to evade it.
+
+"Enough to have you almost in my arms and yet hardly to touch
+you--enough to have your lips within reach of mine and yet not to take
+them. Isn't that what you wanted, Beth? Gentleness, tenderness----"
+
+She flung away from him desperately.
+
+"No--no. I want nothing--nothing. Please! You don't want to understand."
+And then with an effort she found her poise. "Things must be as they
+are. Nothing else. It's getting late, I must go."
+
+"Beth--Not yet. Just a minute----"
+
+"No."
+
+But she did not go and only stood still, trembling with irresolution. He
+knew what she wanted him to say. There could be no middle ground for
+Beth. She must be all to him or nothing. Marriage. It was the Grand Duke
+Peter Nicholaevitch who had evaded this very moment while Peter Nichols
+had urged him to it. And it was Peter Nichols who knew that any words
+spoken of marriage to Beth Cameron would be irrevocable, the Grand Duke
+Peter (an opportunist) who urged him to utter them, careless of
+consequences. And there stood Beth adorable in her perplexity, conjuring
+both of him to speak.
+
+It was Peter Nichols who met the challenge, oblivious of all counsels of
+pride, culture, vainglory and hypocrisy. This was his mate, a sweeter
+lady than any he had ever known.
+
+"Beth," he whispered. "I love you. Nothing in the world makes any
+difference to me but your happiness."
+
+He came to her and caught her in his arms, while she still struggled
+away from him. "I want you. It doesn't matter who I am or who you are. I
+want you to----"
+
+Beth suddenly sprung away from him, staring at a figure which stood in
+the doorway as a strident, highly pitched voice cut in sharply on
+Peter's confession.
+
+"Oh, excuse _me_! I didn't mean to intrude."
+
+It was Miss Peggy McGuire in her _cerise_ veil and her sport suit, with
+hard eyes somewhat scandalized by what she had seen, for Peter was
+standing awkwardly, his arms empty of their prize, who had started back
+in dismay and now stood with difficulty recovering her self-possession.
+As neither of them spoke Miss McGuire went on cuttingly, as she glanced
+curiously around the Cabin.
+
+"So this is where you live? I seem to have spoiled your party. And may I
+ask who----" and her eyes traveled scornfully over Beth's figure,
+beginning at her shoes and ending at her flushed face--"I think I've
+seen you before----"
+
+"Miss McGuire," said Peter quietly, "This is Miss Cameron----"
+
+"Oh, yes--the kitchen maid."
+
+"Miss Beth Cameron," insisted Peter frigidly, "who has just done me the
+honor of promising to marry me."
+
+"Oh! I see----"
+
+Beth stared from one to the other, aware of the meaning of the visitor's
+manner and of Peter's reply.
+
+"That is not true," she said very quietly, her deep voice vibrant with
+emotion. "I come here often. Mr. Nichols is teaching me music. I am very
+proud of his friendship. But I did not promise to marry him."
+
+Peggy McGuire turned on her heel.
+
+"Well, it's almost time you did," she said insultingly.
+
+Peter, now pale and cold with fury, reached the door before her and
+stood blocking the passageway. "Miss McGuire, I'll trouble you to be
+more careful in addressing my guests," he said icily.
+
+"Let me pass----"
+
+"In a moment."
+
+"You'd dare----?"
+
+"I would like you to understand that this cabin is mine--while I am in
+Black Rock. Any guest here comes at my invitation and honors me by
+accepting my hospitality. But I reserve the privilege of saying who
+shall come and who shall not. I hope I make myself clear----" And Peter
+bowed low and then moved aside, indicating the door. "Good-night," he
+finished.
+
+Miss Peggy McGuire glared at him, red as a young turkey cock, her
+finishing school training just saving her from a tirade. "Oh, you! We'll
+see about this----" and dashed past him out of the door and disappeared
+into the darkness.
+
+Peter followed her with his angry gaze, struggling for his self-control,
+and at last turned into the room toward Beth, who now stood a smiling
+image turned into stone.
+
+"Why did you deny what I said, Beth?" he pleaded.
+
+"It wasn't the truth. I never promised to marry you. You never asked me
+to."
+
+"I _would_ have asked you. I ask you now. I _was_ asking you when that
+little fool came in----"
+
+"Maybe you were. Maybe you weren't. Maybe I'm a little hard of hearin'.
+But I'm not goin' to make _that_ an excuse for my bein' here----"
+
+"I don't understand----"
+
+"It's just that I came here because I wanted to come and because you
+wanted me. People have been talkin'. Let them talk. Let _her_ talk----"
+
+"She will. You can be pretty sure of that."
+
+Peter was pacing up and down the room, his hands behind him. "If she'd
+been a man----" he was muttering. "If she'd only been a man."
+
+Beth watched him a moment, still smiling.
+
+"Oh, I got what she meant--she was just tryin' to insult me."
+
+She laughed. "Seems as if she'd kind of succeeded. I suppose I ought to
+have scratched her face for her. I think I would have--if she'd just
+stayed a minute longer. Funny too, because I always used to think she
+was so sweet."
+
+Peter threw his arms wildly into the air and exploded.
+
+"Sweet! Sweet! _That_ girl! Yes, if vinegar is. She'll tear your
+reputation to shreds."
+
+Beth had stopped smiling now and leaned against the wall, her chin
+lowered.
+
+"I reckon it serves me right. I hadn't any business to be comin'
+here--not at night, anyway."
+
+"Oh, Beth," he pleaded, catching her hands. "Why couldn't you have let
+things be?"
+
+She struggled a little. And then, "Let _her_ think I was _engaged_ to
+you when I wasn't?" she gasped.
+
+"But we are, Beth, dear. Say we are, won't you?"
+
+"Not when we're not."
+
+"Beth----!"
+
+"You should have spoken sooner, if you'd really meant it. Oh, I know
+what it is. I've always known there's a difference between us."
+
+"No--not unless you make it."
+
+"Yes. It was there before I was born. You were brought up in a different
+kind of life in a different way of thinkin' from mine----"
+
+"What has that got to do with it?"
+
+"Everything. It's not my fault. And maybe I'm a little too proud. But
+I'm straight----"
+
+"Don't, Beth----" He put his arm around her but she disengaged herself
+gently.
+
+"No, let me finish. Maybe you wanted me. I guess you did. But not that
+much--not enough to speak out--and you were too straight to lie to me.
+I'm thankful for that----"
+
+"But I _have_ spoken, Beth," he insisted, taking her by the elbows and
+holding her so that he could look into her eyes. "I've asked you to--to
+be my wife. I ask you now. Is that clear?"
+
+Her eyes evaded him and she laughed uneasily.
+
+"Yes, it's clear--and--and your reason for it----"
+
+"I love you----"
+
+"A little, maybe. But I'll marry no man just to save my face--and his."
+
+But he caught her close to him, finding a new joy in his momentous
+decision. She struggled still, but he would not be denied.
+
+"Yes, you will," he whispered. "You've got to marry me whether you want
+to or not. You're compromised."
+
+"I don't care."
+
+"Oh, yes, you do. And you love me, Beth."
+
+"I don't love you----"
+
+"You do. And I'm going to marry you whether you want it or not."
+
+"Oh, _are_ you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"When?"
+
+"Soon."
+
+He kissed her. She didn't resist him. Resistance was useless. He had
+won.
+
+"Beth, dear," he went on. "I couldn't lie to you. I'm glad you knew
+that. And I couldn't hurt you. I think I've always loved you--from the
+first."
+
+"I too--I too," she whispered. "I couldn't help it."
+
+"I think I knew that too----"
+
+"No, no. You couldn't----"
+
+"Yes. It was meant to be. You've given a new meaning to life, torn from
+its very roots a whole rotten philosophy. Oh, you don't know what I
+mean--except that nobility is in the mind, beauty in the heart. Nothing
+else matters."
+
+"No. It doesn't," she sighed. "You see, I--I do believe in you."
+
+"Thank God! But you know nothing of me--nothing of my past----"
+
+"I don't care what your past has been or who you are. You're good enough
+for me. I'm satisfied----"
+
+He laughed joyously at the terms of her acquiescence.
+
+"Don't you want to know what I've been--who I am----?"
+
+"No. It wouldn't make any difference--not now."
+
+"I'll tell you some day."
+
+"I'll take a chance on that. I'm not afraid."
+
+"And whatever I am--you'll marry me?"
+
+"Yes. Whatever--you--are----"
+
+While he smiled down at her she straightened in his arms and gently
+released herself, glancing guiltily at the clock.
+
+"I--I must be going now," she whispered.
+
+And so through the quiet forest they went to Black Rock village, hand in
+hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+IDENTIFICATION
+
+
+The sudden and unexpected arrival of Miss Peggy McGuire upon the scene
+had been annoying. That young person was, as Peter knew, a soulless
+little snob and materialist with a mind which would not be slow to put
+the worst possible construction upon the situation. Of course as matters
+stood at the close of that extraordinary evening of self-revelations, it
+did not matter a great deal what Peggy McGuire thought or said or did,
+for nothing could hurt Beth now. The Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch had
+capitulated and Peter Nichols gloried in his victory over inherited
+tradition. He had no regrets and he had made his choice, for Beth was
+what he wanted. She completed him. She was effulgent,--even in homespun.
+A little tinsel more or less could make no difference in Beth. Those of
+his own class who would not accept her might go hang for all he cared.
+
+Still Peter had rather that almost any one but Peggy should have come
+upon the scene, and Beth's frankness had given her a handle for a
+scandal, if she chose to make one. Beth cared nothing, he knew, for her
+soul was greater than his, but Peter's anger still smoldered at the
+words that had been used to Beth.
+
+He did not fear complications with McGuire, nor did he court them, but
+he knew how this daughter had been brought up, spoiled and pampered to
+the very limits of McGuire's indulgence and fortune, and he couldn't
+help holding her up in comparison with Beth, much to Peggy's detriment.
+For Beth was a lady to her finger tips, born to a natural gentility that
+put to confusion the mannerisms of the "smart" finishing school which
+had not succeeded in concealing the strain of a plebeian origin, and
+Beth's dropped g's and her quaint inversions and locutions were
+infinitely more pleasing to Peter than Miss Peggy's slang and
+self-assurance, which reflected the modernity of the fashionable hotel
+tea-room.
+
+Fortunately, Jonathan K. McGuire, who had returned from the seashore the
+night before, was not disposed to take his daughter's animadversions too
+seriously and when Peter announced his engagement to the niece of his
+housekeeper he made no comment further than to offer his
+congratulations. He did not even know her name and when McGuire was told
+that it was Beth Cameron, Peter did not miss his slight start of
+inquiry. But of course, having only owned his acres of woodland for half
+a dozen years, he knew little as to the origins of the inhabitants of
+Black Rock and as Peter said nothing at that moment he asked no
+questions and only listened to the forester's account of the progress of
+the work and of the difficulties experienced in attempting to complete
+the timber-contract. There was no way of improving the labor situation
+and a visit to the camp proved to him that Peter had done all that could
+be expected with the poor material at hand. On the way back they stopped
+at the Cabin and Peter showed him the letter from Hawk Kennedy. And
+there for a while they sat discussing plans to outwit the enemy and draw
+his sting.
+
+It was going to be no easy task and could only be accomplished by
+Peter's apparent compliance with Kennedy's wishes in throwing in his lot
+with Hawk and simulating an enmity for his employer. McGuire nodded his
+head and listened soberly. The rest at the seashore had done him good
+and he was disposed to meet the situation with courage, reflecting
+Peter's own attitude of confidence and optimism, admitting that his
+confession to Peter had lifted a weight from his shoulders and given him
+the spirit to meet the issue, whatever it might be.
+
+"You see," he said at last, "if the worst comes I'm in a pretty bad
+hole. But it was the shock of meeting Hawk after all these years that
+took the courage out of me at first. I wasn't quite right in my head for
+a while. I'd have killed him gladly and gotten away with it perhaps--but
+I'm glad now that things turned out the way they did. I've got no blood
+on my hands--that's one thing--whatever I signed. I've been thinking a
+good deal since I've been away. If I signed that fake confession Hawk
+Kennedy signed it too. He won't dare to produce it except as a last
+resort in desperation, to drag me down with him if he fails. We can
+string him along for a while before he does that and if he falls for
+your game we may be able to get the paper away from him. You've thought
+of something, Nichols?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, of several things," said Peter slowly. "I'm going to try diplomacy
+first. If that doesn't work, then something else more drastic."
+
+McGuire rose at last and took up his hat.
+
+"I don't know how to thank you for what you've done, Nichols," he said
+awkwardly. "Of course if--if money will repay you for this sort of
+service, you can count on my doing what you think is right."
+
+Peter rose and walked to the window, looking out.
+
+"I was coming to that, Mr. McGuire," he said gravely.
+
+McGuire paused and laid his hat down again.
+
+"Before you went away," Peter went on, turning slowly toward his
+employer, "you told me that you had never made any effort to discover
+the whereabouts of any of the relatives of Ben Cameron. But I inferred
+from what you said that if you _did_ find them, you'd be willing to do
+your duty. That's true, isn't it?"
+
+McGuire examined him soberly but agreed.
+
+"Yes, that's true. But why do you bring this question up now?"
+
+"I'll explain in a moment. Mr. McGuire, you are said to be a very rich
+man, how rich I don't know, but I think you'll be willing to admit to
+me, knowing what I do of your history, that without the 'Tarantula' mine
+and the large sum it brought you you would never have succeeded in
+getting to your present position in the world of finance."
+
+"I'll admit that. But I don't see----"
+
+"You will in a minute, sir----"
+
+"Go on."
+
+"If I have been correctly informed, you sold out your copper holdings in
+Madre Gulch for something like half a million dollars----" Peter paused
+for McGuire's comment. He made none. But he had sunk into his chair
+again and was listening intently.
+
+"The interest on half a million dollars, even at six per cent, if
+compounded, would in fifteen years amount with the principal to a
+considerable sum."
+
+"Ah, I see what you're getting at----"
+
+"You will admit that what I say is true?"
+
+"Yes----"
+
+"You'll admit also, if you're reasonable, that the money which founded
+your great fortune was as a matter of fact not yours but Ben
+Cameron's----?"
+
+"But why speak of him now?" muttered the old man.
+
+"Do you admit this?"
+
+McGuire frowned and then growled, "How can I help admitting it, since
+you know the facts? But I don't see----"
+
+"Well then, admitting that the 'Tarantula' mine was Ben Cameron's and
+not yours or Hawk Kennedy's, it seems clear that if any of Ben Cameron's
+heirs should turn up unexpectedly, they might claim at least a share of
+what should have been their own."
+
+McGuire had started forward in his chair, his gaze on Peter's face, as
+the truth was suddenly borne in upon him.
+
+"You mean, Nichols, that----." He paused and gasped as Peter nodded.
+
+"I mean that Ben Cameron's only child, a daughter, lives here at Black
+Rock--the niece of your housekeeper--Mrs. Bergen----"
+
+"Miss Cameron--My God!" McGuire fell back in his chair, staring at
+Peter, incapable of further speech.
+
+"Beth Cameron," said Peter gently, "the lady who has done me the honor
+of promising to become my wife----"
+
+"But how do you know?" gasped McGuire. "There must be some mistake. Are
+you sure you----" He broke off and then a sly smile curled at the
+corners of his lips. "You know, Nichols, Cameron is not an unusual name.
+It's quite possible that you're--er--mistaken."
+
+"No. I'm quite sure there's no mistake. I think the facts can be
+proved--that is, of course, if you're willing to help to establish this
+claim and to admit it when established. Otherwise I intend to establish
+it without your assistance--as an act of justice and of--er--retribution."
+
+McGuire watched his superintendent's face for a while before replying.
+And then, briefly, "What are the facts on which you base this
+extraordinary statement?" he asked.
+
+"I'll present those facts when the time comes, Mr. McGuire," said Peter
+at a venture. "I don't think it will be a difficult matter to identify
+the murdered man. He wrote home once or twice. He can be traced
+successfully. But what I would like to know first is what your
+disposition toward his daughter will be when the proper proofs are
+presented."
+
+"_If_ they're presented," said McGuire.
+
+"Will you answer me?"
+
+"It would seem time enough to answer then. I'll do the right thing."
+
+"Meaning what?"
+
+"Money enough to satisfy her."
+
+"That won't do. She must have what is hers by right. Her price is one
+million dollars," said Peter quietly.
+
+McGuire started up. "You're dreaming," he gasped.
+
+"It's her money."
+
+"But I developed that mine."
+
+"It was her mine that you developed."
+
+McGuire stopped by the window and turned.
+
+"And if I refuse----?"
+
+"I don't think you will----"
+
+The two men stared at each other, but Peter had the whip hand--or
+McGuire thought he had, which was quite sufficient.
+
+"Will you help me to perform this act of justice?" Peter went on calmly.
+"It's the only thing to do, Mr. McGuire. Can't you see that?"
+
+McGuire paced the floor heavily a few times before replying. And then,
+
+"I've got to think this thing over, Nichols. It's all so very sudden--a
+million dollars. My God! man, you talk of a million as if it grew on the
+trees." He stopped abruptly before the fireplace and turned to Peter.
+"And where does Hawk Kennedy come in on this?"
+
+"Beth Cameron's claim comes before his--or yours," said Peter quietly.
+"Whatever happens to either of you--it's not her fault."
+
+Peter hadn't intended a threat. He was simply stating the principal
+thought of his mind. But it broke McGuire's front. He leaned upon the
+armchair and then fell heavily into it, his head buried in his hands.
+
+"I'll do--whatever you say," he groaned at last, "but you've got to get
+me out of this, Nichols. I've got to have that paper."
+
+Peter poured out a drink of the whisky and silently handed it to his
+employer.
+
+"Come, Mr. McGuire," he said cheerfully, "we'll do what we can. There'll
+be a way to outwit Hawk Kennedy."
+
+"I hope to God there is," muttered McGuire helplessly.
+
+"I'll make a bargain with you."
+
+"What?" asked McGuire helplessly.
+
+"If I get the confession from Kennedy, you give Beth Cameron the money I
+ask for."
+
+"No publicity?"
+
+"None. I give you my word on it."
+
+"Well," muttered the old man, "I guess it's coming to her. I'll see." He
+paused helplessly. "A million dollars! That's a big sum to get together.
+A big price--but not too big to clear this load off my conscience."
+
+"Good. I'm glad you see it in this way."
+
+The old man turned shrewdly. "But I've got to have the proofs----"
+
+"Very well. If you're honest in your intentions you'll help me confirm
+the evidence."
+
+"Yes," said the other slowly. "I'll do what I can."
+
+"Then perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me what Ben Cameron looked
+like----"
+
+"I've told you as near as I can remember," muttered McGuire.
+
+"Had the murdered man, for instance, lost the little finger of his left
+hand?" asked Peter, coolly concealing the anxiety which lay behind his
+question.
+
+But he had his reward, for McGuire shot a quick glance at him, his
+heavy jowl sagging. And as he didn't reply, Peter urged him
+triumphantly.
+
+"You promised to help. Will you answer me truthfully? It will save
+asking a lot of questions."
+
+At last McGuire threw up his hands.
+
+"Yes," he muttered, "that was Ben Cameron. One of his little fingers was
+missing all right enough."
+
+"Thanks," said Peter, with an air of closing the interview. "If you want
+this proof that the murdered man was Beth's father, ask Mrs. Bergen."
+
+There was a silence. Peter had won. McGuire gathered up his hat with the
+mien of a broken man and moved toward the door.
+
+"All right, Nichols. I guess there's no doubt of it. I'll admit the
+proof's strong enough. It can be further verified, I suppose, but I'd
+rather no questions were asked. You do your part and I--I'll do mine."
+
+"Very good, sir. You can count on me. If that fake agreement is still in
+existence, I'll get it for you. If it has been destroyed----"
+
+"I'll have to have proof of that----"
+
+"Won't you leave that in my hands?"
+
+McGuire nodded, shook Peter's hand and wandered out up the path in the
+direction of Black Rock House.
+
+From the first, Peter had had no doubt that the murdered man was Beth's
+father, but he had to admit under McGuire's questioning that there might
+still be a difficulty in tracing the vagrant from the meager history of
+his peregrinations that Mrs. Bergen had been able to provide. McGuire's
+attitude in regard to the absent little finger had been really
+admirable. Peter was thankful for that little finger, and for McGuire's
+honesty. There was no doubt in his mind now--if any had existed--who Ben
+Cameron's murderer was. The affair was simplified amazingly. With Beth's
+claim recognized, Peter could now enter heart and soul into the
+interesting business of beating Hawk Kennedy at his own game. He would
+win--he must win, for the pitiful millionaire and for Beth.
+
+And so, jubilantly, he made his way to Black Rock village to fill a very
+agreeable engagement that he had, to take supper (cooked and served by
+her own hands) with Miss Beth Cameron. He found that Beth had tried to
+prevail upon Aunt Tillie to be present but that the arrival of the
+McGuire family at Black Rock House had definitely prevented the
+appearance of their chaperon. Peter's appetite, however, suffered little
+diminution upon that account and he learned that singing was not Beth's
+only accomplishment. The rolls, as light as feathers and steaming hot,
+were eloquent of her skill, the chicken was broiled to a turn, the
+creamed potatoes delicious, and the apple pie of puff-paste provoked
+memories of the Paris Ritz. Aunt Tillie's best tablecloth and family
+silver--old, by the looks of it--had been brought into requisition and a
+bunch of goldenrod and purple asters graced the centerpiece. And above
+it all presided Beth, her face aflame from the cookstove, gracious and
+more than lovable in her pride and self-consciousness.
+
+When the supper was finished, Peter helped her to clear away the things
+and insisted on being allowed to help wash the dishes. But to this Beth
+demurred for they were of Aunt Tillie's blue colonial china set and not
+to be trusted to impious hands. But she let Peter sit in the kitchen and
+watch her (which was quite satisfactory) and even spared him a kiss or
+two at propitious intervals.
+
+Then when all things had been set to rights they went into the little
+parlor and sat on the worn Victorian plush-covered sofa. There was much
+to talk about, matters of grave importance that concerned themselves
+alone, explanations to be made, hopes to be expressed, and Beth's affair
+with McGuire to be discussed in all its phases. Peter told her nothing
+of his rank or station in life, saving that revelation for a later
+moment. Was not the present all-sufficient? And hadn't Beth told him and
+didn't she tell him again now that she believed in him and that "no
+matter what" she loved him and was his, for ever after, Amen. She didn't
+care who he was, you see.
+
+And when the important business of affirming those vows was concluded
+again and again, the scarcely less important business of Beth's future
+was talked over with a calmness which did much credit to Beth's control
+of the situation. Peter brought out Hawk Kennedy's letter and they read
+it together, and talked about it, Peter explaining his intention to
+acquiesce in Hawk's plan. Then Peter told of his conversation with
+McGuire and of the proof of Ben Cameron's identity which the old man had
+honestly admitted.
+
+"It looks very much, Beth," said Peter at last, with a smile, "as though
+you were going to be a very wealthy young woman."
+
+"Oh, Peter," she sighed (the elimination of formal appellations had been
+accomplished during the earlier stages of the repast), "Oh, Peter, I
+hope it isn't going to bring us unhappiness."
+
+"Unhappiness! Why, Beth!"
+
+"Oh, I don't know. It seems to me that people with a lot of money always
+look unhappy wantin' _to want_ somethin'."
+
+He laughed.
+
+"The secret of successful wanting is only to want the things you can
+get."
+
+"That's just the trouble. With a million dollars I'll get so much more
+than I want. And what then----?"
+
+"You'll have to start all over again."
+
+"No," she said quietly. "I won't. If wantin' things she can't buy makes
+a girl _hard_, like Peggy McGuire, I think I'd rather be poor."
+
+Peter grew grave again.
+
+"Nothing could ever make you like Peggy McGuire," he said.
+
+"I might be--if I ever get into the habit of thinkin' I was somethin'
+that I wasn't."
+
+"You'll never be a snob, Beth, no matter how much money you have."
+
+"I hope not," she said with a laugh. "My nose turns up enough already."
+And then, wistfully, "But I always _did_ want a _cerise_ veil."
+
+"I've no doubt you'll get it, a _cerise_ veil--mauve, green and blue
+ones too. I'll be having to keep an eye on you when you go to the city."
+
+She eyed him gravely and then, "I don't like to hear you talk like
+that."
+
+But he kept to his topic for the mere delight of hearing her replies.
+
+"But then you might see somebody you liked better than me."
+
+She smiled at him gently. "If I'd 'a' thought that I wouldn't 'a' picked
+you out in the first place."
+
+"Then you did pick me out. When?"
+
+"H-m. Wouldn't you like to know!"
+
+"Yes. At the Cabin?"
+
+"No----"
+
+"At McGuire's----?"
+
+"No-o. Before that----"
+
+"When----"
+
+She blushed very prettily and laughed.
+
+"Down Pickerel River road."
+
+"Did you, Beth?"
+
+"Yes. I liked your looks. You _do_ smile like you meant it, Peter. I
+said to myself that anybody that could bow from the middle like you was
+good enough for me."
+
+"Now you're making fun of me."
+
+"Oh, no. I'm not. You see, dear, you've really lived up to that bow!"
+
+"I hope," said Peter gently, "I hope I always will."
+
+"I'm not worryin'. And I'm glad I knew you loved me before you knew
+about the money."
+
+"You did know, then----"
+
+"Yes. What bothered me was your findin' it so hard to tell me so."
+
+Peter was more awkward and self-conscious at that moment than he could
+ever remember having been in his life. Her frankness shamed him--made it
+seem difficult for him ever to tell her the real reasons for his
+hesitation. What chance would the exercise of inherited tradition have
+in the judgment of this girl who dealt instinctively and intimately with
+the qualities of the mind and heart, and only with them?
+
+"I--I was not good enough for you," he muttered.
+
+She put her fingers over his lips. And when he kissed them--took them
+away and gave him her lips.
+
+"I'll hear no more of _that_, Peter Nichols," she whispered. "You're
+good enough for me----"
+
+Altogether, it may be said that the evening was a success at every angle
+from which Peter chose to view it. And he made his way back to the Cabin
+through the deep forest along the path that Beth had worn, the path to
+his heart past all the fictitious barriers that custom had built about
+him. The meddlesome world was not. Here was the _novaya jezn_ that his
+people had craved and shouted for. He had found it. New
+life--happiness--with a mate ... his woman--soon to be his wife--whether
+Beth Nichols or the Grand Duchess Elizabeth...? There was no title of
+nobility that could make Beth's heart more noble, no pride of lineage
+that could give her a higher place than that which she already held in
+his heart.
+
+His blood surging, he ran along the log at the crossing and up the path
+to the Cabin, where a surprise awaited him. For he found the lamp
+lighted, and, seated complacently in Peter's easy chair, stockinged feet
+toward the blaze of a fresh log, a bottle at his elbow, was Hawk
+Kennedy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+PETER BECOMES A CONSPIRATOR
+
+
+Peter entered and stood by the door, startled from his rhapsody by the
+appearance of the intruder, who had made himself quite at home,
+regardless of the fact that the final words of their last meeting had
+given no promise of a friendship which would make his air of easy
+familiarity acceptable to Peter, whose first impulse moved him to anger,
+fortunately controlled as he quickly remembered how much hung upon the
+assumption of an amicable relationship with McGuire's arch enemy. Peter
+hadn't replied to Hawk's letter which had indicated that some weeks
+might elapse before Black Rock received another of his visitations. The
+speculations in Peter's mind as to the change in his visitor's plans and
+the possible causes for them may have been marked in his face, for Hawk
+grinned at him amiably and rose and offered his hand with an air of
+assurance.
+
+"Wondering why I dropped in on you so unexpected-like? Let's say that I
+got tired of staring at the lonely grandeur of Pike's Peak, _mon gars_,
+or that the lady who gave me the pleasure of her society skipped for
+Denver with a younger man, or that the high altitude played
+Billy-be-damned with my nerves, and you'll have excuse enough. But the
+fact is, Pete, I _was_ a bit nervous at being so long away from the
+center of financial operations, and thought I'd better come right on and
+talk to you."
+
+"I got your letter," said Peter calmly, "I hadn't answered it yet----"
+
+"I thought it better to come for my answer."
+
+"I've been thinking it over----"
+
+"Good. It will be worth thinkin' over. You'll bless the day Jim Coast
+ran athwart your course."
+
+"You seem to be taking a good deal for granted."
+
+"I do. I always do. Until the present opportunity it was about the only
+thing I got a chance to take. You wouldn't of done me a good turn that
+night, if you hadn't been O.K. Will you have a drink of your own? It's
+good stuff--ten years in the wood, I see by the label, and I'm glad to
+get it, for whisky is scarcer than hen's teeth between this and the
+Rockies."
+
+As Peter nodded he poured out the drinks and settled down in Peter's
+chair with the air of one very much at home.
+
+"Well, Pete, what's yer answer to be?" he said at last. "You weren't any
+too polite when I left here. But I didn't think you'd turn me down
+altogether. And you're straight. I know that. I've been countin' on your
+sense of justice. How would _you_ like to be treated the way _I_ was
+treated by Mike McGuire?"
+
+"I wouldn't like it."
+
+"You just bet you wouldn't. You wouldn't stand for it, _you_ wouldn't.
+I've got justice on my side and I've got the law--if I choose to use
+it--but I'd rather win this case as man to man--without its getting into
+the newspapers. That wouldn't matter much to a poor man like me, but it
+would make a heap of difference to a man who stands where McGuire does."
+
+"That's true."
+
+"Yes. And he knows it. He hasn't got a leg to stand on." Kennedy paused
+and looked Peter over coolly. Peter had been studying the situation
+critically, playing his game with some care, willing to placate his
+visitor and yet taking pains not to be too eager to gain his
+confidence. So he carefully lighted his cigarette while he debated his
+course of action.
+
+"What makes you think that I'm in a different mood now from when you
+left here?"
+
+"Haven't I told you? Because I believe that you know that right's right
+and wrong's wrong."
+
+"But I told you that I didn't want to have anything to do with the
+case."
+
+"True for you. But you will when I've finished talking to you."
+
+"Will I?"
+
+"You will if you're not a fool, which you ain't. I always said you had
+somethin' between your ears besides ivory. You don't like to stay poor
+any more than anybody else. You don't have to. A good half of McGuire's
+money is mine. If it hadn't been for me helpin' to smell that copper out
+he'd of been out there grub-stakin' yet an' that's a fact. But I'm not
+goin' to be too hard on him. I'm no hog. I'm goin' to let him down easy.
+What's a million more or less to him? It might pinch him a little here
+and there sellin' out securities he had a fancy for, but in a year or so
+he'd have it all back and more, the way he works. Oh, I know. I've found
+out a bit since I've been away. And he'll come across all right, when he
+hears what I've got to say to him."
+
+"Why don't you go to him direct?" asked Peter.
+
+"And have him barricadin' the house and shootin' promiscuous at me from
+the windows? Not on your life. I know what I'm about. This thing has got
+to be done quiet. There's no use stirring up a dirty scandal to hurt his
+reputation for honest dealin' in New York. Even as it is, the story has
+got around about the mystery of Black Rock. No use makin' talk. That's
+why I want you. You stand ace high with the old man. He'll listen to you
+and we'll work the game all right and proper."
+
+"But suppose he won't listen to me."
+
+"Then we'll put the screws on."
+
+"What screws?"
+
+Hawk Kennedy closed one eye and squinted the other at Peter quizzically.
+
+"I'll tell you that all in good time. But first I've got to know how you
+stand in the matter."
+
+Peter judicially examined the ash of his cigarette. "He ought to do the
+right thing," he said slowly.
+
+"He will--never you fear. But can I count on _you_, Pete?"
+
+"What do you want me to do?" asked Peter after a moment.
+
+"Oh, now we're talkin'. But wait a minute. We won't go so fast. Are you
+with me sure enough--hope I may die--cross my heart?"
+
+"If you'll make it worth my while," said Peter cautiously.
+
+"A hundred thousand. How's that?"
+
+"It sounds all right. But I can't see what I can do that you couldn't do
+yourself."
+
+"Don't you? Well, you don't know all this story. There's some of it you
+haven't heard. Maybe it's that will convince you you're makin' no
+mistake----"
+
+"Well--I'm listening."
+
+A shrewd look came into Kennedy's face--a narrowing of the eyelids, a
+drawing of the muscles at the mouth, as he searched Peter's face with a
+sharp glance.
+
+"If you play me false, Pete, I'll have your heart's blood," he said.
+
+Peter only laughed at him.
+
+"I'm not easily scared. Save the melodrama for McGuire. If you can do
+without me--go ahead. Play your hand alone. Don't tell me anything. I
+don't want to know."
+
+The bluff worked, for Kennedy relaxed at once.
+
+"Oh, you're a cool hand. I reckon you think I need you or I wouldn't be
+here. Well, that's so. I do need you. And I'm goin' to tell you the
+truth--even if it gives away my hand."
+
+"Suit yourself," said Peter, indifferently.
+
+He watched his old "bunkie" pour out another drink of the whisky, and a
+definite plan of action took shape in his mind. If he could only get
+Kennedy drunk enough.... The whisky bottle was almost empty--so Peter
+got up, went to his cupboard and brought forth another one.
+
+"Good old Pete!" said Hawk. "Seems like July the first didn't make much
+difference to you."
+
+"A present from Mr. McGuire," Peter explained.
+
+"Well, here's to his fat bank account. May it soon be ours." And he
+drank copiously. Peter filled his own glass but when the opportunity
+offered poured most of it into the slop-bowl just behind him.
+
+"I'm goin' to tell you, Pete, about me and McGuire--about how we got
+that mine. It ain't a pretty story. I told you some of it but not the
+real part--nobody but Mike McGuire and I know that--and he wouldn't tell
+if it was the last thing he said on earth."
+
+"Oh," said Peter, "something crooked, eh?"
+
+Kennedy laid his bony fingers along Peter's arm while his voice sank to
+an impressive whisper.
+
+"Crooked as Hell, Pete--crooked as Hell. You wouldn't think Mike McGuire
+was a murderer--would you?"
+
+"A murderer----!"
+
+Kennedy nodded. "We took that mine--stole it from the poor guy who had
+staked out his claim. Mike killed him----"
+
+"You don't mean----?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Killed him--stuck him in the ribs with a knife when he
+wasn't lookin'. What do you think of that?"
+
+"McGuire--a murderer----!"
+
+"Sure. Nice sort of a boss you've got! And he could swing for it if I
+didn't hold my tongue."
+
+"This is serious----"
+
+"You bet it is--if he don't come across. Now I guess you know why he was
+so cut up when I showed up around here. I've got it on him all right."
+
+"Can you prove it?"
+
+Kennedy rubbed his chin for a moment.
+
+"I could but I don't want to. You see--Pete----" He paused again and
+blinked pensively at his glass. "Well, you see--in a manner of
+speakin'--he's got it on me too."
+
+And Peter listened while his villainous companion related the well known
+tale of the terrible compact between the two men in which both of them
+had agreed in writing to share the guilt of the crime, carefully
+omitting to state the compulsion as used upon McGuire. Hawk Kennedy
+lied. If Peter had ever needed any further proof of the honesty of his
+employer he read it in the shifting eye and uncertain verbiage of his
+guest, whose tongue now wagged loosely while he talked of the two
+papers, one of which was in McGuire's possession, the other in his own.
+Hawk was no pleasant companion for an evening's entertainment. From the
+interesting adventurer of the _Bermudian_, Jim Coast had been slowly
+changing under Peter's eyes into a personality more formidable and
+sinister. And the drink seemed to be bringing into importance
+potentialities for evil at which Peter had only guessed. That he meant
+to fight to the last ditch for the money was clear, and if the worst
+came would even confess, dragging McGuire down among the ruins of both
+their lives. In his drunken condition it would have been ridiculously
+easy for Peter to have overpowered him, but he was not sure to what end
+that would lead.
+
+"You say there were two papers," said Peter. "Where are they?"
+
+"McGuire's got his--here at Black Rock," muttered Hawk.
+
+"How do you know that?" asked Peter with interest.
+
+"Where would he keep it?" sneered Hawk. "In his business papers for
+'zecutors to look over?"
+
+"And where's yours?" asked Peter.
+
+He hoped for some motion of Kennedy's fingers to betray its whereabouts,
+but the man only poured out another drink and leered at Peter
+unpleasantly.
+
+"That'sh _my_ business," he said with a sneer.
+
+"Oh. Is it? I thought I was to have a hand in this."
+
+Kennedy grinned.
+
+"Y'are. Your job is t' get other paper from McGuire's safe. And then
+we'll have fortune in--hic--nutshell."
+
+The man wasn't as drunk as he seemed. Peter shrugged.
+
+"I see. I've got to turn burglar to join your little criminal society.
+Suppose I refuse?"
+
+"Y' won't. Why, Pete, it ought to be easiest job in world. A few dropsh
+in glass when you're talkin' business and he'd never know it happened.
+Then we 'beat it,' y'understand, 'n' write lettersh--nice lettersh. One
+of 'em to that swell daughter of his. That would do the business,
+_pronto_."
+
+"Yes, it might," admitted Peter ruminatively.
+
+"Sure it will--but we'll give him chance. Are y' on?" he asked.
+
+Peter was silent for a moment. And then,
+
+"I don't see why you want that paper of McGuire's," he said. "They're
+exactly alike, you say--both incriminating. And if you've got your paper
+handy----"
+
+Peter paused but Kennedy was in the act of swallowing another glass of
+whisky and he didn't stop to answer the half-formulated query. He gave a
+gasp of satisfaction and then shrugged.
+
+"No use, Pete," he said huskily. "I said I had paper and I _have_ paper
+handy, but I've got to have McGuire's paper too. I ain't got money and
+spotless rep'tation like Mike McGuire but I don't want paper like that
+floatin' roun' universh with _my_ name signed to it."
+
+"I don't blame you," said Peter dryly.
+
+Hawk Kennedy was talking thickly now and spilled the whisky in trying to
+pour out a new glassful.
+
+"Goo' whisky this--goo' ole whisky, Pete. Goo' ole Peter. Say, you'll
+get pater, Peep--I mean Peter pape--Oh H---- Paper. _You_ know."
+
+"I'll have to think about it, Jim."
+
+"Can't think when yer drunk, Pete," he muttered with an expiring grin.
+"To-morr'. 'Nother drink an' then we'll go sleep. Don't mind my sleepin'
+here, Pete. Nice plache shleep. Goo' old shleep...."
+
+Peter paused in the act of pouring out another drink for him and then at
+a sound from Kennedy set the bottle down again. The man suddenly
+sprawled sideways in the chair, his head back, snoring heavily. Peter
+watched him for a moment, sure that he couldn't be shamming and then
+looked around the disordered room. Hawk's overcoat and hat lay on the
+bed. On tiptoe Peter got up and examined them carefully, watching the
+man in the chair intently the while. Hawk stirred but did not awaken.
+Peter searched the overcoat inch by inch. There was nothing in the
+pockets, but a tin of tobacco and a Philadelphia newspaper. So Peter
+restored the articles and then hung the hat and coat on the nails behind
+the door. Hawk Kennedy did not move. He was dead drunk.
+
+The repulsive task of searching the recumbent figure now lay before him.
+But the game had been worth the candle. If the fateful confession was
+anywhere in Hawk's clothing Peter meant to find it and yet even now he
+hesitated. He put the whisky bottle away, cleared up the mess and then
+bodily picked his visitor up and carried him to the bed. Hawk muttered
+something in his sleep but fell prone and immediately was snoring
+stertorously. Then Peter went through his pockets methodically, removing
+an automatic pistol from his trousers, and examining all his papers
+carefully by the light of the lamp-a hotel bill receipted, some letters
+in a woman's hand, a few newspaper clippings bearing on the copper
+market, a pocketbook containing bills of large denomination, some soiled
+business cards of representatives of commercial houses, a notebook
+containing addresses and small accounts, a pass book of a Philadelphia
+bank, the address of which Peter noted. And that was all. Exhausting
+every resource Peter went over the lining of his coat and vest, inch by
+inch, even examined his underwear and his shoes and stockings. From the
+skin out, Hawk Kennedy had now no secrets from Peter. The incriminating
+confession was not on Hawk Kennedy's clothing.
+
+At last Peter gave up the search and went out into the air, and lighted
+his corncob pipe, puzzled at his failure. And yet, was it a failure
+after all? Hawk had eluded every attempt to discuss his copy of the
+confession. He had it "handy," he had said. A safe deposit box at the
+Philadelphia bank of which Peter had made record would be handy, but
+somehow Peter thought the chances were much against Kennedy's having put
+it there. Men of his type usually carry everything they possess about
+their persons. Peter remembered the ragged wallet of the _Bermudian_.
+What if after all these years of hardship the paper had been worn so
+that it was entirely illegible, or indeed that in Kennedy's many
+wanderings it had been lost? Either of these theories was plausible, but
+none provoked a decision. So after awhile Peter went indoors and opening
+all the windows and doors to cleanse the air, sat in the big chair and
+bundling himself in a blanket fell asleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+FACE TO FACE
+
+
+We are told, alas, that at the highest moment of our expectations the
+gods conspire to our undoing, and therefore that it is wise to take our
+joys a little sadly, that we may not fall too far. But Beth, being
+wholesome of mind and body and an optimist by choice, was not disposed
+to question the completeness of her contentment or look for any dangers
+which might threaten its continuance. And so when Peter went home
+through the forest, she took her kerosene lamp to her room, there to
+smile at her joyous countenance in the mirror and to assure herself that
+never since the beginning of the world had there been a girl more glad
+that she had been born. All the clouds that had hung about her since
+that evening in the woods had been miraculously rolled away and she knew
+again as she had known before that Peter Nichols was the one man in all
+the world for her.
+
+Their evening together was a wonderful thing to contemplate, and she lay
+in bed, her eyes wide open, staring toward the window, beyond which in a
+dark mass against the starlit sky she could see the familiar pines,
+through which was the path to Peter's cabin. The stars twinkled jovially
+with assurance that the night could not be long and that beyond the
+night were to-morrows still more wonderful than to-day. And praying
+gently that all might be well with them both, she fell asleep, not even
+to dream.
+
+Early morning found her brisk at her work around the house, cleansing
+and polishing, finishing to her satisfaction the tasks which Peter's
+impatience had forbidden the night before. All of Aunt Tillie's blue
+china set was carefully restored to its shelves, the napery folded away,
+the shiny pots hung upon their hooks and the kitchen carefully mopped.
+Then, with a towel wrapped about her head (for such was the custom of
+the country), she attacked the dining-room and parlor with broom and
+dust-cloth, singing _arpeggios_ to remind herself that everything was
+right with the world.
+
+It was upon the plush-covered sofa where she and Peter had sat the night
+before that Beth's orderly eye espied a square of paper just upon the
+point of disappearing in the crease between the seat and back of Aunt
+Tillie's most cherished article of furniture and of course she pounced
+upon it with the intention of destroying it at the cookstove. But when
+she drew it forth, she found that it was an envelope, heliotrope in
+color, that it bore Peter's name in a feminine handwriting, and that it
+had a strange delicate odor with which Beth was unfamiliar. She held it
+in her hand and looked at the writing, then turned it over and over, now
+holding it more gingerly by the tip ends of her fingers. Then she
+sniffed at it again. It was a queer perfume--strange--like violet mixed
+with some kind of spice.
+
+She put her broom aside and walked to the window, her brow puckered, and
+scrutinized the postmark. "London!" Of course--London was in England
+where Peter had once lived. And Peter had drawn the letter from his
+pocket last night with some other papers when he had shown her the
+communication from "Hawk" Kennedy. It was lucky that she had found it,
+for it might have slipped down behind the plush covering, and so have
+been definitely lost. Of course Peter had friends in London and of
+course they should wish to write to him, but for the first time it
+seemed curious to Beth that in all their conversations Peter had never
+volunteered any information as to the life that he had lived before he
+had come to Black Rock. She remembered now that she had told him that
+whatever his past had been and whoever he was, he was good enough for
+her. But the heliotrope envelope with the feminine handwriting and the
+strange odor immediately suggested queries along lines of investigation
+which had never before entered her thoughts. Who was the lady of the
+delicate script and the strange perfume? What was her relationship to
+Peter? And upon what topic was she writing to him?
+
+Beth slipped the note about a quarter of an inch out of its envelope
+until she could just see a line of the writing and then quickly thrust
+it in again, put the envelope on the mantel above the "parlor heater"
+and resolutely went on with her sweeping. From time to time she stopped
+her work and looked at it just to be sure that it was still there and at
+last took it up in her fingers again, a prey to a more lively curiosity
+than any she had ever known. She put the envelope down again and turning
+her back to it went into the kitchen. Of course Peter would tell her who
+this lady was if she asked him. And there was no doubt at all that it
+_was_ a lady who had written the letter, some one familiar with a
+delicate mode of existence and given to refinements which had been
+denied to Beth. It was this delicacy and refinement, this flowing
+inscription written with such careless ease and grace which challenged
+Beth's rusticity. She would have liked to ask Peter about the lady at
+once. But Peter would not be at the Cabin at this early hour of the
+morning, nor would Beth be able to see him until late this
+afternoon--perhaps not until to-night. Meanwhile, the note upon the
+mantel was burning its way into her consciousness. It was endued with a
+personality feminine, insidious and persuasive. No ladies of London
+affecting heliotrope envelopes had any business writing scented notes to
+Peter now. He was Beth's particular property....
+
+When she went up to the second floor of the cottage a few minutes later
+she took the heliotrope letter with her and put it on her bureau,
+propped against the pincushion, while she went on with her work. And
+then, all her duties for the morning finished, she sat down in her
+rocking chair by the window, the envelope in her idle fingers, a victim
+of temptation. She looked out at the pine woods, her gaze afar, her
+guilty fingers slipping the letter out of its covering an inch, two
+inches. And then Beth opened Peter's heliotrope note and read it. At
+least, she read as much of it as she could understand,--the parts that
+were written in English--with growing amazement and incertitude. A good
+deal of the English part even was Greek to her, but she could understand
+enough to know that a mystery of some sort hung about the letter and
+about Peter, that he was apparently a person of some importance to the
+heliotrope lady who addressed him in affectionate terms and with the
+utmost freedom. Beth had learned in the French ballads which Peter had
+taught her that _ami_ meant friend and that _bel_ meant beautiful. And
+as the whole of the paragraph containing those words was written in
+English, Beth had little difficulty in understanding it. What had Peter
+to do with the cause of Holy Russia? And what was this danger to him
+from hidden enemies, which could make necessary this discretion and
+watchfulness in Black Rock? And the last sentence of all danced before
+Beth's eyes as though it had been written in letters of fire. "There is
+at least one heart in London that ever beats fondly in memory of the
+dear dead days at Galitzin and Zukovo."
+
+What right had the heliotrope lady's heart to beat fondly in memory of
+dear dead days with Peter Nichols at Galitzin or Zukovo or anywhere
+else? Who was she? Was she young? Was she beautiful? And what right had
+Peter given her to address him in terms of such affection? Anastasie!
+
+And now for the first time in her life, though to all outward appearance
+calm, Beth felt the pangs of jealousy. This letter, most of it in the
+queer-looking script (probably Russian) that she could not even read, in
+its strange references in English to things beyond her knowledge, seemed
+suddenly to erect a barrier between her and Peter that could never be
+passed, or even to indicate a barrier between them that had always
+existed without her knowledge. And if all of the parts of the letter
+that she could not understand contained sentiments like the English part
+that she _could_ understand, it was a very terrible letter indeed and
+indicated that this heliotrope woman (she was no longer "lady" now) had
+claims upon Peter's heart which came long before Beth's. And if this
+Anastasie--other women too....
+
+Beth read the letter again and then slipped it back into its envelope,
+while she gazed out of the window at the pines, a frown at her brows and
+two tiny lines curving downward at the corners of her lips. She was very
+unhappy. But she was angry too--angry at the heliotrope woman, angry at
+Peter and angrier still at herself. In that moment she forgot that she
+had taken Peter Nichols without reference to what he was or had been.
+She had told him that only the future mattered and now she knew that the
+past was beginning to matter very much indeed.
+
+After a while she got up, and took the heliotrope letter to the bureau
+where she wrote upon the envelope rather viciously with a soft lead
+pencil, "You left _this_ last night. You'd better go back to Anastasie."
+Then she slipped the letter into her waist and with an air of decision
+went down the stairs (the ominous parentheses still around her mouth),
+and made her way with rapid footsteps toward the path through the forest
+which led toward Peter's cabin.
+
+Beth was primitive, highly honorable by instinct if not by precept, but
+a creature of impulse, very much in love, who read by intuition the
+intrusion of what seemed a very real danger to her happiness. If her
+conscience warned her that she was transgressing the rules of polite
+procedure, something stronger than a sense of propriety urged her on to
+read, something stronger than mere curiosity--the impulse of
+self-preservation, the impulse to preserve that which was stronger even
+than self--the love of Peter Nichols.
+
+The scrawl that she had written upon the envelope was eloquent of her
+point of view, at once a taunt, a renunciation and a confession. "You
+left _this_ last night. You'd better go back to Anastasie!"
+
+It was the intention of carrying the letter to Peter's cabin and there
+leaving it in a conspicuous position that now led her rapidly down the
+path through the woods. Gone were the tender memories of the night
+before. If this woman had had claims upon Peter Nichols's heart at the
+two places with the Russian names, she had the same claims upon them
+now. Beth's love and her pride waged a battle within her as she
+approached the Cabin. She remembered that Peter had told her last night
+that he would have a long day at the lumber camp, but as she crossed the
+log-jam she found herself hoping that by some chance she would find
+Peter still at home, where, with a fine dignity (which she mentally
+rehearsed) she would demand explanation, and listening, grant
+forgiveness. Or else ... she didn't like to think of the alternative.
+
+But instead of Peter, at the Cabin door in the early morning sunlight
+she found a strange man, sitting in a chair in the portico, smoking one
+of Peter's cigarettes, and apparently much at home. The appearance of
+the stranger was for a moment disconcerting, but Beth approached the
+familiar doorway, her head high, the heliotrope letter burning her
+fingers. She had intended to walk in at the door of the Cabin, place the
+letter in a conspicuous position where Peter could not fail to see it,
+and then return to her home and haughtily await Peter's arrival. But the
+presence of this man, a stranger in Black Rock, making free of Peter's
+habitation, evidently with Peter's knowledge and consent, made her pause
+in a moment of uncertainty.
+
+At her approach the man in the chair had risen and she saw that he was
+tall--almost as tall as Peter, that he had a hooked nose and displayed a
+set of irregular teeth when he smiled--which he did, not unpleasantly.
+There was something about him which repelled her yet fascinated at the
+same time.
+
+"Mr. Nichols has gone out?" Beth asked, for something to say.
+
+"Yes, Miss," said the stranger, blinking at her with his bleary eyes.
+"Mr. Nichols is down at the lumber camp--won't be back until night, I
+reckon. Anythin' I can do for ye?"
+
+"No, I----?" Beth hesitated. "I just wanted to see him--to leave
+somethin' for him."
+
+"I guess he'll be right sorry to miss you. Who shall I say called?"
+
+"Oh, it doesn't matter," said Beth, turning away. But she was now aware
+of a strange curiosity as to this person who sat with such an air of
+well-being in Peter's chair and spoke with such an air of
+proprietorship. The insistence of her own personal affair with Peter had
+driven from her mind all thoughts of the other matters suggested in the
+letter, of the possible dangers to Peter even here in Black Rock and
+the mysterious references to Holy Russia. This man who stood in Peter's
+portico, whoever he was, was not a Russian, she could see that at a
+glance and read it in his accents, but she was equally certain from his
+general character that he could be no friend of Peter's and that his
+business here was not of Peter's choosing.
+
+"If ye'd like to wait a while----"
+
+He offered her the chair, but Beth did not accept it.
+
+"Ye don't happen to be Miss Peggy McGuire, do ye?" asked the stranger
+curiously.
+
+"No," replied the girl. "My name is Beth Cameron."
+
+"Beth----?"
+
+"Cameron," she finished firmly.
+
+"Oh----"
+
+The stranger seemed to be examining her with a glowing interest, but his
+look was clouded.
+
+Beth had decided that until Peter came explaining she had no further
+possible interest either in him or his affairs, but in spite of this she
+found her lips suddenly asking,
+
+"Are you a friend of Mr. Nichols's?"
+
+The man in the portico grinned somberly.
+
+"Yes. I guess I am--an old friend--before he came to America."
+
+"Oh!" said Beth quietly. "You've known him a long time then?"
+
+"Ye might say so. We were buddies together."
+
+"Then you knew him in--in London?"
+
+The man grinned. "Can't say I did. Not in London. Why do you ask?"
+
+"Oh, I just wanted to know."
+
+The gaze of the stranger upon her was disquieting. His eyes seemed to be
+smoldering like embers just ready to blaze. She knew that she ought to
+be returning and yet she didn't want to go leaving her object
+unaccomplished, the dignity of her plan having already been greatly
+disturbed. And so she hesitated, curiosity at war with discretion.
+
+"Would you mind telling me your name?" she asked timidly.
+
+The man shrugged a shoulder and glanced away from her. "I reckon my name
+wouldn't mean much to you."
+
+"Oh--I'm sorry. Perhaps I shouldn't have asked?"
+
+The stranger put his hands into his coat pockets and stared down at Beth
+with a strange intrusive kind of smile.
+
+"You and Pete seem kind of thick, don't ye?" he muttered.
+
+"Pete!"
+
+"Pete Nichols. That's his name, ain't it? Kind of thick, I'd say. I
+can't blame him though----"
+
+"You're mistaken," said Beth with dignity, "there's nothin' between
+Peter Nichols and me." And turning heel, Beth took a step away.
+
+"There! Put my foot in it, didn't I? I'm sorry. Don't go yet. I want to
+ask ye something."
+
+Beth paused and found that the stranger had come out from the portico
+and still stood beside her. And as her look inquired fearlessly,
+
+"It's about your name, Miss," he muttered, and then with an effort spoke
+the word savagely, as though it had been wrenched from him by an effort
+of will, "Cameron----? Your name's Cameron?"
+
+"Yes," said Beth, in some inquietude.
+
+"Common name in some parts--Cameron--not so common in others--not in
+Jersey anyway----"
+
+"I didn't know----"
+
+"Is yer father livin'?" he snapped.
+
+"No--dead. Many years ago. Out West."
+
+"Tsch!" he breathed, the air whistling between his teeth, "Out West, ye
+say--out West?"
+
+He stood in front of Beth now, his arms akimbo, his head bent forward
+under the stress of some excitement. Beth drew away from him, but he
+came forward after her, his gaze still seeking hers.
+
+"Yes--out West," said Beth haltingly.
+
+"Where?" he gasped.
+
+"I don't know----"
+
+"Was his name--was his name--Ben Cameron?" He shot the question at her
+with a strange fury, catching meanwhile at her arm.
+
+"Let me go----," she commanded. "You're hurtin' me."
+
+"Was it----?"
+
+"Yes. Let me go."
+
+The stranger's grip on her arm suddenly relaxed and while she watched
+his face in curiosity the glow in his eyes suddenly flickered out, his
+gaze shifting from side to side as he seemed to shrink away from her.
+From timidity at his roughness she found new courage in her curiosity at
+his strange behavior. What had this stranger to do with Ben Cameron?
+
+"What did you want to know for?" she asked him.
+
+But his bent brows were frowning at the path at his feet. He tried to
+laugh--and the sound of the dry cackle had little mirth in it.
+
+"No matter. I--I thought it might be. I guess ye'd better go--I guess
+ye'd better." And with that he sank heavily in Peter's chair again.
+
+But Beth still stood and stared at him, aware of the sudden change in
+his attitude toward her. What did it all mean? What were Peter's
+relations with this creature who behaved so strangely at the mention of
+her name? Why did he speak of Ben Cameron? Who was he? Who----?
+
+The feeling of which she had at first been conscious, at the man's evil
+leering smile which repelled her suddenly culminated in a pang of
+intuition. This man ... It must be ... Hawk Kennedy--the man who ... She
+stared at him with a new horror in the growing pallor of her face and
+Hawk Kennedy saw the look. It was as though some devilish psychological
+contrivance had suddenly hooked their two consciousnesses to the same
+thought. Both saw the same picture--the sand, the rocks, the blazing sun
+and a dead man lying with a knife in his back.... And Beth continued
+staring as though in a kind of horrible fascination. And when her lips
+moved she spoke as though impelled by a force beyond her own volition.
+
+"You--you're Hawk Kennedy," she said tensely, "the man who killed my
+father."
+
+"It's a lie," he gasped, springing to his feet. "Who told you that?"
+
+"I--I guessed it----"
+
+"Who told ye about Hawk Kennedy? Who told ye about him?"
+
+"No one----"
+
+"Ye didn't dream it. Ye can't dream a name," he said tensely. "Pete told
+ye--he lied to ye."
+
+"He didn't."
+
+But he had caught her by the wrist again and dragged her into the Cabin.
+She was thoroughly frightened now--too frightened even to cry out--too
+terrified at the sudden revelation of this man who for some days had
+been a kind of evil spirit in the background of her happiness. He was
+not like what she had thought he was, but he embodied an idea that was
+sinister and terrible. And while she wondered what he was going to do
+next, he pushed her into the armchair, locked the door and put the key
+into his pocket.
+
+"Now we can talk," he muttered grimly. "No chance of bein'
+disturbed--Pete ain't due for hours yet. So he's been tellin' _you_ lies
+about me. Has he? Sayin' _I_ done it. By G--, I'm beginnin' to see...."
+
+He leered at her horribly, and Beth seemed frozen into her chair. The
+courage that had been hers a moment ago when he had shrunk away from her
+had fled before the fury of his questions and the violence of his touch.
+She was intimidated for the first time in her life and yet she tried to
+meet his eyes, which burned wildly, shifting from side to side like
+those of a caged beast. In her terror she could not tell what dauntless
+instinct had urged her unless it was Ben Cameron's soul in agony that
+had cried out through her lips. And now she had not only betrayed
+Peter--but herself....
+
+"I'm beginnin' to see. You and Pete--playin' both ends against the
+middle, with McGuire comin' down somethin' very handsome for a weddin'
+present and leavin' me out in the cold. Very pretty! But it ain't goin'
+to work out just that way--not that way at all."
+
+All of this he muttered in a wildly casual kind of a way, at no one in
+particular, as his gaze flitted from one object in the room to another,
+always passing over Beth almost impersonally. But in a moment she saw
+his gaze concentrate upon her with sudden eagerness.
+
+"He told ye I done it, did he? Well, I didn't," he cried in a strident
+voice. "I didn't do it. It was McGuire and I'll prove it, all right.
+McGuire. Pete can't fix _that_ on me--even if he wanted to. But he told
+_you_ or ye wouldn't of spoke like ye did. I guess maybe ye wouldn't of
+said so much if Pete had been here. But ye let the cat slip out of the
+bag all right. You and Pete--and maybe McGuire's with ye too--all
+against me. Is that so?... Can't yer speak, girl? Must ye sit there
+just starin' at me with yer big eyes? What are ye lookin' at? Are ye
+dumb?"
+
+"No, I'm not dumb," gasped Beth, struggling for her courage, aware all
+the while of the physical threat in the man's very presence.
+
+"Speak then. Tell me the truth. Pete said it was your money McGuire
+took--your money McGuire's got to make good to ye? Ain't that the
+truth?"
+
+"I won't answer."
+
+"Oh, yes, ye will. You'll answer all right. I'm not goin' to trifle.
+What did ye come here to see Pete about? What's that letter ye came to
+give him? Give it to me!"
+
+Beth clutched the heliotrope note to her bosom but Hawk Kennedy caught
+at her hands and tried to tear it away from her. It needed only this new
+act of physical violence to give Beth the courage of despair. She sprang
+to her feet eluding him but he caught her before she reached the window.
+She struck at him with her fists but he tore the letter away from her
+and hurled her toward the bed over which she fell breathless. There was
+no use trying to fight this man.... There was a cruelty in his touch
+which spoke of nameless things.... And so she lay motionless, nursing
+her injured wrists, trying desperately to think what she must do.
+
+Meanwhile, watching her keenly from the tail of his eye, Hawk Kennedy
+was reading the heliotrope letter, spelling out the English word by
+word. Fascinated, Beth saw the frown of curiosity deepen to interest and
+then to puzzled absorption.
+
+"Interestin'--very," she heard him mutter at last, as he glanced toward
+the bed. "Holy Russia. H----! What's this mean, girl? Who _is_ Peter
+Nichols? Answer me."
+
+"I--I don't know," she said.
+
+"Yes, ye do. Where did ye get this letter?"
+
+"He left it at--at my house last night."
+
+"Oh! _Your_ house! Where?"
+
+"In the village."
+
+"I see. An' this scrawl on the envelope--you wrote it----"
+
+Beth couldn't reply. He was dragging her through the very depths of
+humiliation.
+
+At her silence his lips curved in ugly amusement.
+
+"Anastasie!" he muttered. "Some queen that--with her purple paper an'
+all. And ye don't know who she is? Or who Pete is? Answer me!"
+
+"I--I don't know," she whispered. "I--I don't, really."
+
+"H-m! Well, he ain't what he's seemed to be, that's sure. He ain't what
+he's seemed to be to you and he ain't what he's seemed to be to me. But
+whoever he is he can't put anything over on _me_. We'll see about this."
+
+Beth straightened and sat up, watching him pace the floor in deep
+thought. There might be a chance that she could escape by the window.
+But when she started up he ordered her back roughly and she soon saw
+that this was impossible.
+
+At last he stopped walking up and down and stared at her, his eyes
+narrowed to mere slits, his brows drawn ominously together. It seemed
+that he had reached a decision.
+
+"You behave yourself an' do what I tell ye an' ye won't be hurt," he
+growled.
+
+"Wh-what are you goin' to do?" she gasped.
+
+"Nothin' much. Ye're just goin' with me--that's all."
+
+"W-where?"
+
+"That's my business. Oh, ye needn't be scared of any love makin'. I'm
+not on that lay this trip."
+
+He went to the drawer of Peter's bureau and took out some
+handkerchiefs.
+
+"But ye'd better be scared if ye don't do what I tell ye. Here. Stand
+up!"
+
+Beth shrank away from, him, but he caught her by the wrists and held
+her.
+
+"Ye're not to make a noise, d'ye hear? I can't take the chance."
+
+And while she still struggled desperately, he fastened her wrists
+together behind her. Then he thrust one of Peter's handkerchiefs in her
+mouth and securely gagged her. He wasn't any too gentle with her but
+even in her terror she found herself thanking God that it was only
+abduction that he planned.
+
+Hawk Kennedy went to the window and peered out up the path, then he
+opened the door and looked around. After a moment he came in quickly.
+
+"Come," he muttered, "it's time we were off."
+
+He caught her by the arm and helped her to her feet, pushing her out of
+the door and into the underbrush at the corner of the cabin. Her feet
+lagged, her knees were weak, but the grasp on her shoulder warned her of
+cruelties she had not dreamed of and so she stumbled on--on into the
+depths of the forest, Hawk Kennedy's hard hand urging her on to greater
+speed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+YAKIMOV REVEALS HIMSELF
+
+
+It was with some misgivings that Peter left his cabin, leaving Hawk
+Kennedy there to sleep off the effects of his potations, but the
+situation at the lumber camp was so hazardous that his presence was
+urgently required. Hawk had awakened early, very early, and very
+thirsty, but Peter had told him that there was no more whisky and
+threatened to throw over the whole affair if he didn't sober up and
+behave himself. And so, having exacted a promise from Hawk Kennedy to
+leave the Cabin when he had had his sleep out, Peter had gotten the
+"flivver" from McGuire's garage (as was his custom) and driven rapidly
+down toward the camp.
+
+He had almost reached the conclusion that the copy of the partnership
+agreement which Hawk had held as a threat over McGuire had ceased to
+exist--that it had been lost, effaced or destroyed. But he wanted to be
+more certain of this before he came out into the open, showed his hand
+and McGuire's and defied the blackmailer to do his worst. He felt pretty
+sure now from his own knowledge of the man that, desperate though he was
+in his intention to gain a fortune by this expedient, he was absolutely
+powerless to do evil without the signature of McGuire. The question as
+to whether or not he would make a disagreeable publicity of the whole
+affair was important to McGuire and had to be avoided if possible, for
+Peter had given his promise to bring the affair to a quiet conclusion.
+
+Until he could have a further talk with McGuire, he meant to lead Hawk
+Kennedy on to further confidences and with this end in view and with the
+further purpose of getting him away from the Cabin, had promised to meet
+him late that afternoon at a fork of the road to the lumber camp, the
+other prong of which led to a settlement of several shanties where Hawk
+had managed to get a lodging on the previous night and on several other
+occasions. In his talk with the ex-waiter he learned that on his
+previous visits the man had made a careful survey of the property and
+knew his way about almost as well as Peter did. It appeared that he also
+knew something of Peter's problems at the lumber camp and the
+difficulties the superintendent had already encountered in getting his
+sawed lumber to the railroad and in completing his fire-towers. Indeed,
+these difficulties seemed only to have begun again, and it was with
+great regret that Peter was obliged to forego the opportunity of seeing
+Beth that day, perhaps even that evening. But he had told her nothing of
+his troubles the night before, not wishing to cloud a day so fair for
+them both.
+
+The facts were these: Flynn and Jacobi, the men he had dismissed, had
+appeared again at the camp in his absence, bent on fomenting trouble,
+and Shad Wells, already inflamed against the superintendent, had fallen
+an easy prey to their machinations. Accidents were always happening at
+the sawmills, accidents to machinery and implements culminating at last
+in the blowing out of a tube of one of the boilers. It was this
+misfortune that had held the work up for several days until a spare
+boiler could be installed. Peter tried to find out how these accidents
+had happened, but each line of investigation led up a blind alley. Jesse
+Brown, his foreman, seemed to be loyal, but he was easy-going and weak.
+With many of his own friends among the workers both at the camp and
+mills he tried to hold his job by carrying water on both shoulders and
+the consequences were inevitable. He moved along the line of least
+resistance and the trouble grew. Peter saw his weakness and would have
+picked another man to supersede him, but there was no other available.
+The truth was that though the men's wages were high for the kind of work
+that they were doing, the discontent that they had brought with them was
+in the air. The evening papers brought word of trouble in every
+direction, the threatened railroad and steel strikes and the prospect of
+a coalless winter when the miners went out as they threatened to do on
+the first of November.
+
+At first Peter had thought that individually many of the men liked him.
+He had done what he could for their comfort and paid them the highest
+price justifiable, but gradually he found that his influence was being
+undermined and that the good-natured lagging which Peter had at first
+tried to tolerate had turned to loafing on the job, and finally to overt
+acts of rebellion. More men had been sent away and others with even less
+conscience had taken their places. Some of them had enunciated
+Bolshevist doctrines as wild as any of Flynn's or Jacobi's. Jonathan K.
+McGuire stood as a type which represented the hierarchy of wealth and
+was therefore their hereditary enemy. Peter in a quiet talk at the
+bunk-house one night had told them that once Jonathan K. McGuire had
+been as poor, if not poorer, than any one of them. But even as he spoke
+he had felt that his words had made no impression. It was what McGuire
+was _now_ that mattered, they told him. All this land, all this lumber,
+was the people's, and they'd get it too in time. With great earnestness,
+born of a personal experience of which they could not dream, Peter
+pointed out to them what had happened and was now happening in Russia
+and painted a harrowing picture of helplessness and starvation, but they
+smoked their pipes in silence and answered him not at all. They were
+not to be reasoned with. If the Soviet came to America they were willing
+to try it. They would try anything once.
+
+But Shad Wells was "canny" and Peter had never succeeded in tracing any
+of the accidents or any of the dissensions directly to his door. Without
+evidence against him Peter did not think it wise to send him out of
+camp, for many of the men were friendly to Shad and his dismissal was
+sure to mean an upheaval of sorts. Peter knew that Shad hated him for
+what had happened at the Cabin but that in his heart he feared to come
+out into the open where a repetition of his undoing in public might
+destroy his influence forever. So to Peter's face he was sullenly
+obedient, taking care to give the appearance of carrying out his orders,
+while as soon as Peter's back was turned he laughed, loafed and
+encouraged others to do the same.
+
+And for the last week Peter had not liked the looks of things. At the
+lumber camp the work was almost at a standstill, and the sawmills were
+silent. Jesse Brown had told him that Flynn and Jacobi had been at the
+bunk-house and that the men had voted him down when the foreman had
+tried to send them away. It was clear that some radical step would have
+to be taken at once to restore discipline or Peter's authority and
+usefulness as superintendent would be only a matter of hours.
+
+It was of all of these things that Peter thought as he bumped his way in
+the "flivver" over the corduroy road through the swampy land which led
+to the lower reserve, and as he neared the scene of these material
+difficulties all thought of Hawk Kennedy passed from his mind. There was
+the other danger too that had been one of the many subjects of the
+letter of Anastasie Galitzin, for Peter had no doubt now that the
+foreigner with the dark mustache who had followed him down from New
+York and who some weeks ago had been sent out of the camp was no other
+than the agent of the Soviets, who had forwarded to London the
+information as to his whereabouts. Peter had not seen this man since the
+day of his dismissal, but he suspected that he was in the plot with
+Flynn, Jacobi and perhaps Shad Wells to make mischief in the lumber
+camp.
+
+The opportunity that Peter sought to bring matters to a focus was not
+long in coming, for when he reached the sawmills, which had resumed
+desultory operations, he found Flynn and Jacobi, the "Reds," calmly
+seated in the office, smoking and talking with Shad Wells. Peter had
+left his "flivver" up the road and his sudden entrance was a surprise.
+The men got up sullenly and would have slouched out of the door but
+Peter closed it, put his back to it, and faced them. He was cold with
+anger and held himself in with difficulty, but he had taken their
+measure and meant to bring on a crisis, which would settle their status
+and his own, once and for all time.
+
+"What are you doing here?" he began shortly, eying Flynn.
+
+The Irishman stuck his hands into his pockets and shrugged impudently.
+
+"That's my business," he muttered.
+
+"H-m. You two men were discharged because you were incompetent, because
+you were getting money you didn't earn and because you were trying to
+persuade others to be as worthless and useless as yourselves. You were
+ordered off the property----"
+
+"Ye can't keep us off----"
+
+"I'll come to that in a moment. What I want to say to you now is this,"
+said Peter, planting his barbs with the coolness of a matador baiting
+his bull. "Some men go wrong because they've been badly advised, some
+because they can't think straight, others because they'd rather go
+wrong than right. Some of you 'Reds' believe in what you preach, that
+the world can be made over and all the money and the land divided up in
+a new deal. You two don't. You don't believe in anything except getting
+a living without working for it--and trying to make honest men do the
+same. You, Jacobi, are only a fool--a cowardly fool at that--who hides
+behind the coat-tails of a man stronger than you----"
+
+"Look-a here, Mister----"
+
+"Yes, Flynn's your master, but he isn't mine. And he isn't the master of
+any man on this job while I'm superintendent----"
+
+"We'll see about that," said Flynn with a chuckle.
+
+"Yes, we will. Very soon. _Now_, as a matter of fact----"
+
+"How?"
+
+"By proving which is the better man--you or me----"
+
+"Oh, it's a fight ye mean?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+The Irishman leered at him cunningly.
+
+"I'm too old a bird to be caught wit' that stuff--puttin' you wit' the
+right on yer side. We're afther sheddin' no blood here, Misther Nichols.
+We're on this job for peace an' justice fer all."
+
+"Then you're afraid to fight?"
+
+"No. But I'm not a-goin' to----"
+
+"Not if I tell you you're a sneak, a liar and a coward----"
+
+Flynn's jaw worked and his glance passed from Jacobi to Wells.
+
+"I'll make ye eat them names backwards one day, Misther Nichols--but not
+now--I'm here for a bigger cause. Stand away from the door."
+
+"In a moment. But first let me tell you this, and Shad Wells too.
+You're going out of this door and out of this camp,--all three of you.
+And if any one of you shows himself inside the limits of this property
+he'll have to take the consequences."
+
+"Meanin' what?" asked Wells.
+
+"Meaning _me_," said Peter, "and after me, the law. Now go."
+
+He stood aside and swung the door open with one hand, but he didn't take
+his eyes from them.
+
+They laughed in his face, but they obeyed him, filing out into the open,
+and strolled away.
+
+Peter had hoped to coax a fight out of Flynn, thinking that the Irish
+blood in him couldn't resist his taunts and challenge. But Flynn had
+been too clever for him. A defeat for Flynn meant loss of prestige, a
+victory possible prosecution. Either way he had nothing to gain. Perhaps
+he was just a coward like Jacobi or a beaten bully like Shad. Whatever
+he was Flynn seemed very sure of himself and Peter, though apparently
+master of the situation for the present, was conscious of a sense of
+defeat. He knew as Flynn did that no matter what forces he called to his
+aid, it was practically impossible to keep trespassers off a property of
+this size, and that, after all, the success of his logging operations
+remained with the men themselves.
+
+But he breathed more freely now that he had made his decision with
+regard to Shad Wells. He spent a large part of the morning going over
+the mills, getting the men together and giving them a little talk, then
+went up to the camp in search of Jesse Brown. The news of his encounter
+with Shad and the "Reds" had preceded him and he saw that trouble was
+brewing. Jesse Brown wagged his head in a deprecating way and tried to
+side-step the entire situation. But Peter had reached a point where he
+was tired of equivocation.
+
+"I say, Jesse," he said at last, "you've let things get into a pretty
+bad mess down here."
+
+"I'm a peaceable man, Mr. Nichols," said Jesse. "I've tried to steer
+this camp along easy-like, 'til this bit of woods is cleared up and here
+you go stirrin' up a hornet's nest about our ears."
+
+Peter frowned. "You know as well as I do that the men are doing just as
+they please. At the rate they're going they wouldn't have this section
+finished by Christmas. I'm paying them for work they don't do and you
+know it. I put you in here to see that McGuire gets what he's paying
+for. You haven't done it."
+
+"I've done the best I could," muttered Jesse.
+
+"That isn't the best I want. You knew Flynn and Jacobi were back in camp
+yesterday. Why didn't you tell me so?"
+
+"I can't do nothin'. They've got friends here."
+
+"And haven't you got friends here too? I sent those men out of camp. If
+they're here again I'll find the power to arrest them."
+
+"I'd advise you not to try that."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"They're stronger than you think."
+
+"I'll take my chances on that. But I want to know where you stand. Are
+you with me or against me?"
+
+"Well," said Jesse, rubbing his head dubiously, "I'll do what I can."
+
+"All right. We'll make a fresh start. Round up all hands. I'm going to
+talk to them at dinner time."
+
+Jesse glanced at him, shrugged and went out and Peter went into the
+office where he spent the intervening time going over the books. It was
+there that one of the clerks, a man named Brierly, brought forth from
+the drawer of his desk a small pamphlet which he had picked up yesterday
+in the bunk-house. Peter opened and read it. It was a copy of the new
+manifest of the Union of Russian Workers and though written in English,
+gave every mark of origin in the Lenin-Trotzky regime and was cleverly
+written in catch phrases meant to trap the ignorant. It proposed to
+destroy the churches and erect in their stead places of amusement for
+the working people. He read at random. "Beyond the blood-covered
+barricades, beyond all terrors of civil war, there already shines for us
+the magnificent, beautiful form of man, without a God, without a master,
+and full of authority." Fine doctrine this! The pamphlet derided the law
+and the state, and urged the complete destruction of private ownership.
+It predicted the coming of the revolution in a few weeks, naming the
+day, of a general strike of all industries which would paralyze all the
+functions of commerce. It was Bolshevik in ideal, Bolshevik in
+inspiration and it opened Peter's eyes as to the venality of the
+gentleman with the black mustache. Brierly also told him that whisky had
+been smuggled into the camp the night before and that a fire in the
+woods had luckily been put out before it had become menacing. Brierly
+was a discharged soldier who had learned something of the value of
+obedience and made no effort to conceal his anxiety and his sympathies.
+He voiced the opinion that either Flynn or Jacobi had brought in the
+liquor. Peter frowned. Jesse Brown had said nothing of this. The
+inference was obvious.
+
+At the dinner-shed, Peter was to be made aware immediately of the
+difficulty of the task that confronted him, for dour looks met him on
+all sides. There were a few men who sat near him whom he thought he
+might count on at a venture, but they were very few and their positions
+difficult. Some of the men still showed the effects of their drink and
+hurled epithets about the room, obviously meant for Peter's ear, but he
+sat through the meal patiently and then got to his feet and demanded
+their attention.
+
+As he began he was interrupted by hoots and cat-calls but he waited
+calmly for silence and seeing that they couldn't ruffle him by
+buffoonery they desisted after a moment.
+
+"Men, I'm not going to take much of your time," he said. "A short while
+ago I came down here and talked to you. Some of you seemed to be
+friendly toward me and those are the men I want to talk to now. The
+others don't matter."
+
+"Oh, don't they?" came a gruff voice from a crowd near the door. And
+another, "We'll see about that."
+
+Peter tried to find the speakers with his gaze for a moment and then
+went on imperturbably. "I'm going to talk to you in plain English,
+because some things have happened in this camp that are going to make
+trouble for everybody, trouble for me, trouble for McGuire, but more
+trouble for you."
+
+"That's what we're lookin' for--trouble----," cried the same voice, and
+Peter now identified it as Flynn's, for the agitator had come back and
+stolen in unawares.
+
+"Ah, it's you, Flynn," said Peter easily. "You've come back." And then
+to the crowd, "I don't think Flynn is likely to be disappointed if he's
+looking for trouble," he said dryly. "Trouble is one of the few things
+in this world a man can find if he looks for it."
+
+"Aye, mon, an' without lookin' for it," laughed a broad-chested Scot at
+Peter's table.
+
+"That's right. I met Flynn a while ago over in the office. I made him an
+offer. I said I'd fight him fair just man to man, for our opinions. He
+refused. I also told him he was a coward, a sneak and a liar. But he
+wouldn't fight--because he's what I said he was."
+
+"I'll show ye, Misther----," shouted Flynn, "but I ain't ready yet."
+
+"You'll be ready when this meeting is over. And one of us is going out
+of this camp feet first."
+
+"We'll see about that."
+
+"One of us will. And I think I'll do the seeing."
+
+A laugh went up around Peter, drowned immediately by a chorus of jeers
+from the rear of the room.
+
+But Peter managed to be heard again.
+
+"Well, _I_ didn't come on this job looking for trouble," he went on
+coolly. "I wanted to help you chaps in any way I could." ("The Hell you
+did.") "Yes, I did what I could for your comfort. I raised your wages
+and I didn't ask more than an honest day's work from any one of you.
+Some of you have stuck to your jobs like men, in spite of the talk
+you've heard all about you, and I thank you. You others," he cried,
+toward the rear of the room, "I've tried to meet in a friendly spirit
+where I could, but some of you don't want friendship----" ("Not with
+you, we don't.") "Nor with any one else----" Peter shouted back
+defiantly. "You don't know what friendship means, or you wouldn't try to
+make discontent and trouble for everybody, when you're all getting a
+good wage and good living conditions." ("That ain't enough!")
+
+Peter calmly disregarded the interruptions and went on. "Perhaps you
+fellows think I don't know what socialism means. I do. To the true
+socialist, socialism is nothing else but Christianity. It's just
+friendship, that's all. He believes in helping the needy and the weak.
+He believes in defending his own life and happiness and the happiness of
+others." ("That's true--that's right.") "And he believes that the world
+can be led and guided by a great brotherhood of humanity seeking just
+laws and equality for all men." (Conflicting cries of "That's not
+enough!" and "Let him speak!") "But I know what anarchy means too,
+because less than six months ago I was in Russia and I saw the hellish
+thing at work. I saw men turn and kill their neighbors because the
+neighbors had more than they had; I saw a whole people starving, women
+with children at the breast, men raging, ready to fly at one another's
+throats from hunger, from anger, from fear of what was coming next. That
+is what anarchy means."
+
+"What you say is a lie," came a clear voice in English, with a slight
+accent. A man had risen at the rear of the room and stood facing Peter.
+He was not very tall and he was not in working clothes, but Peter
+recognized him at once as the man with the dark mustache, the mysterious
+stranger who had followed him to Black Rock. Peter set his jaw and
+shrugged. He was aware now of all the forces with which he had to deal.
+
+"What does anarchy mean, then?" he asked coolly.
+
+"You know what it means," said the man, pointing an accusing finger at
+Peter. "It means only the end of all autocracy whether of money or of
+power, the destruction of class distinction and making the working
+classes the masters of all general wealth which they alone produce and
+to which they alone are entitled."
+
+A roar of approval went up from the rear of the room and cries of, "Go
+it, Bolsche," and "Give him Hell, Yakimov."
+
+Peter waited until some order was restored, but he knew now that this
+type of man was more to be feared than Flynn or any other professional
+agitator of the I. W. W. When they had first come face to face, this
+Russian had feigned ignorance of English, but now his clearly enunciated
+phrases, though unpolished, indicated a perfect command of the language,
+and of his subject. That he should choose this time to come out into the
+open showed that he was more sure of himself and of his audience than
+Peter liked. And Peter had no humor to match phrases with him. Whatever
+his own beliefs since he had come to America, one fact stood clear: That
+he was employed to get this work done and that Yakimov, Flynn and others
+were trying to prevent it. It was to be no contest of philosophies but
+of personalities and Peter met the issue without hesitation.
+
+"You are a communist then and not a socialist," said Peter, "one who
+believes in everybody sharing alike whether he works for it or not--or
+an anarchist who believes in the destruction of everything. You're an
+agent of the Union of Russian Workers, aren't you?"
+
+"And what if I am----?"
+
+"Oh, nothing, except that you have no place in a nation like the United
+States, which was founded and dedicated to an ideal, higher than any you
+can ever know----"
+
+"An ideal--with money as its God----"
+
+"And what's your God, Yakimov?"
+
+"Liberty----"
+
+"License! You want to inflame--pillage--destroy--And what then?"
+
+"You shall see----"
+
+"What I saw in Russia--no wages for any one, no harvests, factories
+idle, blood--starvation--if that's what you like, why did you leave
+there, Yakimov?"
+
+The man stood tense for a second and then spoke with a clearness heard
+in every corner of the room.
+
+"I came for another reason than yours. I came to spread the gospel of
+labor triumphant. _You_ came because----" Here the Russian leaned
+forward, shaking his fist, his eyes suddenly inflamed and hissing his
+words in a fury. "_You_ came because you believed in serfs and human
+slavery--because your own land spewed you out from a sick stomach,
+because you were one of the rotting sores in its inside--that had made
+Russia the dying nation that she was; because it was time that your
+country and my country cleansed herself from such as you. That's why
+you came. And we'll let these men judge which of us they want to lead
+them here."
+
+The nature of the attack was so unexpected that Peter was taken for a
+moment off his guard. A dead silence had fallen upon the room as the
+auditors realized that a game was being played here that was not on the
+cards. Peter felt the myriads of eyes staring at him, and beyond them
+had a vision of a prostrate figure in the corner of a courtyard, the
+blood reddening his blouse under the falling knout. They were all
+Michael Kuprins, these foreigners who stared at him, all the grievances
+born of centuries of oppression. And as Peter did not speak at once,
+Yakimov pursued his advantage.
+
+"I did not come here to tell who this man is," he shouted, "this man who
+tells you what liberty is. But you ought to know. It's your right. You
+know why Russia rose and threw off the yoke of bondage of centuries. It
+was because this man before you who calls himself Peter Nichols and
+others like him bound the people to work for him by terrible laws, taxed
+them, starved them, beat them, killed them, that he and others like him
+might buy jewels for their mistresses and live in luxury and ease, on
+the sweat of the labor of the people. And he asks me why I came to
+America! It was for a moment such as this that I was sent here to find
+him out that I might meet him face to face and confront him with his
+crimes--and those of his father--against humanity."
+
+Yakimov paused suddenly in his furious tirade for lack of breath and in
+the deathly silence of the room, there was a sudden stir as a rich
+brogue queried anxiously of nobody in particular:
+
+"Who in Hell _is_ he, then?"
+
+"I'll tell you who he is," the Russian went on, getting his breath.
+"He's one of the last of a race of tyrants and oppressors, the worst
+the world has ever known--in Russia the downtrodden. He fled to America
+to hide until the storm had blown over, hoping to return and take his
+place again at the head of a new government of the Democrats and the
+Bourgeoisie--the Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch!"
+
+The uproar that filled the room for a moment made speech impossible. But
+every eye was turned on Peter now, some in incredulity, some in
+malevolence, and some in awe. He saw that it was now useless to deny his
+identity even if he had wished to do so, and so he stood squarely on his
+feet, staring at Yakimov, who still leaned forward menacingly, shrieking
+above the tumult, finally making himself heard.
+
+"And this is the man who dares to talk to you about a brotherhood of
+humanity, just laws and equality among men! This tyrant and son of
+tyrants, this representative of a political system that you and men like
+you have overthrown for all time. Is this the man you'll take your
+orders from? Or from the Union of Russian Workers which hates and kills
+all oppressors who stand in the way of the rights and liberties of the
+workers of the world!"
+
+A roar of negation went up from the rear of the room, and an ominous
+murmur spread from man to man. Only those grouped around Peter, some
+Americans, the Scot, Brierly, the ex-soldier, Jesse Brown, and one or
+two of the Italians remained silent, but whether in awe of Peter or of
+his position could not be determined. But Peter still stood, his hands
+in his pockets, firm of jaw and unruffled. It has been said that Peter
+had a commanding air when he chose and when he slowly raised a hand for
+silence the uncouth "Reds" at the rear of the room obeyed him, the
+menacing growl sinking to a mere murmur. But he waited until perfect
+silence was restored. And then quietly,
+
+"What this man has said is true," he announced calmly. "I _am_ Peter
+Nicholaevitch. I came to America as you have come--to make my way. What
+does it matter who my fathers were? I am not responsible for what my
+fathers did before me. I am only responsible for what I am--myself. If
+this man in whom you put your trust would speak the truth, he would tell
+you that I tried to bring peace and brotherhood into the part of Russia
+where I lived----"
+
+"He lies----"
+
+"I speak the truth. There people knew that I was their friend. They came
+to me for advice. I helped them----"
+
+"Then why did they burn down your castle?" broke in Yakimov
+triumphantly.
+
+"Because people such as you from the Soviet came among honest and
+peaceful men, trying to make them as mad as you--I came from Russia to
+find new life, work, peace and happiness. I came to build. You came to
+destroy. And I intend to build and you shall not destroy. If the madness
+of Russia comes to Black Rock it will be because mad dogs come foaming
+at the mouth and making others mad----"
+
+A savage cry went up and a glass came hurtling at Peter's head, but it
+missed him and crashed against the wall behind him. That crash of glass
+liberated the pent-up forces in the hearts of these men, for in a moment
+the place was in a furious uproar, the men aligning themselves in two
+camps, that of Peter and his friends much the smaller.
+
+Peter retreated a pace or two as a shot was fired from a revolver, but
+the Scot and Brierly and two of the Americans joined him and met the
+first onslaught bravely. The handful of men was forced back against the
+wall by sheer weight of numbers, but they struck out manfully with their
+fists, with chairs, and with their feet, with any object that came to
+hand, and men went down with bleeding heads. Peter was armed but he did
+not wish to kill any one--his idea being to make a successful retreat to
+the office, where the telephone would put him in touch with May's
+Landing and reinforcements. Yakimov stood at the edge of the crowd,
+waving a revolver, when a well-aimed missile from the hand of the Scot
+sent him sprawling to the floor among the benches.
+
+Peter and his crowd had fought their way to the door, when Flynn and
+Jacobi who had led a group of men by the other door, fell on them from
+the rear. Between the two groups their position was hopeless but Peter
+fought his way out into the open, dodging a blow from Jacobi and using
+the terrible _savate_ in Flynn's stomach, just as Shad Wells rushed at
+him from one side. Peter saw the blow coming from a broken axhandle--but
+he had no time to avoid it. Instinctively he ducked his head and threw
+up his left arm, but the bludgeon descended and Peter fell, remembering
+nothing more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+THE RUSSIAN PAYS
+
+
+When Peter came back to consciousness, he found himself lying in the
+shelter of the underbrush alone. And while he attempted to gather his
+scattered wits together a figure came creeping through the bushes toward
+him. It was Brierly, the clerk, carrying a hatful of water which he had
+procured from the neighboring rivulet. Brierly had a lump on his
+forehead about the size of a silver dollar, and his disheveled
+appearance gave evidence of an active part in the mêlée.
+
+"What's happened?" asked Peter slowly, starting up as memory came back
+to him.
+
+But Brierly didn't answer at once.
+
+"Here, drink this. I don't think you're badly hurt----"
+
+"No. Just dazed a bit," muttered Peter, and let Brierly minister to him
+for a moment.
+
+"You see, there were too many for us," Brierly explained. "We made a
+pretty good fight of it at that, but they buried us by sheer weight of
+numbers. Yours isn't the only bruised head, though. Yakimov got his
+early in the game--and Jacobi. And gee! but that was a 'beaut' you
+handed Flynn--right in the solar plexus with your heel. The
+_savate_--wasn't it? I saw a Frenchy pull that in a dive in Bordeaux. I
+reckon Flynn won't be doin' much agitatin' for a while--except in his
+stommick."
+
+"How did I get here?" asked Peter.
+
+"I hauled you into the bush as soon as I got a chance--in the
+confusion--and gradually, got you back in here. But I think they're
+lookin' for us, so we'd better get a move on soon as you're fit enough."
+
+"Where's Jesse?"
+
+"Beat it, I reckon. Haven't seen him."
+
+"I see." And then, "Brierly, I'm obliged to you. I'll try to make it up
+to you for this."
+
+"You needn't bother. I'm for you. You can't let a lot of roughnecks put
+it over on you like this."
+
+"No--I can't--I can't," muttered Peter.
+
+"I wish we had a bunch of the boys I was with over in France down here.
+There's a few up in May's Landing who'd clean this lot up in no time."
+
+"I wish we had them." Peter straightened with some difficulty and rose
+to a sitting posture as the thought came to him. "I've got to get to the
+'phone, Brierly."
+
+"No. I wouldn't advise that--not here. Those roughnecks are between us
+and the office--in the office too, I reckon, by this time. It wouldn't
+be safe. Who were you goin' to 'phone to?"
+
+"May's Landing--the Sheriff. I'm going to see this thing through."
+
+"Righto! And I'm with you to a fare-ye-well. But it's got to be managed
+different. They'll beat you to death if you show up now. It was Yakimov
+that shot at you. He's after you. You were armed. It's a wonder you
+didn't shoot him down." And then, with some hesitation, "Say, Mr.
+Nichols. You ain't really the Grand Duke Peter, are you?"
+
+Peter smiled. "What's left of him--I am. This man Yakimov is an agent of
+Trotzky."
+
+Brierly whistled softly between his teeth. "I reckon _they_ want to get
+you, don't they?"
+
+Peter nodded. "But they won't--not yet."
+
+They held a brief council of war and in a moment on hands and knees
+were making their way through the underbrush in the general direction of
+Black Rock. Behind them they heard rough laughter and an occasional
+outburst of song which proclaimed that new supplies of whisky had been
+unearthed and that the anarchy which Yakimov so much desired now
+prevailed. After a while, Peter managed to get to his feet and moved on
+at a greater speed. He had only been stunned by Shad's blow--a part of
+the force of which he had caught on his arm. The arm was still numb and
+his head thumped, but as he went on in the cool air his brain cleared
+and he found it possible to plan with some definiteness. Brierly knew
+the sheriff at May's Landing. There was nothing his friends would rather
+do than to be sworn in as deputies for a job like this. He had thought
+it a wonder that Peter hadn't called the Sheriff in before.
+
+"I thought I could manage the situation alone, Brierly," said Peter
+quietly, "but it's got the best of me."
+
+The way was long to Black Rock--at least eight miles by the way they
+took--and it was almost six o'clock when, they reached McGuire's. They
+knew that with the "flivver" in the possession of the outlaws it was
+quite possible that some of the ringleaders of the disturbance might
+have preceded them, and so they kept under cover until near the house,
+when they quickly emerged from the bushes and made their way to the
+kitchen door, entering without knocking.
+
+An unpleasant surprise awaited them here, for in the kitchen, securely
+gagged and bound to a chair, they found McGuire's valet, Stryker.
+
+It took only a moment to release the man and to get the gag out of his
+mouth, when he began sputtering and pointing toward the door into the
+house.
+
+"Hawk--Hawk Kennedy!" the amazed Peter made out.
+
+And after staring at the man in a moment of bewilderment, Peter drew
+out his revolver and dashed through the house, keyed up at once to new
+adventure, the eager Brierly at his heels. They went up the stairs and
+to the door of McGuire's own room, where they stood for a moment aghast
+at the disorder and havoc before them.
+
+Papers and books were scattered everywhere upon the floor, chairs were
+overturned, and the door of the safe was ajar. At first he saw no one,
+but when Peter entered the room he heard a sound from the corner beyond
+the table, a sound halfway between a gasp and a groan, and there he
+found his employer, Jonathan K. McGuire, doubled up on the floor, bound
+and trussed like his valet and quite as helpless. It was evident that
+the long awaited terror had come to Black Rock.
+
+But if he was dismayed and frightened it seemed that McGuire was
+uninjured and when he was released he was lifted to his feet and a
+chair, into which he sank speechless for a moment of rehabilitation.
+There was no need to question him as to what had happened in this room,
+for the evidences of Hawk's visit and its purpose were all too evident.
+Without a word to McGuire, Peter found the telephone in the hall, called
+for May's Landing, then turning the instrument over to Brierly, with
+instructions as to what he was to do, returned to McGuire's room and
+closed the door behind him.
+
+"Well, sir," he said briefly. "I see he's come."
+
+"My God, yes," gasped McGuire. "And you know what he came for--he got
+it, Nichols. He got it."
+
+"That proves that he _had_ lost the duplicate," said Peter quietly. "How
+did it all happen?"
+
+The old man drew a trembling hand across his brow.
+
+"He took me off my guard--all of us. I don't know. It only happened half
+an hour ago. Where's Stryker?"
+
+"He was tied to a chair in the kitchen. We let him loose. He's outside
+somewhere."
+
+"And Mrs. Bergen and Sarah?"
+
+"I don't know, sir."
+
+Peter went to the door and called Stryker and that bewildered person
+appeared at the foot of the steps with Mrs. Bergen and Sarah who had
+been locked in the cellar. Peter called them up and they all began
+screaming their tale at once. But at last Peter got at the facts. Hawk
+Kennedy had come suddenly into the kitchen where the two women were and,
+brandishing a revolver, commanding silence, threatening death if they
+made a sound. He had surprised the valet in the lower hall and had
+marched him back into the kitchen, where he had bound him to a chair
+with a clothes-line and then gagged him.
+
+McGuire waved the trio out of the room when their story was told, and
+signaled to Peter to close the door again, when he took up his
+interrupted tale.
+
+"I was at the window, looking out, Nichols. I didn't expect him for a
+couple of weeks anyway. I'd just about gotten my nerve back. But he got
+the drop on me, Nichols. How he ever got into the room without my
+hearin' him! I must have been in a trance. His shoes were off. The first
+thing I know is a voice close at my ear and a gun in my ribs. I turned
+quick--but my gun was in the table drawer. His face was close to mine
+and I knew he meant business. If I'd 'a' moved he'd 'a' killed me. So I
+put my hands up. There wasn't anything else to do. I thought I'd play
+for time but he caught my glance toward the door and only laughed.
+
+"'There ain't anybody comin', Mike,' he says. 'It's just you an' me.' I
+asked him what he wanted and he grinned. 'You know,' he says. And with
+his left hand he brought out a rope he had stuffed in his pocket. 'I'll
+fix _you_ first. Then we'll talk,' he says. He was cool like he always
+was. He caught a slip noose around my wrists before I knew it, twisted
+the rope around me and threw me over on the floor. I tell you that man
+is the devil himself."
+
+"What then?"
+
+"He made me give up the keys to the drawers in the safe--it was open
+just like it is now. I wouldn't speak at first but he kicked me and then
+put the gun at my head. I still hoped some one would come. I gave in at
+last. He found it. My God!" The old man aroused himself with an effort
+and rose to his feet. "But we've got to catch him--just you and I. He
+can't have gone far. We've got the right to shoot him now--to shoot on
+sight----"
+
+"Yes--yes. I'm getting the Sheriff at May's Landing now----"
+
+"The Sheriff!" The Irishman's small eyes stared and then became alive in
+sudden comprehension. "Not the Sheriff, Nichols. I won't have him."
+
+"You've got to--at once." And then rapidly Peter gave an account of what
+had happened at the logging camp. But it seemed to have no effect upon
+McGuire, who listened with glassy eyes. He was obsessed with the
+other--the graver danger.
+
+"We'll keep this thing quiet if you like--the real meaning of this
+visit, and we've got to pick up his trail. But we can't let those men at
+the camp have the run of the place. They'll be looting this house next."
+And then, as McGuire seemed to agree, Peter went to the door and found
+Brierly still on the 'phone. He was talking to the Sheriff and had told
+the whole story. The Sheriff had already heard something about the Black
+Rock camp trouble and would be ready to move in an hour.
+
+"Tell him to move fast and to come to McGuire's first," said Peter. "And
+you'll be here to show him the way."
+
+Brierly nodded and finished the message, while Peter returned to
+McGuire.
+
+"What else did Kennedy say?" Peter asked him.
+
+"He asked a lot of questions--about you and Beth Cameron--about the
+money--about what I'd promised you. He's the very devil, I tell you. He
+knows everything. He said he'd 'get' you and that he'd 'get' Beth
+Cameron."
+
+Peter caught McGuire fiercely by the shoulder. "What did you say? Are
+you sure?"
+
+With all of his other troubles Peter had forgotten Beth and now thought
+guiltily of the possible danger to which she might have been subjected.
+
+How could Hawk have found out about Beth Cameron?
+
+"What I told you," muttered McGuire wearily, "he said he'd 'get'
+her----"
+
+Sick with anxiety, Peter flung away from his protesting employer and
+made for the door, rushing past the astonished Brierly in the hall, down
+the stairs and out at a run over the bridge and through the village to
+the Bergen house. The door was open and he rushed in, calling Beth's
+name. There was no response. Now desperate and fearing the worst, he ran
+from room to room, downstairs and up. There were signs of her--a towel
+on a chair, a broom leaning against a door upstairs, the neatly made
+beds, the orderly kitchen, giving evidence of the morning cleaning, but
+no supper cooking on the stove, the fire of which had burned to cinders.
+She had not been here for a long while--since early morning possibly.
+But where had she gone--where? Hawk Kennedy would hardly have dared to
+come here--to the village--hardly have succeeded in enticing her away
+from this house, surrounded by neighbors--still less have succeeded in
+carrying her off without their knowledge. He rushed out into the road
+and questioned. No one seemed to have seen her. The eagerness and
+suppressed anxiety of Peter's manner quickly drew a crowd which felt the
+contagion of his excitement. A man joined the group. Yes. He had seen
+Beth in the morning early. She was hurrying down the path which led into
+the pines. He had not seen her since.
+
+Peter glanced at him just once more to be sure that he was speaking the
+truth and then, without a thought as to the impression he had created in
+the minds of the villagers, set off running through the path toward his
+cabin.
+
+Fool that he had been! To leave Beth unguarded--unwarned even--with Hawk
+within a quarter of a mile of her. Why had he not seen the hand of fate
+in Beth's presence here at Black Rock near McGuire, the man who had
+wronged her father--the hand of fate, which with unerring definiteness
+was guiding the principals in this sordid tragedy together from the ends
+of the earth for a reckoning? And what was this reckoning to be? McGuire
+had already fallen a victim to the man's devilish skill and audacity.
+And Beth----? What match was she for a clever desperate rogue who balked
+at nothing? How had he learned of Beth's existence and how, knowing of
+it, had he managed to beguile her away from the village? Peter was
+beginning to believe with McGuire that Hawk Kennedy was indeed in league
+with the devil.
+
+Peter was not now aware of any pain or even of bodily fatigue, for there
+was no room in his mind for any thought of self. Scarcely conscious of
+his new exertions, he ran across the log-jam below the pool and up the
+path to the Cabin. What he expected to find there he did not know, but
+it seemed clear that Beth had come this way in the morning and if not to
+the Cabin, where else? Hawk had been here when she had come into the
+woodland path. That was enough. As he reached the turn in the path, he
+saw that the door of the Cabin was open and when he rushed in, prepared
+for anything, he saw that the room was unoccupied. He stood aghast for a
+moment, trying to adjust his mind to take in logically the evidence he
+found there--the overturned chair, the blankets dragging on the floor
+by the bed, the broken water pitcher, the opened bureau drawers, the
+torn bits of linen--parts of his own handkerchiefs--upon the floor--all
+visible signs' of a commotion, perhaps of a struggle, that had taken
+place. And then under the table he espied a square of heliotrope paper.
+He picked it up quickly and took it to the light of the window. It was
+the envelope of the letter he had received from Anastasie Galitzin. And
+what was this----? A scrawl in Beth's hand, "You left _this_ last night.
+You'd better go back to Anastasie."
+
+Bewildered for a moment, Peter stared at the forceful characters of the
+handwriting, written hurriedly in a scrawl of lead pencil, and then the
+probable sequence of events came to him with a rush. She had opened the
+note of Anastasie Galitzin and read it. What had it said? He had
+forgotten details. But there were phrases that might have been
+misconstrued. And Beth----. He could see her now coming up the path, her
+head high, seeking explanations--and meeting Hawk!
+
+But where was the letter itself? He searched for it without success.
+Hawk! The answer to all of his questions was in the personality of the
+man as Peter knew him. The bits of torn linen and Beth's own
+handkerchief, which he found in the corner of the bed against the wall,
+crumpled into a ball and still moist with her tears, were mute but
+eloquent evidences of her suffering and torture in the presence of this
+man who had not been too delicate in the means by which he had
+accomplished her subjugation.
+
+Peter raged up and down the floor of the Cabin like a caged animal. What
+must he do--which way turn? That Hawk had gagged and bound her was
+obvious. But what then? He rushed outside and examined the shrubbery
+around the Cabin. There was nothing to indicate the direction in which
+he had taken her--and the forest at his very elbow stretched for miles
+in all directions, a hiding place that had served other guilty ones
+before Hawk--the New Jersey pines that he had learned to love, now
+wrapped in a conspiracy of silence. It would be dusk very soon. A search
+of the pine barrens at night would be hopeless. Besides, Hawk had had
+the whole of the morning and most of the afternoon in which to carry out
+his purpose.... What was that purpose? Where had he taken Beth? Where
+had he left her when he had returned to Black Rock House to rob McGuire?
+Or had he...? Impossible! Even Hawk wouldn't have dared.... Peter
+clenched his fists in agony and rage at the terrible thoughts that came
+swarming into his brain, driving out all reason.
+
+His Highness had suffered greatly the last few years of his life, the
+physical pain of wounds received in battle, the mental pain of falling
+hopes, of fallen pride, of disillusionment, but he could not remember
+any pain that had seemed to matter like the anguish of the present
+moment. The other sufferings were those of the Grand Duke Peter
+Nicholaevitch, material sufferings born of his high estate. But this
+present suffering was primitive. It wrenched at the very fibers of the
+heart, for the love that he had found was a finer thing than had ever
+happened in his life, a love which asked nothing and only craved the joy
+of giving. And this woman--this mate that he had chosen out of all the
+women that he had known in the world...!
+
+Hawk Kennedy would have fared badly if Peter could have had him within
+arm's reach at that moment. But after a time, as Peter went into the
+Cabin, he grew calmer, and pacing the floor for a while, began to think
+more lucidly. Less than an hour ago Hawk Kennedy had been at Black Rock
+House giving Jonathan McGuire and Stryker their unpleasant half-hour. He
+wouldn't have dared to return and accomplish what he had done after a
+deed so terrible as that which had entered Peter's thoughts. He was
+still a human being and Beth.... He couldn't have killed Beth out of
+hand. The thought was monstrous--even of Hawk.
+
+He had taken her somewhere--to one of his hiding-places in the woods,
+and proposed keeping her, the legal heir of Ben Cameron, for ransom, as
+a part of his plot to win his share of the McGuire fortune. He had
+stolen the telltale agreement too and now held all the cards--all of
+them.
+
+Peter paused standing by the window seat, looking out at the leaves
+falling in the rising wind, his mind already resolved on a plan. He was
+about to turn toward the telephone, when he noted a commotion in the
+bushes opposite his window. A flash of fire almost at the same moment, a
+crash of broken glass, and the hair on his head twitched violently.
+
+Instinctively Peter dropped to the floor.
+
+Close shooting! His scalp stung uncomfortably--but aside from that he
+knew that he was not hurt. A fraction of an inch lower----
+
+Hawk----! His first impulse had been to rush to the door--but the events
+of the day had taught him caution and so he crouched, drawing his
+revolver. Too much depended upon his existence at the present moment to
+take a chance in the open with a hidden enemy--especially if that enemy
+were Hawk Kennedy. He listened intently. No sound. Then the breaking of
+a twig and the sibilance of whispering voices--two of them--perhaps
+more. And still Peter did not move. His quick thinking had done him a
+service. It was clear that the men outside had decided that the shot had
+taken effect.
+
+And now, instead of creeping to the doorway, Peter settled back upon the
+floor again, prostrate, but in such a position that his eyes and his
+revolver commanded the entrance to the Cabin. He waited. It was a
+nerve-racking business but the thought of all that depended upon his
+safety steadied him into a preternatural calm like that which falls at
+the presence of death. Death was imminent here for some one. It lurked
+just outside. It lurked in the finger that Peter held against the
+trigger. And Peter meant that the adventure should end at the doorway.
+
+Presently he heard a gentle shuffling of feet outside and the whisper
+again, this time quite distinctly, "You got him, I reckon."
+
+Whose voice was that? Not Hawk Kennedy's ... Peter lowered his head to
+his arm and closed his eyes, watching the door-jamb through his
+eyelashes, his revolver hidden but its muzzle in line. A bulky shadow on
+the step, a foot and then a head cautiously protruded--that of Shad
+Wells, followed immediately by another, swathed in a bandage which only
+partially concealed the dark eyes and beard of Yakimov the Russian. It
+took considerable exercise of will on Peter's part to remain quiescent
+with the stare of those four eyes upon him, especially when he noted the
+weapon in the fingers of the Russian. But he waited until the two men
+got into the room.
+
+"There he is. You got him, Yakimov," said Shad with a laugh.
+
+"Perhaps----" Peter heard, "but I'll make sure of it----"
+
+Yakimov's pistol rose slowly, halfway to the level of his eyes. But it
+was never fired, for Peter's revolver flashed fire, twice--three times,
+and Yakimov with a sudden wide stare at vacancy pitched forward and
+crashed down. The surprise was complete, for a fourth shot went into the
+right arm of Shad Wells, which ruined his shot and sent his weapon
+clattering to the floor.
+
+Peter had taken Shad's measure once before and the memory of the blow
+from the axhandle earlier in the day did nothing to soften Peter's
+intent. The quick command as he scrambled to his feet and the sight of
+the imminent weapon caused Shad suddenly to forget everything but the
+desire, whatever else happened, not to die as Yakimov had done. And so
+he put his hands up--staggering back against the wall. Peter, with his
+weapon still covering Shad, put his fingers over Yakimov's heart. The
+man was dead. Then he rose soberly and faced Shad.
+
+"I ought to kill you like the dog that you are," he said tensely, "but I
+want to question you first. Stand over by the bed."
+
+Shad obeyed and Peter, watching him closely, picked up his weapon and
+Yakimov's and examined them carefully, putting one in his pocket and
+laying the other beside him on the mantel. But all the fight was out of
+Shad, who stood stupidly while Peter bound his wrists behind him. The
+man was badly hurt, but it was no time for Peter to be playing the good
+Samaritan.
+
+"So much for keeping bad company," said Peter coolly. "You'll find more
+of the same sort in the lock-up at May's Landing."
+
+"You daresn't send me there," muttered Shad, with a feeble attempt at
+bravado.
+
+"Won't I? You'll see--for attempted murder. The Sheriff is on his way
+here now. Have you anything to say?"
+
+Shad was silent, eying the dead man.
+
+"Oh, very well," said Peter. He closed and locked the door and, keeping
+the man covered with his revolver, moved to the telephone and got
+McGuire at Black Rock House, telling him in a few phrases what had
+happened.
+
+"Yes, Yakimov the Russian--I shot him.... Yes.... I killed him. It was
+to save my own life.... Shad Wells.... A prisoner. Send Brierly with a
+car down here at once. Hawk has been here too and has met Beth Cameron
+... God knows. He has taken her away with him somewhere--abducted
+her.... Yes ... Yes ... I've got to find her. Yes, _Beth_--can't you
+understand?... She came here to bring me a letter ... I found it. Hawk
+was here early this morning.... I know it. He bound her with some of my
+handkerchiefs ... No, there's no doubt of it--none at all.... I can't
+stand here talking. Send Brierly at once. Understand?"
+
+And Peter hung up the receiver and turned toward Shad, who was leaning
+forward toward him, his face pale, his mouth agape at what he had heard.
+But Peter, unaware of the sudden transformation in his prisoner, only
+glanced at him and bending over began a search of the pockets of the
+dead man, when Shad's voice cut the silence----
+
+"You--you say----," he stammered chokingly, "you say B-Beth has been
+abducted, Mister--Beth Cameron?"
+
+Peter straightened, his eyes searching the lumberman's face.
+
+"Yes. To-day--this morning," he answered crisply. "What of it? Do you
+know anything----?"
+
+"Hawk Kennedy took her?" the man faltered. "Are you sure?"
+
+Peter sprang up, his eyes blazing with eagerness.
+
+"What do you know of Hawk Kennedy?" he cried. And then, as Shad seemed
+suddenly to have been stricken dumb, Peter seized him by the shoulder
+and shook him. "Speak! Do you know Hawk Kennedy?"
+
+"Yes," said Shad in a bewildered way. "I do--but Beth----"
+
+"He's taken her away--don't you understand?"
+
+"W-Why?"
+
+"God knows," said Peter wildly. "It's part of a plot--against
+McGuire--to get money. Do you know where he is? Do you know where he's
+gone with her? Speak, man! Or must I----?"
+
+"I know him. I've seen him----," muttered Shad with a hang-dog air.
+
+"To-day?"
+
+"No."
+
+Peter gasped in disappointment, but still questioned quickly.
+
+"Where did you see him?"
+
+"Down near the camp. He came back again yesterday. He'd been away----"
+
+"Yes, yes, I know. What did he say?"
+
+"Oh, he was very peart--swaggered around like he owned the place and
+talked about a lot of money he was goin' to have. An' how he was----"
+
+"Do you know where he took Beth Cameron?" broke in Peter again.
+
+"No. I don't--My God--_him!_"
+
+"Yes, _him_. You know what it means. He'd kill her if he dared."
+
+"Would he? My God! Mister. You can't let----"
+
+"No. No." And then, sharply, "Speak up, Wells, and I'll set you free. Do
+you know where he could have taken her?"
+
+"I'm not sure, but maybe----"
+
+"Where----?"
+
+"He stayed down at the Forks----"
+
+"Yes. But he wouldn't have dared to take her there----"
+
+"No. That's so. Maybe----"
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Some other place----"
+
+"Of course. Was there any other place that he knew about?"
+
+"Yes, there was. But when he first came he rode down on a horse from
+Hammonton."
+
+"Yes, yes. Go on. And later----"
+
+"He used to come around the camp for food. It was when you first came on
+the job. But he bought it and paid for it."
+
+"I don't care about that. Where was he hiding?"
+
+"Back in the woods. He used to sleep in the old tool house down by the
+cedar swamp."
+
+Peter was now on edge with excitement.
+
+"Do you think he'd be likely to take Beth there?"
+
+"How should I know? Maybe he took her to Hammonton or Egg Harbor."
+
+"No. He wouldn't have had time. Where's this tool house?"
+
+"About half a mile from the mills."
+
+"Could you show me the way?"
+
+"I reckon I could----," Shad Wells sank into a chair and bent his head.
+"My God! Mister. If I'd only 'a' known! If you'd only let me help you--I
+can't stand thinkin' of anythin' happenin' to Beth--you an' me--we ain't
+got along, an' maybe you've got the upper hand of me, but----"
+
+"We've got to forget that now," put in Peter quickly, and taking out his
+hasp knife he cut the cords that bound Shad's wrists. "Just to show you
+that I mean what I say." And then, soberly, "You know these woods. Help
+me to find Beth Cameron and I'll make no charge against you. Is that a
+bargain?"
+
+"Yes, Mister."
+
+Peter glanced at his face and at the blood dripping from his finger
+ends. The man was suffering much pain but he hadn't whimpered.
+
+"All right. Take off your coat and I'll tie your arm up first."
+
+Silently Shad rose and obeyed while Peter got water and washed the
+wound, a clean one right through the muscles of the forearm. But no
+bones were broken and Peter bandaged it skillfully. Shad clenched his
+jaws during the washing of the wound but he said nothing more. Peter
+knew that the man still hated him but he knew also that Shad was now
+powerless to do him any injury, and that there was a tie to bind them
+now into this strange alliance. As Peter finished the bandaging and was
+improvising a sling for the wounded arm, Shad crumpled side-long upon
+the edge of the bed, his face ghastly, and would have fallen to the
+floor if Peter hadn't held him upright, and half carried him to the
+armchair. Then Peter unlocked a cupboard and brought forth whisky,
+giving Shad half a tumblerful and in a moment the man began to revive.
+So Peter poured another glass and slowly Shad pulled himself together.
+
+"Perhaps you're not up to it----," Peter began.
+
+But Shad wagged his head with some determination.
+
+"Yes, I--I'm up to it all right. I've got to go, Mister. We'll find her
+if she's in these woods----"
+
+"Bully for you. Feeling better now?"
+
+Shad nodded and then raised his head, staring with a frown out of the
+window by the piano. Peter had been so absorbed in his task of setting
+the man to rights that he had not noticed the dull glow that had risen
+in the southern sky. And following Shad's glance he turned his head and
+looked out of the window. At first he thought it might be the afterglow
+of the sunset until a word from Shad aroused him to the real
+significance of the light.
+
+"Fire!" gasped the lumberman.
+
+"Fire!" echoed Peter, aghast.
+
+"They've set the woods afire, Mister," muttered Shad helplessly.
+
+At the same moment the telephone from the house began jangling
+furiously. It was McGuire, who had made the same discovery.
+
+"Yes," replied Peter to the hysterical questions. "It's the lumber camp.
+They've broken loose and set the woods afire. You've got to get all the
+men you can together and rush them down there. Where's Brierly? On the
+way? Oh, all right. Good. He'll take me down and I'll send him back....
+Yes. I've got a clew to Hawk ... I don't know, but I'm going to try it.
+I'm taking Shad Wells with me ... The old tool house by the cedar swamp.
+Brierly will know. Send the men on in relays when they come--with
+shovels and sacks.... What did you say?... What?... Oh, 'D----n the
+woods.'... All right. I'll get the paper if I can ... Yes. It's my
+affair as much as yours now.... Yes.... Good-by."
+
+Peter hung up the receiver and turned to Shad, who had risen, his arm in
+the sling, just as Brierly came running up the path to the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE INFERNO
+
+
+The way through the woods was long, but Beth stumbled on, urged by the
+rough tone and strong hand of her captor. She knew the woods well,
+better than Hawk, but she had never ventured so far into the forest as
+he led her. She felt very certain that he knew even less than she of the
+way he was taking, and that his object in avoiding the roads and paths
+which led to the southward was to keep her hidden from the eyes of any
+persons that might be met on the paths between Black Rock and the lumber
+camp. But after a while she began to think that he knew with more or
+less definiteness the general direction in which they were moving, for
+he stopped from time to time to look at the sun and get his bearings.
+And then with a gruff word he would move on again, always to the south
+and east, and she knew that he had already decided upon their
+destination. With her hands still bound behind her, progress through the
+underbrush was difficult, for the branches stung her like whip-lashes,
+and thorn-bushes caught at her arms and tore her flimsy frock to shreds.
+The gag in her mouth made breathing painful, but Hawk seemed to be
+unaware of her sufferings or purposely oblivious of them, for he hardly
+glanced at her and said no word except to urge her on to greater
+exertion.
+
+When they approached the road which he wanted to cross, he warned her
+with an oath to remain where he left her and went forward to
+investigate, after which he returned and hurried her across into the
+thicket upon the other side. And it was not until they were securely
+hidden again far from the sight of any possible passers-by that he
+untied the bonds at her wrists and took the gag from her mouth. But she
+knew more than ever that she was completely in his power.
+
+He was sinister. He typified terror, physical and mental--and behind the
+threat of his very presence lay the gruesome vision of sand and sun and
+the bearded man lying with the knife in his back. She tried to summon
+her native courage to combat her fears, to believe that the situation in
+which she found herself was not so evil as she imagined it--and that
+soon Hawk Kennedy would have a change of heart and give her a chance to
+speak in her own behalf. But he silenced her gruffly whenever she
+addressed him and she gave up at last, in fear of bringing his wrath
+upon her. She could see that he was deeply intent upon his object to get
+her away from Black Rock where none could find her. And what then?
+
+In a wild impulse--a moment of desperation, she broke away from him and
+ran, but he caught her easily, for by this time she was very tired.
+Again, she thought of a struggle with him hand to hand, but he read her
+mind and drew a pistol, pushing her on ahead of him as before,
+threatening bodily injury. By this time she had learned to believe him
+capable of any cruelty. But she thanked God that the dangers that
+threatened were only those which could come from a brutal enemy and in
+his very brutality she even found refuge from the other and more
+terrible alternative of his amiability. As Hawk had said, he wasn't "on
+that lay this trip."
+
+But what his ultimate purpose was she had no means of determining. She
+knew that he was totally without scruple and had thought in her first
+moments of terror that he meant to take her far back into the woods--and
+there kill her as he had done her father, thus again destroying all
+claim. But as the moments passed and she saw that he had some definite
+objective, the feeble remnants of her courage gathered strength. Her
+attempt to escape had failed, of course, but his tolerance gave her a
+hope that he did not dare to do the dreadful violence of which she had
+thought.
+
+For hours--it seemed--they went through underbrush and swamp-land,
+stopping from time to time at Hawk's command while he listened and got
+their bearings. Beth had never been in this part of the woods, but she
+had an idea, from the crossing of the road and the character of the
+trees, that they were now somewhere in the Lower Reserve and not very
+far from the lumber camp. It was there that Peter Nichols was. Her heart
+leaped at the thought of his nearness. All memory of the heliotrope
+envelope and of its contents seemed to have been wiped from her
+consciousness by the rough usage of this enemy to them both. It seemed
+to matter very little now who this woman was that Peter had known. She
+belonged to a mysterious and unhappy past--for he had hinted at
+that--which had nothing to do with the revelation that Beth had read in
+his eyes as to the meaning of the wonderful present for them both. She
+knew now that he could have explained, if she had given him the chance.
+Instead of which she had rushed heedlessly to misfortune, the victim of
+a childish pride, plunging them both into this disaster. That pride was
+a pitiful thing now, like her disordered hair and her bedraggled frock,
+which flapped its ribbons, soaked and muddy, about her knees.
+
+But as long as she was still alive and in no immediate danger, she tried
+to hope for some incident which would send Peter back to Black Rock
+earlier than Hawk had expected, where, at the Cabin, he would guess the
+truth as to her meeting with Hawk and what had followed. But how could
+he guess all that? The difficulty dismayed her, He would hunt for her of
+course as soon as he learned of her disappearance, but clever as he was
+there seemed no way in which he could solve the mystery of her flight,
+still less, having guessed Hawk Kennedy's purpose, follow any trail
+through the wilderness by which her captor had led her.
+
+Even in the apparent hopelessness of her situation, she had not reached
+the point of actual despair. Youth and her customary belief in all that
+was good in the world sustained her. Something would happen--something
+_must_ happen.... As she trudged along, she prayed with her whole heart,
+like David, to be delivered from the hand of the oppressor.
+
+That prayer comforted her and gave her strength and so when they came
+out at the edge of the swamp some moments later she obeyed his
+instructions more hopefully. There was a path along the edge of the
+water which presently led into the heart of the woods again, and there
+almost before she was aware of it she found herself facing a small
+wooden house or shanty which seemed in a fairly good state of
+preservation.
+
+Silently, Hawk Kennedy unfastened the hasp which held the door, and
+gruffly ordered her to go inside. Wondering, she obeyed him. But her
+captor now acted with a celerity which while it gave her new fears, set
+other fears at rest, for he took the handkerchiefs from his pockets and
+gagged and bound her arms and wrists again, pushing her down on a pile
+of sacking which had served some one for a bed, tying her feet and knees
+with ropes that were there so that she could neither move nor make a
+sound.
+
+There for a moment he stood, staring down at her with a grim kind of
+humor, born of his successful flight.
+
+"Some kid, by G----! I'm kinder sorry--d---- if I ain't. But ye hadn't
+any business bein' who ye are. I believe I'd rather kill ye outright
+than hurt ye any more--that I would. Maybe I won't have to do either.
+Understand? But I got somethin' to do first. It ain't any child's play
+an' I ain't got much time to spare. Be a good kid an' lie quiet an' go
+to sleep and I'll be back after a while an' set ye free. Understand?"
+
+Beth nodded helplessly, for it was the only thing that she could do and
+with relief watched his evil shape darken the doorway out of which he
+went, carefully closing the door and fastening the hasp on the outside.
+Then she heard the crunch of his footsteps in the dry leaves behind the
+Cabin. They moved rapidly and in a few moments she heard them no more.
+
+Lying on her side, her head pillowed on the bagging, it did not seem at
+first as though she were uncomfortable, and her eyes, wide open, peered
+around her prison. There was a small window unglazed and by the light
+which came from it she could see some axhandles piled in one corner of
+the hut, several cross-cut saws on a box at one side, a few picks and a
+shovel or two. It must be a tool house used for the storage of extra
+implements and she remembered dimly that Shad had once spoken of the
+cutting that had been begun down by the swamp and abandoned for a better
+location. This then was where Hawk Kennedy had taken her and she knew
+that it was a spot little visited nowadays except by hunters, and at
+some distance from the scene of present logging operations, toward the
+spur of the railroad. It was here perhaps that Hawk Kennedy had hidden
+while making his earlier investigations of Black Rock while he ripened
+his plot against Mr. McGuire. There were several empty bottles upon the
+floor, a moldy crust of bread, and a broken water-pitcher which
+confirmed the surmise.
+
+She realized that Hawk had planned well. It seemed hardly possible to
+hope for a chance passer-by in this deserted spot. And even if she
+heard the sound of guns or even heard footsteps in the leaves, what
+chance had she of making known her whereabouts? But she strained her
+ears, listening, only to hear the twittering of the birds, the
+chattering of squirrels and the moaning of the wind in the tree tops.
+How near was freedom and yet how difficult of attainment! She wriggled
+gently in her bonds but each motion seemed to make them tighter, until
+they began to cut more and more cruelly into her tender flesh. She tried
+by twisting her hands and bending her body to touch the knots at her
+knees but her elbows were fastened securely and she couldn't reach them.
+And at last she gave up the attempt, half stifled from her exertions and
+suffering acutely. Then she lay quiet, sobbing gently to herself, trying
+to find a comfortable posture, and wondering what was to be the end of
+it all.
+
+Hours passed in which the scampering of the four-footed things grew less
+and less and the birds ceased their chirping. Only the moaning of the
+wind continued, high in the tree tops. Once or twice she thought she
+plainly heard footsteps near by and renewed her efforts to free herself,
+but desisted again when she learned that it was only the sound of the
+flying leaves dancing against the outside walls of her prison.
+
+She thought of all the things that had happened in her brief and
+uneventful life, but most she thought of Peter Nichols, and all that his
+visit to Black Rock had meant to her. And even in her physical
+discomfort and mental anguish found herself hoping against hope that
+something would yet happen to balk the sinister plans of Hawk Kennedy,
+whatever they were. She could not believe that happiness such as hers
+had been could come to such a dreadful end so soon. But what was Hawk
+Kennedy's mission now? Where had he gone unless to Black Rock again? And
+what would he be doing there? Was revenge his motive now, stronger
+since her revelation of her parentage? And was it Peter that he was
+going to...? Her cry was muffled in the bandage. He had gone back to
+Black Rock to lie in wait for Peter--to kill him perhaps. Sobbing anew
+she struggled again with her bonds, until at last she lay back relaxed
+and exhausted, and prayed with all her might to the God that had always
+been her guide.
+
+And after a while she grew calm again, refreshed and strengthened by her
+faith. No harm would befall Peter. No further harm would come to her.
+Evil such as Hawk's was powerless against her prayers. Already he had
+done her a great injury. The God of her faith would keep her scatheless
+until Peter, the man she loved, came to save her. She was as sure of
+this now as though she could see him coming, vengeance in his hand, with
+long strides through the forest to her hiding-place. And so, after a
+while, exhausted from her efforts, she fell into a doze.
+
+When she awoke from troubled dreams it was with a sense of suffocation.
+She had stirred in her sleep and the thongs had cut more deeply into the
+flesh at her knees, causing her pain. Below the knees she was numb from
+the constant pressure, but she moved her toes up and down and her limbs
+tingled painfully as the constricted blood flowed into her extremities.
+How long she had lain there she did not know, but the interior of the
+shed seemed to have grown quite dark, as though a storm were rising
+outside. The wind was still blowing, and above the moaning of the pines
+she could hear the continuous rustle of the leaves and the creaking of
+moving branches. She managed with an effort to turn her head toward the
+window, where through the dark leaves of the overshadowing trees she
+could catch glimpses of the sky, which seemed to have turned to a
+pinkish purple, like the afterglow of a sunset. Was it possible that she
+could have slept so long? In the turning of her head it seemed that the
+bandage over her mouth had become loosened and as she tried the
+experiment again, the handkerchief slipped down around her neck. In a
+moment she had gotten rid of the wad of linen in her mouth. At least she
+could breathe freely now and moisten her parching lips. This boon seemed
+almost in answer to her prayers. And if one bandage could come loose by
+God's help, why not another?
+
+And so cheerfully and with a persistence which took no thought of the
+pain she was inflicting upon herself, she began working her hands to and
+fro behind her until she fancied that the pressure on her wrists was not
+so great as before. With an effort she managed to wriggle over against
+the wall and so to straighten into a sitting posture.
+
+It was then that she suddenly raised her head and sniffed at the air
+from the small window above her through which a slender wisp of smoke
+came curling. Smoke! The smell of burning brush, familiar to her, and
+yet back here in the woods, unless from a well tended camp-fire, fraught
+with perilous meaning. She glanced out of the small opening again. The
+purple had grown redder, a dull crimson shot with streaks of blue--smoke
+everywhere, endless streamers and tortuous billows sweeping down on the
+wings of the wind.
+
+Fire in the woods! She knew the meaning of that. And the reddish purple
+was not the sunset but the glow of mighty flames near by, a "crown" fire
+in the pines! From the volume of smoke, increasing with every moment, it
+seemed that the old tool house in which she was imprisoned must be
+directly in the path of the flames. Now thoroughly aware of her possible
+fate if she could not release herself she strained her ears, listening,
+and now heard distinctly above the sounds nearer at hand a distant
+crackling roar and the thud of heavy branches falling. The interior of
+the cabin had now grown even dimmer--to a dark redness--and the smoke
+came billowing in at the window almost stifling her with its acrid
+fumes. Outside the window, when she struggled for freedom, she caught a
+glimpse of sparks, flying like meteors past the dim rectangle of her
+vision, small ones, larger ones, and then flaming brands which must set
+fire to whatsoever they touched.
+
+She was half mad now with terror. She tried to think calmly, because she
+knew that unless a miracle happened she would die alone here--the most
+horrible of all deaths. And then her eye caught the gleam of something
+upon the tool chest in the shadows beyond--the teeth of the cross-cut
+saw!
+
+If she could reach it! She fell over purposely on the sacking and with
+great difficulty wriggled slowly toward it, inch by inch. Could she
+reach it with her wrists? With an effort she squirmed to the chest and
+straightened, her back against it, as she had done against the wall, and
+then turning, in spite of the increased pressure of her thongs, managed
+in some way to get to her knees, feeling for the teeth of the saw with
+her fingers behind her. It was not very sharp, but if she could direct
+it between her wrists it would do.
+
+In her new thrill of hope, she was hardly conscious of the suffocating
+smoke which now filled the cabin, stinging her eyes so that she could
+hardly see, or of the heat which with her exertions had sent the
+perspiration streaming down her face. For now, balancing herself with
+great care, she moved her tortured arms, half numb with pain, up and
+down against the rusty edges. A sharp pain and she bit her
+lips,--readjusting herself to her task. But she felt the saw cutting
+into the rope--one strand, another, and in a moment her hands were
+released.
+
+In her joy of the achievement, she toppled over on the floor, but
+managed to release her elbows. Now, panting with her exertions and
+moving her arms quickly to restore the circulation, she felt for the
+knots at her knees and ankles and in a moment her limbs were free. But
+she had not reckoned with the effects of their long period of
+inactivity, for when she tried to get to her feet she found that her
+limbs were powerless. But she moved her knees up and down, suffering
+keenly as the blood took up its course, and after a time managed to
+scramble to her feet, and stagger to the opening in the wall.
+
+It seemed that all the forest was now a mass of flaming brands and that
+the roar of the flames was at her very ears. It was stiflingly hot too
+and in one corner of the cabin there was a tiny bright spot and a curl
+of smoke. Had her liberty come too late? She was not even free yet, for
+the hole in the wall of the building was no larger than a single pane of
+glass and the door of the shanty was fastened by the hasp on the
+outside.
+
+There was no time now to hesitate unless she wished to be burned alive.
+With an effort she threw herself against the door--again and again, but
+it would not yield. Despairing and blinded by smoke, she staggered to
+the box hunting an ax, when her fingers met the handle of the friendly
+saw. It was heavy but she knew how to use it, and set it at the hole in
+the wall, drawing it back and forth. The wood was dead and she felt it
+yield to the strong teeth of the tool, so that she struggled on, the
+width of the board; then cut again, at the upper edge of the aperture,
+and in a moment the board fell away.
+
+She was not a moment too soon, for as she crawled through the opening
+and fell exhausted on the outside, one end of the building suddenly
+caught fire, blazing fiercely. The sparks were all around her and her
+skirt caught fire in the flaming leaves into which she had fallen, but
+she put it out with her blistered hands and rose to her feet. A figure
+was coming toward her, bent, its hand before its eyes. She could not
+make out who it was, but as she turned to run Hawk Kennedy espied her.
+
+"Ho there, kid! Got loose, hey? Just in time. Did ye think I was goin'
+to let ye be burned to death?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+With Brierly leading them to the machine and listening to Peter's story
+as they went, Peter made his way across the foot of the lawn to the road
+where the machine was waiting for them. As they climbed into it, the
+glow to the south had turned a lurid red, staining the dusky sky to the
+zenith. Brierly drove and for precaution's sake Peter sat in the tonneau
+with Shad. But the lumberman, if he had ever been considered formidable
+even in his own estimation, showed no evidence of any self-confidence.
+Peter had given him signs of mettle which were not to be denied and like
+all bullies Shad knew that he was beaten. The one vestige of his
+decency,--his honorable affection for Beth, which had blinded him to
+reason and all sense of duty, was now dedicated to the task of saving
+her. And though the dull hatred of Peter still burned in his breast, the
+instinct of self-preservation, and the chance of retrieving himself at
+the last, made it necessary for him to put his pride in his pocket and
+accept the inevitable.
+
+"Ye'll keep yer word, Mister?" he inquired of Peter, after a moment. "I
+didn't have nothin' to do with settin' them woods afire. Ye'll get me
+out o' this scrape?"
+
+"Yes," said Peter shortly. "I will."
+
+But he watched him nevertheless.
+
+The ex-soldier drove the car at a furious pace over the rough road,
+rejoicing in the open cut-out and the rush of the wind past his ears. He
+had been, for a time, a chauffeur of a staff car on the other side, and
+the present conditions were full of promise of the kind of excitement
+that appealed to his youthful spirit. Shad shouted instructions over
+his shoulder but Brierly only nodded and sent the car on over the
+corduroy to which they had come, with the throttle wide. Night had
+nearly fallen but the road was a crimson track picked out with long
+pencilings of shadow. The wind was still tossing the tree tops and
+leaves and twigs cut sharply across their faces. There was no mistaking
+the danger to the whole of the Lower Reserve unless the wind fell--a
+"crown" fire after two weeks of drought was not a subject for jest.
+
+But Peter was not thinking of the damage to McGuire's property. He
+roared questions eagerly at Wells as to the location of the cabin with
+reference to the probable course of the flames. The man only shook his
+head dubiously, but it was plain that he was considering that danger. As
+they neared the fire they could see the flames clearly now, beyond the
+pines just before them, which were etched in deeply bitten lines, every
+quivering frond in silhouette against the glare.
+
+As the car neared the "Forks," Shad directed Brierly to take the turn to
+the left--away from the main road to camp, and they swung into a sandy
+road, the wind at their backs, their way for a time almost parallel to
+the course of the flames. They passed the small settlement of the
+"Forks," the few denizens of which were standing beside the road, their
+few household goods packed in barrows and carts, undecided whether or
+not the red terror would come their way. The flames were clearly visible
+now, leaping skyward like devils freed from Hell, and so hot was the
+fire and so high the wind that whole branches were carried high into the
+air and flaming fell beyond into the cool dark to kindle new
+destruction. Anything that lay to leeward of the holocaust was doomed.
+Peter furiously questioned Wells again, but he only shook his head while
+he anxiously watched the flames as the road converged toward them. But
+as the road swung to the left Shad shouted and held up his hand and
+Brierly brought the car to a stop.
+
+"This is the nearest point, I guess, Mister. From here on to Cranberry
+town the road runs to the left of Cedar Swamp."
+
+"Where's the cabin?" queried Peter anxiously.
+
+"In yonder, not far from the edge of the swamp," Shad replied with a
+frown. "Looks like the fire's pretty near there."
+
+"Come on, then," said Peter quickly. "Brierly, you go back to Black Rock
+and bring the men here. Follow in. We'll be on the lookout for you."
+
+And leaving Brierly to turn the car, he started off with Shad Wells into
+the underbrush. His heart sank as he saw how furiously the fire was
+raging and how near it seemed to be. But Shad needed no urging now and
+led the way with a long stride, Peter following closely. The woods were
+not so heavy here and the forest was now as bright as at midday, and so
+they made rapid progress, coming out at the end of some minutes at the
+edge of the swamp, whose burnished pools sullenly reflected the fiery
+heavens. There they found a path and proceeded more quickly. To Peter's
+anxious questions Shad shook his head and only peered before him,
+forgetting his own suffering in the dreadful danger to which the girl
+they sought might be subjected. A terrible thought had come into Peter's
+mind in the last few moments--that it was Hawk Kennedy who had set fire
+to the woods after imprisoning Beth in a cabin in the path of the
+flames. This was his vengeance, terrible in its simplicity--for a
+lighted match in the dry leaves would do the trick, and incendiarism in
+the woods was difficult to trace. A vengeance fatal in its
+effectiveness, for such a fire would tell no tales. Peter found himself
+hoping that it was not to the old tool cabin that Beth had been
+taken--that she was even far away from this inferno that lay before him.
+The glare was already hot on his face and stray breezes which blew
+toward him from time to time showed that the wind might be veering to
+the eastward, in which case all the woods which they now traversed would
+soon be afire.
+
+But to the credit of Shad Wells it may be said that he did not hesitate,
+for when he reached a point in the path where it turned closely along
+the edge of the swamp, he plunged boldly into the woods, directly toward
+the flames, and Peter, even more eager than he, ran ahead, peering to
+right and left for signs of the cabin which now could not be far away.
+The roar and the crackling were now ominously near and the flames seemed
+to be all about them, while the tree tops seemed to be filled with
+flaming brands. Sparks and live cinders fell upon them and the hot
+breath of the wind blistered them with its heat.
+
+Suddenly the panting Shad grasped Peter sharply by the arm with his
+uninjured hand.
+
+"The cabin! My God! It's burning now----Quick, Mister--or----"
+
+Peter sprang forward through the flaming leaves. He seemed to be in the
+very midst of the flames. Blinded and suffocated by the smoke, Peter
+plunged forward and reached the cabin. One end and side of it was
+blazing furiously but he dashed around the lower end of it, seeking the
+door. It was open and already aflame. The hut was empty. He ran out
+again, blinded by the smoke and the glare. Was it a fool's errand? And
+had he and Shad only entrapped themselves to no good end? To the right
+of him the fire roared and with his back to the glare his eyes eagerly
+sought the shadows down the wind. Vague shapes of gnarled branches and
+pallid tree trunks, spectral bushes quivering before the advancing
+demon, some of them already alight. Safety lay only in this one
+direction--for Beth, if she had been there, for Shad----Peter suddenly
+remembered the lumberman and turned to his left to look, when suddenly
+he espied a figure moving away from him and ran after it, calling. He
+realized immediately that his hoarse cry was lost in the inferno of the
+flames, but he ran more rapidly, beating out the embers which had
+ignited the sleeve of his shirt.
+
+He saw the figure clearly now, but it was not Shad--for Shad had been in
+his shirt sleeves. This figure wore a coat and stumbled away half bent,
+one arm over its head, pushing something--some one ahead of it. Peter
+drew his revolver, leaping the burning leaves and calling aloud.
+
+He saw the figures ahead of him halt and turn as they heard his voice
+and the glare behind him shone full upon them, the face of the man agape
+with inflamed surprise--Hawk Kennedy's, and the other, wide-eyed as at
+the sight of an apparition--Beth's.
+
+Only thirty paces separated them when Hawk Kennedy fired. Peter heard
+Beth's scream and saw her strike at the man's arm, but furiously he
+swung her in front of him and fired again. But her struggles and the
+uncertain light sent the bullet wide. Peter did not dare to shoot for
+the man was using her as a shield, but he did not hesitate and ran in,
+trusting to luck and Beth's struggles. One bullet struck him somewhere
+as Beth seemed to stumble and crumple to the ground, but he went on
+unspent and catapulted into his man with a rush that sent them both
+sprawling into the smoldering foliage. Blinded by the smoke, but mad
+with fury, Peter struck and clutched, and Hawk's last shot went upward
+for Peter wrenched his wrist and then struck him full on the head with
+his own weapon.
+
+He felt the man relax and slip down into the dust and smoke, where he
+lay motionless.
+
+Peter drew himself up to arm's length, wondering at the feebleness of
+his muscles and the trouble with his breathing.
+
+"Beth!" he gasped, frantically, searching the smoking ground for her.
+
+"Peter--thank God!" Her voice was just at his ear and an arm went around
+his neck.
+
+"Beth! Beth! You've got to get out of this."
+
+"Come, Peter--there's time----"
+
+Just then a branch crashed down just beside them, showering them with
+sparks.
+
+"Come, Peter--come!" she cried.
+
+He struggled up with an effort, one hand clutching at his breast.
+
+"Go, Beth!" he gasped. "For God's sake, go!"
+
+Beth stared at him for one short terrible moment as she realized what
+had happened to him.
+
+"Peter! You--you're----"
+
+"I--I think I'm hurt--a little--it isn't much."
+
+He swayed but she caught him and put an arm around one shoulder,
+clutching it with the other hand.
+
+"Lean on me," she muttered. "I'm strong enough----"
+
+"No--go, Beth----"
+
+But she put her strength under him and began walking while he staggered
+on beside her. Sparks and fiery brands rained down upon them, blistering
+and burning, the hot breath of the furnace drove their breath poisoned
+back into their lungs and scorched their bodies, but still they remained
+upright--and by a miracle still moved on.
+
+"To the left," Peter heard dimly, "the swamp is close by."
+
+He obeyed her, more dead than alive, and by sheer effort of will kept
+his feet moving, paced to hers. He seemed to be walking as though in a
+red fever, on leaden feet, carrying a body that had no weight or
+substance.
+
+But after a while his feet too seemed to grow lighter and he felt
+himself falling through space. But her arms were still about him.
+
+"Peter," he heard her voice in agony, "only a few yards further----"
+
+With a last remaining effort he struggled and then his feet stumbling,
+toppled forward and sank into something soft, something deliciously cool
+and soothing. He felt a hand tugging at him, but he had no pain now, no
+weakness--only the perfect happiness of a body that, seeking rest, has
+found it.
+
+After a while he revived at the sound of a voice at his ear. Water was
+splashing over his face and he struggled up.
+
+"No--keep down," he heard Beth's voice saying. "We're safe, Peter--the
+wind is changing----"
+
+"And you, Beth----?"
+
+"All right, dear. A little patience----"
+
+The voice trembled, but there was a world of faith in it. After all that
+had happened, it was impossible that further disaster should follow now.
+
+"Y-you're all right?" he gasped weakly.
+
+"Yes. Yes. Lie still for a while."
+
+And so they half lay, half crouched in the mud and water, while the
+inferno swept over them, passing to the south. His head was on her
+breast and against his ear he could feel her heart beating bravely, a
+message of strength and cheer. From time to time her wet fingers brushed
+his hair with water and then, as he seemed to be sinking into a dream
+again, he felt lips light as thistle-down upon his brows.
+
+Death such as this, he thought, was very pleasant.
+
+And then later he was aroused by a shrill clear call.... Then saw lights
+flashing.... Heard men's voices.... Felt himself carried in strong arms
+... but all the while there were soft fingers in his own.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+RETRIBUTION
+
+
+When they lifted him into the automobile and Beth got in beside him, his
+fingers moved in her own.
+
+"Beth," she heard him whisper.
+
+"Peter--I'm here."
+
+"Thank God. And--and Shad----? He--he was with me----"
+
+"He's asking for Shad," she repeated to Brierly, unaware that her
+cousin, like his Biblical namesake, had come scatheless through the
+fiery furnace. But some one heard the question and replied:
+
+"Shad's here, Miss. He's all right----"
+
+"Oh," gasped Peter. "And there's something else----"
+
+"No, no--we must go. Your wound----"
+
+But he insisted. "I--I'm all--right. Something else,--Beth--some one
+must get--paper--blue envelope--Hawk Ken----"
+
+His words ended in a gasp and he sank back in her arms.
+
+Beth was frightened at the sudden collapse and the look in his face, but
+she knew that his injunction was important. And keeping her courage she
+called Shad Wells to the side of the car and gave quick directions.
+There was a note of appeal in her voice and Shad listened, his gaze over
+his shoulder in the direction she indicated.
+
+"If he ain't burned to a crisp by now----"
+
+"Go, Shad--please! And if you can get to him bring the papers in his
+pocket to me."
+
+He met her gaze and smiled.
+
+"I reckon I'll get to him if anybody can."
+
+"Oh, thanks, Shad--thanks----" she muttered, as the lumberman turned,
+followed by one of the others, and silently moved toward the flames.
+
+And in a moment the car was on its way to Black Rock, Brierly driving
+carefully over the rough road. That was a terrible ride for Beth. She
+supported the wounded man against her shoulder, her gaze on his pallid
+face. Her poor blistered arm was about his waist, but she had no thought
+for her own suffering. Every ounce of strength that remained to her was
+given to holding Peter close to her so that he would not slip down,
+every ounce of faith in her soul given to combat with the fears that
+assailed her. It seemed to Beth that if the Faith that had brought her
+through this day and out of that furnace were still strong enough she
+could combat even the Death that rode with them. And so she prayed
+again, holding him closely. But he was so cold and inert. She put her
+hand over his heart and a tiny pulsation answered as though to reassure
+her. Her hand came away dry, for the wound was not near his heart. She
+thanked God for that. She found it high up on the right side just below
+the collar bone and held her fingers there, pressing them tightly. If
+this blood were life and she could keep it within him she would do it.
+But he was so pale....
+
+Brierly drove to Black Rock House instinctively. Here were beds,
+servants and the telephone. He sounded his horn as they came up the
+driveway and an excited group came out upon the porch. But Beth saw only
+McGuire.
+
+"Mr. Nichols has been shot, Mr. McGuire--he's dangerously hurt," she
+appealed. "He's got to have a doctor--at once."
+
+"Who--who shot him?"
+
+"Hawk Kennedy."
+
+"And he--Hawk----?"
+
+"He's dead, I think."
+
+She heard McGuire's sudden gasp and saw Aunt Tillie come running.
+
+"He's got to be put to bed--Aunt Tillie," she pleaded.
+
+"Of course," said McGuire, finding his voice suddenly, "Of course--at
+once. The blue room, Mrs. Bergen. We'll carry him up. Send Stryker."
+
+And Aunt Tillie ran indoors.
+
+Peter was still quite unconscious, but between them they managed to get
+him upstairs.
+
+McGuire seemed now galvanized into activity and while the others cut
+Peter's coat away and found the wound he got Hammonton and a doctor on
+the 'phone. It was twelve miles away but he promised to be at Black Rock
+House inside half an hour.
+
+"Twenty minutes and you won't regret it. Drive like Hell. It's a matter
+of life or death."
+
+Meanwhile, Aunt Tillie, with anxious glances at Beth, had brought
+absorbent cotton, clean linen, a basin of water and a sponge, and
+Stryker and Brierly washed the wound, while McGuire rushed for his
+bottle and managed to force some whisky and water between Peter's teeth.
+The bullet they found had gone through the body and had come out at the
+back, shattering the shoulder-blade. But the hemorrhage had almost
+ceased and the wounded man's heart was still beating faintly.
+
+"It's the blood he's lost," muttered Brierly sagely.
+
+"He'll come around all right. You can't kill a man as game as that."
+
+Beth clung to the arms of the chair in which they had placed her. "You
+think--he--he'll live?"
+
+"Sure he will. I've seen 'em worse'n that----"
+
+She sank back into her chair, exhausted. She had never fainted in her
+life and she wasn't going to begin. But now that all that they could do
+had been done for Peter, they turned their attention to Beth. She had
+not known how much she needed it. Her hair was singed, her wrists were
+raw and bleeding, and her arms, half naked, were red and blistered. Her
+dress, soaked with mud and water, was partly torn or burned away.
+
+"She must be put to bed here, Mrs. Bergen," said McGuire. "She'll need
+the doctor too."
+
+Beth protested and would not leave the room until the doctor came. But
+McGuire, who seemed--and somewhat justly--to have complete faith in the
+efficacy of his own remedy, gave her some of the whisky and water to
+drink, while Aunt Tillie washed her face and rubbed vaseline upon her
+arms, crooning over her all the while in the comforting way of women of
+her kind, to the end that Beth felt the pain of her body lessen.
+
+It was not until the doctor arrived with a businesslike air and made his
+examination, pronouncing Peter's condition serious but not necessarily
+fatal, that the tension at Beth's heart relaxed.
+
+"He--he'll get well, Doctor?" she asked timidly.
+
+"I think so," he said with a smile, "but we've got to have absolute
+quiet now. I'd like some one here to help me----"
+
+"If you'd only let me----"
+
+But she read refusal in his eyes as he looked at her critically, and saw
+him choose Stryker.
+
+"You're to be put to bed at once," he said dryly. "You'll need attention
+too, I'm thinking."
+
+And so Beth, with McGuire's arm supporting and Aunt Tillie's arm around
+her, was led to the room adjoining,--the pink room of Miss Peggy
+McGuire. McGuire closed the door and questioned her eagerly.
+
+"You say Hawk Kennedy was killed----?"
+
+"I think so--or--or burned," said Beth, now quivering in the reaction
+of all that she had experienced. "I--I sent Shad Wells to see. We left
+him lying there. We just had time to get away. The fire was all around.
+We got to the swamp--into the water--but he----" She put her face into
+her hands, trembling with the recollection. "It was horrible. I can't
+talk about it."
+
+Aunt Tillie glared at McGuire, but he still questioned uneasily.
+
+"You--you saw nothing of a blue envelope, a paper----"
+
+With an effort Beth lowered her hands and replied:
+
+"No--Peter--Mr. Nichols thought of it. Shad Wells will bring it--if it
+isn't burned."
+
+"Oh, I see----"
+
+"But what you can't see," broke in Aunt Tillie with spirit, "is that the
+poor child ain't fit to answer any more questions to-night. And she
+shan't."
+
+"Er--no--of course," said McGuire, and went out.
+
+If it had been an eventful day for Peter and Beth, the night was to
+prove eventful for McGuire, for not content to wait the arrival of Shad
+Wells, he took his courage in his hands and with Brierly drove at once
+to the scene of the disaster. The wind had died and a gentle rain began
+to fall, but the fire was burning fiercely.
+
+The other matter in McGuire's thoughts was so much the more important to
+him that he had given little thought to the damage to his property. His
+forests might all be burned down for all that he cared.
+
+At the spot to which Beth and Peter had been carried he met Shad and the
+party of men that had been looking for Hawk Kennedy, but the place where
+the fight had taken place was still a mass of fallen trees and branches
+all flaming hotly and it was impossible for any one to get within
+several hundred yards of it.
+
+There seemed little doubt as to the fate of his enemy. Jonathan K.
+McGuire stood at the edge of the burned area, peering into the glowing
+embers. His look was grim but there was no smile of triumph at his lips.
+In his moments of madness he had often wished Hawk Kennedy dead, but
+never had he wished him such a death as this. He questioned Shad sharply
+as to his share in the adventure, satisfying himself at last that the
+man had told a true story, and then, noting his wounded arm, sent him
+back with Brierly in the car to Black Rock House for medical treatment
+with orders to send the chauffeur with the limousine.
+
+The rain was now falling fast, but Jonathan K. McGuire did not seem to
+be aware of it. His gaze was on the forest, on that of the burning area
+nearest him where the fire still flamed the hottest, beneath the embers
+of which lay the one dreadful secret of his life. Even where he stood
+the heat was intense, but he did not seem to be aware of it, nor did he
+follow the others when they retreated to a more comfortable spot. No one
+knew why he waited or of what he was thinking, unless of the damage to
+the Reserve and what the loss in money meant to him. They could not
+guess that pity and fear waged their war in his heart--pity that any man
+should die such a death--fear that the man he thought of should not die
+it.
+
+But as the hours lengthened and there was no report brought to him of
+any injured man, being found in the forest near by, he seemed to know
+that Peter Nichols had not struck for Beth in vain.
+
+When the limousine came, he sent the other watchers home, and got into
+it, sitting in solitary grandeur in his wet clothing, peering out of the
+window. The glow of the flames grew dimmer and died at last with the
+first pale light to the eastward which announced the coming of the dawn.
+A light drizzle was still falling when it grew light enough to see.
+McGuire got down and without awakening the sleeping chauffeur went
+forth into the spectral woods. He knew where the old tool cabin had
+stood and, from the description Wells had given him, had gained a
+general idea of where the fight had taken place--two hundred yards from
+the edge of the swamp where Nichols and the Cameron girl had been found,
+and nearly in a line with the biggest of the swamp-maples, the trunk of
+which still stood, a melancholy skeleton of its former grandeur.
+
+The ground was still hot under the mud and cinders, but not painfully
+so, and he was not aware of any discomfort. Clouds of steam rose and
+among them he moved like the ghost of a sin, bent, eager, searching with
+heavy eyes for what he hoped and what he feared to find. The old tool
+house had disappeared, but he saw a heap of ashes and among them the
+shapes of saws and iron picks and shovels. But he passed them by, making
+a straight line to the eastward and keeping his gaze upon the charred
+and blackened earth, missing nothing to right and left, fallen branches,
+heaps of rubbish, mounds of earth.
+
+Suddenly startled, McGuire halted and stood for a long moment.... Then,
+his hand before his eyes he turned away and slowly made his way back to
+his automobile. But there was no triumph in his eyes. A power greater
+than his own had avenged Ben Cameron.
+
+His vigil was over--his nightly vigil--the vigil of years. He made his
+way to his car and, awakening his chauffeur, told him to drive to Black
+Rock House. But when he reached home, the set look that his face had
+worn for so many weeks had disappeared. And in its place among the
+relaxed muscles which showed his years, sat the benignity of a new
+resolution.
+
+It was broad daylight when he quietly knocked at the door of the room in
+which the injured man lay. The doctor came to the door. It seemed that
+all immediate danger of a further collapse had passed for the heart was
+stronger and unless there was a setback Peter Nichols had an excellent
+chance of recovery. McGuire himself offered to watch beside the bed; but
+the doctor explained that a trained nurse was already on the way from
+Philadelphia and would arrive at any moment. So McGuire went to his own
+room and, sinking into his armchair, slept for the first time in many
+weeks at peace, smiling his benignant smile.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Beth awoke in the pink room of Miss Peggy McGuire in which she had been
+put to bed. She lay for a moment still stupefied, her brain struggling
+against the effects of the sleeping potion that the doctor had given her
+and then slowly straightened to a sitting posture, regarding in
+bewilderment the embroidered night-robe which she wore and the flowered
+pink hangings at the windows. She couldn't at first understand the pain
+at her head and other aches and pains which seemed to come mysteriously
+into being. But she heard a familiar voice at her ear and saw the
+anxious face of Aunt Tillie, who rose from the chair at her bedside.
+
+"Aunt Tillie!" she whispered.
+
+"It's all right, dearie," said the old woman. "You're to lie quite still
+until the doctor sees you----"
+
+"The doctor----? Oh, I--I remember----" And then with a sudden awakening
+to full consciousness--"Peter!" she gasped.
+
+"He's better, dearie."
+
+"But what does the doctor say?"
+
+"He's doin' as well as possible----"
+
+"Will he get well?"
+
+"Yes, yes. The doctor is very hopeful."
+
+"You're sure?"
+
+"Yes. He's sleepin' now--quiet--ye'd better just lie back again."
+
+"But I want to go to him, Aunt Tillie. I want to."
+
+"No. Ye can't, dearie--not now."
+
+And so by dint of reassurance and persuasion, Aunt Tillie prevailed upon
+the girl to lie back upon her pillows and after a while she slept again.
+
+But Beth was no weakling and when the doctor came into her room some
+time later, the effects of her potion wearing away, she awoke to full
+consciousness. He saw the imploring question in her eyes, before he took
+her pulse and answered it with a quick smile.
+
+"He's all right. Heart coming on nicely----"
+
+"Will h-he live?" she gasped.
+
+"He'll be a fool if he doesn't."
+
+"What----?"
+
+"I'd be, if I knew there was a girl like you in the next room with that
+kind of look in her eyes asking for me."
+
+But his remark went over Beth's head.
+
+"He's better?"
+
+"Yes. Conscious too. But he'll have to be kept quiet."
+
+"D-did he speak of me?"
+
+The doctor was taking her pulse and put on a professional air which hid
+his inward smiles and provoked a repetition of her question.
+
+"D-did he?" she repeated softly.
+
+"Oh, yes," he said with a laugh. "He won't talk of anything else. I had
+to give him a hypodermic to make him stop."
+
+Beth was silent for a moment. And then timidly----
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"Oh, just that you saved his life, that's all."
+
+"Nothing else?"
+
+"Oh, yes. Now that I come to think of it, he did."
+
+"What?"
+
+"That he wanted to see you."
+
+"Oh! And can I----?"
+
+The doctor snapped his watch and relinquished her wrist with a smile.
+
+"If everything goes well--to-morrow--for two minutes--just two minutes,
+you understand."
+
+"Not until to-morrow?" she asked ruefully.
+
+"You ought to be glad to see him alive at all. He had a narrow shave of
+it. An inch or two lower----" And then with a smile, "But he's going to
+get well, I promise you that."
+
+"Oh, thanks," said Beth gratefully.
+
+"Don't worry. And if you behave yourself I'll let you get up after
+lunch." He gave some directions to Mrs. Bergen as to the treatment of
+Beth's blistered arms, and went out.
+
+So in spite of the pain that she still suffered, Beth was content. At
+least she was content until Aunt Tillie brought her Miss Peggy McGuire's
+silver hand-mirror and she saw the reflection of her once beautiful
+self.
+
+"Aunt Tillie!" she gasped. "I'm a sight."
+
+"Maybe--but that's a sight better than bein' burned to death," said the
+old lady, soberly.
+
+"My hair----!"
+
+"It's only frizzled. They say that's good for the hair," she said
+cheerfully.
+
+"Oh, well," sighed Beth as she laid the mirror down beside her. "I guess
+I ought to be glad I'm alive after----"
+
+And then with an uncontrollable shudder, she asked, "And--and--_him_?"
+
+"Dead," said Aunt Tillie with unction. "Burned to a crisp."
+
+Beth gasped but said nothing more. She didn't want to think of
+yesterday, but she couldn't help it--the horrors that she had passed
+through--the fate that might have been in store for her, if--Peter
+hadn't found her in time!
+
+Beth relaxed in comfort while Aunt Tillie bathed and anointed her,
+brushed out the hair that was "frizzled," refreshing and restoring her
+patient, so that after lunch she got up and put on the clothing that had
+been brought from her home. Her arms were swathed in bandages from
+wrists to shoulders but the pain was much less, so, when McGuire knocked
+at the door and asked if he might see her, she was sitting in a chair by
+the window and greeted him with a smile.
+
+He entered timidly and awkwardly, rubbing his fingers uncomfortably
+against the palms of his hands.
+
+"They tell me you're feelin' better, Miss Cameron," he said soberly.
+"I--I'd like to talk to you for a moment," and with a glance at Aunt
+Tillie, "alone if you don't mind."
+
+Aunt Tillie gathered up some bandages and grudgingly departed.
+
+McGuire came forward slowly and sank into a chair beside Beth's, laying
+his hand timidly on hers.
+
+"I thank God nothing happened to you, child, and I hope you believe me
+when I say it," he began in an uncertain voice.
+
+"Oh, yes, sir, I do."
+
+"Because the only thing that matters to me now is setting myself
+straight with you and Mr. Nichols."
+
+He paused in a difficulty of speech and then went on.
+
+"He--Mr. Nichols has told you everything----?"
+
+Beth wagged her head like a solemn child and then laid her other hand on
+his.
+
+"Oh, I'm so sorry for you," she said.
+
+"You mustn't say that," he muttered. "I--I've done you a great
+wrong--not trying to find out about Ben Cameron--not trying to find
+_you_. But I've suffered for it, Miss----" And then eagerly----"You
+don't mind my calling you Beth, do you?"
+
+"No, Mr. McGuire."
+
+"I ought to have told what happened. I ought to have tried to find out
+if Ben Cameron had any kin. I did wrong. But I've paid for it. I've
+never had a happy hour since I claimed that mine that didn't belong to
+me. I've made a lot of money but what I did has been hanging over me for
+years making an old man of me before my time----"
+
+"Oh, please don't be unhappy any more----"
+
+"Let me talk Miss--Beth. I've got to tell you. It'll make me feel a lot
+easier." Beth smoothed his hand reassuringly and he clasped hers eagerly
+as though in gratitude. "I never was much good when I was a lad, Beth,
+and I never could get along even after I got married. It wasn't in me
+somehow. I was pretty straight as young fellows go but nothing went
+right for me. I was a failure. And then----"
+
+He paused a moment with bent head but Beth didn't speak. It was all very
+painful to her.
+
+"Hawk Kennedy killed your father. But I was a crook too. I left Hawk
+there without water to die. It was a horrible thing to do--even after
+what he'd done to me. My God! Maybe I didn't suffer for that! I was glad
+when I learned Hawk didn't die, even though I knew from that time that
+he'd be hanging over me like a curse. He did for years and years. I knew
+he'd turn up some day, I tried to forget, but I couldn't. The sight of
+him was always with me."
+
+"How terrible!" whispered Beth.
+
+"But from that moment everything I did went well. Money came fast. I
+wasn't a bad business man, but even a bad business man could have put
+_that_ deal through. I sold out the mine. I've got the figures and I'm
+going to show them to you, because they're yours to see. With the money
+I made some good investments. That money made more money and more
+besides. Making money got to be my passion. It was the only thing I
+cared for--except my girls--and it was the only thing that made me
+forget."
+
+"Please don't think you've got to tell me any more."
+
+"Yes, I want to. I don't know how much I'm worth to-day." And then in a
+confidential whisper--"I couldn't tell within half a million or so, but
+I guess it ain't far short of ten millions, Beth. You're the only person
+in the world outside the Treasury Department that knows how much I'm
+worth. I'm telling you. I've never told anybody--not even Peggy. And the
+reason I'm telling you is because, you've got to know, because I can't
+sleep sound yet, until I straighten this thing out with you. It didn't
+take much persuading for Mr. Nichols to show me what I had to do when
+he'd found out, because everything I've got comes from money I took from
+you. And I'm going to give you what belongs to you, the full amount I
+got for that mine with interest to date. It's not mine. It's yours and
+you're a rich girl, Beth----"
+
+"I won't know what to do with all that money, Mr. McGuire," said Beth in
+an awed voice.
+
+"Oh, yes, you will. I've been thinking it all out. It's a deed by gift.
+We'll have to have a consideration to make it binding. We may have to
+put in the facts that I've been--er--only a sort of trustee of the
+proceeds of the 'Tarantula' mine. I've got a good lawyer. He'll know
+what to do--how to fix it."
+
+"I--I'm sure I'm very grateful."
+
+"You needn't be." He paused and laid his hand over hers again. "But if
+it's all the same to you, I'd rather not have much talk about it--just
+what's said in the deed--to explain."
+
+"I'll say nothin' you don't want said."
+
+"I knew you wouldn't. Until the papers are drawn I'd rather you wouldn't
+speak of it."
+
+"I won't."
+
+"You're a good girl. I--I'd like to see you happy. If money will make
+you happy, I'm glad I can help."
+
+"You've been very kind, Mr. McGuire--and generous. I can't seem to think
+about all that money. It's just like a fairy tale."
+
+"And you forgive me--for what I did----? You forgive me, Beth?"
+
+"Yes, I do, Mr. McGuire. Don't say anythin' more about it--please!"
+
+The old man bent his head and kissed her hand and then with a great sigh
+of relief straightened and rose.
+
+"Thank God!" he said quietly. And bidding her good-by he walked from the
+room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+A VISITOR
+
+
+The two minutes permitted by the doctor had come and gone. There had
+been much to say with too little time to say it in. For Beth, admonished
+that the patient must be kept quiet, and torn between joy at Peter's
+promised recovery and pity for his pale face, could only look at him and
+murmur soothing phrases, while Peter merely smiled and held her hand.
+But that, it seemed, was enough, for Beth read in his eyes that what had
+happened had merely set an enduring seal upon the affection of both of
+them.
+
+With the promise that she could see him again on the morrow, Beth went
+back to her room. She had wanted to return to the village, but McGuire
+had insisted upon her staying where she was under the care of the doctor
+until what they were pleased to call the shock to her system had yielded
+to medical treatment. Beth said nothing. She was already herself and
+quite able to take up her life just where she had left it, but she
+agreed to stay in McGuire's house. It seemed to make him happier when
+she acquiesced in his wishes. Besides, it was nice to be waited on and
+to be next to the room where the convalescent was.
+
+But the revelation as to Peter's identity could not be long delayed.
+Brierly had brought the tale back from the lumber camp, and the village
+was all agog with excitement. But Beth had seen no one but Mr. McGuire
+and Aunt Tillie, and Peter had requested that no one should tell her but
+himself. And so in a day or so when Beth went into Peter's room she
+found him with a color in his cheeks, and wearing a quizzical smile.
+
+"I thought you were never coming, Beth," he said.
+
+"I came as soon as they'd let me, Peter. Do you feel stronger?"
+
+"Every hour. Better when you're here. And you?"
+
+"Oh, I'm all right."
+
+He looked at her with his head on one side.
+
+"Do you think you could stand hearing something very terrible about me,
+Beth?"
+
+She glanced at him anxiously and then a smile of perfect faith responded
+to his. She knew that he was getting well now, because this was a touch
+of his old humor.
+
+"H-m. I guess so. I don't believe it can be so _very_ terrible, Peter."
+
+"It is--_very_ terrible, Beth."
+
+But the pressure of his fingers was reassuring.
+
+"I'm listenin'," she said.
+
+"Well, you know, you told me once that you'd marry me no matter what I'd
+been----"
+
+"Yes. I meant that, Peter. I mean it now. It's what you are----"
+
+Peter Nichols chuckled. It was his last chuckle as Peter Nichols.
+
+"Well, I'm not what you thought I was. I've been acting under false
+colors--under false pretenses. My name isn't Peter Nichols. It's Peter
+Nicholaevitch----"
+
+"Then you _are_ all Russian!" she said.
+
+Peter shook his head.
+
+"No. Only half of me. But I used to live in Russia--at a place called
+Zukovo. The thing I wanted to tell you was that they fired me out
+because they didn't want me there."
+
+"You! How dared they! I'd like to give them a piece of my mind," said
+Beth indignantly.
+
+"It wouldn't have done any good. I tried to do that."
+
+"And wouldn't they listen?"
+
+"No. They burned my--my house and tried to shoot me."
+
+"Oh! How could they!" And then, gently, "Oh, Peter. You _have_ had
+troubles, haven't you?"
+
+"I don't mind. If I hadn't had them, I wouldn't have come here and I
+wouldn't have found you."
+
+"So after all, I ought to be glad they did fire you out," she said
+gently.
+
+"But aren't you curious to know _why_ they did?"
+
+"I am, if you want to tell me, but even if it was bad, I don't care
+_what_ you did, Peter."
+
+He took her fingers to his lips.
+
+"It wasn't so very bad after all, Beth. It wasn't so much what I did as
+what my--er--my family had done that made them angry."
+
+"Well, _you_ weren't responsible for what your kin-folks did."
+
+Peter laughed softly.
+
+"_They_ seemed to think so. My--er--my kin-folks were mixed up in
+politics in Russia and one of my cousins had a pretty big job--too big a
+job for _him_ and that's the truth." A cloud passed for a moment over
+Peter's face and he looked away.
+
+"But what did _his_ job have to do with _you_?" she asked.
+
+"Well, you see, we were all mixed up with him, just by being related--at
+least that's what the people thought. And so when my cousin did a lot of
+things the people thought he oughtn't to do and didn't do a lot of other
+things that they thought he _ought_ to have done, they believed that I
+was just the same sort of man that he was."
+
+"How unjust, Peter!"
+
+He smiled at the ceiling.
+
+"I thought so. I told them what I thought. I did what I could to
+straighten things out and to help them, but they wouldn't listen.
+Instead they burned my--my house down and I had to run away."
+
+"How terrible for you!" And then, after a pause, "Was it a pretty house,
+Peter?"
+
+"Yes," he replied slowly, "it was. A very pretty house--in the midst of
+a forest, with great pines all about it. I wish they hadn't burned that
+house, Beth, because I loved it."
+
+"Poor dear! I'm _so_ sorry."
+
+"I thought you would be, because it was a big house, with pictures,
+books, music----"
+
+"All burned! Land's sakes alive!"
+
+"And a wonderful grand piano."
+
+"Oh, Peter!" And then with a flash of joy, "But you're goin' to have
+another grand piano just like it soon."
+
+"Am I? Who's going to give it to me?"
+
+"_I_ am," said Beth quietly. "And another house and pictures and books
+and music."
+
+He read her expression eagerly.
+
+"Mr. McGuire has told you?" he asked.
+
+She nodded. "You knew?"
+
+"Yes," he replied. "He told me yesterday."
+
+"Isn't it wonderful?" she whispered. And then went on rapidly, "So you
+see, Peter, maybe I can be some good to you after all."
+
+He pressed her fingers, enjoying her happiness.
+
+"I can hardly believe it's true," she gasped, "but it must be, because
+Mr. McGuire had his lawyer here yesterday talkin' about it----"
+
+"Yes. It's true. I think he's pretty happy to get all that off his
+conscience. You're a rich girl, Beth." And then, with a slow smile,
+"That was one of the reasons why I wanted to talk with you about who _I_
+was. You see, I thought that now that you're going to have all this
+money, you might want to change your mind about marrying a forester
+chap who--who just wants to try to show the trees how to grow."
+
+"Peter! Don't make fun of me. _Please._ And you hurt me so!" she
+reproached him. "You know I'll never want to change my mind ever,
+_ever_--even if I had all the money in the world."
+
+He laughed, drew her face down to his and whispered, "Beth, dear. I knew
+you wouldn't want to--but I just wanted to hear you say it."
+
+"Well, I _have_ said it. And I don't want you ever to say such a thing
+again. As if I cared for anythin'--anythin' but _you_."
+
+He kissed her on the lips and she straightened.
+
+"I wanted to hear you say _that_ too," he said with a laugh.
+
+And then, after a silence which they both improved by gazing at each
+other mutely, "But you don't seem very curious about who I am."
+
+Beth pressed his fingers confidently. What he was to _her_ mattered a
+great deal--and she realized that nothing else did. But she knew that
+something was required of her. And so, "Oh, yes. Indeed I am,
+Peter,--awfully curious," she said politely.
+
+"Well, you know, Beth, I'm not really so poor as I seem to be. I've got
+a lot of securities in a bank in Russia, because nobody knew where they
+were and so they couldn't take them."
+
+"And they would have taken your money too?"
+
+"Yes. When this cousin of mine--his name was Nicholas--when Nicholas was
+killed----"
+
+"They killed him! Who?"
+
+"The Bolsheviki--they killed Nicholas and his whole family--his wife,
+son and four daughters----"
+
+"Peter!" Beth started up and stared at him in startled bewilderment, as
+she remembered the talks she had had with him about the Russian
+Revolution. "Nicholas----!" she gasped. "His wife--son--daughters. He
+had the same name as--as the Czar--!" And as her gaze met his again she
+seemed to guess.... "Peter!" she gasped. "What--what do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that it was the Little Father--the Czar--who was my cousin,
+Beth."
+
+She stared at Peter in awe and a kind of fear of this new element in
+their relations.
+
+"And--and you----? You're----?"
+
+"I'm just Peter Nichols----," he said with a laugh.
+
+"But over there----"
+
+"I'm nothing. They chucked us all out, the Bolsheviki--every last one of
+us that had a handle to his name."
+
+"A handle----?"
+
+"Yes. I used to be Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch of Zukovo and
+Galitzin----"
+
+"G-Grand Duke Peter!" she whispered in a daze. And then, "Oh--how--how
+_could_ you?" she gasped.
+
+Peter laughed.
+
+"I couldn't help it, Beth. I was born that--way. But you _will_ forgive
+me, won't you?"
+
+"Forgive----? Oh--it--it makes such a difference to find--you're not
+_you_--but somebody else----"
+
+"No. I _am_--_me_. I'm not anybody else. But I had to tell
+you--sometime. You don't think any the less of me, do you, Beth?"
+
+"I--I don't know _what_ to think. I'm so--you're so----"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Grand--and I'm----"
+
+Peter caught her hands and made her look at him.
+
+"You're the only woman in the world I've ever wanted--the only
+one--and you've promised me you'd marry me--you've promised, Beth."
+
+Her fingers moved gently in his and her gaze, wide-eyed, sought his.
+
+"And it won't make any difference----?"
+
+"No, Beth. Why should you think that?"
+
+"I--I was afraid--it might," she gasped. And then for a while Peter held
+her hands, whispering, while Beth, still abashed, answered in
+monosyllables, nodding from time to time.
+
+Later the nurse entered, her glance on her wrist-watch.
+
+"Time's up," she said. And Beth rose as one in a dream and moved slowly
+around the foot of the bed to the door.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jonathan K. McGuire had been as much astonished as Beth at the
+revelation of Peter's identity, and the service that Peter had rendered
+him made him more than anxious to show his appreciation by doing
+everything he could for the wounded man's comfort and happiness. He
+visited the bedside daily and told Peter of his conversation with Beth,
+and of the plans that he was making for her future--which now, it
+seemed, was Peter's future also. Peter told him something of his own
+history and how he had met Jim Coast on the _Bermudian_. Then McGuire
+related the story of the suppression of the outbreak at the lumber camp
+by the Sheriff and men from May's Landing, and the arrest of Flynn and
+Jacobi on charges of assault and incendiarism. Some of the men were to
+be deported as dangerous "Reds." Brierly had been temporarily put in
+charge at the Mills and Jesse Brown, now much chastened, was helping
+McGuire to restore order. Shad Wells was technically under arrest, for
+the coroner had "viewed" the body of the Russian Committeeman before it
+had been removed by his friends and buried, and taken the testimony. But
+McGuire had given bail and arranged for a hearing both as to the
+shooting of and the death of Hawk Kennedy, when Peter was well enough to
+go to May's Landing.
+
+The death of Hawk had produced a remarkable change in the character and
+personality of the owner of the Black Rock Reserve. His back was
+straighter, his look more direct, and he entered with avidity into the
+business of bringing order out of the chaos that had resulted from the
+riot. His word carried some weight, his money more, and with the
+completion of his arrangements with Beth Cameron, he drew again the
+breath of a free man.
+
+But of all this he had said nothing to Peggy, his daughter. He had
+neither written to her nor telephoned, for he had no desire that she
+should know more than the obvious facts as to the death of Hawk Kennedy,
+for conflicting reports would lead to questions. Since she had suspected
+nothing, it was needless to bring that horror to her notice, now that
+the threat had passed. McGuire was a little afraid of his colorful
+daughter. She talked too much and it had been decided that nobody,
+except the lawyer, Peter, Beth and Mrs. Bergen should know the source of
+Beth's sudden and unexpected inheritance. The girl had merely fallen
+heir to the estate of her father, who had died many years before, not
+leaving any record of this daughter, who had at last been found. All of
+which was the truth, so far as it went, and was enough of a story to
+tell Peggy when he should see her.
+
+But Jonathan McGuire found himself somewhat disturbed when he learned
+one morning over the telephone that Peggy McGuire and a guest were on
+their way to Black Rock House for the week-end. The message came from
+the clerk of the hotel, and since Peggy and her friend had already
+started from New York, he knew of no way to intercept them. There was
+nothing to do but make the best of the situation. Peter had the best
+guest room, but Beth had decided the day before to return to the
+cottage, which was greatly in need of her attention. And so McGuire
+informed Mrs. Bergen of the impending visit and gave orders that Miss
+Peggy's room and a room in the wing should be prepared for the
+newcomers.
+
+Beth had no wish to meet Peggy McGuire in this house after the scene
+with Peter in the Cabin, when the young lady had last visited Black
+Rock, for that encounter had given Beth glimpses of the kind of thoughts
+beneath the pretty toques and _cerise_ veils that had once been the
+apple of her admiring eyes. But as luck would have it, as Beth finished
+her afternoon's visit to Peter's bedside and hurried down to get away to
+the village before the visitors arrived, Miss Peggy's low runabout
+roared up to the portico. Beth's first impulse was to draw back and go
+out through the kitchen, but the glances of the two girls met, Peggy's
+in instant recognition. And so Beth tilted her chin and walked down the
+steps just beside the machine, aware of an elegantly attired lady with a
+doll-like prettiness who sat beside Peggy, oblivious of the sharp
+invisible daggers which shot from eye to eye.
+
+"_You_ here!" said Peggy, with an insulting shrug.
+
+Beth merely went her way. But no feminine adept of the art of give and
+take could have showed a more perfect example of studied indifference
+than Beth did. It was quite true that her cheeks burned as she went down
+the drive and that she wished that Peter were well out of the house so
+long as Peggy was in it.
+
+But Peggy McGuire could know nothing of Beth's feelings and cared not at
+all what she thought or felt. Peggy McGuire was too much concerned with
+the importance of the visitor that she had brought with her, the first
+live princess that she had succeeded in bringing into captivity. But
+Anastasie Galitzin had not missed the little by-play and inquired with
+some amusement as to the very pretty girl who had come out of the house.
+
+"Oh--the housekeeper's niece," replied Peggy, in her boarding school
+French. "I don't like her. I thought she'd gone. She's been having a
+_petite affaire_ with our new forester and superintendent."
+
+Anastasie Galitzin, who was in the act of descending from the machine,
+remained poised for a moment, as it were, in midair, staring at her
+hostess.
+
+"Ah!" she said. "_Vraiment!_"
+
+By this time the noise of the motor had brought Stryker and the
+downstairs maid from the house, and in the confusion of carrying the
+luggage indoors, the conversation terminated. It was not until Peggy's
+noisy greetings to her father in the hallway were concluded and the
+introduction of her new guest accomplished that Jonathan McGuire was
+permitted to tell her in a few words the history of the past week, and
+of the injury to the superintendent, who lay upstairs in the room of the
+guest of honor.
+
+"H-m," sniffed Peggy, "I don't see why you had to bring him _here_!"
+
+"It's a long story, Peg," said McGuire calmly. "I'll tell you presently.
+Of course the Princess is very welcome, but I couldn't let him be taken
+anywhere but here, after he'd behaved so fine all through the rioting."
+
+"Well, it seems to me," Peggy began, when the voice of her guest cut in
+rather sharply.
+
+"_Pierre!_" gasped Anastasie sharply, and then, in her pretty broken
+English, "You say, Monsieur, it is he--Pe-ter Nichols--who 'as been
+badly 'urt?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am, pretty bad--shot through the breast----"
+
+"_Sainte Vierge!_"
+
+"But he's getting on all right now. He'll be sitting up in a day or so,
+the doctor says. Did you know him, ma'am?"
+
+Anastasie Galitzin made no reply, and only stared at her host, breathing
+with some difficulty. Peggy, who had been watching her startled face,
+found herself intensely curious. But as she would have questioned, the
+Princess recovered herself with an effort.
+
+"No--yes, Monsieur. It--it is nothing. But if you please--I should like
+to go at once to my room."
+
+And Peggy and her father, both of them much mystified, led the way up
+the stairs and to the room that had been prepared in the wing of the
+house, Stryker following with the bag and dressing case.
+
+At the door of the room the Princess begged Peggy to excuse her,
+pleading weariness, and so the astonished and curious hostess was forced
+to relinquish her latest social conquest and seek her own room, there to
+meditate upon the extraordinary thing that had happened. Why was
+Anastasie Galitzin so perturbed at learning of the wounds of Peter
+Nichols? What did it all mean? Had she known him somewhere in the
+past--in England--in Russia? What was he to her?
+
+But in a moment Jonathan McGuire joined her and revealed the identity of
+his mysterious forester and superintendent. At first Peggy was
+incredulous, then listened while her father told a story, half true,
+half fictitious, which had been carefully planned to answer all the
+requirements of the situation. And unaware of the cyclonic disturbances
+he was causing in the breast of his only child, he told her of Beth and
+Peter, and of the evidences of their devotion each to the other in spite
+of their difference in station. Peggy's small soul squirmed during the
+recital, but she only listened and said nothing. She realized that in a
+situation such as this mere words on her part would be superfluous. The
+Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch! Here at Black Rock! Her pop's
+superintendent! And she had not known. She had even insulted him. It was
+hideous!
+
+And the Princess? The deep emotion that she had shown on hearing of the
+dangerous wound of the convalescent was now explained. But only partly
+so. The look that Peggy had surprised in Anastasie Galitzin's face meant
+something more than mere solicitude for the safety of one of Russia's
+banished Grand Dukes. It was the Princess who had been shocked at the
+information, but it was the woman who had showed pain. Was there--had
+there ever been--anything between Anastasie Galitzin and this--this
+Peter Nichols?
+
+Facts about the early stages of her acquaintanceship with Anastasie
+Galitzin now loomed up with an unpleasant definiteness. She had been
+much flattered that so important a personage had shown her such
+distinguished marks of favor and had rejoiced in the celerity with which
+the intimacy had been established. The thought that the Princess
+Galitzin had known all the while that the Grand Duke was living
+incognito at Black Rock and had merely used Peggy as a means to bring
+about this visit was not a pleasant one to Peggy. But the fact was now
+quite obvious. She had been making a convenience of her. And what was
+now to be the result of this visit? The Princess did not yet know of the
+engagement of His Highness to the scullery maid. Who was to tell her?
+
+The snobbish little heart of Peggy McGuire later gained some
+consolation, for Anastasie Galitzin emerged from her room refreshed and
+invigorated, and lent much grace to the dinner table, telling father and
+daughter something of the early life of the convalescent, exhibiting a
+warm friendship which could be satisfied with nothing less than a visit
+on the morrow to the sick-room. And His Highness now very much on the
+mend, sent word, with the doctor's permission, that he would be charmed
+to receive the Princess Galitzin at ten in the morning.
+
+What happened in the room of the convalescent was never related to Peggy
+McGuire. But Anastasie emerged with her head erect, her pretty face
+wearing the fixed smile of the eternally bored. And then she told Peggy
+that she had decided to return to New York. So after packing her
+belongings, she got into Peggy's car and was driven much against the
+will of her hostess to the Bergen cottage. Peggy wouldn't get out of the
+car but Anastasie went to the door and knocked. Beth came out with her
+sleeves rolled above her elbows, her fingers covered with flour. The
+Princess Galitzin vanished inside and the door was closed. Her call
+lasted ten minutes while Peggy cooled her heels. But whether the visit
+had been prompted by goodness of heart or whether by a curiosity to
+study the lady of Peter's choice at close range, no one will ever know.
+Beth was very polite to her and though she identified her without
+difficulty as the heliotrope-envelope lady, she offered her some of the
+"cookies" that she had made for Peter, and expressed the warmest thanks
+for her kind wishes. She saw Anastasie Galitzin to the door, marking her
+heightened color and wondering what her fur coat had cost. Beth couldn't
+help thinking, whatever her motive in coming, that the Princess Galitzin
+was a very beautiful lady and that her manners had been lovely. But it
+was with a sigh of relief that she saw the red car vanish down the road
+in a cloud of dust.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+His convalescence begun, Peter recovered rapidly and in three weeks more
+he was himself again. In those three weeks many interesting things had
+happened.
+
+Jonathan K. McGuire had held a series of important conferences with
+Peter and Mrs. Bergen who seemed to have grown ten years younger. And
+one fine day after a protracted visit to New York with Mrs. Bergen, he
+returned laden with mysterious packages and boxes, and stopped at the
+door of the cottage, where Peter was taking a lunch of Beth's cooking.
+
+It was a beautiful surprise. Mrs. Bergen whispered in Beth's ear and
+Beth followed her into the kitchen, where the contents of one or two of
+the boxes were exposed to Beth's astonished gaze. Peter, of course,
+being in the secret, kept aloof, awaiting the result of Mrs. Bergen's
+disclosures. But when Beth came back into the plush-covered parlor, he
+revealed his share in the conspiracy by producing, with the skill of a
+conjurer taking a rabbit from a silk hat, a minister and a marriage
+license, the former having been hidden in the house of a neighbor. And
+Jonathan K. McGuire, with something of an air, fully justified by the
+difficulties he had been at to secure it, produced a pasteboard box,
+which contained another box of beautiful white velvet, which he opened
+with pride, exhibiting its contents. On the soft satin lining was a
+brooch, containing a ruby as large as Beth's thumbnail.
+
+With a gasp of joy, she gazed at it, for she knew just what it was, the
+family jewel that had been sold to the purser of the _Bermudian_. And
+then she threw her arms around McGuire's neck and kissed him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Some weeks later Beth and Peter sat at dusk in the drawing-room of Black
+Rock House, for McGuire had turned the whole place over to them for the
+honeymoon. The night was chilly, a few flakes of snow had fallen during
+the afternoon, so a log fire burned in the fireplace. Peter sat at the
+piano playing the "Romance" of Sibelius, for which Beth had asked, but
+when it was finished, his fingers, impelled by a thought beyond his own
+control, began the opening rumble of the "Revolutionary Étude." The
+music was familiar to Beth and it stirred her always because it was
+this gorgeous plaint of hope and despair that had at the very first
+sounded depths in her own self the existence of which she had never even
+dreamed. But to-night Peter played it as she had never heard him play it
+before, with all his soul at his finger tips. And she watched his
+downcast profile as he stared at vacancy while he played. It was in
+moments like these that Beth felt herself groping in the dark after him,
+he was so far away. And yet she was not afraid, for she knew that out of
+the dreams and mysticism of the half of him that was Russian he would
+come back to her,--just Peter Nichols.
+
+He did presently, when his hands fell upon the last chords and he sat
+with head still bowed until the last tremor had died. Then he rose and
+turned to her. She smiled at him and he joined her on the divan. Their
+fingers intertwined and they sat for a long moment looking into the
+fire. But Beth knew of what he was thinking and Peter knew that she
+knew. Their honeymoon was over. There was work to do in the world.
+
+
+
+
+    +-------------------------------------------------+
+    |             Transcriber's Note:                 |
+    |                                                 |
+    | Typographical errors corrected in the text:     |
+    |                                                 |
+    | Page   9  Nicolaevitch changed to Nicholaevitch |
+    | Page  12  Vasil changed to Vasili               |
+    | Page  39  reassuring changed to reassuring      |
+    | Page  90  rigidily changaed to rigidly          |
+    | Page  94  seee changed to see                   |
+    | Page 158  Andy should read Jesse                |
+    | Page 164  the changed to he                     |
+    | Page 188  Well's changed to Wells's             |
+    | Page 353  musn't changed to mustn't             |
+    | Page 355  Its changed to It's                   |
+    | Page 362  Lukovo changed to Zukovo              |
+    +-------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Vagrant Duke, by George Gibbs
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+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Vagrant Duke, by George Gibbs.
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Vagrant Duke, by George Gibbs
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Vagrant Duke
+
+Author: George Gibbs
+
+Release Date: August 6, 2009 [EBook #29617]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VAGRANT DUKE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Barbara Tozier, Barbara Kosker, Bill Tozier
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+
+<h1><i>The</i><br />
+
+VAGRANT DUKE</h1>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table border="0" width="60%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="List">
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdclrt" colspan="2" style="padding-top: .75em;"><span style="font-size: 120%;"><b>BY GEORGE GIBBS</b></span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdclr" colspan="2">The Vagrant Duke</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdclr" colspan="2">The Spendid Outcast</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdclr" colspan="2">The Black Stone</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdclr" colspan="2">The Golden Bough</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdclr" colspan="2">The Secret Witness</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdclr" colspan="2">Paradise Garden</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdclr" colspan="2">The Yellow Dove</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdclr" colspan="2">The Flaming Sword</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdclr" colspan="2">Madcap</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdclr" colspan="2">The Silent Battle</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdclr" colspan="2">The Maker of Opportunities</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdclr" colspan="2">The Forbidden Way</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdclr" colspan="2">The Bolted Door</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdclr" colspan="2">Tony's Wife</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdclr" colspan="2" style="padding-bottom: .5em;">The Medusa Emerald</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdclrt" colspan="2" style="padding-top: .5em;"><b>D. APPLETON AND COMPANY</b></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdcl" width="50%" style="border-bottom: 1pt black solid; padding-bottom: .5em;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Publishers</td>
+  <td class="tdcr" width="50%" style="border-bottom: 1pt black solid; padding-bottom: .5em">New York&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+
+<div class="img"><a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a>
+<a href="images/frontis.jpg">
+<img border="0" src="images/frontis.jpg" width="50%" alt="PETER STRUCK HIM FULL ON THE HEAD" /></a><br />
+<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">PETER STRUCK HIM FULL ON THE HEAD</p>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+
+<h1><i>The</i><br />
+  VAGRANT DUKE</h1>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+
+<h4>BY</h4>
+
+<h2>  GEORGE GIBBS</h2>
+
+<h4>AUTHOR OF "THE SPLENDID OUTCAST," "THE YELLOW DOVE,"<br />
+  "THE SECRET WITNESS," ETC.</h4>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+
+<div class="img">
+<img border="0" src="images/deco.png" width="10%" alt="Publisher's Mark" />
+</div>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+
+<h4>  D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br />
+  NEW YORK &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; LONDON<br />
+  1921</h4>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+
+<h5>COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY<br />
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY</h5>
+<br />
+<br />
+<h5>Copyright, 1920, by The Story Press Corporation<br />
+PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</h5>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+
+<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span>
+<br />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table border="0" width="70%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents">
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp" width="13%" style="font-size: 80%;">CHAPTER</td>
+  <td class="tdl" width="84%">&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdr" width="13%" style="font-size: 80%;">PAGE</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">Prologue</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">I</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">Introducing Peter Nichols</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">II</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">New  York</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">III</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">The Overall Girl</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">IV</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">The Job</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">V</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">New Elements</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">VI</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">The House of Terror</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">VII</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">Music</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">VIII</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">The Placard</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">IX</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">Shad Is Unpleasant</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">X</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">Hawk</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">XI</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">Ancient History</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">XII</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">Confession</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">XIII</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">The Chase</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">XIV</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">Two Letters</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_226">226</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">XV</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">Superman</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">XVI</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">Identification</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">XVII</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">Peter Becomes a Conspirator</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">XVIII</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">Face to Face</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_276">276</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">XIX<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span></td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">Yakimov Reveals Himself</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">XX</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">The Russian Pays</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_308">308</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">XXI</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">The Inferno</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_326">326</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">XXII</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">Retribution</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_343">343</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdrp">XXIII</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap">A Visitor</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_357">357</a></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+
+<p class="cen">
+<span style="font-size: 175%;"><b><i>The</i></b></span><br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span>
+<span style="font-size: 175%;"><b>VAGRANT DUKE</b></span>
+</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+
+<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span>
+<br />
+<h2>THE VAGRANT DUKE</h2>
+
+<h2><i>PROLOGUE</i></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p><i>At the piano a man sat playing the "Revolutionary &Eacute;tude" of Chopin. The
+room was magnificent in its proportions, its furnishings were massive,
+its paneled oak walls were hung with portraits of men and women in the
+costumes of a bygone day. Through the lofty windows, the casements of
+which were open to the evening sky there was a vista of forest and
+meadow-land stretching interminably to the setting sun. The mosquelike
+cupola of a village church, a few versts distant, glimmered like a pearl
+in the dusky setting of wooded hills, and close by it, here and there,
+tiny spirals of opalescent smoke marked the dwellings of Zukovo
+village.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>But the man at the piano was detached, a being apart from this scene of
+quiet, absorbed in his piano, which gave forth the turbulence which had
+been in the soul of the great composer. The expression upon the dark
+face of the young musician was rapt and eager, until he crashed the
+chords to their triumphant conclusion when he sank back in his chair
+with a gasp, his head bent forward upon his breast, his dark gaze fixed
+upon the keys which still echoed with the tumult.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>It was at this moment that a door at the side of the room was opened
+and a white-haired man in purple livery entered and stood in silence
+regarding rather wistfully the man at the piano, who raised his head
+abruptly like one startled from a dream.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span><i>"What is it, Vasili?" asked the musician.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The servant approached softly a few steps.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"I did not wish to intrude, Highness, but&mdash;&mdash;"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>As the old servant hesitated, the young man shrugged and rose,
+disclosing a tall, straight figure, clad in a dark blue blouse, loose
+trousers and brown boots liberally bespattered with mud. The glow of the
+sun which shot across his face as he came forward into the light, showed
+swarthy features, level brows, a straight nose, a well turned chin, a
+small mustache and a generous mouth which revealed a capacity for humor.
+He was quite calm now, and the tones of his voice were almost boyish in
+their confidence and gayety.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Well, what is it, Vasili?" he repeated. "You have the air of one with
+much on your conscience. Out with it. Has Sacha been fighting with you
+again?"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"No, Master, not Sacha," said the old man clearing his throat
+nervously, "it is something worse&mdash;much worse than Sacha."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Impossible!" said the other with a laugh as he took up a cigarette
+from the table. "Nothing could be worse than a Russian cook when she
+gets into a rage&mdash;&mdash;"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"But it is, Master&mdash;something worse&mdash;much worse&mdash;&mdash;"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Really! You alarm me." The Grand Duke threw himself into an armchair
+and inhaled luxuriously of his cigarette. And then with a shrug,
+"Well?"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The old man came a pace or two nearer muttering hoarsely, "They've
+broken out in the village again," he gasped.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The Grand Duke's brow contracted suddenly.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"H-m. When did this happen?"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Last night. And this morning they burned the stables of Prince
+Galitzin and looted the castle."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The young man sprang to his feet.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span><i>"You are sure of this?"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Yes, Master. The word was brought by Serge Andriev less than ten
+minutes ago."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>He took a few rapid paces up and down the room, stopping by the open
+window and staring out.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Fools!" he muttered to himself. Then turning to the old servitor,
+"But, Vasili&mdash;why is it that I have heard nothing of this? To-day
+Conrad, the forester, said nothing to me. And the day before yesterday
+in the village the people swept off their caps to me&mdash;as in the old
+days. I could have sworn everything would be peaceful at Zukovo&mdash;at
+least, for the present&mdash;&mdash;" he added as though in an afterthought.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"I pray God that may be true," muttered Vasili uncertainly. And then
+with unction, "In their hearts, they still love you, Highness. They are
+children&mdash;your children, their hearts still full of reverence for the
+Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch in whom runs the same blood as that which
+ran in the sacred being of the Little Father&mdash;but their brains! They are
+drunk with the poison poured into their minds by the Committeemen from
+Moscow."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Ah," eagerly, "they returned?"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Last night," replied the old man wagging his head. "And your people
+forgot all that you had said to them&mdash;all that they owe to you. They are
+mad," he finished despairingly, "mad!"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The Grand Duke had folded his arms and was staring out of the window
+toward the white dome of the church now dyed red like a globule of blood
+in the sunset.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The old man watched him for a moment, all the fealty of his many years
+of service in his gaze and attitude.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"I do not like the look of things, Highness. What does it matter how
+good their hearts are if their brains are bad?"</i></p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span><i>"I must go and talk with them, Vasili," said the Grand Duke quietly.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The old man took a step forward.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"If I might make so free&mdash;&mdash;"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Speak&mdash;&mdash;"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Not to-night, Master&mdash;&mdash;"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Why not?"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"It will be dangerous. Last night their voices were raised even against
+you."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Me! Why? Have I not done everything I could to help them? I am their
+friend&mdash;because I believe in their cause: and they will get their rights
+too but not by burning and looting&mdash;&mdash;"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"And murder, Master. Two of Prince Galitzin's foresters were killed."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The Grand Duke turned. "That's bad. Murder in Zukovo!" He flicked his
+extinguished cigarette out of the window and made a gesture with his
+hand.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Go, Vasili. I want to think. I will ring if I need you."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"You will not go to Zukovo to-night?"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"I don't know."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>And with another gesture he waved the servant away.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>When Vasili had gone, the Grand Duke sat, his legs across the chair by
+the window, his arms folded along its back while his dark eyes peered
+out, beyond the hills and forests, beyond the reddened dome of the
+village church into the past where his magnificent father Nicholas
+Petrovitch held feudal sway over all the land within his vision and his
+father's fathers from the time of his own great namesake held all Russia
+in the hollow of their hands.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The Grand Duke's eyes were hard and bright above the slightly prominent
+cheek bones, the vestiges of his Oriental origin, but there was
+something of his English mother too <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>in the contours of his chin and
+lips, which tempered the hardness of his expression. The lines at his
+brows were not the savage marks of anger, or the vengefulness that had
+characterized the pitiless blood which ran in his veins, but rather were
+they lines of disappointment, of perplexity at the problem that
+confronted him, and pity for his people who did not know where to turn
+for guidance. He still believed them to be his people, a heritage from
+his lordly parent, his children, who were responsible to him and to whom
+he was responsible. It was a habit of thought, inalienable, the product
+of the ages. But it was the calm philosophy of his English mother that
+had first given him his real sense of obligation to them, her teachings,
+even before the war began, that had shown him how terrible were the
+problems that confronted his future.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>His service in the Army had opened his eyes still wider and when Russia
+had deserted her allies he had returned to Zukovo to begin the work of
+reconstruction in the ways his awakened conscience had dictated. He had
+visited their homes, offered them counsel, given them such money as he
+could spare, and had, he thought, become their friend as well as their
+hereditary guardian. All had gone well at first. They had listened to
+him, accepted his advice and his money and renewed their fealty under
+the new order of things, vowing that whatever happened elsewhere in
+Russia, blood and agony and starvation should not visit Zukovo.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>But the news that Vasili brought was disquieting. It meant that the
+minds of his people were again disturbed. And the fact that Prince
+Galitzin had always been hated made the problems the Grand Duke faced
+none the less difficult. For his people had burned, pillaged and killed.
+They had betrayed him. And he had learned in the Army what fire and the
+smell of blood could do....</i></p>
+
+<p><i>With a quick nod of resolution he rose. He would go <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>to them. He knew
+their leaders. They would listen to him. They</i> must <i>listen....</i></p>
+
+<p><i>He closed the piano carefully, putting away the loose sheets of music,
+picked up his cap and heavy riding crop from the divan, on his way to
+the door, pausing, his hand on the bell-rope as a thought brought a
+deeper frown to his brow.... Why had Conrad Grabar, his chief forester,
+said nothing to-day? He must have known&mdash;for news such as this travels
+from leaf to leaf through the forest. Conrad! And yet he would have
+sworn by the faithfulness of his old friend and hunting companion.
+Perhaps Conrad had not known....</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The Grand Duke pulled the bell-rope, then went to the window again and
+stood as though listening for the voices of the woods. Silence. The sun
+had sunk, a dull red ball, and the dusk was falling swiftly. The aspens
+below his window quivered slightly, throwing their white leaves upwards
+as though in pain. The stately pines that he loved, mute, solemn,
+changeless, filled the air with balsam, but they gave no answer to his
+problem. It was difficult to believe that, there, in the restless souls
+of men war could rage. And yet....</i></p>
+
+<p><i>He peered out more intently. Beyond the pine forest, a murky cloud was
+rising. A storm? Hardly. For the sun had set in a clear sky. But there
+was a cloud surely, growing in darkness and intensity. He could see it
+more clearly now, billowing upward in grim portent.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The Grand Duke started and then stared again. The cloud was of smoke.
+Through the woods, tiny lights were sparkling, picked out with ominous
+brilliancy against the velvet dusk. Peter Nicholaevitch leaned far out
+of the window, straining his ears to listen. And now he seemed to hear
+the crackle of flames, the distant sound of hoarse voices, shouting and
+singing.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span><i>And while he still listened, aware that a great crisis had come into
+his life, there was a commotion just below him, the sound of voices
+close at hand and he saw a man come running from the woods, approaching
+the gateway of the Castle.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>He recognized him by the gray beard and thickset figure. It was Boris
+Rylov, the Huntsman, and as he ran he shouted to some one in the
+courtyard below. The Grand Duke made out the words:</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"They're burning the Hunting Lodge&mdash;where is the Master&mdash;&mdash;?"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Peter Nicholaevitch waited at the window no longer, but ran out of the
+room and down the flight of stairs into the great hall below. For he
+knew what had happened now. The Red Terror had come to Zukovo.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>He went out to the garden terrace, crossing quickly to the courtyard
+where he met the frightened group of servants that had assembled.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Boris, the Huntsman, much out of breath was waving his arms excitedly
+toward the cloud of smoke rising above the pine trees, now tinged a
+dirty orange color from beneath.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"They came from all directions, Master," he gasped, "like the black
+flies upon a dead horse&mdash;hundreds&mdash;thousands of them from the village
+and all the country round. I talked with the first that came, Anton
+Lensky, Gleb Saltykov, Michael Kuprin and Conrad Grabar&mdash;&mdash;"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Conrad&mdash;&mdash;!" gasped the Grand Duke.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Yes, Highness," muttered Boris, his head bowed, "Conrad Grabar. They
+tried to restrain me. Michael Kuprin I struck upon the head with a
+stick&mdash;and then I fled&mdash;to warn your Highness&mdash;that they mean to come
+hither."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The face of the Grand Duke, a trifle pale under its tan, was set in
+stern lines, but there was no fear in his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>manner as he quickly
+questioned, his eyes eagerly scrutinizing the frightened men and women
+about him while he spoke to them with cool decision.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Thanks, Friend Rylov&mdash;you have done me a service I shall not forget."
+Then to the others, "If there are any of you who fear to remain with me,
+you may go. I cannot believe that they will come to Zukovo Castle, but
+we will close the gate to the courtyard at once. I will talk with them
+from the terrace wall."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Master! Highness!" broke in the Huntsman violently, "you do not
+understand. You cannot stay here. They are mad. They will kill you. It
+is for that they come&mdash;&mdash;"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Nevertheless&mdash;I mean to stay&mdash;&mdash;"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"It is death&mdash;&mdash;"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Go thou, then, and Vasili, and Ivan. For before they burn Zukovo, I
+mean to talk with them&mdash;&mdash;"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"It is madness&mdash;&mdash;!"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Come, Highness," broke in Leo Garshin, the head-groom, eagerly, "I
+will put the saddle upon Vera, and you can go out of the iron gate from
+the stable-yard into the forest. Nothing can catch you and you can reach
+the river&mdash;&mdash;"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"No, Leo&mdash;&mdash;" put in the Grand Duke kindly. "I shall stay."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The servants glanced at one another, appalled at the Master's attitude.
+Some of them, had already disappeared into the Castle but others, less
+timorous, had already rushed to close the courtyard gate.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"You say they are many, Friend Rylov?" he asked again.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"As the hairs of your head, Master&mdash;from Ivanovna,
+Jaroslav&mdash;everywhere&mdash;and women, Highness, more terrible than the
+men&mdash;&mdash;"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"And the leaders&mdash;&mdash;?"</i></p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span><i>"Dmitri Sidorov of the Zemstvo and Michael Kositzin and Anton Lensky.
+See, yonder! Where the road turns from the clearing&mdash;they come!"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The keen eyes of Boris saw further through the forest than those of
+most men but in a moment those of the Grand Duke Peter confirmed him.
+Figures were moving in the twilight, along the roads and bypaths.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>To Peter Nicholaevitch they seemed like a great river which had flooded
+over its banks seeking new levels. Behind them the flames from the
+wooden hunting lodge roared upward painting a lurid sky. He saw that the
+flood came rapidly, and above the roar of the flames came the sound of
+voices singing the Russian version of the "Marseillaise." The Grand Duke
+stood at the terrace wall watching their approach. He knew that if they
+meant to attack the Castle the gate could not hold long, but he had hope
+that he might still be able to prevail upon them to listen to him. In a
+moment they saw him and began running forward toward the courtyard gate.
+He recognized individuals now&mdash;Anton Lensky, Michael Kuprin, with his
+head tied in a dirty handkerchief&mdash;and Conrad Grabar. The defection of
+his old instructor in wood-lore disturbed him. Conrad must have known
+what was to happen and he had said nothing. If Conrad had turned against
+him, what hope had he of prevailing against the others?</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The singing died away and in its place, shouts and cries burst forth in
+a bedlam. "Open the gate!" "Let us in!"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The Grand Duke had heard that note in men's voices in the Carpathian
+passes, and he knew what it meant, but while his gaze sought out the fat
+figure of Michael Kositzin who was the leader of the uprising, he held
+up his hand for silence.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>There was a roar of voices.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span><i>"Peter Nicholaevitch wishes to speak."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"It is our turn to speak now."</i></p>
+
+<p>"Nasha pora prishl&agrave;," (<i>our time has come</i>).</p>
+
+<p><i>"Let the little master speak."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"We know no little masters here!"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"No, nor old ones!"</i></p>
+
+<p>"Smiert Bourjouiam" (<i>Death to the bourgeoisie</i>).</p>
+
+<p><i>But as the young Grand Duke began to speak the voices of the most rabid
+of the peasants were hushed for a moment by the others.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"My friends and my children" he began, "one word before you do
+something that you will forever regret. I am your friend. I am young&mdash;of
+the new generation. I have kept abreast of the new thought of the time
+and I believe in the New Life that is for you and for us all. I have
+proved it to you by bringing the New Life to Zukovo by peaceful means,
+by friendliness and brotherhood while other parts of Russia near by are
+in agony and darkness." (Cries of "That is true.") "It was in my heart
+that I had brought the Revolution to Zukovo, a Revolution against the
+old order of things which can be no more, implanting in you the strong
+seeds of Peace and Brotherhood which would kill out the ugly weeds of
+violence and enmity."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Here a hoarse voice rang out: "Fire&mdash;only fire can clean." Then the
+reply of a woman, "Yes,</i> Tovaristchi, <i>it is the only way."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Peter Nicholaevitch tried to seek out the speakers with his gaze. One
+of them was Michael Kuprin whom when a child the Grand Duke had seen
+flogged in this very courtyard.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"There are sins of the past," he went on, raising his voice against the
+low murmur of the mob, "many sins against you, but one sin does not wash
+out another. Murder, rapine, vengeance will never bring peace to
+Zukovo. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>What you do to-day will be visited on you to-morrow. I pray
+that you will listen to me. I have fought for you and with you&mdash;with
+Gleb Saltykov and Anton Lensky, against the return of Absolutism in
+Russia. The old order of things is gone. Do not stain the new with crime
+in Zukovo. I beseech you to disperse&mdash;return to your homes and I will
+come to you to-morrow and if there are wrongs I will set them right. You
+have believed in me in the past. Believe in me now and all may yet be
+well in Zukovo. Go, my friends, before it is too late&mdash;&mdash;"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The crowd wavered, murmuring. But just then a shot rang out and the cap
+of the Grand Duke twitched around on his head.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>A roar went up from near the gate,</i> "Nasha pora prishl&agrave;! <i>Break in the
+gate!" cried the voices and there were those of women among them
+shouting</i> "Tovaristchi! <i>Forward!"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Over the heads of those in the front ranks, Peter Nicholaevitch saw
+some men bringing from the forest the heavy trunk of a felled pine tree.
+They meant to break down the gate. He knew that he had failed but still
+he stood upright facing them. Another shot, the bullet this time grazing
+his left arm. The sting of it angered him.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Cowards!" he yelled, shaking his fist at them. "Cowards!"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>A volley followed but no other bullets struck him. Behind him in the
+Castle doorway he heard the voice of Boris Rylov, calling to him
+hoarsely.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Come, Master. For the love of God! There is yet time."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>There was a crash of the heavy timbers at the gate.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Come, Master&mdash;&mdash;"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>With a shrug Peter Nicholaevitch turned and walked across the terrace
+toward the Castle.</i> "Bolvany!" <i>he muttered. "I've finished with
+them."</i></p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span><i>Boris and Vasili stood just within the door, pleading with him to
+hurry, and together they made their way through the deserted kitchens
+and over past the vegetable gardens to the stables, where Leo Garshin
+awaited them, the saddles on several horses. Behind them they could now
+hear the triumphant cries as the courtyard gate crashed in.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Hurry, Master!" cried Garshin eagerly.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Where are the others?" asked the Grand Duke.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Gone, Highness. They have fled."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Boris Rylov was peering out past an iron door into the forest.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"There is no one there?" asked Garshin.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Not yet. They have forgotten."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Come then, Highness."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>But the Grand Duke saw that the aged Vasili was mounted first and then
+they rode out of the iron gate into a path which led directly into the
+forest. It was not until they were well clear of the buildings that a
+shout at one side announced that their mode of escape had been
+discovered. Men came running, firing pistols as they ran. Boris Rylov,
+bringing up the rear, reined in his horse and turning emptied a revolver
+at the nearest of their pursuers. One man fell and the others halted.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Until they found the other horses in the stables pursuit was
+fruitless.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Peter Nicholaevitch rode at the head of the little cavalcade, down the
+familiar aisles of the forest, his head bowed, a deep frown on his
+brows. It was Vasili who first noticed the blood dripping from his
+finger ends.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Master," he gasped, "you are wounded."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"It is nothing," said the Grand Duke.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>But Vasili bound the arm up with a handkerchief while Leo Garshin and
+Boris Rylov watched the path down which they had come. They could hear
+the crackling of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>the flames at the Hunting Lodge to the southward and
+the cries of the mob at the Castle, but there was no sign of pursuit.
+Perhaps they were satisfied to appease their madness with pillage and
+fire. Half an hour later Boris pointed backward. A new glow had risen, a
+redder, deeper glow.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"The Castle, Master&mdash;&mdash;" wailed Vasili.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Peter Nicholaevitch drew rein at a cross-path, watched for a moment and
+then turned to his companions, for he had reached a decision.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"My good friends," he said gently, "our ways part here."</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Master! Highness!"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>But he was resolute.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"I am going on alone. I will not involve you further in my misfortunes.
+You can do nothing for me&mdash;nor I anything for you except this. Vasili
+knows. In the vault below the wine-cellar, hidden away, are some objects
+of value. They will not find them. When they go away you will return.
+The visit will repay you. Divide what is there into equal parts&mdash;silver,
+plate and gold. As for me&mdash;forget me. Farewell!"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>They saw that he meant what he said. He offered these few faithful
+servitors his hand and they kissed his fingers&mdash;a last act of fealty and
+devotion and in a moment they stood listening to the diminishing
+hoof-beats of Vera as the young master went out of their lives.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"May God preserve him," muttered Vasili.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>"Amen," said Boris Rylov and Leo Garshin.</i></p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h2>INTRODUCING PETER NICHOLS</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>The British refugee ship <i>Phrygia</i> was about to sail for Constantinople
+where her unfortunate passengers were to be transferred to other vessels
+sailing for Liverpool and New York. After some difficulties the refugee
+made his way aboard her and announced his identity to the captain. If he
+had expected to be received with the honor due to one of his rank and
+station he was quickly undeceived, for Captain Blashford, a man of rough
+manners, concealing a gentle heart, looked him over critically, examined
+his credentials (letters he had happened to have about him), and then
+smiled grimly.</p>
+
+<p>"We've got room for one more&mdash;and that's about all."</p>
+
+<p>"I have no money&mdash;&mdash;" began the refugee.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's all right," shrugged the Captain, "you're not the only one.
+We've a cargo of twenty princes, thirty-two princesses, eighteen
+generals and enough counts and countesses to set up a new nation
+somewhere. Your 'Ighness is the only Duke that has reached us up to the
+present speakin' and if there are any others, they'll 'ave to be brisk
+for we're sailin' in twenty minutes."</p>
+
+<p>The matter-of-fact tones with which the unemotional Britisher made this
+announcement restored the lost sense of humor of the Russian refugee,
+and he broke into a grim laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"An embarrassment of riches," remarked the Grand Duke.</p>
+
+<p>"Riches," grunted the Captain, "in a manner of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>speakin', yes. Money is
+not so plentiful. But jools! Good God! There must be half a ton of
+diamonds, rubies and emeralds aboard. All they're got left most of 'em,
+but complaints and narvousness. Give me a cargo of wheat and I'm your
+man," growled the Captain. "It stays put and doesn't complain," and then
+turning to Peter&mdash;"Ye're not expectin' any r'yal suite aboard the
+<i>Phrygia</i>, are ye?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. A hammock for'rad will be good enough for me."</p>
+
+<p>"That's the way I like to 'ear a man talk. Good God! As man to man, I
+arsk you,&mdash;with Counts throwin' cigarette butts around an' princesses
+cryin' all over my clean white decks an' all, what's a self-respectin'
+skipper to do? But I 'ave my orders to fetch the odd lot to
+Constantinople an' fetch 'em I will. Oh! They're odd&mdash;all right. Go
+below, sir, an' 'ave a look at 'em."</p>
+
+<p>But Peter Nicholaevitch shook his head. He had been doing a deal of
+quiet thinking in those starry nights upon the Dnieper, and he had
+worked out his problem alone.</p>
+
+<p>"No, thanks," he said quietly, "if you don't mind, I think I'd rather
+preserve my incognito."</p>
+
+<p>"Incognito, is it? Oh, very well, suit yourself. And what will I be
+callin' your Highness?"</p>
+
+<p>"Peter Nichols," said the Grand Duke with a smile, "it's as good as any
+other."</p>
+
+<p>"Right you are, Peter Nichols. Lay for'rad and tell the bos'n to show
+you up to my cabin."</p>
+
+<p>So Peter Nichols went forward, avoiding the cargo aft, until within a
+day's run of the Bosphorus when he found himself accosted by no less a
+person than Prince Galitzin who had strolled out to get the morning air.
+He tried to avoid the man but Galitzin planted himself firmly in his
+path, scrutinizing him eagerly.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>"You too, Highness!" he said with an accent of grieved surprise.</p>
+
+<p>The Grand Duke regarded him in a moment of silence.</p>
+
+<p>"It must be evident to you, Prince Galitzin, that I have some object in
+remaining unknown."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Your Highness, such a thing is unnecessary. Are we not all
+dedicated to the same misfortunes? Misery loves company."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean that it makes you less miserable to discover that I share your
+fate?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not precisely that. It is merely that if one holding your liberal views
+cannot escape the holocaust that has suddenly fallen there is little
+hope for the rest of us."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the Grand Duke shortly. "There is no hope, none at all, for
+us or for Russia."</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>"To America."</p>
+
+<p>"But, your Highness, that is impossible. We shall all have asylum in
+England until conditions change. You should go there with us. It will
+lend influence to our mission."</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am leaving Russia for the present. She is outcast. For, not content
+with betraying others, she has betrayed herself."</p>
+
+<p>"But what are you going to do?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Nicholaevitch smiled up at the sky and the fussy, fat, bejeweled
+sycophant before him listened to him in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"Prince Galitzin," said the Grand Duke amusedly, "I am going to do that
+which may bring the blush of shame to your brow or the sneer of pity to
+your lips. I am going to fulfill the destiny provided for every man with
+a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>pair of strong hands, and a willing spirit&mdash;I am going to work."</p>
+
+<p>The Prince stepped back a pace, his watery eyes snapping in
+incomprehension.</p>
+
+<p>"But your higher destiny&mdash;your great heritage as a Prince of the Royal
+blood of Holy Russia."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no Holy Russia, my friend, until she is born again. Russia is
+worse than traitor, worse than liar, worse than murderer and thief. She
+is a fool."</p>
+
+<p>"All will come right in time. We go to England to wait."</p>
+
+<p>"I have other plans."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you will not join us? Princess Anastasie, my daughter, is here.
+General Seminoff&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It is useless. I have made up my mind. Leave me, if you please."</p>
+
+<p>Prince Galitzin disappeared quickly below to spread the information of
+his discovery among the disconsolate refugees and it was not long before
+it was known from one end of the <i>Phrygia</i> to the other that the fellow
+who called himself Peter Nichols was none other than the Grand Duke
+Peter Nicholaevitch, a cousin to his late Majesty Nicholas and a Prince
+of the Royal blood. Peter Nichols sought the Captain in his cabin,
+putting the whole case before him.</p>
+
+<p>"H-m," chuckled the Captain, "Found ye out, did they? There's only a few
+of you left, that's why. Better stay 'ere in my cabin until we reach
+Constantinople. I'd be honored, 'Ighness, to say nothin' of savin' you a
+bit of bother."</p>
+
+<p>"You're very kind."</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all. Make yourself at 'ome. There's cigarettes on the locker and
+a nip of the Scotch to keep the chill out. Here's a light. You've been
+worryin' me some, 'Ighness. Fact is I didn't know just how big a bug you
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>were until to-day when I arsked some questions. You'll forgive me,
+'Ighness?"</p>
+
+<p>"Peter Nichols," corrected the Grand Duke.</p>
+
+<p>"No," insisted the Captain, "we'll give you yer title while we can. You
+know we British have a bit of a taste for r'yalty when we know it's the
+real thing. I don't take much stock in most of my cargo aft. And beggin'
+yer 'Ighness's pardon I never took much stock in Russia since she lay
+down on the job and left the Allies in the lurch&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Captain Blashford," said the Grand Duke quietly. "You can't hurt my
+feelings."</p>
+
+<p>"But I do like you, 'Ighness, and I want to do all that I can to 'elp
+you when we get to anchor."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks."</p>
+
+<p>"I take it that you don't want anybody ashore to know who ye are?"</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. Most of these refugees are going to England. I have reasons
+for not wishing to go with them."</p>
+
+<p>"Where then do you propose to go?"</p>
+
+<p>"To the United States," said the Grand Duke eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Without money?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd have no money if I went to England unless I subsisted on the
+charity of my friends. My branch of the family is not rich. The war has
+made us poorer. Such securities as I have are in a vault in Kiev. It
+would be suicide for me to attempt to reclaim them now. I'm going to try
+to make my own way."</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible!"</p>
+
+<p>The Grand Duke laughed at the Englishman's expression.</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yer 'ands, 'Ighness."</p>
+
+<p>The Grand Duke shrugged and grinned.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>"I'll risk it. I'm not without resources. Will you help me to a ship
+sailing for America?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'll work my passage over&mdash;if nobody bothers me."</p>
+
+<p>"By George! I like your spirit. Give me your 'and, sir. I'll do what I
+can. If the <i>Bermudian</i> hasn't sailed from the Horn yet, I think I can
+manage it for ye."</p>
+
+<p>"And keep me clear of the rest of your passengers?" added His Highness.</p>
+
+<p>"Righto. They'll go on the <i>Semaphore</i>. You stay right 'ere and mum's
+the word." And Captain Blashford went out on deck leaving Peter Nichols
+to his cigarette and his meditations.</p>
+
+<p>Many times had the Grand Duke Peter given thanks that the blood of his
+mother flowed strongly in his veins. He was more British than Russian
+and he could remember things that had happened since he had grown to
+adolescence which had made the half of him that was English revolt
+against the Russian system. It was perhaps his musical education rather
+than his University training or his travels in England and France that
+had turned him to the <i>Intelligentsia</i>. In the vast republic of art and
+letters he had imbibed the philosophy that was to threaten the very
+existence of his own clan. The spread of the revolution had not dismayed
+him, for he believed that in time the pendulum would swing back and
+bring a constitutional government to Russia. But in the weeks of
+struggle, privation, and passion a new Peter Nicholaevitch was born.</p>
+
+<p>The failure of his plans in the sudden flood of anarchy which had swept
+over Zukovo, the treachery of those he had thought faithful and the
+attempt upon his life had changed his viewpoint. It takes a truly noble
+spirit to wish to kiss the finger that has pulled the trigger of a
+revolver, the bullet from which has gone through one's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>hat. From
+disappointment and dismay Peter Nicholaevitch had turned to anger. They
+hadn't played the game with him. It wasn't cricket. His resolution to
+sail for the United States was decided. To throw himself, an object of
+charity, upon the mercies of the Earl of Shetland, his mother's cousin,
+was not to be thought of.</p>
+
+<p>To his peasants he had preached the gospel of labor, humility and peace,
+in that state of life to which they had been called. He had tried to
+exemplify it to them. He could do no less now, to himself. By teaching
+himself, he could perhaps fit himself to teach them. In England it would
+perhaps be difficult to remain incognito, and he had a pride in wishing
+to succeed alone and unaided. Only the United States, whose form of
+government more nearly approached the ideal he had for Russia, could
+offer him the opportunities to discover whether or not a prince could
+not also be a man.</p>
+
+<p>To the Princess Anastasie he gave little thought. That their common
+exile and the chance encounter under such circumstances had aroused no
+return of an entente toward what had once been a half-sentimental
+attachment convinced him of how little it had meant to him. There were
+no royal prohibitions upon him now. To marry the Princess Anastasie and
+settle in London, living upon the proceeds of her wealthy father's
+American and British securities, was of course the easiest solution of
+his difficulties. A life of ease, music, good sportsmanship, the comfort
+that only England knows.... She was comely too&mdash;blond, petite, and
+smoked her cigarette very prettily. Their marriage had once been
+discussed. She wanted it still, perhaps. Something of all this may have
+been somewhere in the back of Prince Galitzin's ambitious mind. The one
+course would be so easy, the other&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Peter Nicholaevitch rose and carefully flicked his cigarette through the
+open port. No. One does not pass twice <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>through such moments of struggle
+and self-communion as he had had in those long nights of his escape
+along the Dnieper. He had chosen. Peter Nichols! The name amused him. If
+Captain Blashford was a man of his word to-night would be the end of the
+Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch, and the Princess Anastasie might find
+some more ardent suitor to her grace and beauty.</p>
+
+<p>She did not seek him out. Perhaps the hint to Galitzin had been
+sufficient and the Grand Duke from his hiding place saw her pretty
+figure set ashore among the miscellany of martyred "r'yalty." He turned
+away from his port-hole with a catch of his breath as the last vestige
+of his old life passed from sight. And then quietly took up a fresh
+cigarette and awaited the Captain.</p>
+
+<p>The details were easily arranged. Blashford was a man of resource and at
+night returned from a visit to the Captain of the <i>Bermudian</i> with word
+that all was well. He had been obliged to relate the facts but Captain
+Armitage could keep a secret and promised the refugee a job under his
+steward who was short-handed. And so the next morning, after shaving and
+dressing himself in borrowed clothes, Peter Nichols shook Captain
+Blashford warmly by the hand and went aboard his new ship.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Nichols' new job was that of a waiter at the tables in the dining
+saloon. He was a very good waiter, supplying, from the wealth of a
+Continental experience, the deficiencies of other waiters he had known.
+He wore a black shell jacket and a white shirt front which remained
+innocent of gravy spots. The food was not very good nor very plentiful,
+but he served it with an air of such importance that it gained flavor
+and substance by the reflection of his deference. There were English
+officers bound for Malta, Frenchmen for Marseilles and Americans of the
+Red Cross without number bound for New York. Girls, too, clear-eyed,
+bronzed and hearty, who talked war <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>and politics beneath his very nose,
+challenging his own theories. They noticed him too and whispered among
+themselves, but true to his ambition to do every task at the best of his
+bent, he preserved an immobile countenance and pocketed his fees, which
+would be useful ere long, with the grateful appreciation of one to whom
+shillings and franc pieces come as the gifts of God. Many were the
+attempts to draw him into a conversation, but where the queries could
+not be answered by a laconic "Yes, sir," or "No, sir," this paragon of
+waiters maintained a smiling silence.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure he's a prince or something," he heard one young girl of a
+hospital unit say to a young medico of the outfit. "Did you ever see
+such a nose and brows in your life? And his hands&mdash;&mdash;! You can never
+mistake hands. I would swear those hands had never done menial work for
+a thousand years."</p>
+
+<p>All of which was quite true, but it made the waiter Peter uncomfortably
+careful. There were no women in the kitchen, but there was an amatory
+stewardess, fat and forty, upon whom the factitious technique of the
+saloon fell with singular insipidity. He fled from her. Peter, the
+waiter, was already a good democrat but he was not ready to spread his
+philosophy out so thin.</p>
+
+<p>He slept forward, messed abaft the galley, enriched his vocabulary and
+broadened his point of view. There is no leveler like a ship's fo'c'sle,
+no better school of philosophy than that of men upon their "beam ends."
+There were many such&mdash;Poles, Slovaks, Roumanians, an Armenian or two,
+refugees, adventurers from America, old, young, dissolute, making a
+necessity of virtue under that successful oligarchy, the ship's bridge.</p>
+
+<p>In the Americans Peter was interested with an Englishman's point of
+view. He had much to learn, and he invented a tale of his fortunes which
+let him into their <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>confidences, especially into that of Jim Coast,
+waiter like himself, whose bunk adjoined his own. Jim Coast was a
+citizen of the world, inured to privation under many flags. He had been
+born in New Jersey, U. S. A., of decent people, had worked in the
+cranberry bogs, farmed in Pennsylvania, "punched" cattle in Wyoming,
+"prospected" in the Southwest, looted ranches in Mexico, fought against
+Diaz and again with the insurgents in Venezuela, worked on cattle-ships
+and so, by easy stages, had drifted across the breadth of Europe living
+by his wits at the expense of the credulous and the unwary. And now, for
+the first time in many years, he was going home&mdash;though just what that
+meant he did not know. He had missed great fortune twice&mdash;"by the skin
+of his teeth," as he picturesquely described it, once in a mine in
+Arizona and again in a land-deal in the Argentine. There were reasons
+why he hadn't dared to return to the United States before. He was a man
+with a grievance, but, however free in his confidences in other
+respects, gave the interested Peter no inkling as to what that grievance
+was.</p>
+
+<p>No more curious acquaintanceship could possibly be imagined, but
+privation, like politics, makes strange bedfellows, and, from tolerance
+and amusement, Pete, as the other called him, found himself yielding,
+without stint, to the fantastic spell of Jim Coast's multifarious
+attractions. He seemed to have no doubts as to the possibility of making
+a living in America and referred darkly to possible "coups" that would
+net a fortune. He was an agreeable villain, not above mischief to gain
+his ends, and Peter, who cherished an ideal, made sure that, once safe
+ashore, it would be best if they parted company. But he didn't tell Jim
+Coast so, for the conversational benefits he derived from that
+gentleman's acquaintance were a liberal education.</p>
+
+<p>We are admonished that they are blessed who just stand <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>and wait, and
+Peter Nichols, three days out of New York harbor, found himself the
+possessor of forty dollars in tips from the voyage with sixty dollars
+coming to him as wages&mdash;not so bad for a first venture upon the high
+seas of industry. It was the first real money he had ever made in his
+life and he was proud of it, jingling it contentedly in his pockets and
+rubbing the bills luxuriously one against the other. But his plans
+required more than this, for he had read enough to know that in the
+United States one is often taken at one's own estimate, and that if he
+wasn't to find a job as a ditch-digger, he must make a good appearance.
+And so it was now time to make use of the one Grand Ducal possession
+remaining to him, a gold ring set with a gorgeous ruby that had once
+belonged to his father. This ring he had always worn and had removed
+from his finger at Ushan, in the fear that its magnificence might betray
+him. He had kept it carefully tied about his neck in a bag on a bit of
+string and had of course not even shown it to Jim Coast who might have
+deemed it an excuse to sever their strange friendship.</p>
+
+<p>Through the Head Steward he managed a message to Captain Armitage and
+was bidden to the officer's cabin, where he explained the object of his
+visit, exhibited his treasure and estimated its value.</p>
+
+<p>The Captain opened his eyes a bit wider as he gazed into the sanguine
+depths of the stone.</p>
+
+<p>"If I didn't know something of your history, Nichols," he said with a
+wink, "I might think you'd been looting the strong box of the Sultan of
+Turkey. Pigeon's blood and as big as my thumb nail! You want to sell
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I need capital."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want for it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's worth a thousand pounds of English money. Perhaps more, I don't
+know. I'll take what I can get."</p>
+
+<p>"I see. You're afraid to negotiate the sale ashore?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>"Exactly. I'd be arrested."</p>
+
+<p>"And you don't want explanations. H-m&mdash;leave it with me over night. I'll
+see the Purser. He'll know."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks."</p>
+
+<p>The Captain offered the waiter in the shell-jacket the hospitality of
+his cabin, but Peter Nichols thanked him gratefully and withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>The result of this arrangement was that the ruby ring changed owners.
+The Purser bought it for two thousand in cash. He knew a good thing when
+he saw it. But Peter Nichols was satisfied.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<h2>NEW YORK</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>The Duke-errant had prepared himself for the first glimpse of the
+battlements of lower New York, but as the <i>Bermudian</i> came up the bay
+that rosy spring afternoon, the western sun gilding the upper half of
+the castellated towers which rose from a sea of moving shadows, it
+seemed a dream city, the fortress of a fairy tale. His fingers tingled
+to express this frozen music, to relieve it from its spell of
+enchantment, and phrases of Debussy's "Cath&eacute;drale Engloutie" came
+welling up within him from almost forgotten depths.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Parbleu!</i> She's grown some, Pete, since I saw her last!"</p>
+
+<p>This from his grotesque companion who was not moved by concord of sweet
+sounds. "They've buried the Trinity clean out of sight."</p>
+
+<p>"The Trinity?" questioned Peter solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>"Bless your heart&mdash;&mdash;" laughed Coast, "I'd say so&mdash;&mdash;But I mean, the
+church&mdash;&mdash;And that must be the Woolworth Building yonder. Where's yer
+St. Paul's and Kremlin now? Some village,&mdash;what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Gorgeous!" muttered Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"Hell of a thing to tackle single-handed, though, eh, boh?"</p>
+
+<p>Something of the same thought was passing through Peter's mind but he
+only smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll find a job," he said slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"Waitin'!" sneered Coast. "Fine job that for a man <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>with your learnin'.
+'Hey, waiter! Some butter if you please,'" he satirized in mincing
+tones, "'this soup is cold&mdash;this beef is underdone. Oh, <i>cawn't</i> you
+give me some service here!' I say, don't you hear 'em&mdash;people that never
+saw a servant in their own home town. Pretty occupation for an old war
+horse like me or a globe-trotter like you. No. None for me. I'll fry my
+fish in a bigger pan. <i>Allons!</i> Pete. I like you. I'll like you more
+when you grow some older, but you've got a head above your ears that
+ain't all bone. I can use you. What d'ye say? We'll get ashore, some
+way, and then we'll show the U. S. A. a thing or two not written in the
+books."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll go ashore together, Jim. Then we'll see."</p>
+
+<p>"Righto! But I'll eat my hat if I can see you balancin' dishes in a
+Broadway Chop House."</p>
+
+<p>Peter couldn't see that either, but he didn't tell Jim Coast so. Their
+hour on deck had struck, for a final meal was to be served and they went
+below to finish their duties. That night they were paid off and
+discharged.</p>
+
+<p>The difficulties in the way of inspection and interrogation of Peter
+Nichols, the alien, were obviated by the simple expedient of his going
+ashore under cover of the darkness and not coming back to the ship&mdash;this
+at a hint from the sympathetic Armitage who gave the ex-waiter a
+handclasp and his money and wished him success.</p>
+
+<p>Midnight found Peter and Jim Coast on Broadway in the neighborhood of
+Forty-second Street with Peter blinking comfortably up at the electric
+signs and marveling at everything. The more Coast drank the deeper was
+his cynicism but Peter grew mellow. This was a wonderful new world he
+was exploring and with two thousand dollars safely tucked on the inside
+of his waistcoat, he was ready to defy the tooth of adversity.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning Peter Nichols came to a decision. And so over the coffee
+and eggs when Coast asked him what <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>his plans were he told him he was
+going to look for a job.</p>
+
+<p>Coast looked at him through the smoke of his cigar and spoke at last.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't think you'd be a quitter, Pete. The world owes us a
+livin'&mdash;you and me&mdash;&mdash;Bah! It's easy if you'll use your headpiece. If
+the world won't give, I mean to take. The jobs are meant for little
+men."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you going to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"An enterprisin' man wouldn't ask such a question. Half the people in
+the world takes what the other half gives. You ought to know what half
+<i>I</i> belong to."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I belong to the other half, Jim Coast," said Peter quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Sacr&eacute;&mdash;!</i>" sneered the other, rising suddenly. "Where you goin' to
+wait, Pete? At the Ritz or the Commodore? In a month you'll be waitin'
+on <i>me</i>. It'll be <i>Mister</i> Coast for you then, <i>mon gar&ccedil;on</i>, but you'll
+still be Pete." He shrugged and offered his hand. "Well, we won't
+quarrel but our ways split here."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, Jim. Good-by."</p>
+
+<p>He saw Coast slouch out into the street and disappear m the crowd moving
+toward Broadway. He waited for a while thinking deeply and then with a
+definite plan in his mind strolled forth. First he bought a second-hand
+suit case in Seventh Avenue, then found a store marked "Gentlemen's
+Outfitters" where he purchased ready-made clothing, a hat, shoes,
+underwear, linen and cravats, arraying himself with a sense of some
+satisfaction and packing in his suitcase what he couldn't wear, went
+forth, found a taxi and drove in state to a good hotel.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>New York assimilates its immigrants with surprising rapidity. Through
+this narrow funnel they pour into the "melting pot," their racial
+characteristics already neutralized, their souls already inoculated with
+the spirit of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>individualism. Prepared as he was to accept with a good
+grace conditions as he found them, Peter Nichols was astonished at the
+ease with which he fitted into the niche that he had chosen. His room
+was on the eighteenth floor, to which and from which he was shot in an
+enameled lift operated by a Uhlan in a monkey-cap. He found that it
+required a rather nice adjustment of his muscles to spring forth at
+precisely the proper moment. There was a young lady who presided over
+the destinies of the particular shelf that he occupied in this enormous
+cupboard, a very pretty young lady, something between a French Duchess
+and a lady's maid. Her smile had a homelike quality though and it was
+worth risking the perilous catapulting up and down for the mere pleasure
+of handing her his room key. Having no valuables of course but his money
+which he carried in his pockets there was no danger from unprincipled
+persons had she been disposed to connive at dishonesty.</p>
+
+<p>His bedroom was small but neat and his bathroom was neat but small,
+tiled in white enamel, containing every device that the heart of a clean
+man could desire. He discovered that by dropping a quarter into various
+apertures he could secure almost anything he required from tooth paste
+to razor blades. There was a telephone beside his bed which rang at
+inconvenient moments and a Bible upon the side table proclaimed the
+religious fervor of this extraordinary people. A newspaper was sent in
+to him every morning whether he rang for it or not, and every time he
+did ring, a lesser Uhlan brought a thermos bottle containing iced water.
+This perplexed him for a time but he was too much ashamed of his
+ignorance to question. You see, he was already acquiring the first
+ingredient of the American character&mdash;omniscience, for he found that in
+New York no one ever admits that he doesn't know everything.</p>
+
+<p>But it was all very wonderful, pulsing with life, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>eloquent of
+achievement. He was in no haste. By living with some care, he found that
+the money from his ruby would last for several months. Meanwhile he was
+studying his situation and its possibilities. Summing up his own
+attainments he felt that he was qualified as a teacher of the piano or
+of the voice, as an instructor in languages, or if the worst came, as a
+waiter in a fashionable restaurant&mdash;perhaps even a head-waiter&mdash;which
+from the authority he observed in the demeanor of the lord of the hotel
+dining room seemed almost all the honor that a person in America might
+hope to gain. But, in order that no proper opportunity should slip by,
+he scanned the newspapers in the hope of finding something that he could
+do.</p>
+
+<p>As the weeks passed he made the discovery that he was being immensely
+entertained. He was all English now. It was not in the least difficult
+to make acquaintances. Almost everybody spoke to everybody without the
+slightest feeling of restraint. He learned the meaning of the latest
+American slang but found difficulty in applying it, rejoiced in the
+syncopation of the jazz, America's original contribution to the musical
+art, and by the end of a month thought himself thoroughly acclimated.</p>
+
+<p>But he still surprised inquiring glances male and female cast in his
+direction. There was something about his personality which, disguise it
+as he might under American-made garments and American-made manners,
+refused to be hidden. It was his charm added to his general good nature
+and adaptability which quickly made Peter Nichols some friends of the
+better sort. If he had been willing to drift downward he would have cast
+in his lot with Jim Coast. Instead, he followed decent inclinations and
+found himself at the end of six weeks a part of a group of young
+business men who took him home to dine with their wives and gave him the
+benefit of their friendly advice. To all of them he told the same story,
+that he was an Englishman <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>who had worked in Russia with the Red Cross
+and that he had come to the United States to get a job.</p>
+
+<p>It was a likely story and most of them swallowed it. But one clever girl
+whom he met out at dinner rather startled him by the accuracy of her
+intuitions.</p>
+
+<p>"I have traveled a good deal, Mr. Nichols," she said quizzically, "but
+I've never yet met an Englishman like you."</p>
+
+<p>"It is difficult for me to tell whether I am to consider that as
+flattery or disapproval," said Peter calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"You talk like an Englishman, but you're entirely too much interested in
+everything to be true to type."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, really&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Englishmen are either bored or presumptuous. You're neither. And
+there's a tiny accent that I can't explain&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't try&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I must. We Americans believe in our impulses. My brother Dick says
+you're a man of mystery. I've solved it," she laughed, "I'm sure you're
+a Russian Grand Duke incognito."</p>
+
+<p>Peter laughed and tried bravado.</p>
+
+<p>"You are certainly all in the mustard," he blundered helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>And she looked at him for a moment and then burst into laughter.</p>
+
+<p>These associations were very pleasant, but, contrary to Peter's
+expectations, they didn't seem to be leading anywhere. The efforts that
+he made to find positions commensurate with his ambitions had ended in
+blind alleys. He was too well educated for some of them, not well enough
+educated for others.</p>
+
+<p>More than two months had passed. He had moved to a boarding house in a
+decent locality, but of the two thousands dollars with which he had
+entered New York there <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>now remained to him less than two hundred. He
+was beginning to believe that he had played the game and lost and that
+within a very few weeks he would be obliged to hide himself from these
+excellent new acquaintances and go back to his old job. Then the tide of
+his fortune suddenly turned.</p>
+
+<p>Dick Sheldon, the brother of the girl who was "all in the mustard,"
+aware of Peter's plight, had stumbled across the useful bit of
+information and brought it to Peter at the boarding house.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you tell me that you'd once had something to do with forestry in
+Russia?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Peter nodded. "I was once employed in the reafforestation of a large
+estate," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I've found your job," said Sheldon heartily, clapping Peter on the
+back. "A friend of Sheldon, Senior's, Jonathan K. McGuire, has a big
+place down in the wilderness of Jersey&mdash;thousands of acres and he wants
+a man to take charge&mdash;sort of forestry expert and general
+superintendent, money no object. I reckon you could cop out three
+hundred a month as a starter."</p>
+
+<p>"That looks good to me," said Peter, delighted that the argot fell so
+aptly from his lips. And then, "You're not spoofing, are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Devil a spoof. It's straight goods, Nichols. Will you take it?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter had a vision of the greasy dishes he was to escape.</p>
+
+<p>"Will I?" he exclaimed delightedly. "Can I get it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure thing. McGuire is a millionaire, made a pot of money somewhere in
+the West&mdash;dabbles in the market. That's where Dad met him. Crusty old
+rascal. Daughter. Living down in Jersey now, alone with a lot of
+servants. Queer one. Maybe you'll like him&mdash;maybe not."</p>
+
+<p>Peter clasped his friend by the hands.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>"Moloch himself would look an angel of mercy to me now."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think you can make good?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, rather. Whom shall I see? And when?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can fix it up with Dad, I reckon. You'd better come down to the
+office and see him about twelve."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Sheldon, Senior, looked him over and asked him questions and the
+interview was quite satisfactory.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you the truth, as far as I know it," said Sheldon, Senior
+(which was more than Peter Nichols had done). "Jonathan K. McGuire is a
+strange character&mdash;keeps his business to himself&mdash;&mdash;. How much he's
+worth nobody knows but himself and the Treasury Department. Does a good
+deal of buying and selling through this office. A hard man in a deal but
+reasonable in other things. I've had his acquaintance for five years,
+lunched with him, dined with him&mdash;visited this place in Jersey, but I
+give you my word, Mr. Nichols, I've never yet got the prick of a pin
+beneath that man's skin. You may not like him. Few people do. But
+there's no harm in taking a try at this job."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be delighted," said Nichols.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know whether you will or not," broke in Sheldon, Senior,
+frankly. "Something's happened lately. About three weeks ago Jonathan K.
+McGuire came into this office hurriedly, shut the door behind him,
+locked it&mdash;and sank into a chair, puffing hard, his face the color of
+putty. He wouldn't answer any questions and put me off, though I'd have
+gone out of my way to help him. But after a while he looked out of the
+window, phoned for his car and went again, saying he was going down into
+Jersey."</p>
+
+<p>"He was sick, perhaps," ventured Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"It was something worse than that, Mr. Nichols. He looked as though he
+had seen a ghost or heard a banshee. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>Then this comes," continued the
+broker, taking up a letter from the desk. "Asks for a forester, a good
+strong man. You're strong, Mr. Nichols? Er&mdash;and courageous? You're not
+addicted to 'nerves'? You see I'm telling you all these things so that
+you'll go down to Black Rock with your eyes open. He also asks me to
+engage other men as private police or gamekeepers, who will act under
+your direction. Queer, isn't it? Rather spooky, I'd say, but if you're
+game, we'll close the bargain now. Three hundred a month to start with
+and found. Is that satisfactory?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly," said Peter with a bow. "When do I begin?"</p>
+
+<p>"At once if you like. Salary begins now. Fifty in advance for expenses."</p>
+
+<p>"That's fair enough, Mr. Sheldon. If you will give me the directions, I
+will go to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow will be time enough." Sheldon, Senior, had turned to his desk
+and was writing upon a slip of paper. This he handed to Peter with a
+check.</p>
+
+<p>"That will show you how to get there," he said as he rose, brusquely.
+"Glad to have met you. Good-day."</p>
+
+<p>And Peter felt himself hand-shaken and pushed at the same time, reaching
+the outer office, mentally out of breath from the sudden, swift movement
+of his fortunes. Sheldon, Senior, had not meant to be abrupt. He was
+merely a business man relaxing for a moment to do a service for a
+friend. When Peter Nichols awoke to his obligations he sought out
+Sheldon, Junior, and thanked him with a sense of real gratitude and
+Sheldon, Junior, gave him a warm handclasp and Godspeed.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The Pennsylvania Station caused the new Superintendent of Jonathan K.
+McGuire to blink and gasp. He paused, suit case in hand, at the top of
+the double flight of stairs <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>to survey the splendid proportions of the
+waiting room where the crowds seemed lost in its great spaces. In Europe
+such a building would be a cathedral. In America it was a railway
+station. And the thought was made more definite by the Gregorian chant
+of the train announcer which sounded aloft, its tones seeking concord
+among their own echoes.</p>
+
+<p>This was the portal to the new life in which Peter was to work out his
+own salvation and the splendor of the immediate prospect uplifted him
+with a sense of his personal importance in the new scheme of things of
+which this was a part. He hadn't the slightest doubt that he would be
+able to succeed in the work for which he had been recommended, for apart
+from his music&mdash;which had taken so many of his hours&mdash;there was nothing
+that he knew more about or loved better than the trees. He had provided
+himself the afternoon before with two books by American authorities and
+other books and monographs were to be forwarded to his new address.</p>
+
+<p>As he descended the stairs and reached the main floor of the station,
+his glance caught the gaze of a man staring at him intently. The man was
+slender and dark, dressed decently enough in a gray suit and soft hat
+and wore a small black mustache. All of these facts Peter took note of
+in the one glance, arrested by the strange stare of the other, which
+lingered while Peter glanced away and went on. Peter, who had an
+excellent memory for faces, was sure that he had never seen the man
+before, but after he had taken a few steps, it occurred to him that in
+the stranger's eyes he had noted the startled distention of surprise and
+recognition. And so he stopped and turned, but as he did so the fellow
+dropped his gaze suddenly, and turned and walked away. The incident was
+curious and rather interesting. If Peter had had more time he would have
+sought out the fellow and asked him <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>why he was staring at him, but
+there were only a few moments to spare and he made his way out to the
+concourse where he found his gate and descended to his train. Here he
+ensconced himself comfortably in the smoking car, and was presently shot
+under the Hudson River (as he afterwards discovered) and out into the
+sunshine of the flats of New Jersey.</p>
+
+<p>He rolled smoothly along through the manufacturing and agricultural
+districts, his keenly critical glances neglecting nothing of the waste
+and abundance on all sides. He saw, too, the unlovely evidences of
+poverty on the outskirts of the cities, which brought to his mind other
+communities in a far country whose physical evidences of prosperity were
+no worse, if no better, than these. Then there came a catch in his
+throat and a gasp which left him staring but seeing nothing. The feeling
+was not nostalgia, for that far country was no home for him now. At last
+he found himself muttering to himself in English, "My home&mdash;my home is
+here."</p>
+
+<p>After a while the mood of depression, recurrent moments of which had
+come to him in New York with diminishing frequency, passed into one of
+contemplation, of calm, like those which had followed his nights of
+passion on the Dnieper, and at last he closed his eyes and dozed.
+Visions of courts and camps passed through his mind&mdash;of brilliant
+uniforms and jeweled decorations; of spacious polished halls,
+resplendent with ornate mirrors and crystal pendant chandeliers; of
+diamond coronets, of silks and satins and powdered flunkies. And then
+other visions of gray figures crouched in the mud; of rain coming out of
+the dark and of ominous lights over the profile of low hills; of
+shrieks; of shells and cries of terror; of his cousin, a tall, bearded
+man on a horse in a ravine waving an imperious arm; of confusion and
+moving thousands, the creak of sanitars, the groans of men calling upon
+mothers <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>they would never see. And then with a leap backward over the
+years, the vision of a small man huddled against the wall of a courtyard
+being knouted until red stains appeared on his gray blouse and then
+mingled faintly in the mist and the rain until the small man sank to the
+full length of his imprisoned arms like one crucified....</p>
+
+<p>Peter Nichols straightened and passed a hand across his damp forehead.
+Through the perspective of this modern civilization what had been
+passing before his vision seemed very vague, very distant, but he knew
+that it was not a dream....</p>
+
+<p>All about him was life, progress, industry, hope&mdash;a nation in the
+making, proud of her brief history which had been built around an ideal.
+If he could bring this same ideal back to Russia! In his heart he
+thanked God for America&mdash;imperfect though she was, and made a vow that
+in the task he had set for himself he should not be found wanting.</p>
+
+<p>Twice he changed trains, the second time at a small junction amid an
+ugliness of clay-pits and brickyards and dust and heat. There were
+perhaps twenty people on the platform. He walked the length of the
+station and as he did so a man in a gray suit disappeared around the
+corner of the building. But Peter Nichols did not see him, and in a
+moment, seated in his new train in a wooden car which reminded him of
+some of the ancient rolling stock of the St. Petersburg and Moscow
+Railroad, he was taken haltingly and noisily along the last stage of his
+journey.</p>
+
+<p>But he was aware of the familiar odor of the pine balsam in his
+nostrils, and as he rolled through dark coverts the scent of the growing
+things in the hidden places in the coolth and damp of the sandy loam. He
+saw, too, tea-colored streams idling among the sedges and charred
+wildernesses of trees appealing mutely with their blackened stumps like
+wounded creatures in pain, a bit of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>war-torn Galicia in the midst of
+peace. Miles and miles of dead forest land, forgotten and uncared for.
+There was need here for his services.</p>
+
+<p>With a wheeze of steam and a loud crackling of woodwork and creaking of
+brakes the train came to a stop and the conductor shouted the name of
+the station. Rather stiffly the traveler descended with his bag and
+stood upon the small platform looking about him curiously. The baggage
+man tossed out a bundle of newspapers and a pouch of mail and the train
+moved off. Apparently Peter Nichols was the only passenger with Pickerel
+River as a destination.</p>
+
+<p>And as the panting train went around a curve, at last disappearing, it
+seemed fairly reasonable to Peter Nichols that no one with the slightest
+chance of stopping off anywhere else would wish to get off here. The
+station was small, of but one room and a tiny office containing, as he
+could see, a telegraph instrument, a broken chair with a leather
+cushion, a shelf and a rack containing a few soiled slips of paper, but
+the office had no occupant and the door was locked. This perhaps
+explained the absence of the automobile which Mr. Sheldon had informed
+him would meet him in obedience to his telegram announcing the hour of
+his arrival. Neither within the building nor without was there any
+person or animate thing in sight, except some small birds fluttering and
+quarreling along the telegraph wires.</p>
+
+<p>There was but one road, a sandy one, wearing marks of travel, which
+emerged from the scrub oak and pine and definitely concluded at the
+railroad track. This, then, was his direction, and after reassuring
+himself that there was no other means of egress, he took up his black
+suitcase and set forth into the wood, aware of a sense of beckoning
+adventure. The road wound in and out, up and down, over what at one time
+must have been the floor <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>of the ocean, which could not be far distant.
+Had it not been for the weight of his bag Peter would have enjoyed the
+experience of this complete isolation, the fragrant silences broken only
+by the whisper of the leaves and the scurrying of tiny wild things among
+the dead tree branches. But he had no means of knowing how far he would
+have to travel or whether, indeed, there had not been some mistake on
+Sheldon, Senior's, part or his own. But the directions had been quite
+clear and the road must of course lead somewhere&mdash;to some village or
+settlement at least where he could get a lodging for the night.</p>
+
+<p>And so he trudged on through the woods which already seemed to be
+partaking of some of the mystery which surrounded the person of Jonathan
+K. McGuire. The whole incident had been unusual and the more interesting
+because of the strange character of his employer and the evident fear he
+had of some latent evil which threatened him. But Peter Nichols had
+accepted his commission with a sense of profound relief at escaping the
+other fate that awaited him, with scarcely a thought of the dangers
+which his acceptance might entail. He was not easily frightened and had
+welcomed the new adventure, dismissing the fears of Jonathan K. McGuire
+as imaginary, the emanations of age or an uneasy conscience.</p>
+
+<p>But as he went on, his bag became heavier and the perspiration poured
+down his face, so reaching a cross-path that seemed to show signs of
+recent travel he put the suitcase down and sat on it while he wiped his
+brow. The shadows were growing longer. He was beginning to believe that
+there was no such place as Black Rock, no such person as Jonathan K.
+McGuire and that Sheldon, Senior, and Sheldon, Junior, were engaged in a
+conspiracy against his peace of mind, when above the now familiar
+whisperings of the forest he heard a new sound. Faintly it came at first
+as though from a great distance, mingling with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>the murmur of the
+sighing wind in the pine trees, a voice singing. It seemed a child's
+voice&mdash;delicate, clear, true, as care-free as the note of a
+bird&mdash;unleashing its joy to the heavens.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Nichols started up, listening more intently. The sounds were
+coming nearer but he couldn't tell from which direction, for every leaf
+seemed to be taking up the lovely melody which he could hear quite
+clearly now. It was an air with which he was unfamiliar, but he knew
+only that it was elemental in its simplicity and under these
+circumstances startlingly welcome. He waited another long moment,
+listening, found the direction from which the voice was coming, and
+presently noted the swaying of branches and the crackling of dry twigs
+in the path near by, from which, in a moment, a strange figure emerged.</p>
+
+<p>At first he thought it was a boy, for it wore a pair of blue denim
+overalls and a wide-brimmed straw hat, from beneath which the birdlike
+notes were still emitted, but as the figure paused at the sight of him,
+the song suddenly ceased&mdash;he saw a tumbled mass of tawny hair and a pair
+of startled blue eyes staring at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello," said the figure, after a moment, recovering its voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-afternoon," said Peter Nichols, bowing from the waist in the most
+approved Continental manner. You see he, too, was a little startled by
+the apparition, which proclaimed itself beneath its strange garments in
+unmistakable terms to be both feminine and lovely.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<h2>THE OVERALL GIRL</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>They stood for a long moment regarding each other, both in curiosity;
+Peter because of the contrariety of the girl's face and garments, the
+girl because of Peter's bow, which was the most extraordinary thing that
+had ever happened in Burlington County. After a pause, a smile which
+seemed to have been hovering uncertainly around the corners of her lips
+broke into a frank grin, disclosing dimples and a row of white teeth,
+the front ones not quite together.</p>
+
+<p>"Could you tell me," asked Peter very politely as he found his voice,
+"if this road leads to Black Rock?"</p>
+
+<p>She was still scrutinizing him, her head, birdlike, upon one side.</p>
+
+<p>"That depends on which way you're walkin'," she said.</p>
+
+<p>She dropped her "g" with careless ease, but then Peter had noticed that
+many Americans and English people, some very nice ones, did that.</p>
+
+<p>Peter glanced at the girl and then down the road in both directions.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, of course," he said, not sure whether she was smiling at or
+with him. "I came from a station called Pickerel River and I wish to go
+to Black Rock."</p>
+
+<p>"You're <i>sure</i> you want to go there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess that's because you've never been to Black Rock, Mister."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I haven't."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>The girl picked a shrub and nibbled at it daintily.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better turn and go right back." Her sentence finished in a shrug.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter with Black Rock?" he asked curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"It's just the little end of nothin'. That's all," she finished
+decisively.</p>
+
+<p>The quaint expression interested him. "I must get there, nevertheless,"
+he said; "is it far from here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Depends on what you call far. Mile or so. Didn't the 'Lizzie' meet the
+six-thirty?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter stared at her vacuously, for this was Greek.</p>
+
+<p>"The 'Lizzie'?"</p>
+
+<p>"The tin 'Lizzie'&mdash;Jim Hagerman's bus&mdash;carries the mail and papers.
+Sometimes he gives me a lift about here."</p>
+
+<p>"No. There was no conveyance of any sort and I really expected one. I
+wish to get to Mr. Jonathan K. McGuire's."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!"</p>
+
+<p>The girl had been examining Peter furtively, as though trying vainly to
+place him definitely in her mental collection of human bipeds. Now she
+stared at him with interest.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you're goin' to McGuire's!"</p>
+
+<p>Peter nodded. "If I can ever find the way."</p>
+
+<p>"You're one of the new detectives?"</p>
+
+<p>"Detective!" Peter laughed. "No. Not that I'm aware. I'm the new
+superintendent and forester."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!"</p>
+
+<p>The girl was visibly impressed, but a tiny frown puckered her brow.</p>
+
+<p>"What's a forester?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"A fellow who looks after the forests."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>"The forests don't need any lookin' after out here in the barrens. They
+just grow."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to teach them to grow better."</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked at him for a long moment of suspicion. She had taken off
+her hat and the ruddy sunlight behind her made a golden halo all about
+her head. Her hands he had noted were small, the fingers slender. Her
+nose was well shaped, her nostrils wide, the angle of her jaw firmly
+modeled and her slender figure beneath the absurd garments revealed both
+strength and grace. But he did not dare to stare at her too hard or to
+question her as to her garments. For all that Peter knew it might be the
+custom of Burlington County for women to wear blue denim trousers.</p>
+
+<p>And her next question took him off his guard.</p>
+
+<p>"You city folk don't think much of yourselves, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't exactly understand what you mean," said Peter politely, marking
+the satirical note.</p>
+
+<p>"To think you can make these trees grow better!" she sniffed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm just going to help them to help themselves."</p>
+
+<p>"That's God's job, Master."</p>
+
+<p>Peter smiled. She wouldn't have understood, he thought, so what was the
+use of explaining. There must have been a superior quality in Peter's
+smile, for the girl put on her hat and came down into the road.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm goin' to Black Rock," she said stiffly, "follow me." And she went
+off with a quick stride down the road.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Nichols took up his bag and started, with difficulty getting to a
+place beside her.</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't mind," he said, "I'd much rather walk with you than behind
+you."</p>
+
+<p>She shrugged a shoulder at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Suit yourself," she said.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>In this position, Peter made the discovery that her profile was quite as
+interesting as her full face, but she no longer smiled. Her reference to
+the Deity entirely eliminated Peter and the profession of forestry from
+the pale of useful things. He was sorry that she no longer smiled
+because he had decided to make friends at Black Rock and he didn't want
+to make a bad beginning.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you don't mind," said Peter at last, "if I tell you that you
+have one of the loveliest voices that I have ever heard."</p>
+
+<p>He marked with pleasure the sudden flush of color that ran up under her
+delicately freckled tan. Her lips parted and she turned to him
+hesitating.</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;you heard me!"</p>
+
+<p>"I did. It was like the voice of an angel in Heaven."</p>
+
+<p>"Angel! Oh! I'm sorry. I&mdash;I didn't know any one was there. I just sing
+on my way home from work."</p>
+
+<p>"You've been working to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>She nodded. "Yes&mdash;Farmerettin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Farmer&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Workin' in the vineyard at Gaskill's."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I see. Do you like it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said dryly. "I just do it for my health. Don't I look sick?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter wasn't used to having people make fun of him. Even as a waiter he
+had managed to preserve his dignity intact. But he smiled at her.</p>
+
+<p>"I was wondering what had become of the men around here."</p>
+
+<p>"They're so busy walkin' from one place to another to see where they can
+get the highest wages, that there's no time to work in between."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," said Peter, now really amused. "And does Mr. Jonathan McGuire
+have difficulty in getting men to work for him?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>"Most of his hired help come from away&mdash;like you&mdash;&mdash;But lately they
+haven't been stayin' long."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>She slowed her pace a little and turned to look at him curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean that you don't know the kind of a job you've got?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not much," admitted Peter. "In addition to looking after the preserve,
+I'm to watch after the men&mdash;and obey orders, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"H-m. Preserve! Sorry, Mr. what's your name&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Peter Nichols&mdash;&mdash;" put in Peter promptly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mr. Peter Nichols, all I have to say is that you're apt to have a
+hard time."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I'm against it!" translated Peter confidently.</p>
+
+<p>The girl stopped in the middle of the road, put her hands on her hips
+and laughed up at the purpling sky. Her laugh was much like her
+singing&mdash;if angels in Paradise laugh (and why shouldn't they?). Then
+while he wondered what was so amusing she looked at him again.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Up</i> against it, you mean. You're English, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Er&mdash;yes&mdash;I am."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought so. There was one of you in the glass factory. He always
+muffed the easy ones."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you work in a glass factory?"</p>
+
+<p>"Winters. Manufacturin' whiskey and beer bottles. Now we're goin' dry,
+they'll be makin' pop and nursin' bottles, I guess."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you help in the factory?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and in the office. I can shorthand and type a little."</p>
+
+<p>"You must be glad when a summer comes."</p>
+
+<p>"I am. In winter I can't turn around without breakin' something. They
+dock you for that&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>"And that's why you sing when you can't break anythin'?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so. I like the open. It isn't right to be cooped up."</p>
+
+<p>They were getting along beautifully and Peter was even beginning to
+forget the weight of his heavy bag. She was a quaint creature and quite
+as unconscious of him as though he hadn't existed. He was just somebody
+to talk to. Peter ventured.</p>
+
+<p>"Er&mdash;would you mind telling me your name?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him and laughed friendly.</p>
+
+<p>"You must have swallowed a catechism, Mr. Nichols. But everybody in
+Black Rock knows everybody else&mdash;more'n they want to, I guess. There's
+no reason I shouldn't tell you. I don't mind your knowin'. My name is
+Beth Cameron."</p>
+
+<p>"Beth&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Bess&mdash;the minister had a lisp."</p>
+
+<p>Peter didn't lack a sense of humor.</p>
+
+<p>"Funny, isn't it?" she queried with a smile as he laughed, "bein' tied
+up for life to a name like that just because the parson couldn't talk
+straight."</p>
+
+<p>"Beth," he repeated, "but I like it. It's like you. I hope you'll let me
+come to see you when I get settled."</p>
+
+<p>"H-m," she said quizzically. "You don't believe in wastin' your time, do
+you?" And then, after a brief pause, "You know they call us Pineys back
+here in the barrens, but just the same we think a lot of ourselves and
+we're a little offish with city folks. You can't be too particular
+nowadays about the kind of people you go with."</p>
+
+<p>Peter stared at her and grinned, his sense of the situation more keenly
+touched than she could be aware of.</p>
+
+<p>"Particular, are you? I'm glad of that. All the more credit to me if
+you'll be my friend."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't say I was your friend."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>"But you're going to be, aren't you? I know something about singing.
+I've studied music. Perhaps I could help you."</p>
+
+<p>"You! You've studied? Lord of Love! You're not lyin', are you?"</p>
+
+<p>He laughed. "No. I'm not lying. I was educated to be a musician."</p>
+
+<p>She stared at him now with a new look in her eyes but said nothing. So
+Peter spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to say you've never thought of studying singing?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," she said slowly at last, "I've thought of it, just as I've
+thought of goin' in the movies and makin' a million dollars. Lots of
+good <i>thinkin'</i> does!"</p>
+
+<p>"You've thought of the movies?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, once. A girl went from the glass factory. She does extra ladies.
+She visited back here last winter. I didn't like what it did to her."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" Peter was silent for a while, aware of the pellucid meaning of her
+"it." He was learning quite as much from what she didn't say as from
+what she did. But he evaded the line of thought suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"You do get tired of Black Rock then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I would if I had time. I'm pretty busy all day, and&mdash;see
+here&mdash;Mr.&mdash;er&mdash;Nichols. If I asked as many questions as you do, I'd know
+as much as Daniel Webster."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry," said Peter, "I beg your pardon."</p>
+
+<p>They walked on in silence for a few moments, Peter puzzling his brain
+over the extraordinary creature that chance had thrown in his way. He
+could see that she was quite capable of looking out for herself and that
+if her smattering of sophistication had opened her eyes, it hadn't much
+harmed her.</p>
+
+<p>He really wanted to ask her many more questions, but to tell the truth
+he was a little in awe of her dry humor <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>which had a kind of primitive
+omniscience and of her laughter which he was now sure was more <i>at</i>,
+than with, him. But he had, in spite of her, peered for a moment into
+the hidden places of her mind and spirit.</p>
+
+<p>It was this intrusion that she resented and he could hardly blame her,
+since they had met only eighteen minutes ago. She trotted along beside
+him as though quite unaware of the sudden silence or of the thoughts
+that might have been passing in his mind. It was Beth who broke the
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Is your bag heavy?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," said Peter, mopping the perspiration from his forehead.
+"But aren't we nearly there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes. It's just a mile or so."</p>
+
+<p>Peter dropped his bag.</p>
+
+<p>"That's what you said it was, back there."</p>
+
+<p>"Did I? Well, maybe it isn't so far as that now. Let me carry your bag a
+while."</p>
+
+<p>Thus taunted, he rose, took the bag in his left hand and followed.</p>
+
+<p>"City folks aren't much on doin' for themselves, are they? The taxi
+system is very poor down here yet."</p>
+
+<p>Her face was expressionless, but he knew that she was laughing at him.
+He knew also that his bag weighed more than any army pack. It seemed too
+that she was walking much faster than she had done before&mdash;also that
+there was malicious humor in the smile she now turned on him.</p>
+
+<p>"Seems a pity to have such a long walk&mdash;with nothin' at the end of it."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mind it in the least," gasped Peter. "And if you don't object
+to my asking you just one more question," he went on grimly, "I'd like
+you to tell me what is frightening Mr. Jonathan K. McGuire?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, McGuire. I don't know. Nobody does. He's been here a couple of
+weeks now, cooped up in the big <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>house. Never comes out. They say he
+sees ghosts and things."</p>
+
+<p>"Ghosts!"</p>
+
+<p>She nodded. "He's hired some of the men around here to keep watch for
+them and they say some detectives are coming. You'll help too, I guess."</p>
+
+<p>"That should be easy."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe. I don't know. My aunt works there. She's housekeeper. It's
+spooky, she says, but she can't afford to quit."</p>
+
+<p>"But they haven't <i>seen</i> anything?" asked Peter incredulously.</p>
+
+<p>"No. Not yet. I guess it might relieve 'em some if they did. It's only
+the things you don't see that scare you."</p>
+
+<p>"It sounds like a great deal of nonsense about nothing," muttered Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"All right. Wait until you get there before you do much talkin'."</p>
+
+<p>"I will, but I'm not afraid of ghosts." And then, as an afterthought,
+"Are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not in daylight. But from what Aunt Tillie says, it must be something
+more than a ghost that's frightenin' Jonathan K. McGuire."</p>
+
+<p>"What does she think it is?"</p>
+
+<p>"She doesn't know. Mr. McGuire won't say. He won't allow anybody around
+the house without a pass. Oh, he's scared all right and he's got most of
+Black Rock scared too. He was never like this before."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you scared?" asked Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I don't think I am really. But it's spooky, and I don't care much
+for shootin'."</p>
+
+<p>"What makes you think there will be shooting?"</p>
+
+<p>"On account of the guns and pistols. Whatever the thing is he's afraid
+of, he's not goin' to let it come near <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>him if he can help it. Aunt
+Tillie says that what with loaded rifles, shotguns and pistols lyin'
+loose in every room in the house, it's as much as your life is worth to
+do a bit of dustin'. And the men&mdash;Shad Wells, Jesse Brown, they all
+carry automatics. First thing they know they'll be killin' somebody,"
+she finished with conviction.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is Shad Wells&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"My cousin, Shadrack E. Wells. He was triplets. The other two died."</p>
+
+<p>"Shad," mused Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"Sounds like a fish, doesn't it? But he isn't." And then more slowly,
+"Shad's all right. He's just a plain woodsman, but he doesn't know
+anything about making the trees grow," she put in with prim irony.
+"You'll be his boss, I guess. He won't care much about that."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because he's been runnin' things in a way. I hope you get along with
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"So do I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Because if you don't, Shad will eat you at one gobble."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Peter with a smile. "But perhaps you exaggerate. Don't you
+think I might take two&mdash;er&mdash;gobbles?"</p>
+
+<p>Beth looked him over, and then smiled encouragingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe," she said, "but your hands don't look over-strong."</p>
+
+<p>Peter looked at his right hand curiously. It was not as brown as hers,
+but the fingers were long and sinewy.</p>
+
+<p>"They are, though. When you practice five hours a day on the piano, your
+hands will do almost anything you want them to."</p>
+
+<p>A silence which Peter improved by shifting his suitcase. The weight of
+it had ceased to be amusing. And he was about to ask her how much
+further Black Rock was when there was a commotion down the road ahead of
+them, as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>a dark object emerged from around the bend and amid a whirl of
+dust an automobile appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the 'Lizzie'," exclaimed Beth unemotionally.</p>
+
+<p>And in a moment the taxi service of Black Rock was at Peter's disposal.</p>
+
+<p>"Carburetor trouble," explained the soiled young man at the wheel
+briefly, without apology. And with a glance at Peter's bag&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Are you the man for McGuire's on the six-thirty?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter admitted that he was and the boy swung the door of the tonneau
+open.</p>
+
+<p>"In here with me, Beth," he said to the girl invitingly.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment, the small machine was whirled around and started in the
+direction from which it had come, bouncing Peter from side to side and
+enveloping him in dust. Jim Hagerman's "Lizzie" wasted no time, once it
+set about doing a thing, and in a few moments from the forest they
+emerged into a clearing where there were cows in a meadow, and a view of
+houses. At the second of these, a frame house with a portico covered
+with vines and a small yard with a geranium bed, all enclosed in a
+picket fence, the "Lizzie" suddenly stopped and Beth got down.</p>
+
+<p>"Much obliged, Jim," he heard her say.</p>
+
+<p>Almost before Peter had swept off his hat and the girl had nodded, the
+"Lizzie" was off again, through the village street, and so to a wooden
+bridge across a tea-colored stream, up a slight grade on the other side,
+where Jim Hagerman stopped his machine and pointed to a road.</p>
+
+<p>"That's McGuire's&mdash;in the pines. They won't let me go no further."</p>
+
+<p>"How much do I owe you?" asked Peter, getting down.</p>
+
+<p>"It's paid for, Mister. Slam the door, will ye?" And in another moment
+Peter was left alone.</p>
+
+<p>It was now after sunset, and the depths of the wood were bathed in
+shadow. Peter took the road indicated and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>in a moment reached two stone
+pillars where a man was standing. Beyond the man he had a glimpse of
+lawns, a well-kept driveway which curved toward the wood. The man at the
+gate was of about Peter's age but tall and angular, well tanned by
+exposure and gave an appearance of intelligence and capacity.</p>
+
+<p>"I came to see Mr. McGuire," said Peter amiably.</p>
+
+<p>"And what's your name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nichols. I'm the new forester from New York."</p>
+
+<p>The young man at the gate smiled in a satirical way.</p>
+
+<p>"Nichols. That was the name," he ruminated. And then with a shout to
+some one in the woods below, "Hey, Andy. Come take the gate."</p>
+
+<p>All the while Peter felt the gaze of the young man going over him
+minutely and found himself wondering whether or not this was the person
+who was going to take him at a gobble.</p>
+
+<p>It was. For when the other man came running Peter heard him call the
+gateman, "Shad."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you Mr. Shad Wells?" asked Peter politely with the pleasant air of
+one who has made an agreeable discovery.</p>
+
+<p>"That's my name. Who told you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Beth Cameron," replied Peter. "We came part of the way together."</p>
+
+<p>"H-m! Come," he said laconically and led the way up the road toward the
+house. Peter didn't think he was very polite.</p>
+
+<p>Had it not been for the precautions of his guide, Peter would have been
+willing quite easily to forget the tales that had been told him of Black
+Rock. The place was very prettily situated in the midst of a very fine
+growth of pines, spruce and maple. At one side ran the tea-colored
+stream, tumbling over an ancient dam to levels below, where it joined
+the old race below the ruin that had once <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>been a mill. The McGuire
+house emerged in a moment from its woods and shrubbery, and stood
+revealed&mdash;a plain square Georgian dwelling of brick, to which had been
+added a long wing in a poor imitation of the same style and a garage and
+stables in no style at all on the slope beyond. It seemed a most prosaic
+place even in the gathering dusk and Peter seemed quite unable to
+visualize it as the center of a mystery such as had been described. And
+the laconic individual who had been born triplets was even less
+calculated to carry out such an illusion.</p>
+
+<p>But just as they were crossing the lawn on the approach to the house,
+the earth beneath a clump of bushes vomited forth two men, like the
+fruit of the Dragon's Teeth, armed with rifles, who barred their way.
+Both men were grinning from ear to ear.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Jesse," said Shad with a laugh. "It's me and the new
+forester." He uttered the words with an undeniable accent of contempt.</p>
+
+<p>The armed figures glanced at Peter and disappeared, and Peter and Mr.
+Shad Wells went up the steps of the house to a spacious portico. There
+was not a human being in sight and the heavy wooden blinds to the lower
+floor were tightly shut. Before his guide had even reached the door the
+sound of their footsteps had aroused some one within the house, the door
+was opened the length of its chain and a face appeared at the aperture.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is it?" asked a male voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Shad Wells and Mr. Nichols, the man from New York."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a minute," was the reply while the door was immediately shut
+again.</p>
+
+<p>Peter glanced around him comparing this strange situation with another
+that he remembered, when a real terror had come, a tangible terror in
+the shape of a countryside gone mad with blood lust. He smiled toward
+the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>bush where the armed men lay concealed and toward the gate where
+the other armed man was standing. It was all so like a situation out of
+an <i>op&eacute;ra bouffe</i> of Offenbach.</p>
+
+<p>What he felt now in this strange situation was an intense curiosity to
+learn the meaning of it all, to meet the mysterious person around whom
+all these preparations centered. Peter had known fear many times, for
+fear was in the air for weeks along the Russian front, the fear of
+German shells, of poison gas, and of that worst poison of all&mdash;Russian
+treachery. But that fear was not like this fear, which was intimate,
+personal but intangible. He marked it in the scrutiny of the man who
+opened the door and of the aged woman who suddenly appeared beside him
+in the dim hallway and led him noiselessly up the stair to a lighted
+room upon the second floor. At the doorway the woman paused.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Nichols, Mr. McGuire," she said, and Peter entered.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<h2>THE JOB</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>The room was full of tobacco smoke, through which Peter dimly made out a
+table with an oil lamp, beside which were chairs, a sofa, and beyond, a
+steel safe between the windows. As Peter Nichols entered, a man advanced
+from a window at the side, the shutter of which was slightly ajar. It
+was evident that not content to leave his safety in the hands of those
+he had employed to preserve it, he had been watching too.</p>
+
+<p>He was in his shirt sleeves, a man of medium height, compactly built,
+and well past the half century mark. The distinguishing features of his
+face were a short nose, a heavy thatch of brows, a square jaw which
+showed the need of the offices of a razor and his lips wore a short,
+square mustache somewhat stained by nicotine.</p>
+
+<p>In point of eagerness the manner of his greeting of the newcomer left
+nothing to be desired. Peter's first impression was that Jonathan K.
+McGuire was quite able to look out for himself, which confirmed the
+impression that the inspection to which Peter had been subjected was
+nothing but a joke. But when his employer began speaking rather jerkily,
+Peter noticed that his hands were unsteady and that neither the muscles
+of his face nor of his body were under complete control. Normally, he
+would have seemed much as Sheldon, Senior, had described him&mdash;a
+hard-fisted man, a close bargainer who had won his way to his great
+wealth by the sheer force of a strong personality. There was little of
+softness in his face, little that was imaginative. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>This was not a man
+to be frightened at the Unseen or to see terrors that did not exist.
+Otherwise, to Peter he seemed commonplace to the last degree, of Irish
+extraction probably, the kind of person one meets daily on Broadway or
+on the Strand. In a fur coat he might have been taken for a banker; in
+tweeds, for a small tradesman; or in his shirt as Peter now saw him, the
+wristbands and collar somewhat soiled from perspiration, for a laboring
+man taking his rest after an arduous day. In other words, he was very
+much what his clothes would make of him, betraying his origins in a
+rather strident voice meant perhaps to conceal the true state of his
+mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Glad to see you, Mr. Nichols. Thought you were never comin'," he jerked
+out.</p>
+
+<p>"I walked most of the way from Pickerel River. Something went wrong,
+with the 'Lizzie.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;er&mdash;'Lizzie'. The flivver! I couldn't send my own car. I've got
+only one down here and I might need it."</p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't matter in the least&mdash;since I'm here."</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, Mr. Nichols," went on McGuire indicating a chair. "You've
+been well recommended by Mr. Sheldon. I talked to him yesterday over
+long distance. He told you what I wanted?"</p>
+
+<p>"Something. Not much," said Peter with a view to getting all the
+information possible. "You wanted a forester&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Er&mdash;er&mdash;yes, that's it. A forester." And then he went on
+haltingly&mdash;"I've got about twenty thousand acres here&mdash;mostly scrub
+oak&mdash;pine and spruce. I've sold off a lot to the Government. A mess of
+it has been cut&mdash;there's been a lot of waste&mdash;and the fire season is
+coming around. That's the big job&mdash;the all-the-year job. You've had
+experience?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;in Russia. I'm a trained woodsman."</p>
+
+<p>"You're a good all-round man?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>"Exactly what&mdash;&mdash;?" began Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"You know how to look after yourself&mdash;to look after other men, to take
+charge of a considerable number of people in my employ?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I'm used to dealing with men."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a big job, Mr. Nichols&mdash;a ticklish kind of a job for a
+furriner&mdash;one with some&mdash;er&mdash;unusual features&mdash;that may call for&mdash;er&mdash;a
+lot of tact. And&mdash;er&mdash;courage."</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to Peter that Jonathan K. McGuire was talking almost at
+random, that the general topic of forestry was less near his heart
+to-night than the one that was uppermost in Peter's mind, the mystery
+that surrounded his employer and the agencies invoked to protect him. It
+seemed as if he were loath to speak of them, as if he were holding Peter
+off at arm's length, so to say, until he had fully made up his mind that
+this and no other man was the one he wanted, for all the while he was
+examining the visitor with burning, beady, gray eyes, as though trying
+to peer into his mind.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not afraid of a forester's job, no matter how big it is, if I have
+men enough," said Peter, still curious.</p>
+
+<p>"And you're a pretty good man in a pinch, I mean&mdash;&mdash;" he put in jerkily,
+"you're not easy scared&mdash;don't lose your nerve."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll take my chances on that," replied Peter calmly. "I'm used to
+commanding men, in emergencies&mdash;if that's what you mean."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. That's what I mean. Er&mdash;you're an Englishman, Mr. Sheldon says."</p>
+
+<p>"Er&mdash;yes," said Peter, "an Englishman," for this was the truth now more
+than ever before, and then repeated the story he had told in New York
+about his work in Russia. While Peter was talking, McGuire was pacing up
+and down the room with short nervous strides, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>nodding his head in
+understanding from time to time. When Peter paused he returned to his
+chair.</p>
+
+<p>"You British are a pretty steady lot," said McGuire at last. "I think
+you'll do. I like the way you talk and I like your looks. Younger than
+I'd hoped maybe, but then you're strong&mdash;Mr. Sheldon says you're strong,
+Mr. Nichols."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," said Peter, his curiosity now getting the better of him. "But
+it might be as well, Mr. McGuire, if you let me know just what, that is
+unusual, is to be required of me. I assume that you want me to take
+command of the men policing your grounds&mdash;and immediate property?"</p>
+
+<p>"Er&mdash;yes. That will have to be put in shape at once&mdash;at once." He leaned
+suddenly forward in his chair, his hairy hands clutching at his knees,
+while he blurted out with a kind of relieved tension, "No one must come
+near the house at night. No one, you understand&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I understand, sir&mdash;&mdash;" said Peter, waiting patiently for a revelation.</p>
+
+<p>"There'll be no excuse if any one gets near the house without my
+permission," he snarled. And then almost sullenly again&mdash;"You
+understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly. That should not be difficult to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It may be more difficult than you think," broke in McGuire, springing
+to his feet again, and jerking out his phrases with strange fury.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing is to be taken for granted. Nothing," he raged. Peter was
+silent for a moment, watching McGuire who had paced the length of the
+room and back.</p>
+
+<p>"I understand, sir," he said at last. "But doesn't it seem to you that
+both I and the man under me could do our work with more intelligence if
+we knew just who or what is to be guarded against?" Mr. McGuire stopped
+beside him as though transfixed by the thought. Then <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>his fingers
+clutched at the back of a chair to which he clung for a moment in
+silence, his brows beetling. And when he spoke all the breath of his
+body seemed concentrated in a hoarse whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"You won't know that. You understand, I give the orders. You obey them.
+I am not a man who answers questions. Don't ask them."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I beg your pardon. So long as this thing you fear is human&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Human! A ghost! Who said I was afraid? Sheldon? Let him think it. This
+is <i>my</i> business. There are many things of value in this house," and he
+glanced towards the safe. "I'm using the right of any man to protect
+what belongs to him."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," said Peter.</p>
+
+<p>The man's tension relaxed as he realized Peter's coolness.</p>
+
+<p>"Call it a fancy if you like, Mr. Nichols&mdash;&mdash;" he said with a shrug. "A
+man of my age may have fancies when he can afford to gratify 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"That's your affair," said Peter easily. "I take it then that the
+systematic policing of the grounds is the first thing I am to consider."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. The systematic policing of the grounds&mdash;the dividing of your
+men into shifts for day and night work&mdash;more at night than in the day.
+Three more men come to-morrow. They will all look to you for orders."</p>
+
+<p>"And who is in charge now?"</p>
+
+<p>"A man named Wells&mdash;a native&mdash;the foreman from one of the sawmills&mdash;but
+he&mdash;er&mdash;well, Mr. Nichols&mdash;I'm not satisfied. That's why I wanted a man
+from outside."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand. And will you give the necessary orders to him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wells was up here to-day, I told him."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>"How many men are on guard here at the house?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ten and with the three coming&mdash;that makes thirteen&mdash;&mdash;" McGuire
+halted&mdash;"thirteen&mdash;but you make the fourteenth," he added.</p>
+
+<p>Peter nodded. "And you wish me to take charge at once?"</p>
+
+<p>"At once. To-night. To-morrow you can look over the ground more
+carefully. You'll sleep in the old playhouse&mdash;the log cabin&mdash;down by the
+creek. They'll show you. It's connected with this house by 'phone. I'll
+talk to you again to-morrow; you'd better go down and get something to
+eat."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire went to the door and called out "Tillie!"</p>
+
+<p>And as a faint reply was heard, "Get Mr. Nichols some supper."</p>
+
+<p>Peter rose and offered his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll try to justify your faith in me, sir. Much obliged."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night."</p>
+
+<p>Peter went down the stairs with mingled feelings. If the words of Beth
+Cameron had created in his mind a notion that the mystery surrounding
+Black Rock was supernatural in character, the interview with Jonathan K.
+McGuire had dispelled it. That McGuire was a very much frightened man
+was certain, but it seemed equally certain to Peter that what he feared
+was no ghost or banshee but the imminence of some human attack upon his
+person or possessions. Here was a practical man, who bore in every
+feature of his strongly-marked face the tokens of a successful struggle
+in a hard career, the beginnings of which could not have been any too
+fortunate. A westerner whose broad hands and twisted fingers spoke
+eloquently of manual labor, a man who still possessed to all appearances
+considerable physical strength&mdash;a prey to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>the fear of some night danger
+which was too ominous even to be talked about.</p>
+
+<p>It was the quality of his terror that was disturbing. Peter was well
+acquainted with the physical aspects of fear&mdash;that is the fear of
+violence and death. That kind of fear made men restless and nervous, or
+silent and preoccupied; or like liquor it accentuated their weaknesses
+of fiber in sullenness or bravado. But it did not make them furtive. He
+could not believe that it was the mere danger of death or physical
+violence that obsessed his employer. That sort of danger perhaps there
+might be, but the fear that he had seen in McGuire's fanatical gray eyes
+was born of something more than these. Whatever it was that McGuire
+feared, it reached further within&mdash;a threat which would destroy not his
+body alone, but something more vital even than that&mdash;the very spirit
+that lived within him.</p>
+
+<p>Of his career, Peter knew nothing more than Sheldon, Senior, had told
+him&mdash;a successful man who told nothing of his business except to the
+Treasury Department, a silent man, with a passion for making money. What
+could he fear? Whom? What specter out of the past could conjure up the
+visions he had seen dancing between McGuire's eyes and his own?</p>
+
+<p>These questions it seemed were not to be answered and Peter, as he sat
+down at the supper table, put them resolutely from his mind and
+addressed himself to the excellent meal provided by the housekeeper. For
+the present, at least, fortune smiled upon him. The terrors of his
+employer could not long prevail against the healthy appetite of
+six-and-twenty.</p>
+
+<p>But it was not long before Peter discovered that the atmosphere of the
+room upstairs pervaded the dining room, library and halls. There were a
+cook and housemaid he discovered, neither of them visible. The
+housekeeper, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>if attentive, was silent, and the man who had opened the
+front door, who seemed to be a kind of general factotum, as well as
+personal bodyguard to Mr. McGuire, crept furtively about the house in an
+unquiet manner which would have been disturbing to the digestion of one
+less timorous than Peter.</p>
+
+<p>Before the meal was finished this man came into the room and laid a
+police whistle, a large new revolver and a box of cartridges beside
+Peter's dish of strawberries.</p>
+
+<p>"These are for you, sir," he whispered sepulchrally. "Mr. McGuire asked
+me to give them to you&mdash;for to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks," said Peter, "and you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm Stryker, sir, Mr. McGuire's valet."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!"</p>
+
+<p>Peter's accent of surprise came from his inability to reconcile Stryker
+with the soiled shirt and the three days' growth of beard on the man
+upstairs, which more than ever testified to the disorder of his mental
+condition.</p>
+
+<p>And as Stryker went out and his footsteps were heard no more, the
+housekeeper emerged cautiously from the pantry.</p>
+
+<p>"Is everything all right, Mr. Nichols?" she asked in a stage whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"Right as rain. Delicious! I'm very much obliged to you."</p>
+
+<p>"I mean&mdash;er&mdash;there ain't anythin' else ye'd like?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, thanks," said Peter, taking up the revolver and breaking it.
+He had cut the cover of the cartridge box and had slipped a cartridge
+into the weapon when he heard the voice of the woman at his ear.</p>
+
+<p>"D'ye think there's any danger, sir?" she whispered, while she nervously
+eyed the weapon.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I don't know. Not to you, I'd say," he muttered, still putting
+the cartridges in the pistol. As <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>an ex-military man, he was taking
+great delight in the perfect mechanism of his new weapon.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it&mdash;&mdash;? I mean, d'ye think&mdash;&mdash;," she stammered, "did Mr.
+McGuire say&mdash;just what it is he's afraid of?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Peter, "he didn't." And then with a grin, "Do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir. I wish t'God I did. Then there'd be somethin' to go by."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I can't help you, Mrs.&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Tillie Bergen. I've been housekeeper here since the new wing was put
+on&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," said Peter, pausing over the last cartridge as the thought
+came to him. "Then you must be Beth Cameron's aunt?"</p>
+
+<p>"Beth?" The woman's sober face wreathed in a lovely smile. "D'ye know
+Beth?"</p>
+
+<p>"Since this afternoon. She showed me the way."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh. Poor Beth."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, we're all poor, Mr. Nichols. But Beth she's&mdash;different from the
+rest of us somehow."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, she <i>is</i> different," admitted Peter frankly.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bergen sighed deeply. "Ye don't know how different. And now
+that&mdash;all this trouble has come, I can't get home nights to her. And she
+can't come to see me without permission. How long d'ye think it will
+last, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said Peter, slipping the revolver and cartridges into
+his pockets. And then gallantly, "If I can offer you my services, I'd be
+glad to take you home at night&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's against orders. And I wouldn't dare, Mr. Nichols. As it is I've
+got about as much as I can stand. If it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>wasn't for the money I wouldn't
+be stayin' in the house another hour."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps things won't be so bad after a time. If anything is going to
+happen, it ought to be pretty soon."</p>
+
+<p>She regarded him wistfully as he moved toward the door. "An' ye'll tell
+me, sir, if anything out o' the way happens."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope nothing is going to happen, Mrs. Bergen," said Peter cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>Stryker appeared mysteriously from the darkness as Peter went out into
+the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"The upstairs girl made up your bed down at the cabin, sir. The
+chauffeur took your bag over. You'll need these matches. If you'll wait,
+sir, I'll call Mr. Wells."</p>
+
+<p>Peter wondered at the man in this most unconventional household, for
+Stryker, with all the prescience of a well-trained servant, had already
+decided that Peter belonged to a class accustomed to being waited on.
+Going to the door he blew one short blast on a police whistle, like
+Peter's, which he brought forth from his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"That will bring him, sir," he said. "If you'll go out on the portico,
+he'll join you in a moment."</p>
+
+<p>Peter obeyed. The door was closed and fastened behind him and almost
+before he had taken his lungs full of the clean night air (for the house
+had been hot and stuffy), a shadow came slouching across the lawn in the
+moonlight. Peter joined the man at once and they walked around the
+house, while Peter questioned him as to the number of men and their
+disposition about the place. There were six, he found, including Wells,
+with six more to sleep in the stable, which was also used as a
+guardhouse. Peter made the rounds of the sentries. None of them seemed
+to be taking the matter any too seriously and one at least was sound
+asleep beneath some <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>bushes. Peter foresaw difficulties. Under the
+leadership of Shad Wells the strategic points were not covered, and, had
+he wished, he could have found his way, by using the cover of shadow and
+shrubbery, to the portico without being observed. He pointed this out to
+Wells who, from a supercilious attitude, changed to one of defiance.</p>
+
+<p>"You seem to think you know a lot, Mister?" he said. "I'd like to see ye
+try it."</p>
+
+<p>Peter laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. Take your posts and keep strict watch, but don't move. If I
+don't walk across the lawn from the house in half an hour I'll give you
+ten dollars. In return you can take a shot if you see me."</p>
+
+<p>He thought the men needed the object lesson. Peter was an excellent
+"point." He disappeared into the woods behind him and making his way
+cautiously out, found a road, doubling to the other side of the garage
+along which he went on his hands and knees and crawling from shrub to
+shrub in the shadows reached the portico without detection. Here he
+lighted a fag and quietly strolled down to the spot where he had left
+Shad Wells, to whom he offered a cigarette by way of consolation. Wells
+took it grudgingly. But he took it, which was one point gained.</p>
+
+<p>"Right smart, aren't ye?" said Shad.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Peter coolly. "Anybody could have done it,&mdash;in three ways.
+The other two ways are through the pine grove to the left and from the
+big sycamore by the stream."</p>
+
+<p>"And how do you know all that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was in the Army," said Peter. "It's a business like anything else."</p>
+
+<p>And he pointed out briefly where the five men should be stationed and
+why, and Shad, somewhat mollified by the cigarette, shrugged and
+agreed.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>"We'll do sentry duty in the regular way," went on Peter cheerfully,
+"with a corporal of the guard and a countersign. I'll explain in detail
+to-morrow." And then to Shad, "I'll take command until midnight, when
+you'll go on with the other shift until four. I'll make it clear to the
+other men. The countersign is the word 'Purple.' You'd better go and
+turn in. I'll call you at twelve."</p>
+
+<p>Peter watched the figure of the woodsman go ambling across the lawn in
+the direction of the garage and smiled. He also marked the vertical line
+of light which showed at a window on the second floor where another kept
+watch. The man called Jesse, the one who had been asleep beneath the
+bushes, and who, fully awake, had watched Peter's exhibition of
+scouting, now turned to Peter with a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you're right, Mister. S'long's we're paid. But I'd like to know
+just what this 'ere thing is the ol' man's skeered of."</p>
+
+<p>"You know as much as I do. It will probably have two legs, two hands and
+a face and carry a gun. You'd better be sure you're not asleep when it
+comes. But if you care to know what I think, you can be pretty sure that
+it's coming&mdash;and before very long."</p>
+
+<p>"To-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"How do I know? Have a cigarette? You cover from the road to the big
+cedar tree; and keep your eyes open&mdash;especially in the shadows&mdash;and
+don't let anybody get you in the back."</p>
+
+<p>And so making the rounds, instilling in their minds a sense of real
+emergency, Peter gave the men their new sentry posts and made friends.
+He had decided to stay up all night, but at twelve he called Shad Wells
+and went down to look over his cabin which was a quarter of a mile away
+from the house near Cedar Creek (or "Crick" in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>the vernacular). The key
+was in the cabin door so he unlocked it and went in, and after striking
+a match found a kerosene lamp which he lighted and then looked about
+him.</p>
+
+<p>The building had only one room but it was of large dimensions and
+contained a wooden bed with four posts, evidently some one's heirloom, a
+bureau, washstand, two tables and an easy chair or two. Behind the bed
+was a miscellaneous lot of rubbish, including a crib, a rocking horse, a
+velocipede, beside some smaller toys. Whom had these things belonged to?
+A grandson of McGuire's? And was the daughter of McGuire like her
+father, unlovely, soiled and terror-stricken? His desultory mental
+queries suddenly stopped as he raised his eyes to the far corner of the
+room, for there, covered with an old shawl, he made out the lines of a
+piano. He opened the keyboard and struck a chord. It wasn't so bad&mdash;a
+little tuning&mdash;he could do it himself....</p>
+
+<p>So this was his new home! He had not yet had the time or the opportunity
+to learn what new difficulties were to face him on the morrow, but the
+personal affairs of his employer had piqued his interest and for the
+present he had done everything possible to insure his safety for the
+night. To-morrow perhaps he would learn something more about the causes
+of this situation. He would have an opportunity too to look over the
+property and make a report as to its possibilities. To a man inured as
+Peter was to disappointments, what he had found was good. He had made up
+his mind to fit himself soldierlike into his new situation and he had to
+admit now that he liked the prospect. As though to compensate for past
+mischief, Fate had provided him with the one employment in the new land
+for which he was best suited by training and inclination. It was the one
+"job" in which, if he were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>permitted a fair amount of freedom of action
+and initiative, he was sure that he could "make good." The trees he
+could see were not the stately pines of Zukovo, but they were pines, and
+the breeze which floated in to him through the cabin door was laden with
+familiar odors.</p>
+
+<p>The bed looked inviting, but he resolutely turned his back to it and
+unpacked his suitcase, taking off his tailor-made clothing and putting
+on the flannel shirt, corduroy trousers and heavy laced boots, all of
+which he had bought before leaving New York. Then he went to the doorway
+and stood looking out into the night.</p>
+
+<p>The moonbeams had laid a patine of silver upon the floor of the small
+clearing before the door, and played softly among the shadows. So silent
+was the night that minute distant sounds were clearly audible&mdash;the
+stream seemed to be tinkling just at his elbow, while much farther away
+there was a low murmur of falling water at the tumbling dam, mingling
+with the sighs of vagrant airs among the crowns of the trees, the rustle
+and creak of dry branches, the whispering of leaf to leaf. Wakeful birds
+deceived by the moon piped softly and were silent. An owl called. And
+then for the briefest moment, except for the stream, utter silence.</p>
+
+<p>Peter strode forth, bathed himself in the moonlight and drank deep of
+the airs of the forest. America! He had chosen! Her youth called to his.
+He wanted to forget everything that had gone before, the horrors through
+which he had passed, both physical and spiritual,&mdash;the dying struggles
+of the senile nation, born in intolerance, grown in ignorance and
+stupidity which, with a mad gesture, had cast him forth with a curse. He
+had doffed the empty prerogatives of blood and station and left them in
+the mire and blood. The soul of Russia was dead and he had thought that
+his own had died with hers, but from the dead thing a new soul might
+germinate as it had now <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>germinated in him. He had been born again.
+<i>Novaya Jezn!</i> The New Life! He had found it.</p>
+
+<p>He listened intently as though for its heartbeats, his face turned up
+toward the silent pines. For a long while he stood so and then went
+indoors and sat at the old piano playing softly.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<h2>NEW ELEMENTS</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>Some of the men on guard in the middle watch reported that they had
+heard what seemed to be the sounds of music very far away in the woods
+and were disturbed at the trick their ears had played upon them. But
+Peter didn't tell them the truth. If listening for the notes of a piano
+would keep them awake, listen they should. He slept until noon and then
+went to the house for orders.</p>
+
+<p>Morning seemed to make a difference in the point of view. If the moon
+had made the night lovely, the sun brought with it the promise of every
+good thing. The walk through the woods to Black Rock House was a joy,
+very slightly alleviated by the poor condition of the trees under which
+Peter passed. It was primeval forest even here, with valuable trees
+stunted and poor ones vastly overgrown according to nature's law which
+provides for the survival of the fittest. This was the law too, which
+was to be applied to Peter. Would he grow straight and true in this
+foreign soil or gnarled and misshapen like the cedars and the maples
+that he saw? Yes. He would grow and straight ... straight.</p>
+
+<p>Optimism seemed to be the order of the new day. At the house he found
+that his employer had put on a clean shirt and was freshly shaven. The
+windows of the room were opened wide to the sunlight which streamed into
+the room, revealing its darkest corners. McGuire himself seemed to have
+responded to the effulgence of the sun and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>the balmy air which swept
+across his table. His manner was now calm, his voice more measured.</p>
+
+<p>When Peter came into the room, Mr. McGuire closed the heavy doors of the
+steel safe carefully and turned to greet him.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, glad to see you, Nichols," he said more cheerfully. "A quiet night,
+I understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," laughed Nichols, "except for the man who got through the guards
+and smoked a cigarette on your portico."</p>
+
+<p>"What!" gasped McGuire.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be alarmed, sir. It was only myself. I wanted to show Shad Wells
+the defects of his police system."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Ah! Ha, ha, yes, of course. Very good. And you weren't shot at?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, sir&mdash;though I'd given them leave to pot me if they could. But I
+think you're adequately protected now."</p>
+
+<p>"Good," said McGuire. "Have a cigar. I'm glad you've come. I wanted to
+talk to you."</p>
+
+<p>And when they had lighted their cigars, "It's about this very guard.
+I&mdash;I'm afraid you'll have to keep your men under cover at least in the
+daytime."</p>
+
+<p>"Under cover?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you see," went on McGuire in some hesitation, "my daughter (he
+called it darter) Peggy is motoring down from New York to-day. I don't
+want her, but she's coming. I couldn't stop her. She doesn't know
+anything about this&mdash;er&mdash;this guarding the house. And I don't want her
+to know. She mustn't know. She'd ask questions. I don't want questions
+asked. I'll get her away as soon as I can, but she mustn't be put into
+any danger."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," said Peter examining the ash of his cigar. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>"You don't want her
+to know anything about the impending attempts upon your life and
+property."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's it," said McGuire impatiently. "I don't want her to find
+out. Er&mdash;she couldn't understand. You know women, Nichols. They talk too
+much." He paused "It's&mdash;er&mdash;necessary that none of her friends in New
+York or mine should know of&mdash;er&mdash;any danger that threatens me. And of
+course&mdash;er&mdash;any danger that threatens me would&mdash;in a way&mdash;threaten her.
+You see?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think so."</p>
+
+<p>"I've put all weapons under cover. I don't want her to see 'em. So when
+she comes&mdash;which may be at any moment&mdash;nothing must be said about the
+men outside and what they're there for. In the daytime they must be
+given something to do about the place&mdash;trimming the lawns, pruning trees
+or weeding the driveway. Pay 'em what they ask, but don't let any of 'em
+go away. You'll explain this to the new men. As for yourself&mdash;er&mdash;of
+course you're my new superintendent and forester."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire got up and paced the floor slowly looking at Peter out of the
+tail of his eye.</p>
+
+<p>"I like you, Nichols. We'll get along. You've got courage and
+intelligence&mdash;and of course anybody can see you're a gentleman. You'll
+keep on taking your meals in the house&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If you'd like me to go elsewhere&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I see no reason why Peggy shouldn't like you. I hope she will. But
+she's very headstrong, has been since a kid. I suppose I humor her a
+bit&mdash;who wouldn't? I lost my oldest girl and her boy with the 'flu.' Her
+husband's still in France. And Peggy's got a will of her own, Peg has,"
+he finished in a kind of admiring abstraction. "Got a society bee in her
+bonnet. Wants to go with all the swells. I'm backin' her, Nichols.
+She'll do it too before she's through," he finished proudly.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>"I haven't a doubt of it," said Peter soberly, though very much amused
+at his employer's ingenuousness. Here then, was the weak spot in the
+armor of this relentless millionaire&mdash;his daughter. The older one and
+her child were dead. That accounted for the toys in the cabin. Peggy
+sounded interesting'&mdash;if nothing else, for her vitality.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd better see about this at once, then. If she should come&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Peter rose and was about to leave the room when there was a sound of an
+automobile horn and the sudden roar of an exhaust outside. He followed
+McGuire to the window and saw a low red runabout containing a girl and a
+male companion emerging from the trees. A man in the road was holding up
+his hands in signal for the machine to stop and had barely time to leap
+aside to avoid being run down. The car roared up to the portico, the
+breathless man, who was Shad Wells, pursuing. Peter was glad that he had
+had the good sense not to shoot. He turned to his employer, prepared for
+either anger or dismay and found that McGuire was merely grinning and
+chuckling softly as though to himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Just like her!" he muttered, "some kid, that!"</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Shad Wells, making a bad race of it was only halfway up the
+drive, when at a signal and shout from McGuire, he stopped running,
+stared, spat and returned to his post.</p>
+
+<p>There was a commotion downstairs, the shooting of bolts, the sounds of
+voices and presently the quick patter of feminine footsteps which
+McGuire, now completely oblivious of Peter, went to meet.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, daughter!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Pop!"</p>
+
+<p>Peter caught a glimpse of a face and straggling brown hair, quickly
+engulfed in McGuire's arms.</p>
+
+<p>"What on earth&mdash;&mdash;" began McGuire.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>"Thought we'd give you a little touch of high life, Pop. It was so hot
+in town. And the hotel's full of a convention of rough necks. I brought
+Freddy with me and Mildred and Jack are in the other car. We thought the
+rest might do us good."</p>
+
+<p>The voice was nasal and pitched high, as though she were trying to make
+herself audible in a crowd. Peter was ready to revise his estimate that
+her face was pretty, for to him no woman was more beautiful than her own
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"But you can't stay here, Peg," went on McGuire, "not more than over
+night&mdash;with all these people. I'm very busy&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"H-m. We'll see about that. I never saw the woods look prettier. We came
+by Lakewood and Brown's Mills and&mdash;Why who&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>As she sidled into the room she suddenly espied Peter who was still
+standing by the window.</p>
+
+<p>"Who&mdash;&mdash;? Why&mdash;Oh, yes, this is my new superintendent and forester. Meet
+my daughter,&mdash;Mr. Nichols."</p>
+
+<p>Peter bowed and expressed pleasure. Miss McGuire swept him with a quick
+glance that took in his flannel shirt, corduroy breeches and rough
+boots, nodded pertly and turned away.</p>
+
+<p>Peter smiled. Like Beth Cameron this girl was very particular in
+choosing her acquaintances.</p>
+
+<p>"I nearly killed a guy in the driveway," she went on, "who was he, Pop?"</p>
+
+<p>"Er&mdash;one of the gardeners, I've told them to keep people off the place."</p>
+
+<p>"Well. I'd like to see him keep <i>me</i> off! I suppose he'll be trying to
+hold up Mildred and Jack&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She walked to the window passing close beside Peter, paying as little
+attention to his presence as if he had been, an article of furniture.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>"Can't you get this man to go down," she said indicating Peter, "and
+tell them it's all right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said Peter politely. "I'll go at once. And I'd like to
+arrange to look over part of the estate with Wells, Mr. McGuire," he
+added.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Nichols," said the old man with a frown. And then
+significantly&mdash;"But remember what I've told you. Make careful
+arrangements before you go."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Peter went down the stairs, amused at his dismissal. On the veranda he
+found a young man sitting on some suitcases smoking a cigarette. This
+was Freddy, of course. He afterwards learned that his last name was
+Mordaunt, that he was a part of Peggy's ambitions, and that he had been
+invalided home from a camp and discharged from the military service. As
+Freddy turned, Peter bowed politely and passed on. Having catalogued him
+by his clothing, Freddy like Peggy had turned away, smoking his
+cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>Peter thought that some Americans were born with bad manners, some
+achieved bad manners, and others had bad manners thrust upon them.
+Impoliteness was nothing new to him, since he had been in America. It
+was indigenous. Personally, he didn't mind what sort of people he met,
+but he seemed to be aware that a new element had come to Black Rock
+which was to make disquietude for Jonathan K. McGuire and difficulty for
+himself. And yet too there was a modicum of safety, perhaps, in the
+presence of these new arrivals, for it had been clear from his
+employer's demeanor that the terrors of the night had passed with the
+coming of the day.</p>
+
+<p>He commented on this to Shad Wells, who informed him that night was
+always the old man's bad time.</p>
+
+<p>"Seems sort o' like he's skeered o' the dark. 'Tain't nateral. 'Fraid o'
+ghosts, they say," he laughed.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>"Well," said Peter, "we've got our orders. And the thing he fears isn't
+a ghost. It's human."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And since he's more afraid after dark he has probably had his
+warning. But we're not to take any chances."</p>
+
+<p>Having given his new orders to Jesse, who was to be in charge during
+their absence, they struck into the woods upon the other side of the
+Creek for the appraisal of a part of the strip known as the "Upper
+Reserve." From an attitude of suspicion and sneering contempt Peter's
+companion had changed to one of indifference. The unfailing good humor
+of the new superintendent had done something to prepare the ground for
+an endurable relation between them. Like Beth Cameron Shad had sneered
+at the word "forester." He was the average lumberman, only interested in
+the cutting down of trees for the market&mdash;the commercial aspect of the
+business&mdash;heedless of the future, indifferent to the dangers of
+deforestation. Peter tried to explain to him that forestry actually
+means using the forest as the farmer uses his land, cutting out the
+mature and overripe trees and giving the seedlings beneath more light
+that they may furnish the succeeding crop of timber. He knew that the
+man was intelligent enough, and explained as well as he could from such
+statistics as he could recall how soon the natural resources of the
+country would be exhausted under the existing indifference.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite a bit of wood here, Mister&mdash;enough for my job," said Shad.</p>
+
+<p>But after a while Peter began to make him understand and showed him what
+trees should be marked for cutting and why. They came to a burned patch
+of at least a hundred acres.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>"Is there any organized system for fighting these fires?" Peter asked.</p>
+
+<p>"System! Well, when there's a fire we go and try to put it out&mdash;&mdash;"
+laughed Wells.</p>
+
+<p>"How do the fires start?"</p>
+
+<p>"Campers&mdash;hunters mos'ly&mdash;in the deer season. Railroads sometimes&mdash;at
+the upper end."</p>
+
+<p>"And you keep no watch for smoke?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where would we watch from?"</p>
+
+<p>"Towers. They ought to be built&mdash;with telephone connection to
+headquarters."</p>
+
+<p>"D'ye think the old man will stand for that?"</p>
+
+<p>"He ought to. It's insurance."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!"</p>
+
+<p>"It looks to me, Wells," said Peter after a pause, "that a good 'crown'
+fire and a high gale, would turn all this country to cinders&mdash;like
+this."</p>
+
+<p>"It's never happened yet."</p>
+
+<p>"It may happen. Then good-by to your jobs&mdash;and to Black Rock too
+perhaps."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess Black Rock can stand it, if the old man can."</p>
+
+<p>They walked around the charred clearing and mounted a high sand dune,
+from which they could see over a wide stretch of country. With a high
+wooden platform here the whole of the Upper Reserve could be watched.
+They sat for a while among the sandwort and smoked, while Peter
+described the work in the German forests that he had observed before the
+war. Shad had now reached the point of listening and asking questions as
+the thought was more and more borne into his mind that this new
+superintendent was not merely talking for talk's sake, but because he
+knew more about the woods than any man the native had ever talked with,
+and wanted Shad to know too. For Peter had an answer to all of his
+questions, and Shad, though envious of Peter's grammar&mdash;for he had
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>reached an age to appreciate it&mdash;was secretly scornful of Peter's white
+hands and carefully tied black cravat.</p>
+
+<p>This dune was at the end of the first day's "cruise" and Shad had risen
+preparatory to returning toward Black Rock when they both heard a
+sound,&mdash;away off to their right, borne down to them clearly on the
+breeze&mdash;the voice of a girl singing.</p>
+
+<p>"Beth," said Shad with a kindling eye. And then carelessly spat, to
+conceal his emotions.</p>
+
+<p>"What on earth can she be doing in here?" asked Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"Only half a mile from the road. It's the short cut from Gaskill's."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," from Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you reckon you can find your way back alone, Nichols?" said Shad,
+spitting again.</p>
+
+<p>Peter grinned. "I reckon I can try," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Shad pointed with his long arm in the general direction of Heaven. "That
+way!" he muttered and went into the scrub oak with indecent haste.</p>
+
+<p>Peter sat looking with undisguised interest at the spot where he had
+disappeared, tracing him for a while through the moving foliage,
+listening to the crackling of the underbrush, as the sounds receded.</p>
+
+<p>It was time to be turning homeward, but the hour was still inviting, the
+breeze balmy, the sun not too warm, so Peter lay back among the grasses
+in the sand smoking a fresh cigarette. Far overhead buzzards were
+wheeling. They recalled those other birds of prey that he had often
+watched, ready to swoop down along the lines of the almost defenseless
+Russians. Here all was so quiet. The world was a very beautiful place if
+men would only leave it so. The voice of the girl was silent now. Shad
+had probably joined her. Somehow, Peter hadn't been able to think of any
+relationship, other than the cousinly one, between Shad Wells and Beth.
+He had only known the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>girl for half an hour but as Aunt Tillie Bergen
+had said, her niece seemed different from the other natives that Peter
+had met. Her teeth were sound and white, suggesting habits of personal
+cleanliness; her conversation, though careless, showed at the very
+least, a grammar school training. And Shad&mdash;well, Shad was nothing but a
+"Piney."</p>
+
+<p>Pity&mdash;with a voice like that&mdash;she ought to have had opportunities&mdash;this
+scornful little Beth. Peter closed his eyes and dozed. He expected to
+have no difficulty in finding his way home, for he had a pocket compass
+and the road could not be far distant. He liked this place. He would
+build a tower here, a hundred-foot tower, of timbers, and here a man
+should be stationed all day&mdash;to watch for wisps of smoke during the
+hunting season. Smoke ... Tower ... In a moment he snored gently.</p>
+
+<p>"Halloo!" came a voice in his dream. "Halloo! Halloo!"</p>
+
+<p>Peter started rubbing his eyes, aware of the smoking cigarette in the
+grasses beside him.</p>
+
+<p>Stupid, that! To do the very thing he had been warning Shad Wells
+against. He smeared the smoking stub out in the sand and sat up yawning
+and stretching his arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Halloo!" said the voice in his dream, almost at his ear. "Tryin' to set
+the woods afire?"</p>
+
+<p>The question had the curious dropping intonation at its end. But the
+purport annoyed him.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing that she could have said could have provoked him more! Behind
+her he saw the dark face of Shad Wells break into a grin.</p>
+
+<p>"I fell asleep," said Peter, getting to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>Beth laughed. "Lucky you weren't burnt to death. <i>Then</i> how would the
+trees get along?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter's toe burrowed after the defunct cigarette.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>"I know what I'm about," he muttered, aware of further loss of dignity.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, do you? Then which way were you thinkin' of goin' home?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter glanced around, pointed vaguely, and Beth Cameron laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you'd land in Egg Harbor, or thereabouts."</p>
+
+<p>Her laugh was infectious and Peter at last echoed it.</p>
+
+<p>"You's better be goin' along with us. Shad asked me to come and get you,
+didn't you, Shad?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter glanced at the woodsman's black scowl and grinned, recalling his
+desertion and precipitate disappearance into the bushes.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I'm very much obliged to you both," said Peter diplomatically.
+"But I think I can find my way in."</p>
+
+<p>"Not if you start for Hammonton or Absecon, you can't. I've known people
+to spend the night in the woods a quarter of a mile from home."</p>
+
+<p>"I shouldn't mind that."</p>
+
+<p>"But Shad would. He'd feel a great responsibility if you didn't turn up
+for the ghost-hunt. Wouldn't you, Shad?"</p>
+
+<p>Shad wagged his head indeterminately, and spat. "Come on," he said
+sullenly, and turned, leading the way out to the northward, followed by
+Beth with an inviting smile. She still wore her denim overalls which
+were much too long for her and her dusty brown boots seemed like a
+child's. Between moments of avoiding roots and branches, Peter watched
+her strong young figure as it followed their leader. Yesterday, he had
+thought her small; to-day she seemed to have increased in stature&mdash;so
+uncertain is the masculine judgment upon any aspect of a woman. But his
+notions in regard to her grace and loveliness were only confirmed. There
+was no concealing them under her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>absurd garments. Her flanks were long
+and lithe, like a boy's, but there was something feminine in the way she
+moved, a combination of ease and strength made manifest, which could
+only come of well-made limbs carefully jointed. Every little while she
+flashed a glance over her shoulder at him, exchanging a word, even
+politely holding back a branch until he caught it, or else when he was
+least expecting it, letting it fly into his face. From time to time Shad
+Wells would turn to look at them and Peter could see that he wasn't as
+happy as he might have been. But Beth was very much enjoying herself.</p>
+
+<p>They had emerged at last into the road and walked toward Black Rock,
+Beth in the center and Peter and Shad on either side.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been thinkin' about what you said yesterday," said Beth to Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"About&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Singin' like an angel in Heaven," she said promptly aware of Shad's
+bridling glance.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well," repeated Peter, "you do&mdash;you know."</p>
+
+<p>"It was very nice of you&mdash;and you a musician."</p>
+
+<p>"Musician!" growled Shad. "He ain't a musician."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, he is, and he says I've a voice like an angel. <i>You</i> never
+said that, Shad Wells."</p>
+
+<p>"No. Nor I won't," he snapped surlily.</p>
+
+<p>Peter would have been more amused if he hadn't thought that Shad Wells
+was unhappy.</p>
+
+<p>He needed the man's allegiance and he had no wish to make an enemy of
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Musician!" Shad growled. "Then it was you the men heard last night."</p>
+
+<p>"I found a piano in the cabin. I was trying it," said Peter. Shad said
+nothing in reply but he put every shade of scorn into the way in which
+he spat into the road.</p>
+
+<p>"A piano&mdash;&mdash;!" Beth gasped. "Where? What cabin?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>"The playhouse&mdash;where I live," said Peter politely.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh."</p>
+
+<p>There was a silence on the part of both of his companions, awkwardly
+long.</p>
+
+<p>So Peter made an effort to relieve the tension, commenting on the new
+arrivals at Black Rock House.</p>
+
+<p>At the mention of Peggy's name Beth showed fresh excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss McGuire! Here? When&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"This morning. Do you know her?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. But I've seen her. I think she's just lovely."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"She wears such beautiful clothes and&mdash;and hats and veils."</p>
+
+<p>Peter laughed. "And that's your definition of loveliness."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes," she said in wonder. "Last year all the girls were copyin'
+her, puttin' little puffs of hair over their ears&mdash;I tried it, but it
+looked funny. Is she going to be here long? Has she got a 'beau' with
+her? She always had. It's a wonder she doesn't run over somebody, the
+way she drives."</p>
+
+<p>"She nearly got me this mornin'," growled Shad.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish she would&mdash;if you're going to look like a meat-ax, Shad Wells."</p>
+
+<p>There was no reconciling them now, and when Beth's home was reached, all
+three of them went different ways. What a rogue she was! And poor Shad
+Wells who was to have taken Peter at a gobble, seemed a very poor sort
+of a creature in Beth's hands.</p>
+
+<p>She amused Peter greatly, but she annoyed him a little too, ruffled up
+the shreds of his princely dignity, not yet entirely inured to the
+trials of social regeneration. And Shad's blind adoration was merely a
+vehicle for her amusement. It would have been very much better if she
+hadn't <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>used Peter's compliment as a bait for Shad. Peter had come to
+the point of liking the rough foreman even if he was a new kind of human
+animal from anything in Peter's experience.</p>
+
+<p>And so was Beth. A new kind of animal&mdash;something between a harrier and a
+skylark, but wholesome and human too, a denim dryad, the spirit of
+health, joy and beauty, a creature good to look at, in spite of her envy
+of the fashionable Miss Peggy McGuire with her modish hats, cerise veils
+and ear puffs, her red roadsters and her beaux. Poverty sat well upon
+Beth and the frank blue eyes and resolute chin gave notice that whatever
+was to happen to her future she was honorable and unafraid.</p>
+
+<p>But if there was something very winning about her, there was something
+pathetic too. Her beauty was so unconscious of her ridiculous clothing,
+and yet Peter had come to think of it as a part of her, wondering indeed
+what she would look like in feminine apparel, in which he could not
+imagine her, for the other girls of Black Rock had not so far blessed
+his vision. Aunt Tillie Bergen had told him, over his late breakfast, of
+the difficulties that she and Beth had had to keep their little place
+going and how Beth, after being laid off for the summer at the factory,
+had insisted upon working in the Gaskill's vineyard to help out with the
+household. There ought to be something for Beth Cameron, better than
+this&mdash;something less difficult&mdash;more ennobling.</p>
+
+<p>Thinking of these things Peter made his way back to the cabin. Nothing
+of a disturbing nature had happened around Black Rock House, except the
+arrival of the remainder of McGuire's unwelcome house party, which had
+taken to wandering aimlessly through the woods, much to the disgust of
+Jesse Brown, who, lost in the choice between "dudes" and desperadoes,
+had given up any attempt to follow Peter's careful injunctions in regard
+to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>McGuire. It was still early and the supper hour was seven, so Peter
+unpacked his small trunk which had arrived in his absence and then,
+carefully shutting door and windows, sat at the piano and played quietly
+at first, a "Reverie" of Tschaikowsky, a "Berceuse" of C&eacute;sar Cui, the
+"Valse Triste" of Jean Sibelius and then forgetting himself&mdash;launched
+forth into Chopin's C Minor &Eacute;tude. His fingers were stiff for lack of
+practice and the piano was far from perfect, but in twenty minutes he
+had forgotten the present, lost in memories. He had played this for
+Anastasie Galitzin. He saw the glint of the shaded piano lamp upon her
+golden head, recalled her favorite perfume.... Silver nights upon the
+castle terrace.... Golden walks through the autumn forest....</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a bell rang loudly at Peter's side, it seemed. Then while he
+wondered, it rang again. Of course&mdash;the telephone. He found the
+instrument in the corner and put the receiver to his ear. It was
+McGuire's voice.</p>
+
+<p>"That you, Nichols?" it asked in an agitated staccato.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's getting dark, what have you done about to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Same as last night," said Peter smiling, "only more careful."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I want things changed," the gruff voice rose. "The whole d&mdash;n
+house is open. I can't shut it with these people here. Your men will
+have to move in closer&mdash;but keep under cover. Can you arrange it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I think so."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll want you here&mdash;with me&mdash;you understand. You were coming to
+supper?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;er&mdash;I've told my daughter and so&mdash;would you mind putting on a
+dress suit&mdash;&mdash;? Er&mdash;if you have one&mdash;a Tuxedo will do."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>"Yes, sir," said Peter. "That's all right."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;er&mdash;thanks. You'll be up soon?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-by."</p>
+
+<p>With a grin, Peter hung up the receiver, recalling the soiled,
+perspiring, unquiet figure of his employer last night. But it seemed as
+though McGuire were almost as much in awe of his daughter as of the
+danger that threatened, for, in the McGuire household, Miss Peggy, it
+appeared, was paramount.</p>
+
+<p>Peter's bathroom was Cedar Creek. In his robe, he ran down the dusky
+path for a quick plunge. Then, refreshed and invigorated, he lighted his
+lamp and dressed leisurely. He had come to his cravat, to which he was
+wont to pay more than a casual attention, when he was aware of a feeling
+of discomfort&mdash;of unease. In the mirror something moved, a shadow, at
+the corner of the window. He waited a moment, still fingering his
+cravat, and then sure that his eyes had made no mistake, turned quickly
+and, revolver in hand, rushed outside. Just as he did so a man with a
+startled face disappeared around the corner of the cabin. Peter rushed
+after him, shouting and turned the edge just in time to see his shape
+leap into the bushes.</p>
+
+<p>"Who goes there?" shouted Peter crisply. "Halt, or I'll fire."</p>
+
+<p>But the only reply was a furious crashing in the undergrowth. Peter
+fired twice at the sound, then followed in, still calling.</p>
+
+<p>No sound. Under the conditions a chase was hopeless, so Peter paused
+listening. And then after a few moments a more distant crackling advised
+him that his visitor had gotten well away. And so after a while he
+returned to the cabin and with his weapon beside him finished his
+interrupted toilet.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>But his brows were in a tangle. The mystery surrounding him seemed
+suddenly to have deepened. For the face that he had seen at the window
+was that of the stranger who had stared at him so curiously&mdash;the man of
+the soft hat and dark mustache&mdash;who had seemed so startled at seeing him
+in the Pennsylvania Station when he was leaving New York.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<h2>THE HOUSE OF TERROR</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>Who&mdash;what was this stranger who seemed so interested in his whereabouts?
+Peter was sure that he had made no mistake. It was an unusual face,
+swarthy, with high cheek bones, dark eyes, a short nose with prominent
+nostrils. Perhaps it would not have been so firmly impressed on his
+memory except for the curious look of startled recognition that Peter
+had surprised on it at the station in New York. This had puzzled him for
+some moments in the train but had been speedily lost in the interest of
+his journey. The man had followed him to Black Rock. But why? What did
+he want of Peter and why should he skulk around the cabin and risk the
+danger of Peter's bullets? It seemed obvious that he was here for some
+dishonest purpose, but what dishonest purpose could have any interest in
+Peter? If robbery, why hadn't the man chosen the time while Peter was
+away in the woods? Peter grinned to himself. If the man had any private
+sources of information as to Peter's personal assets, he would have
+known that they consisted of a two-dollar watch and a small sum in
+money. If the dishonest purpose were murder or injury, why hadn't he
+attacked Peter while he was bathing, naked and quite defenseless, in the
+creek?</p>
+
+<p>There seemed to be definite answers to all of these questions, but none
+to the fact of the man's presence, to the fact of his look of
+recognition, or to the fact of his wish to be unobserved. Was he a part
+of the same conspiracy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>which threatened McGuire? Or was this a little
+private conspiracy arranged for Peter alone? And if so, why? So far as
+Peter knew he hadn't an enemy in America, and even if he had made one,
+it was hardly conceivable that any one should go to such lengths to
+approach an issue and then deliberately avoid it.</p>
+
+<p>But there seemed no doubt that something was up and that, later, more
+would be heard from this curious incident. It seemed equally certain
+that had the stranger meant to shoot Peter he could easily have done so
+in perfect safety to himself through the window, while Peter was
+fastening his cravat. Reloading his revolver and slipping it into his
+pocket, Peter locked the cabin carefully, and after listening to the
+sounds of the woods for awhile, made his way up the path to Black Rock
+House.</p>
+
+<p>He had decided to say nothing about the incident which, so far as he
+could see, concerned only himself, and so when the men on guard
+questioned him about the shots that they had heard he told them that he
+had been firing at a mark. This was quite true, even if the mark had
+been invisible. Shad Wells was off duty until midnight so Peter went the
+rounds, calling the men to the guardhouse and telling them of the change
+in the orders. They were to wait until the company upon the portico went
+indoors and then, with Jesse in command, they were to take new stations
+in trees and clumps of bushes which Peter designated much nearer the
+house. The men eyed his dinner jacket with some curiosity and not a
+little awe, and Peter informed them that it was the old man's order and
+that he, Peter, was going to keep watch from inside the house, but that
+a blast from a whistle would fetch him out. He also warned them that it
+was McGuire's wish that none of the visitors should be aware of the
+watchmen and that therefore there should be no false alarms.</p>
+
+<p>Curiously enough Peter found McGuire in a state very <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>nearly bordering
+on calm. He had had a drink. He had not heard the shots Peter had fired
+nor apparently had any of the regular occupants of the house. The
+visitors had possibly disregarded them. From the pantry came a sound
+with which Peter was familiar, for Stryker was shaking the cocktails.
+And when the ladies came downstairs the two men on the portico came in
+and Peter was presented to the others of the party, Miss Delaplane, Mr.
+Gittings and Mr. Mordaunt. The daughter of the house examined Peter's
+clothing and then, having apparently revised her estimate of him, became
+almost cordial, bidding him sit next Miss Delaplane at table.</p>
+
+<p>Mildred Delaplane was tall, handsome, dark and aquiline, and made a foil
+for Peggy's blond prettiness. Peter thought her a step above Peggy in
+the cultural sense, and only learned afterward that as she was not very
+well off, Peggy was using her as a rung in the social ladder. Mordaunt,
+Peter didn't fancy, but Gittings, who was jovial and bald, managed to
+inject some life into the party, which, despite the effect of the
+cocktails, seemed rather weary and listless.</p>
+
+<p>McGuire sat rigidly at the head of the table, forcing smiles and
+glancing uneasily at doors and windows. Peter was worried too, not as to
+himself, but as to any possible connection that there might be between
+the man with the dark mustache and the affairs of Jonathan McGuire.
+Mildred Delaplane, who had traveled in Europe in antebellum days, found
+much that was interesting in Peter's fragmentary reminiscences. She knew
+music too, and in an unguarded moment Peter admitted that he had
+studied. It was difficult to lie to women, he had found.</p>
+
+<p>And so, after dinner, that information having transpired, he was
+immediately led to the piano-stool by his hostess, who was frequently
+biased in her social judgments by Mildred Delaplane. Peter played Cyril
+Scott's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>"Song from the East," and then, sure of Miss Delaplane's
+interest, an &Eacute;tude of Scriabine, an old favorite of his which seemed to
+express the mood of the moment.</p>
+
+<p>And all the while he was aware of Jonathan McGuire, seated squarely in
+the middle of the sofa which commanded all the windows and doors, with
+one hand at his pocket, scowling and alert by turns, for, though the
+night had fallen slowly, it was now pitch black outside. Peter knew that
+McGuire was thinking he hadn't hired his superintendent as a musician to
+entertain his daughter's guests, but that he was powerless to interfere.
+Nor did he wish to excite the reprobation of his daughter by going up
+and locking himself in his room. Peggy, having finished her cigarette
+with Freddy on the portico, had come in again and was now leaning over
+the piano, her gaze fixed, like Mildred's, upon Peter's mobile fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"You're really too wonderful a superintendent to be quite true," said
+Peggy when Peter had finished. "But <i>do</i> give us a 'rag.'"</p>
+
+<p>Peter shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't do ragtime."</p>
+
+<p>"Quit your kidding! I want to dance."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not&mdash;er&mdash;kidding," said Peter, laughing. "I can't play it at
+all&mdash;not at all."</p>
+
+<p>Peggy gave him a look, shrugged and walked to the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Fred-die-e!" she called.</p>
+
+<p>Peter rose from the piano-stool and crossed to McGuire. The man's cigar
+was unsmoked and tiny beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think you need worry, sir," whispered Peter. "The men are all
+around the house, but if you say, I'll go out for another look around."</p>
+
+<p>"No matter. I'll stick it out for a while."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>"You're better off here than anywhere, I should say. No one would
+dare&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Here Freddy at the piano struck up "Mary" and further conversation was
+drowned in commotion. Mildred Delaplane was pre&euml;mpted by Mr. Gittings
+and Peggy came whirling alone toward Peter, arms extended, the passion
+for the dance outweighing other prejudices.</p>
+
+<p>Peter took a turn, but four years of war had done little to improve his
+steps.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid all my dancing is in my fingers," he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, as Freddy Mordaunt paused, Peggy stopped and lowered her arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord!" she gasped. "What's the matter with Pop?"</p>
+
+<p>McGuire had risen unsteadily and was peering out into the darkness
+through the window opposite him, his face pallid, his lips drawn into a
+thin line. Peggy ran to him and caught him by the arm.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, Pop? Are you sick?"</p>
+
+<p>"N-no matter. Just a bit upset. If you don't mind, daughter, I think
+I'll be going up."</p>
+
+<p>"Can I do anything?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Stay here and enjoy yourselves. Just tell Stryker, will you,
+Nichols, and then come up to my room."</p>
+
+<p>Peggy was regarding him anxiously as he made his way to the door and
+intercepted Peter as he went to look for the valet.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, Mr. Nichols?" she asked. "He may be sick, but it seems to
+me&mdash;&mdash;" she paused, and then, "Did you see his eyes as he looked out of
+the window?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indigestion," said Peter coolly.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll see after him, won't you? And if he wants me, just call over."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>"I'm sure he won't want you. A few home remedies&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>And Peter went through the door. Stryker had appeared mysteriously from
+somewhere and had already preceded his master up the stair. When Peter
+reached the landing, McGuire was standing alone in the dark, leaning
+against the wall, his gaze on the lighted bedroom which, the valet was
+carefully examining.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, sir?" asked Peter coolly. "You thought you saw something?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;out there&mdash;on the side portico&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You must be mistaken&mdash;unless it was one of the watchmen&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no. I saw&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"No matter. Do you think Peggy noticed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just that you didn't seem quite yourself&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But not that I seemed&mdash;er&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Alarmed? I said you weren't well."</p>
+
+<p>Peter took the frightened man's arm and helped him into his room.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not, Nichols," he groaned. "I'm not myself."</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't worry, sir. I'd say it was physically impossible for any one
+to approach the house without permission. But I'll go down and have
+another look around."</p>
+
+<p>"Do, Nichols. But come back up here. I'll want to talk to you."</p>
+
+<p>So Peter went down. And, evading inquiries in the hallway, made his way
+out through the hall and pantry. Here a surprise awaited him, for as he
+opened the door there was a skurry of light footsteps and in a moment he
+was in the pantry face to face with Beth Cameron, who seemed much
+dismayed at being discovered.</p>
+
+<p>"What on earth are you doing here?" he asked in amazement.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>She glanced at his white shirt front and then laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"I came to help Aunt Tillie dish up."</p>
+
+<p>"You!" He didn't know why he should have been so amazed at finding her
+occupying a menial position in this household. She didn't seem to belong
+to the back stairs! And yet there she was in a plain blue gingham dress
+which made her seem much taller, and a large apron, her tawny hair
+casting agreeable shadows around her blue eyes, which he noticed seemed
+much darker by night than by day.</p>
+
+<p>She noticed the inflection of his voice and laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? I thought Aunt Tillie would need me&mdash;and besides I wanted to
+peek a little."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I see. You wanted to see Miss Peggy's new frock through the
+keyhole?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;and the other one. Aren't they pretty?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so."</p>
+
+<p>"I listened, too. I couldn't help it."</p>
+
+<p>"Eavesdropping!"</p>
+
+<p>She nodded. "Oh, Mr. Nichols, but you do play the piano beautifully!"</p>
+
+<p>"But not like an angel in Heaven," said Peter with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Almost&mdash;if angels play. You make me forget&mdash;&mdash;" she paused.</p>
+
+<p>"What&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's there's anything in the world except beauty."</p>
+
+<p>In the drawing-room Freddy, having found himself, had swept into a song
+of the cabarets, to which there was a "close harmony" chorus.</p>
+
+<p>"There's that&mdash;&mdash;," he muttered, jerking a thumb in the direction from
+which he had come.</p>
+
+<p>But she shook her head. "No," she said. "That's different."</p>
+
+<p>"How&mdash;different?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>"Wrong&mdash;false&mdash;un&mdash;unworthy&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>As she groped for and found the word he stared at her in astonishment.
+And in her eyes back of the joy that seemed to be always dancing in them
+he saw the shadows of a sober thought.</p>
+
+<p>"But don't you like dance music?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I do, but it's only for the feet. Your music is for&mdash;for <i>here</i>."
+And with a quick graceful gesture she clasped her hands upon her breast.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad you think so, because that's where it comes from."</p>
+
+<p>At this point Peter remembered his mission, which Beth's appearance had
+driven from his mind.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll play for you sometime," he said.</p>
+
+<p>He went past her and out to the servants' dining-room. As he entered
+with Beth at his heels, Mrs. Bergen, the housekeeper, turned in from the
+open door to the kitchen garden, clinging to the jamb, her lips
+mumbling, as though she were continuing a conversation. But her round
+face, usually the color and texture of a well ripened peach, was the
+color of putty, and seemed suddenly to have grown old and haggard. Her
+eyes through her metal-rimmed spectacles seemed twice their size and
+stared at Peter as though they saw through him and beyond. She faltered
+at the door-jamb and then with an effort reached a chair, into which she
+sank gasping.</p>
+
+<p>Beth was kneeling at her side in a moment, looking up anxiously into her
+startled eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what is it, Aunt Tillie?" she whispered quickly. "What it is? Tell
+me."</p>
+
+<p>The coincidence was too startling. Could the same Thing that had
+frightened McGuire have frightened the housekeeper too? Peter rushed
+past her and out of the open door. It was dark outside and for a moment
+he could see nothing. Then objects one by one asserted <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>themselves, the
+orderly rows of vegetable plants in the garden, the wood-box by the
+door, the shrubbery at the end of the portico, the blue spruce tree
+opposite, the loom of the dark and noncommittal garage. He knew that one
+of his men was in the trees opposite the side porch and another around
+the corner of the kitchen, in the hedge, but he did not want to raise a
+hue and cry unless it was necessary. What was this Thing that created
+terror at sight? He peered this way and that, aware of an intense
+excitement, in one hand his revolver and in the other his police
+whistle. But he saw no object move, and the silence was absolute. In a
+moment&mdash;disappointed&mdash;he hurried back to the servants' dining-room.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bergen sat dazed in her chair, while Beth, who had brought her a
+glass of water, was making her drink of it.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me, what is it?" Beth was insisting.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing&mdash;nothing," murmured the woman.</p>
+
+<p>"But there is&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, dearie&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Are you sick?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't feel right. Maybe&mdash;the heat&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But your eyes look queer&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Do they&mdash;&mdash;?" The housekeeper tried to smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Like they had seen&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A little startled as she remembered the mystery of the house, Beth cast
+her glance into the darkness outside the open door.</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>are</i>&mdash;frightened!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What was it you saw, Mrs. Bergen," asked Peter gently.</p>
+
+<p>He was just at her side and at the sound of his voice she half arose,
+but recognizing Peter she sank back in her chair.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>Peter repeated his question, but she shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you tell us? What was it you saw? A man&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes sought Beth's and a look of tenderness came into them,
+banishing the vision. But she lied when she answered Peter's question.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw nothin', Mr. Nichols&mdash;I think I'll go up&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She took another swallow of the water and rose. And with her strength
+came a greater obduracy.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw nothin'&mdash;&mdash;" she repeated again, as she saw that he was still
+looking at her. "Nothin' at all."</p>
+
+<p>Peter and Beth exchanged glances and Beth, putting her hand under the
+housekeeper's arm, helped the woman to the back stairs.</p>
+
+<p>Peter stood for a moment in the middle of the kitchen floor, his gaze on
+the door through which the woman had vanished. Aunt Tillie too! She had
+seen some one, some Thing&mdash;the same some one or Thing that McGuire had
+seen. But granting that their eyes had not deceived them, granting that
+each had seen Something, what, unless it were supernatural, could have
+frightened McGuire and Aunt Tillie too? Even if the old woman had been
+timid about staying in the house, she had made it clear to Peter that
+she was entirely unaware of the kind of danger that threatened her
+employer. Peter had believed her then. He saw no reason to disbelieve
+her now. She had known as little as Peter about the cause for McGuire's
+alarm. And here he had found her staring with the same unseeing eyes
+into the darkness, with the same symptoms of nervous shock as McGuire
+had shown. What enemy of McGuire's could frighten Aunt Tillie into
+prostration and seal her lips to speech? Why wouldn't she have dared to
+tell Peter what she had seen? What was this secret and how could she
+share it with McGuire when twenty-four hours ago she had been in
+complete ignorance <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>of the mystery? Why wouldn't she talk? Was the
+vision too intimate? Or too horrible?</p>
+
+<p>Peter was imaginative, for he had been steeped from boyhood in the
+superstitions of his people. But the war had taught him that devils had
+legs and carried weapons. He had seen more horrible sights than most men
+of his years, in daylight, at dawn, or silvered with moonlight. He
+thought he had exhausted the possibilities for terror. But he found
+himself grudgingly admitting that he was at the least a little
+nervous&mdash;at the most, on the verge of alarm. But he put his whistle in
+his mouth, drew his revolver again and went forth.</p>
+
+<p>First he sought out the man in the spruce tree. It was Andy. He had seen
+no one but the people on the porch and in the windows. It was very dark
+but he took an oath that no one had approached the house from his side.</p>
+
+<p>"You saw no one talking with Mrs. Bergen by the kitchen door?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I can't see th' kitchen door from here."</p>
+
+<p>Peter verified. A syringa bush was just in line.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you haven't moved?" asked Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I was afraid they'd see me."</p>
+
+<p>"They've seen something&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. But look sharp. If anything comes out this way, take a
+shot at it."</p>
+
+<p>"You think there's something&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;but don't move. And keep your eyes open!"</p>
+
+<p>Peter went off to the man in the hedge behind the kitchen&mdash;Jesse Brown.</p>
+
+<p>"See anything?" asked Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"Nope. Nobody but the chauffeur."</p>
+
+<p>"The chauffeur?"</p>
+
+<p>"He went up to th' house a while back."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>"Oh&mdash;how long ago?"</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty minutes."</p>
+
+<p>"I see." And then, "You didn't see any one come away from the kitchen
+door?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. He's thar yet, I reckon."</p>
+
+<p>Peter ran out to the garage to verify this statement. By the light of a
+lantern the chauffeur in his rubber boots was washing the two cars.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you been up to the house lately?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, no," said the man, in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"You're sure?" asked Peter excitedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Then come with me. There's something on."</p>
+
+<p>The man dropped his sponge and followed Peter, who had run back quickly
+to the house.</p>
+
+<p>It was now after eleven. From the drawing-room came the distracting
+sounds from the tortured piano, but there was no one on the portico. So
+Peter, with Jesse, Andy and the chauffeur made a careful round of the
+house, examining every bush, every tree, within a circle of a hundred
+yards, exhausting every possibility for concealment. When they reached
+the kitchen door again, Peter rubbed his head and gave it up. A screech
+owl somewhere off in the woods jeered at him. All the men, except Jesse,
+were plainly skeptical. But he sent them back to their posts and, still
+pondering the situation, went into the house.</p>
+
+<p>It was extraordinary how the visitor, whoever he was, could have gotten
+away without having been observed, for though the night was black the
+eyes of the men outside were accustomed to it and the lights from the
+windows sent a glimmer into the obscurity. Of one thing Peter was now
+certain, that the prowler was no ghost or banshee, but a man, and that
+he had gone as mysteriously as he had come.</p>
+
+<p>Peter knew that his employer would be anxious until <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>he returned to him,
+but he hadn't quite decided to tell McGuire of the housekeeper's share
+in the adventure. He had a desire to verify his belief that Mrs. Bergen
+was frightened by the visitor for a reason of her own which had nothing
+to do with Jonathan McGuire. Any woman alarmed by a possible burglar or
+other miscreant would have come running and crying for help. Mrs. Bergen
+had been doggedly silent, as though, rather than utter her thoughts, she
+would have bitten out her tongue. It was curious. She had seemed to be
+talking as though to herself at the door, and then, at the sound of
+footsteps in the kitchen behind her, had turned and fallen limp in the
+nearest chair. The look in her face, as in McGuire's, was that of
+terror, but there was something of bewilderment in both of them too,
+like that of a solitary sniper in the first shock of a shrapnel wound, a
+look of anguish that seemed to have no outlet, save in speech, which was
+denied.</p>
+
+<p>To tell McGuire what had happened in the kitchen meant to alarm him
+further. Peter decided for the present to keep the matter from him,
+giving the housekeeper the opportunity of telling the truth on the
+morrow if she wished.</p>
+
+<p>He crossed the kitchen and servants' dining-room and just at the foot of
+the back stairs met Mrs. Bergen and Beth coming down. So he retraced his
+steps into the kitchen, curious as to the meaning of her reappearance.</p>
+
+<p>At least she had recovered the use of her tongue.</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't go to bed, just yet, Mr. Nichols," she said in reply to
+Peter's question. "I just couldn't."</p>
+
+<p>Peter gazed at her steadily. This woman held a clew to the mystery. She
+glanced at him uncertainly but she had recovered her self-possession,
+and her replies to his questions, if anything, were more obstinate than
+before.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw nothin', Mr. Nichols&mdash;nothin'. I was just a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>bit upset. I'm all
+right now. An' I want Beth to go home. That's why I came down."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Aunt Tillie, if you're not well, I'm going to stay&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Ye can't stay here. I want ye to go." And then, turning excitedly
+to Peter, "Can't ye let somebody see her home, Mr. Nichols?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said Peter. "But I don't think she's in any danger."</p>
+
+<p>"No, but she can't stay here. She just can't."</p>
+
+<p>Beth put her arm around the old woman's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not afraid."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Tillie was already untying Beth's apron.</p>
+
+<p>"I know ye're not, dearie. But ye can't stay here. I don't want ye to. I
+don't want ye to."</p>
+
+<p>"But if you're afraid of something&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Who said I was afraid?" she asked, glaring at Peter defiantly. "I'm
+not. I just had a spell&mdash;all this excitement an' extra work&mdash;an'
+everything."</p>
+
+<p>She lied. Peter knew it, but he saw no object to be gained in keeping
+Beth in Black Rock House, so he went out cautiously and brought the
+chauffeur, to whom he entrusted the safety of the girl. He would have
+felt more comfortable if he could have escorted her himself, but he knew
+that his duty was at the house and that whoever the mysterious person
+was it was not Beth that he wanted.</p>
+
+<p>But what was Mrs. Bergen's reason for wishing to get rid of her?</p>
+
+<p>As Beth went out of the door he whispered in her ear, "Say nothing of
+this&mdash;to any one."</p>
+
+<p>She nodded gravely and followed the man who had preceded her.</p>
+
+<p>When the door closed behind Beth and the chauffeur, Peter turned quickly
+and faced the housekeeper.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," he said severely, "tell me the truth."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>She stared at him with a falling jaw in a moment of alarm&mdash;then closed
+her lips firmly. And, as she refused to reply,</p>
+
+<p>"Do you want me to tell Mr. McGuire that you were talking to a stranger
+at the kitchen door?"</p>
+
+<p>She trembled and sinking in a chair buried her face in her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to be unkind, Mrs. Bergen, but there's something here that
+needs explaining. Who was the man you talked to outside the door?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I can't tell ye," she muttered.</p>
+
+<p>"You must. It's better. I'm your friend and Beth's&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The woman raised her haggard face to his.</p>
+
+<p>"Beth's friend! Are ye? Then ask me no more."</p>
+
+<p>"But I've got to know. I'm here to protect Mr. McGuire, but I'd like to
+protect you too. Who is this stranger?"</p>
+
+<p>The woman lowered her head and then shook it violently. "No, no. I'll
+not tell."</p>
+
+<p>He frowned down at her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you know that to-night McGuire saw the stranger&mdash;the man that <i>you</i>
+saw&mdash;and that he's even more frightened than you?"</p>
+
+<p>The woman raised her head, gazed at him helplessly, then lowered it
+again, but she did not speak. The kitchen was silent, but an obbligato
+to this drama, like the bray of the ass in the overture to "Midsummer
+Night's Dream," came from the drawing-room, where Freddy Mordaunt was
+now singing a sentimental ballad.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, Mrs. Bergen, but if Mr. McGuire is in danger to-night, I've
+got to know it."</p>
+
+<p>"To-night!" she gasped, as though clutching at a straw. "Not to-night.
+Nothin'll happen to-night. I'm sure of that, Mr. Nichols."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>"How do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>She threw out her arms in a wide gesture of desperation. "For the love
+o' God, go 'way an' leave me in peace. Don't ye see I ain't fit to talk
+to anybody?" She gasped with a choking throat. "<i>He</i> ain't comin' back
+again&mdash;not to-night. I'll swear it on th' Bible, if ye want me to."</p>
+
+<p>Their glances met, hers weary and pleading, and he believed her.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Mrs. Bergen," he said soothingly. "I'll take your word for
+it, but you'll admit the whole thing is very strange&mdash;very startling."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;strange. God knows it is. But I&mdash;I can't tell ye anything."</p>
+
+<p>"But what shall I say to Mr. McGuire&mdash;upstairs. I've got to go up&mdash;now."</p>
+
+<p>"Say to him&mdash;&mdash;?" she gasped helplessly, all her terrors renewed. "Ye
+can't tell him I was talkin' to anybody." And then more wildly, "Ye
+mustn't. I wasn't. I was talkin' to myself&mdash;that's the God's truth, I
+was&mdash;when ye come in. It was so strange&mdash;an' all. Don't tell him, Mr.
+Nichols," she pleaded at last, with a terrible earnestness, and
+clutching at his hand. "For my sake, for Beth's&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What has Beth to do with it?"</p>
+
+<p>"More'n ye think. Oh, God&mdash;&mdash;" she broke off. "What am I sayin'&mdash;&mdash;?
+Beth don't know. She mustn't. He don't know either&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Who? McGuire?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;no. Don't ask any more questions, Mr. Nichols," she sobbed. "I
+can't speak. Don't ye see I can't?"</p>
+
+<p>So Peter gave up the inquisition. He had never liked to see a woman cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, all right," he said more cheerfully, "you'd better <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>be getting to
+bed. Perhaps daylight will clear things up."</p>
+
+<p>"And ye won't tell McGuire?" she pleaded.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't promise anything. But I won't if I'm not compelled to."</p>
+
+<p>She gazed at him uncertainly, her weary eyes wavering, but she seemed to
+take some courage from his attitude.</p>
+
+<p>"God bless ye, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night, Mrs. Bergen."</p>
+
+<p>And then, avoiding the drawing-room, Peter made his way up the stairs
+with a great deal of mental uncertainty to the other room of terror.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<h2>MUSIC</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>Stryker, who kept guard at the door of McGuire's room, opened it
+cautiously in response to Peter's knock. He found McGuire sitting
+rigidly in a rocking-chair at the side of the room, facing the windows,
+a whisky bottle and glass on the table beside him. His face had lost its
+pallor, but in his eyes was the same look of glassy bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>"Why the H&mdash;&mdash; couldn't you come sooner?" He whined the question, not
+angrily, but querulously, like a child.</p>
+
+<p>"I was having a look around," replied Peter coolly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! And did you find anybody?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"H-m! I thought you wouldn't."</p>
+
+<p>Peter hesitated. He meant to conceal the housekeeper's share in the
+night's encounters, but he knew that both Andy and the chauffeur would
+talk, and so,</p>
+
+<p>"There <i>was</i> somebody outside, Mr. McGuire," he said. "You were not
+mistaken, a man prowling in the dark near the kitchen. Andy thought it
+was the chauffeur, who was in the garage washing the cars."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!"</p>
+
+<p>McGuire started up, battling for his manhood. It seemed to Peter that
+his gasp was almost one of relief at discovering that his eyes had not
+deceived him, that the face he had seen was that of a real person,
+instead of the figment of a disordered mind.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>"Ah! Why didn't they shoot him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've just said, sir, Andy thought it was the chauffeur."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire was pacing the floor furiously.</p>
+
+<p>"He has no business to think. I pay him to act. And you&mdash;what did you
+do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Three of us searched the whole place&mdash;every tree, every bush&mdash;every
+shadow&mdash;&mdash;. The man has gone."</p>
+
+<p>"Gone," sneered the other. "A H&mdash;&mdash; of a mess you're making of this
+job!"</p>
+
+<p>Peter straightened angrily, but managed to control himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, Mr. McGuire," he said. "Then you'd better get somebody else
+at once."</p>
+
+<p>He had never given notice before but the hackneyed phrase fell crisply
+from his lips. For many reasons, Peter didn't want to go, but he bowed
+and walked quickly across the room. "Good-night," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Before he had reached the door the frightened man came stumbling after
+him and caught him by the arm.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, Nichols. Come back. D'ye hear? You mustn't be so d&mdash;&mdash; touchy.
+Come back. You can't go. I didn't mean anything. Come now!"</p>
+
+<p>Peter paused, his hand on the knob, and looked down into the man's
+flabby, empurpled countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you meant it," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I&mdash;I didn't. I&mdash;I like you, Nichols&mdash;liked you from the very
+first&mdash;yesterday. Of course you can't be responsible for all the
+boneheads here."</p>
+
+<p>Peter had "called the bluff." Perhaps the lesson might have a salutary
+effect. And so, as his good humor came back to him, he smiled
+pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, Mr. McGuire, you could hardly expect Andy to shoot the
+chauffeur. They're on excellent terms."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>McGuire had settled down into a chair near the table, and motioned Peter
+to another one near him.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, Nichols. Another glass, Stryker. So." He poured the whisky
+with an assumption of ease and they drank.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, Nichols," he went on as he set his empty glass down, "I know
+what I'm about. There <i>is</i> somebody trying to get at me. It's no
+dream&mdash;no hallucination. You know that too, now. I saw him&mdash;I would have
+shot him through the window&mdash;if it hadn't been for Peggy&mdash;and the
+others&mdash;but I&mdash;I didn't dare&mdash;for reasons. She mustn't know&mdash;&mdash;" And
+then eagerly, "She doesn't suspect anything yet, does she, Nichols?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter gestured over his shoulder in the direction of the sounds which
+still came from below.</p>
+
+<p>"No. They're having a good time."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right. To-morrow they'll be leaving for New York, I hope.
+And then we'll meet this issue squarely. You say the man has gone. Why
+do you think so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it reasonable to think so? His visit was merely a reconnoissance.
+I think he had probably been lying out in the underbrush all day,
+getting the lay of the land, watching what we were doing&mdash;seeing where
+the men were placed. But he must know now that he'll have to try
+something else&mdash;that he hasn't a chance of getting to you past these
+guards, if you don't want him to."</p>
+
+<p>"But he nearly succeeded to-night," mumbled McGuire dubiously.</p>
+
+<p>Peter was silent a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not supposed to question and I won't. But it seems to me, Mr.
+McGuire, that if this visitor's plan were to murder you, to get rid of
+you, he would have shot you down to-night, through the window. From his
+failure to do so, there is one definite conclusion to draw&mdash;and that is
+that he wants to see you&mdash;to talk with you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>McGuire fairly threw himself from his chair as he roared,</p>
+
+<p>"I can't see him. I won't. I won't see anybody. I've got the law on my
+side. A man's house is his castle. A fellow prowls around here in the
+dark. He's been seen&mdash;if he's shot it's his own lookout. And he <i>will</i>
+be shot before he reaches me. You hear me? Your men must shoot&mdash;shoot to
+kill. If they fail I'll&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He shrugged as if at the futility of his own words, which came stumbling
+forth, born half of fear, half of braggadocio.</p>
+
+<p>Peter regarded him soberly. It was difficult to conceive of this man,
+who talked like a madman and a spoiled child, as the silent, stubborn,
+friendless millionaire, as the power in finance that Sheldon, Senior,
+had described him to be. The love of making money had succumbed to a
+more primitive passion which for the time being had mastered him. From
+what had been revealed, it seemed probable that it was not death or
+bodily injury that he feared, for Peter had seen him stand up at the
+window, a fair target for any good marksman, but an interview with this
+nocturnal visitor who seemed bent upon bringing it about. Indeed, the
+childish bravado of his last speech had voiced a wish, but beneath the
+wish Peter had guessed a protest against the inevitable.</p>
+
+<p>Peter acknowledged McGuire's right to seclusion in his own house, but he
+found himself wondering whether death for the intruder as proposed by
+his employer were a justifiable means of preserving it, especially if
+the strange visitor did not himself use violence to gain his ends. And
+so, when McGuire presently poured himself another glass of whisky, and
+drank it, Peter took the liberty of asking the question.</p>
+
+<p>"I am ignorant of your laws in this country, Mr. McGuire, but doesn't it
+seem that short of forcible entry <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>of this house we would hardly be
+justified in shooting the man?"</p>
+
+<p>"I take the responsibility for that."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand. But what I was going to propose was a hunt through the
+woods to-morrow. A description of this man would be helpful. For
+instance, whether he was smoothly shaven or whether he had a
+beard&mdash;or&mdash;or a mustache?"</p>
+
+<p>McGuire scowled.</p>
+
+<p>"The man has a slight growth of beard&mdash;of mustache. But what difference
+does that make? No one has a right here&mdash;without my permission."</p>
+
+<p>Peter sipped at his glass. As he had suspected, there were two of them.</p>
+
+<p>"That's true. But even with this, we can move with more intelligence.
+This forest is your property. If we find any person who can't give an
+account of himself, we could take him into custody and turn him over to
+the proper authorities."</p>
+
+<p>"No. No," cried McGuire. "And have him set loose after a trivial
+examination? Little good that would do. This man who is trying to reach
+me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>McGuire stopped suddenly, glaring at his superintendent with bloodshot
+eyes, and Peter very politely waited for him to go on. But he brought
+his empty glass down on the table with a crash which shattered it.</p>
+
+<p>"He mustn't reach me," he roared. "I won't see him. That's understood.
+He's a man I'd have no more compunction about shooting than&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>McGuire, with a curious suddenness, stopped again. Then rose and resumed
+his habit of pacing the floor. For a moment it had almost seemed as if
+he were on the point of a revelation. But the mood passed. Instead of
+speaking further he threw out his arms in a wide gesture.</p>
+
+<p>"I've said enough," he growled, "more than enough. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>You know your duty."
+And he gestured toward the door. "Do it!" he finished brusquely.</p>
+
+<p>Peter had already risen, and Stryker unemotionally opened the door for
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll stay on duty all night, Mr. McGuire," he said quietly. "I'd advise
+you to turn in and get some sleep. You need it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Yes, I will. Thanks, Nichols," said McGuire, following him to the
+door and offering a flabby hand. "Don't mind what I've said to-night. I
+think we understand each other. Stryker will see that the house is
+locked when the young people come up. Keep your men to the mark and take
+no chances."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night."</p>
+
+<p>The remainder of the night, as Mrs. Bergen had predicted, proved
+uneventful, and at daylight Peter went to his cabin and tumbled into
+bed, too tired to think further of McGuire's visitors&mdash;or even of the
+man with the black mustache.</p>
+
+<p>The next day he lay abed luxuriously for a while after he had awakened,
+but no amount of quiet thinking availed to clarify the mystery. There
+were two men, one bearded, interested in watching McGuire, another with
+a black mustache, interested in Peter. And so, after wondering again for
+some puzzling moments as to how Mrs. Bergen, the housekeeper, had come
+to be involved in McGuire's fortunes, he gave the problem up.</p>
+
+<p>Foreseeing difficulties over breakfast at the house, he had arranged to
+make his own coffee on a small oil stove which happened to be available,
+and so Peter set the pot on to boil and while he dressed turned over in
+his mind the possibilities of the future. It seemed quite certain that
+the antagonism, whatever its nature, between his employer and the
+prowling stranger must come to an issue of some sort almost at once. The
+intruder, if he were the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>sort of man who could inspire terror, would
+not remain content merely to prowl fruitlessly about with every danger
+of being shot for his pains, and McGuire could hardly remain long in his
+present situation without a physical or mental collapse.</p>
+
+<p>Why hadn't McGuire taken flight? Why indeed had he come to Black Rock
+House when it seemed that he would have been much safer amongst the
+crowds of the city, where he could fall back upon the protection of the
+police and their courts for immunity from this kind of persecution?</p>
+
+<p>Pieced together, the phrases his employer had let slip suggested the
+thought that he had come to Black Rock to escape publicity in anything
+that might happen. And McGuire's insistence upon the orders that the
+guards should shoot to kill also suggested, rather unpleasantly, the
+thought that McGuire knew who the visitor was and earnestly desired his
+death.</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Bergen could have no such wish, for, unlike McGuire, she had
+shown a reticence in her fears, as though her silence had been intended
+to protect rather than to accuse. Beth Cameron, too, was in some way
+unconsciously involved in the adventure. But how? He drank his coffee
+and ate his roll, a prey to a very lively curiosity. Beth interested
+him. And if Aunt Tillie Bergen, her only near relative, showed signs of
+inquietude on the girl's account, the mysterious visitor surely had it
+in his power to make her unhappy. As he washed up the dishes and made
+his bed, Peter decided that he would find Beth to-night when she came
+back from work and ask her some questions about her Aunt Tillie.</p>
+
+<p>Beth Cameron saved him that trouble. He was sitting at the piano,
+awaiting a telephone call to Black Rock House, where he was to have a
+conference with his employer on the forestry situation. He was so deeply
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>absorbed in his music that he was unaware of the figure that had stolen
+through the underbrush and was now hidden just outside the door. It was
+Beth. She stood with the fingers of one hand lightly touching the edge
+of the door-jamb, the other hand at her breast, while she listened,
+poised lightly as though for flight. But a playful breeze twitched at
+the hem of her skirt, flicking it out into the patch of sunlight by the
+doorsill, and Peter caught the glint of white from the tail of his eye.</p>
+
+<p>The music ceased suddenly and before Beth could flee into the bushes
+Peter had caught her by the hand.</p>
+
+<p>Now that she was discovered she made no effort to escape him.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I was listening," she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Beth," he exclaimed, voicing the name in his thoughts. "How long
+have you been here?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I don't know. Not long."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so glad."</p>
+
+<p>She was coloring very prettily.</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;you told me you&mdash;you'd play for me sometime," she said demurely.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. Won't you come in? It's rather a mess here, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He led her in, glancing at her gingham dress, a little puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you'd be farmeretting," he said.</p>
+
+<p>But she shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"I quit&mdash;yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>He didn't ask the reason. He was really enjoying the sight of her. Few
+women are comely in the morning hours, which have a merciless way of
+exaggerating minute imperfections. Beth hadn't any minute imperfections
+except her freckles, which were merely Nature's colorings upon a
+woodland flower. She seemed to fill the cabin with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>morning fragrance,
+like a bud just brought in from the garden.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm very glad you've come," he said gallantly, leading her over to the
+double window where there was a chintz-covered seat. "I've wanted very
+much to talk to you."</p>
+
+<p>She followed him protestingly.</p>
+
+<p>"But I didn't come to be talked to. I came to listen to you play."</p>
+
+<p>"You always arrive in the midst of music," he laughed. "I played you in,
+without knowing it. That was an Elfentanz&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"A dance of the Elves&mdash;the fairies." And then, with a laugh, "And the
+little devils."</p>
+
+<p>"The little devils? You mean <i>me</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Elf&mdash;fairy and devil too&mdash;but mostly elf."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not sure I like that&mdash;but I <i>do</i> like the music. Please play it
+again."</p>
+
+<p>She was so lovely in her eagerness that he couldn't refuse, his fingers
+straying from the dance by slow transitions into something more quiet,
+the "Romance" of Sibelius, and then after that into a gay little
+<i>scherzo</i>, at the end of which he turned suddenly to find her flushed
+and breathless, regarding him in a kind of awe.</p>
+
+<p>"How lovely!" she whispered. "There were no devils in that."</p>
+
+<p>"No, only fairies."</p>
+
+<p>"Angels too&mdash;but somethin' else&mdash;that quiet piece&mdash;like the&mdash;the memory
+of a&mdash;a&mdash;sorrow."</p>
+
+<p>"'Romance,' it's called," he explained gently.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!"</p>
+
+<p>"The things we dream. The things that ought to be, but aren't."</p>
+
+<p>She took a deep breath. "Yes, that's it. That's what <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>it meant. I felt
+it." And then, as though with a sudden shyness at her self-revelation,
+she glanced about. "What a pretty place! I've never been here before."</p>
+
+<p>"How did you find your way?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I knew where the cabin was. I came through the woods and across the
+log-jam below the pool. Then I heard the music. I didn't think you'd
+mind."</p>
+
+<p>"Mind! Oh, I say. I don't know when I've been so pleased."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you really? You <i>say</i> a lot."</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't I play it?"</p>
+
+<p>That confused her a little.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" she said demurely.</p>
+
+<p>"And now, will you talk to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, of course. But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But what&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I'm not sure that I ought to be here."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's kind of&mdash;unusual."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed. "You wouldn't be you, if you weren't unusual."</p>
+
+<p>She glanced at him uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, I don't know you very well."</p>
+
+<p>"You're very exclusive in Black Rock!" he laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess we <i>have</i> to be exclusive whether we want to or not," she
+replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think I'll do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe. I oughtn't to have come, but I just couldn't keep away."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad you did. I wanted to see you."</p>
+
+<p>"It wasn't that," she put in hastily. "I had to hear you play again.
+That's what I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll play for you whenever you like."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you? Then play again, now. It makes me feel all queer inside."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>Peter laughed. "Do you feel that way when you sing?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. It all comes out of me then."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you mind singing for me, Beth?" he asked after a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I don't think I dare."</p>
+
+<p>He got up and went to the piano.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you sing?"</p>
+
+<p>But she hadn't moved and she didn't reply. So he urged her.</p>
+
+<p>"In the woods when you're coming home&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know&mdash;&mdash;It just comes out&mdash;things I've heard&mdash;things I make
+up&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What have you heard? I don't know that I can accompany you, but I'll
+try."</p>
+
+<p>She was flushing painfully. He could see that she wanted to sing for
+him&mdash;to be a part of this wonderful dream-world in which he belonged,
+and yet she did not dare.</p>
+
+<p>"What have you heard?" he repeated softly, encouraging her by running
+his fingers slowly over the simple chords of a major key.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she started up and joined him by the piano.</p>
+
+<p>"That's it&mdash;'The long, long trail a-windin'&mdash;&mdash;" and in a moment was
+singing softly. He had heard the air and fell in with her almost at
+once.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"There's a long, long trail a-winding<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the land of my dreams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the nightingale is singing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a bright moon beams&mdash;&mdash;"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Like the good musician that he was, Peter submerged himself, playing
+gently, his gaze on his fingers, while he listened. He had made no
+mistake. The distances across which he had heard her had not flattered.
+Her voice was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>untrained, of course, but it seemed to Peter that it had
+lost nothing by the neglect, for as she gained confidence, she forgot
+Peter, as he intended that she should, and sang with the complete
+abstraction of a thrush in the deep wood. Like the thrush's note, too,
+Beth's was limpid, clear, and sweet, full of forest sounds&mdash;the falling
+brook, the sigh of night winds....</p>
+
+<p>When the song ended he told her so.</p>
+
+<p>"You do say nice things, don't you?" she said joyously.</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't you&mdash;if it cost you nothing and was the truth? You must have
+your voice trained."</p>
+
+<p>"Must! I might jump over the moon if I had a broomstick."</p>
+
+<p>"It's got to be managed somehow."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you're not disappointed in the way it sounds, close up?"</p>
+
+<p>She stood beside him, leaning against the piano, her face flushed, her
+breath rapid, searching his face eagerly. Peter knew that it was only
+the dormant artist in her seeking the light, but he thrilled warmly at
+her nearness, for she was very lovely. Peter's acquaintance with women
+had been varied, but, curiously enough, each meeting with this girl
+instead of detracting had only added to her charm.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I'm not disappointed in it," he said quite calmly, every impulse in
+him urging a stronger expression. But he owed a duty to himself.
+<i>Noblesse oblige!</i> It was one of the mottoes of his House&mdash;(not always
+followed&mdash;alas!). With a more experienced woman he would have said what
+was in his mind. He would probably have taken her in his arms and kissed
+her at once, for that was really what he would have liked to do. But
+Beth....</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps something in the coolness of his tone disconcerted her, for she
+turned away from the piano.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>"You're very kind," she said quietly.</p>
+
+<p>He had a feeling that she was about to slip away from him, so he got up.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you sing again, Beth?"</p>
+
+<p>But she shook her head. For some reason the current that had run between
+them was broken. As she moved toward the door, he caught her by the
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't go yet. I want to talk to you."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think I ought." And then, with a whimsical smile, "And you
+ought to be out makin' the trees grow."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed. "There's a lot of time for that."</p>
+
+<p>She let him lead her to the divan again and sat, her fingers dovetailed
+around a slender knee.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I'm sorry I made fun of you the other day," she confessed
+immediately.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't mind in the least."</p>
+
+<p>"But you <i>did</i> seem to know it all," she said. And then smiled in the
+direction of the piano. "Now&mdash;I'm comin' to think you do. Even Shad says
+you're a wonder. I&mdash;I don't think he likes you, though&mdash;&mdash;" she
+admitted.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry to hear that."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you care. Shad don't like anybody but himself and
+Goda'mighty&mdash;with God trailin' a little."</p>
+
+<p>Peter smiled. Her singing voice may have been impersonal but one could
+hardly think that of her conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"And you, Beth&mdash;where do <i>you</i> come in?"</p>
+
+<p>She glanced at him quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I&mdash;&mdash;," she said with a laugh, "I just trail along after God."</p>
+
+<p>Her irony meant no irreverence but a vast derogation of Shad Wells.
+Somehow her point of view was very illuminating.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid you make him very unhappy," he ventured.</p>
+
+<p>"That's <i>his</i> lookout," she finished.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>Peter was taking a great delight in watching her profile, the blue eyes
+shadowed under the mass of her hair, eyes rather deeply set and
+thoughtful in repose, the straight nose, the rather full underlip ending
+in a precipitous dent above her chin. He liked that chin. There was
+courage there and strength, softened at once by the curve of the throat,
+flowing to where it joined the fine deep breast. Yesterday she had
+seemed like a boy. To-day she was a woman grown, feminine in every
+graceful conformation, on tiptoe at the very verge of life.</p>
+
+<p>But there was no "flapper" here. What she lacked in culture was made up
+in refinement. He had felt that yesterday&mdash;the day before. She belonged
+elsewhere. And yet to Peter it would have seemed a pity to have changed
+her in any particular. Her lips were now drawn in a firm line and her
+brows bore a curious frown.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mind my calling you Beth, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>She flashed a glance at him.</p>
+
+<p>"That's what everybody calls me."</p>
+
+<p>"My name is Peter."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know." And then, "That's funny."</p>
+
+<p>"Funny!"</p>
+
+<p>"You look as if your name ought to be Algernon."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" he asked, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know. It's the name of a man in a book I read&mdash;an
+Englishman. You're English, you said."</p>
+
+<p>"Half English," said Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the other half?"</p>
+
+<p>"Russian." He knew that he ought to be lying to her, but somehow he
+couldn't.</p>
+
+<p>"Russian! I thought Russians all had long hair and carried bombs."</p>
+
+<p>"Some of 'em do. I'm not that kind. The half of me that's English is the
+biggest half, and the safest."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>"I'm glad of that. I'd hate to think of you as bein' a Bolshevik."</p>
+
+<p>"H-m. So would I."</p>
+
+<p>"But Russia's where you get your music from, isn't it? The band leader
+at Glassboro is a Russian. He can play every instrument. Did you learn
+music in Russia?"</p>
+
+<p>Beth was now treading dangerous ground and so it was time to turn the
+tables.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, a little," he said, "but music has no nationality. Or why would I
+find a voice like yours out here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty miles from nowhere," she added scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>"How did you come here, Beth? Would you mind telling me? You weren't
+born here, were you? How did you happen to come to Black Rock?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just bad luck, I guess. Nobody'd ever come to Black Rock just because
+they want to. We just came. That's all."</p>
+
+<p>"Just you and Aunt Tillie? Is your father dead?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>She closed her eyes a moment and then clasped her knees again.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like to talk about family matters."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>And then, gently, she added,</p>
+
+<p>"I never talk about them to any one."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm sorry," said Peter, aware of the undercurrent of sadness in her
+voice. "I didn't know that there was anything painful to you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know it myself, until you played it to me, just now, the piece
+with the sad, low voices, under the melody. It was like somebody dead
+speakin' to me. I can't talk about the things I feel like that."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't then&mdash;&mdash;Forgive me for asking."</p>
+
+<p>He laid his fingers softly over hers. She withdrew her hand quickly, but
+the look that she turned him found his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>face sober, his dark eyes warm
+with sympathy. And then with a swift inconsequential impulse born of
+Peter's recantation,</p>
+
+<p>"I don't s'pose there's any reason why I shouldn't tell you," she said
+more easily. "Everybody around here knows about me&mdash;about us. Aunt
+Tillie and I haven't lived here always. She brought me here when I was a
+child."</p>
+
+<p>She paused again and Peter remained silent, watching her intently. As
+she glanced up at him, something in the expression of his face gave her
+courage to go on.</p>
+
+<p>"Father's dead. His name was Ben Cameron. He came of nice people," she
+faltered. "But he&mdash;he was no good. We lived up near New Lisbon. He used
+to get drunk on 'Jersey Lightnin'' and tear loose. He was all right
+between whiles&mdash;farmin'&mdash;but whisky made him crazy, and then&mdash;then he
+would come home and beat us up."</p>
+
+<p>"Horrible!"</p>
+
+<p>"It was. I was too little to know much, but Aunt Tillie's husband came
+at last and there was a terrible fight. Uncle Will was hurt&mdash;hurt so
+bad&mdash;cut with a knife&mdash;that he never was the same again. And my&mdash;my
+father went away cursing us all. Then my mother died&mdash;Uncle Will
+too&mdash;and Aunt Tillie and I came down here to live. That's all. Not much
+to be proud of," she finished ruefully.</p>
+
+<p>Peter was silent. It was a harrowing, sordid story of primitive passion.
+He was very sorry for her.</p>
+
+<p>Beth made an abrupt graceful movement of an arm across her brows, as
+though to wipe out the memory.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know why I've told you," she said. "I never speak of this to
+any one."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so sorry."</p>
+
+<p>He meant it. And Beth knew that he did.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<h2>THE PLACARD</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>The look that she had given him showed her sense of his sympathy. So he
+ventured,</p>
+
+<p>"Did you hear from your father before he died?"</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Tillie did,&mdash;once. Then we got word he'd been killed in a railway
+accident out West. I was glad. A man like that has no right to live."</p>
+
+<p>"You and Aunt Tillie have had a pretty hard time&mdash;&mdash;" he mused.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. She's an angel&mdash;and I love her. Why is it that good people have
+nothin' but trouble? She had an uncle who went bad too&mdash;he was younger
+than she was&mdash;my great-uncle&mdash;Jack Bray&mdash;he forged a check&mdash;or somethin'
+up in Newark&mdash;and went to the penitentiary."</p>
+
+<p>"And is he dead too?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;not at last accounts. He's out&mdash;somewhere. When I was little he
+used to come to Aunt Tillie for money&mdash;a tall, lantern-jawed man. I saw
+him once three years ago. He was here. Aunt Tillie tried to keep me out
+of the kitchen. But I thought he was up to some funny business and
+stayed. He took a fancy to me. He said he was camera man in the movies.
+He wanted me to go with him&mdash;thought I could be as good as Mary
+Pickford. I'm glad I didn't go&mdash;from what I know now. He was a bad man.
+Aunt Tillie was scared of him. Poor soul! She gave him all she had&mdash;most
+of what was left from the old farm, I guess."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>"Do you think&mdash;&mdash;" began Peter, then paused. And as she glanced at him
+inquiringly, "Did you notice that your Aunt Tillie
+seemed&mdash;er&mdash;frightened last night?" he asked at last.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought so for a while, but she said she was only sick. She never
+lies to me."</p>
+
+<p>"She seemed very much disturbed."</p>
+
+<p>"Her nerve's not what it used to be&mdash;especially since Mr. McGuire's
+taken to seein' things&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't believe then that she could have seen John Bray&mdash;that he had
+come back again last night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, no," said Beth, turning in surprise. "I never thought of it&mdash;and
+yet," she paused, "yes,&mdash;it might have been&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She became more thoughtful but didn't go on. Peter was on the trail of a
+clew to the mystery, but she had already told him so much that further
+questions seemed like personal intrusion. And so,</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to tell you, Beth," he said, "that I'm your friend and Mrs.
+Bergen's. If anything should turn up to make you unhappy or to make your
+aunt unhappy and I can help you, won't you let me know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;do you think anything is goin' to happen?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>His reply was noncommittal.</p>
+
+<p>"I just wanted you to know you could count on me&mdash;&mdash;" he said soberly.
+"I think you've had trouble enough."</p>
+
+<p>"But I'm not afraid of Jack Bray," she said with a shrug, "even if Aunt
+Tillie is. He can't do anything to me. He can't <i>make</i> me go to New York
+if I don't want to."</p>
+
+<p>She had clenched her brown fists in her excitement and Peter laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I'd be a little sorry for anybody who tried to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>make you do
+anything you didn't want to do," he said.</p>
+
+<p>She frowned. "Why, if I thought that bandy-legged, lantern-jawed, old
+buzzard was comin' around here frightenin' Aunt Tillie, I'd&mdash;I'd&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What would you do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never you mind what I'd do. But I'm not afraid of Jack Bray," she
+finished confidently.</p>
+
+<p>The terrors that had been built up around the house of McGuire, the
+mystery surrounding the awe-inspiring prowler, the night vigils, the
+secrecy&mdash;all seemed to fade into a piece of hobbledehoy buffoonery at
+Beth's contemptuous description of her recreant relative. And he smiled
+at her amusedly.</p>
+
+<p>"But what would you say," he asked seriously, "if I told you that last
+night Mr. McGuire saw the same person your Aunt Tillie did, and that he
+was terrified&mdash;almost to the verge of collapse?"</p>
+
+<p>Beth had risen, her eyes wide with incredulity.</p>
+
+<p>"Merciful Father! McGuire! Did he have another spell last night? You
+don't mean&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"I went up to his room. He was done for. He had seen outside the
+drawing-room window the face of the very man he's been guarding himself
+against."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't believe&mdash;&mdash;," she gasped. "And you think Aunt Tillie&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your Aunt Tillie talked to a man outside the door of the kitchen. You
+didn't hear her. I did. The same man who had been frightening Mr.
+McGuire."</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Tillie!" she said in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"There's not a doubt of it. McGuire saw him. Andy saw him too,&mdash;thought
+he was the chauffeur."</p>
+
+<p>Beth's excitement was growing with the moments.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Aunt Tillie didn't know anything about what was frightening Mr.
+McGuire&mdash;no more'n I did," she gasped.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>"She knows now. She wasn't sick last night, Beth. She was just
+bewildered&mdash;frightened half out of her wits. I spoke to her after you
+went home. She wouldn't say a word. She was trying to conceal something.
+But there was a man outside and she knows who he is."</p>
+
+<p>"But what could Jack Bray have to do with Mr. McGuire?" she asked in
+bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>Peter shrugged. "You know as much as I do. I wouldn't have told you this
+if you'd been afraid. But Mrs. Bergen is."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, did you <i>ever?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I never did," replied Peter, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"It does beat <i>anything</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"It does. It's most interesting, but as far as I can see, hardly
+alarming for you, whatever it may be to Mr. McGuire or Mrs. Bergen. If
+the man is only your great-uncle, there ought to be a way to deal with
+him&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I've just got to talk to Aunt Tillie," Beth broke in, moving toward the
+door. Peter followed her, taking up his hat.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go with you," he said.</p>
+
+<p>For a few moments Beth said nothing. She had passed through the stages
+of surprise, anger and bewilderment, and was now still indignant but
+quite self-contained. When he thought of Beth's description of the Ghost
+of Black Rock House, Peter was almost tempted to forget the terrors of
+the redoubtable McGuire. A man of his type hardly lapses into hysteria
+at the mere thought of a "bandy-legged buzzard." And yet McGuire's
+terrors had been so real and were still so real that it was hardly
+conceivable that Bray could have been the cause of them. Indeed it was
+hardly conceivable that the person Beth described could be a source of
+terror to any one. What was the answer?</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Tillie doesn't know anything about McGuire," <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>Beth said suddenly.
+"She just couldn't know. She tells me everything."</p>
+
+<p>"But of course it's possible that McGuire and this John Bray could have
+met in New York&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What would Mr. McGuire be doin' with him?" she said scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>Peter laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"It's what he's doing with McGuire that matters."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe it's Bray," said Beth confidently. "I don't believe
+it."</p>
+
+<p>They had reached a spot where the underbrush was thin, and Beth, who had
+been looking past the tree trunks toward the beginnings of the lawns,
+stopped suddenly, her eyes focusing upon some object closer at hand.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" she asked, pointing.</p>
+
+<p>Peter followed the direction of her gaze. On a tree in the woods not far
+from the path was a square of cardboard, but Beth's eyes were keener
+than Peter's, and she called his attention to some writing upon it.</p>
+
+<p>They approached curiously. With ironic impudence the message was
+scrawled in red crayon upon the reverse of one of Jonathan McGuire's
+neat trespass signs, and nailed to the tree by an old hasp-knife. Side
+by side, and intensely interested, they read:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">TO MIKE McGUIRE</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">I've come back.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">You know what i've got and i know what you've got. Act
+pronto. I'll come for my answer at eleven Friday night&mdash;at
+this tree. No tricks. If there's no answer&mdash;you know what
+i'll do.</span></p>
+
+<p class="right">
+<span style="padding-right: 12em;">HAWK.</span>
+</p></div>
+
+<p>"Hawk!" muttered Beth, "who on earth&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>"Another&mdash;&mdash;," said Peter cryptically.</p>
+
+<p>"You see!" cried Beth triumphantly, "I knew it couldn't be Jack Bray!"</p>
+
+<p>"This chap seems to be rather in earnest, doesn't he? <i>Pronto!</i> That
+means haste."</p>
+
+<p>"But it's only a joke. It must be," cried Beth.</p>
+
+<p>Peter loosened the knife, took the placard down and turned it over,
+examining it critically.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder." And then, thoughtfully, "No, I don't believe it is. It's
+addressed to McGuire. I'm going to take it to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Mike McGuire," corrected Beth. And then, "But it really does look
+queer."</p>
+
+<p>"It does," assented Peter; "it appears to me as if this message must
+have come from the person McGuire saw last night."</p>
+
+<p>Beth looked bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>"But what has Aunt Tillie got to do with&mdash;with Hawk? She never knew
+anybody of that name."</p>
+
+<p>"Probably not. It isn't a real name, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why should it frighten Mr. McGuire?" she asked logically.</p>
+
+<p>Peter shook his head. All the props had fallen from under his theories.</p>
+
+<p>"Whether it's real to McGuire or not is what I want to know. And I'm
+going to find out," he finished.</p>
+
+<p>When they reached a path which cut through the trees toward the creek,
+Beth stopped, and held out her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not goin' up to the house with you and I don't think I'll see Aunt
+Tillie just now," she said. "Good-by, Mr.&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Peter&mdash;&mdash;," he put in.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-by, Mr. Peter."</p>
+
+<p>"Just Peter&mdash;&mdash;" he insisted.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>"Good-by, Mr. Just Peter. Thanks for the playin'. Will you let me come
+again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And I'm going to get you some music&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Singin' music?" she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>He nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"And you'll let me know if I can help&mdash;Aunt Tillie or you?"</p>
+
+<p>She bobbed her head and was gone.</p>
+
+<p>Peter stood for a while watching the path down which she had
+disappeared, wondering at her abrupt departure, which for the moment
+drove from his mind all thought of McGuire's troubles. It was difficult
+to associate Beth with the idea of prudery or affectation. Her visit
+proved that. She had come to the Cabin because she had wanted to hear
+him play, because she had wanted to sing for him, because too his
+promises had excited her curiosity about him, and inspired a hope of his
+assistance. But the visit had flattered Peter. He wasn't inured to this
+sort of frankness. It was perhaps the greatest single gift of tribute
+and confidence that had ever been paid him&mdash;at least by a woman. A visit
+of this sort from a person like Anastasie Galitzin or indeed from almost
+any woman in the world of forms and precedents in which he had lived
+would have been equivalent to unconditional surrender.</p>
+
+<p>The girl had not stopped to question the propriety of her actions. That
+the Cabin was Peter's bedroom, that she had only seen him twice, that he
+might not have understood the headlong impulse that brought her, had
+never occurred to Beth. The self-consciousness of the first few moments
+had been wafted away on the melody of the music he had played, and after
+that he knew they were to be friends. There seemed to be no doubt in
+Peter's mind that she could have thought they would be anything else.</p>
+
+<p>And Peter was sure that he had hardly been able, even if he had wished,
+to conceal his warm admiration for her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>physical beauty. She had been
+very near him. All he would have had to do was to reach out and take
+her. That he hadn't done so seemed rather curious now. And yet he
+experienced a sort of mild satisfaction that he had resisted so trying a
+temptation. If she hadn't been so sure of him.... Idealism? Perhaps. The
+same sort of idealism that had made Peter believe the people at Zukovo
+were fine enough to make it worth while risking his life for them&mdash;that
+had made him think that the people of Russia could emerge above Russia
+herself. He had no illusions as to Zukovo now, but Beth was a child&mdash;and
+one is always gentle with children.</p>
+
+<p>He puzzled for another moment over her decision not to be seen coming
+with him from the Cabin. Had this sophistication come as an
+afterthought, born of something that had passed between them? Or was it
+merely a feminine instinct seeking expression? Peter didn't care who
+knew or saw, because he really liked Beth amazingly. She had a gorgeous
+voice. He would have to develop it. He really would.</p>
+
+<p>All the while Peter was turning over in his fingers the placard bearing
+the strange message to "Mike" McGuire from the mysterious "Hawk." He
+read and reread it, each time finding a new meaning in its wording.
+Blackmail? Probably. The "<i>pronto</i>" was significant. This message could
+hardly have come from Beth's "bandy-legged buzzard." He knew little of
+movie camera men, but imagined them rather given to the depiction of
+villainies than the accomplishment of them. And a coward who would prey
+upon an old woman and a child could hardly be of the metal to attempt
+such big game as McGuire. The mystery deepened. The buzzard was now a
+hawk. "Hawk," whatever his real name, was the man McGuire had seen last
+night through the window. Was he also the man who had frightened Mrs.
+Bergen? And if so, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>how and where had she known him without Beth's being
+aware of it? And why should Beth be involved in the danger?</p>
+
+<p>Peter was slowly coming to the belief that there had been two men
+outside the house last night, "Hawk" and John Bray. And yet it seemed
+scarcely possible that the men on guard should not have seen the second
+man and that both men could have gotten away without leaving a trace.
+And where was the man with the black mustache? Was he John Bray?
+Impossible. It was all very perplexing. But here in his hand he held the
+tangible evidence of McGuire's fears. "You know what I've got and I know
+what you've got." The sentence seemed to have a cabalistic
+significance&mdash;a pact&mdash;a threat which each man held over the other.
+Perhaps it wasn't money only that "Hawk" wanted. Whatever it was, he
+meant to have it, and soon. The answer the man expected was apparently
+something well understood between himself and McGuire, better understood
+perhaps since the day McGuire had seen him in New York and had fled in
+terror to Sheldon, Senior's, office. And if McGuire didn't send the
+desired answer to the tree by Friday night, there would be the very
+devil to pay&mdash;if not "Hawk."</p>
+
+<p>Peter was to be the bearer of ill tidings and with them, he knew, all
+prospect of a business discussion would vanish. The situation interested
+him, as all things mysterious must, and he could not forget that he was,
+for the present, part policeman, part detective; but forestry was his
+real job here and every day that passed meant so many fewer days in
+which to build the fire towers. And these he considered to be a prime
+necessity to the security of the estate.</p>
+
+<p>He rolled the placard up and went toward the house. On the lawn he
+passed the young people, intent upon their own pursuits. He was glad
+that none of them noticed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>him and meeting Stryker, who was hovering
+around the lower hall, he sent his name up to his employer.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think Mr. McGuire expects you just yet, sir," said the man.</p>
+
+<p>"Nevertheless, tell him I must see him," said Peter. "It's important."</p>
+
+<p>Though it was nearly two o'clock, McGuire was not yet dressed and his
+looks when Peter was admitted to him bespoke a long night of anxiety and
+vigil. Wearing an incongruous flowered dressing gown tied at the waist
+with a silken cord, he turned to the visitor.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said rather peevishly.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. McGuire, but something has happened that
+I thought&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What's happened?" the other man snapped out, eying the roll of
+cardboard in Peter's hand. "What&mdash;&mdash;?" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>Peter smiled and shrugged coolly.</p>
+
+<p>"It may be only a joke, sir&mdash;and I hardly know whether I'm even
+justified in calling it to your attention, but I found this placard
+nailed to a tree near the path to the Cabin."</p>
+
+<p>"Placard!" said McGuire, his sharp glance noting the printing of the
+trespass sign. "Of course&mdash;that's the usual warning&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's the other side," said Peter, "that is unusual." And unrolling it
+carefully, he laid it flat on the table beside his employer's breakfast
+tray and then stood back to note the effect of the disclosure.</p>
+
+<p>McGuire stared at the headline, starting violently, and then, as though
+fascinated, read the scrawl through to the end. Peter could not see his
+face, but the back of his neck, the ragged fringe of moist hair around
+his bald spot were eloquent enough. And the hands which held the
+extraordinary document were far from steady. The <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>gay flowers of the
+dressing gown mocked the pitiable figure it concealed, which seemed
+suddenly to sag into its chair. Peter waited. For a long while the
+dressing gown was dumb and then as though its occupant were slowly
+awakening to the thought that something was required of him it stirred
+and turned slowly in the chair.</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;you've read this?" asked McGuire weakly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. It was there to read. It was merely stuck on a tree with this
+hasp-knife," and Peter produced the implement and handed it to McGuire.</p>
+
+<p>McGuire took the knife&mdash;twisting it slowly over in his fingers. "A
+hasp-knife," he repeated dully.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought it best to bring them to you," said Peter, "especially on
+account of&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes. Of course." He was staring at the red crayon scrawl and as he
+said nothing more Peter turned toward the door, where Stryker stood on
+guard.</p>
+
+<p>"If there's nothing else just now, I'll&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Wait!" uttered the old man, and Peter paused. And then, "Did any one
+else see this&mdash;this paper?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;Mrs. Bergen's niece&mdash;she saw it first."</p>
+
+<p>"My housekeeper's niece. Any one else?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I hardly think so. It seemed quite freshly written."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah&mdash;&mdash;" muttered McGuire. He was now regarding Peter intently.
+"Where&mdash;where is the tree on which you found it?"</p>
+
+<p>"A maple&mdash;just in the wood&mdash;at the foot of the lawn."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" He stumbled to the window, the placard still clutched in his
+hands, and peered at the woods as though seeking to pick out the single
+tree marked for his exacerbation. Then jerked himself around and faced
+the bearer of these tidings, glaring at him as though he were the author
+of them.</p>
+
+<p>"G&mdash;&mdash; d&mdash;&mdash; you all!" he swore in a stifled tone.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>"I beg pardon," said Peter with sharp politeness.</p>
+
+<p>McGuire glanced at Peter and fell heavily into the nearest armchair. "It
+can't&mdash;be done," he muttered, half to himself, and then another oath. He
+was showing his early breeding now.</p>
+
+<p>"I might 'a' known&mdash;&mdash;," he said aloud, staring at the paper.</p>
+
+<p>"Then it isn't a joke?" asked Peter, risking the question.</p>
+
+<p>"Joke!" roared McGuire. And then more quietly, "A joke? I don't want it
+talked about," he muttered with a senile smile. And then, "You say a
+woman read it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"She must be kept quiet. I can't have all the neighborhood into my
+affairs."</p>
+
+<p>"I think that can be managed. I'll speak to her. In the meanwhile if
+there's anything I can do&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>McGuire looked up at Peter and their glances met. McGuire's glance
+wavered and then came back to Peter's face. What he found there seemed
+to satisfy him for he turned to Stryker, who had been listening
+intently.</p>
+
+<p>"You may go, Stryker," he commanded. "Shut the door, but stay within
+call."</p>
+
+<p>The valet's face showed surprise and some disappointment, but he merely
+bowed his head and obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you're&mdash;you're curious about this message, Nichols&mdash;coming in
+such a way," said McGuire, after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"To tell the truth, I am, sir," replied Peter. "We've done all we could
+to protect you. This 'Hawk' must be the devil himself."</p>
+
+<p>"He is," repeated McGuire. "Hell's breed. The thing can't go on. I've
+got to put a stop to it&mdash;and to him."</p>
+
+<p>"He speaks of coming again Friday night&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;yes&mdash;Friday." And then, his fingers trembling <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>along the placard,
+"I've got to do what he wants&mdash;this time&mdash;just this time&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>McGuire was gasping out the phrases as though each of them was wrenched
+from his throat. And then, with an effort at self-control,</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, Nichols," he muttered. "Since you've seen this, I&mdash;I'll have
+to tell you more. I&mdash;I think&mdash;I'll need you&mdash;to help me."</p>
+
+<p>Peter obeyed, flattered by his employer's manner and curious as to the
+imminent revelations.</p>
+
+<p>"I may say that&mdash;this&mdash;this 'Hawk' is a&mdash;an enemy of mine, Nichols&mdash;a
+bitter enemy&mdash;unscrupulous&mdash;a man better dead than alive. I&mdash;I wish to
+God you'd shot him last night."</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry, sir," said Peter cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I've got to do what he wants&mdash;this time. I can't have this sort of
+thing goin' on&mdash;with everybody in Black Rock reading these damn things.
+You're sure my daughter Peggy knows nothing?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd be pretty sure of that&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But she might&mdash;any time&mdash;if he puts up more placards. I've got to stop
+that, Nichols. This thing mustn't go any further."</p>
+
+<p>"I think you may trust me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I think I can. I've <i>got</i> to trust you now, whether I want to or
+no. The man who wrote this scrawl is the man I came down here to get
+away from." Peter waited while McGuire paused. "You may think it's very
+strange. It is strange. I knew this man&mdash;called 'Hawk,' many years ago.
+I&mdash;I thought he was dead, but he's come back."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire paused again, the placard in his hands, reading the line which
+so clearly announced that fact.</p>
+
+<p>"He speaks of something I've got&mdash;something he's got, Nichols. It's a
+paper&mdash;a&mdash;er&mdash;a partnership paper we <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>drew up years ago&mdash;out West and
+signed. That paper is of great value to me. As long as he holds it
+I&mdash;&mdash;," McGuire halted to wipe the sweat from his pallid brow. "He holds
+it as a&mdash;well&mdash;not exactly as a threat&mdash;but as a kind of menace to my
+happiness and Peggy's."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand, sir," put in Peter quietly. "Blackmail, in short."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly&mdash;er&mdash;blackmail. He wanted five thousand dollars&mdash;in New York. I
+refused him&mdash;there's no end to blackmail once you yield&mdash;and I came down
+here&mdash;but he followed me. But I've got to get that paper away from him."</p>
+
+<p>"If you were sure he had it with him&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's just it. He's too smart for that. He's got it hidden somewhere.
+I've got to get this money for him&mdash;from New York&mdash;I haven't got it in
+the house&mdash;before Friday night&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But blackmail&mdash;&mdash;!"</p>
+
+<p>"I've got to, Nichols&mdash;this time. I've got to."</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't, sir," said Peter stoutly.</p>
+
+<p>"But you don't know everything. I've only told you part," said McGuire,
+almost whining. "This is no ordinary case&mdash;no ordinary blackmail. I've
+got to be quick. I'm going to get the money&mdash;I'm going to get you to go
+to New York and get it."</p>
+
+<p>"Me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Yes. This is Wednesday. I can't take any chances of not having it
+here Friday. Peggy is going back this afternoon. I'll get her to drive
+you up. I'll 'phone Sheldon to expect you&mdash;he'll give you the money and
+you can come back to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"But to-night&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He knows the danger of trying to reach me. That's why he wrote this. I
+won't be bothered to-night. I'll <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>shut the house tight and put some of
+the men inside. If he comes, we'll shoot."</p>
+
+<p>"But Friday&mdash;&mdash;Do you mean, sir, that you'll go out to him with five
+thousand dollars and risk&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I won't. <i>You</i> will," said McGuire, watching Peter's face craftily.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I see," replied Peter, aware that he was being drawn more deeply
+into the plot than he had wished. "You want me to meet him."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire noted Peter's dubious tone and at once got up and laid his hands
+upon his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll do this for me, won't you, Nichols? I don't want to see this
+man. I can't explain. There wouldn't be any danger. He hasn't anything
+against you. Why should he have? I haven't any one else that I can
+trust&mdash;but Stryker. And Stryker&mdash;well&mdash;I'd have to tell Stryker. <i>You</i>
+know already. Don't say you refuse. It's&mdash;it's a proof of my confidence.
+You're just the man I want here. I'll make it worth your while to stay
+with me&mdash;well worth your while."</p>
+
+<p>Peter was conscious of a feeling partly of pity, partly of contempt, for
+the cringing creature pawing at his shoulders. Peter had never liked to
+be pawed. It had always rubbed him the wrong way. But McGuire's need was
+great and pity won.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'll do it if you like," he said, turning aside and releasing
+himself from the clinging fingers, "provided I assume no
+responsibility&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's it. No responsibility," said McGuire, in a tone of relief.
+"You'll just take that money out&mdash;then come away&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And get nothing in return?" asked Peter in surprise. "No paper&mdash;no
+receipt&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;just this once, Nichols. It will keep him quiet for a month or so.
+In the meanwhile&mdash;&mdash;" The old man <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>paused, a crafty look in his eyes,
+"In the meanwhile we'll have time to devise a way to meet this
+situation."</p>
+
+<p>"Meaning&mdash;precisely what?" asked Peter keenly.</p>
+
+<p>McGuire scowled at him and then turned away toward the window.</p>
+
+<p>"That needn't be your affair."</p>
+
+<p>"It won't be," said Peter quickly. "I'd like you to remember that I came
+here as a forester and superintendent. I agreed also to guard your house
+and yourself from intrusion, but if it comes to the point of&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There, there, Nichols," croaked McGuire, "don't fly off the handle.
+We'll just cross this bridge first. I&mdash;I won't ask you to do anything
+a&mdash;a gentleman shouldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, sir," said Peter finally, "that's fair enough."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire came over and faced Peter, his watery eyes seeking Peter's.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll swear, Nichols, to say nothing of this to any one?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I'll keep silent."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing to Sheldon?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"And you'll see this&mdash;this niece of the housekeeper's?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>The man gave a gasp of relief and sank into his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Now go, Nichols&mdash;and shift your clothes. Peggy's going about four. Come
+back here and I'll give you a letter and a check."</p>
+
+<p>Peter nodded and reached the door. As he opened it, Stryker straightened
+and bowed uncomfortably. But Peter knew that he had been listening at
+the keyhole.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+<h2>SHAD IS UNPLEASANT</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>Peter returned from New York on Thursday night, having accomplished his
+curious mission. He had first intercepted Beth on her way to the kitchen
+and sworn her to secrecy, advising her to say nothing to Mrs. Bergen
+about the events of the previous night. And she had agreed to respect
+his wishes. On the way to New York he had sat in the rumble of the low
+red runabout, Miss Peggy McGuire at the wheel, driving the fashionable
+Freddy. Miss McGuire after having yielded, the night before, to the
+musical predilections of Miss Delaplane, had apparently reconsidered
+Peter's social status and had waved him to the seat in the rear with a
+mere gesture and without apologies. And Peter, biting back a grin and
+touching his hat, had obeyed. The familiarities tolerable in such a
+wilderness as Black Rock could not of course be considered in the halls
+of the fashionable hotel where Miss Peggy lived in New York, and where
+by dint of great care and exclusiveness she had caught a hold of the
+fringe of society. But Peter sat up very straight, trying not to hear
+what was said in front. If he could only have worn his Colonel's uniform
+and decorations, or his Grand Ducal coronet, and have folded his arms,
+the irony would have been perfection.</p>
+
+<p>He had gone to Sheldon, Senior, in the morning and in return for
+McGuire's check had been given cash in the shape of ten virginal five
+hundred dollar bills. This money had been put into an envelope and was
+now folded carefully <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>in Peter's inside pocket. Sheldon, Senior, to be
+sure, had asked questions, but with a good grace Peter had evaded him.
+Dick Sheldon was out of town, so Peter put in the remaining period
+before his train-time in a music store where he spent all the money that
+remained of his salary, on books, a few for the piano but most of them
+for Beth. Peter had wasted, as he had thought, two perfectly good years
+in trying to learn to sing. But those two years were not going to be
+wasted now&mdash;for Beth was to be his mouthpiece. He knew the beginnings of
+a training&mdash;how to give her the advantage of the instruction he had
+received from one of the best teachers in Milan. He was lucky enough to
+find books on the Italian method of voice production and on the way back
+to McGuire's, armed with these, he stopped off at the Bergen house in
+Black Rock village and returned Beth's call.</p>
+
+<p>There he found Shad Wells, in his shirt-sleeves, smoking a pipe in the
+portico, and looking like a thundercloud. In response to Peter's query,
+he moved his right shoulder half an inch in the direction of the door,
+and then spat in the geranium bed. So Peter knocked at the door, softly
+at first, then loudly, when Beth emerged, her sleeves rolled to her
+shoulders and her arms covered with soapsuds.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Shad," she said witheringly, after she had greeted Peter, "you
+might have let me know! Come in, Mr. Nichols. Excuse my appearance.
+Wash-day," she explained, as he followed her into the dark interior.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't stop," said the visitor, "I just came to bring these books&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"For <i>me</i>!" she exclaimed, hurriedly wiping her arms on her apron.</p>
+
+<p>"I got them in New York&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She pulled up the shade at the side, letting in the sunlight, an act
+permissible in the parlors of Black Rock <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>only on state occasions, for
+the sunlight (as every one knew) was not kind to plush-covered
+furniture.</p>
+
+<p>"For <i>me</i>!" Beth repeated softly. "I didn't think you meant it."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Tone production&mdash;Exercises</i>," explained Peter, "and here's one on <i>The
+Lives of the Great Composers</i>. I thought you might be interested in
+reading it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes. I am&mdash;I will be. Thank you ever so much&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you can't do much by yourself just yet&mdash;not without a
+piano&mdash;to get the pitch&mdash;the key&mdash;but I've brought a tuning fork
+and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But I've got the harmonium&mdash;&mdash;," Beth broke in excitedly. "It's a
+little out of tune, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The harmonium!" asked the bewildered Peter. "What's that?"</p>
+
+<p>Beth proudly indicated a piece of furniture made of curly walnut which
+stood in the corner of the room. There were several books on the top of
+it&mdash;<i>Gospel Tunes</i>&mdash;<i>Moody and Sankey</i>, a Methodist Episcopal hymn book,
+and a glass case containing wax flowers.</p>
+
+<p>"We play it Sundays&mdash;&mdash;," said Beth, "but it ought to help&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You play&mdash;&mdash;!" he said in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Tillie and I&mdash;oh, just hymns&mdash;&mdash;." She sat, while Peter watched,
+began pumping vigorously with her feet and presently the instrument
+emitted a doleful sound. "It has notes anyhow," said Beth with a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Splendid!" said Peter. "And when I've told you what to do you can
+practice here. You'll come soon?"</p>
+
+<p>She nodded. "When?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow&mdash;sometime?" And then, "What's the matter with Wells?" he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>She frowned. "He just asked me to marry him. It's the twenty-seventh
+time."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>"Oh&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't be botherin' with Shad&mdash;not on wash-day&mdash;or any other day," she
+added as though in an afterthought.</p>
+
+<p>Peter laughed. He was quite sure that nobody would ever make her do
+anything she didn't want to do.</p>
+
+<p>"He knows I was at the Cabin yesterday," she said in a low voice. "He
+was watchin'."</p>
+
+<p>Peter was silent a moment, glancing at the books he had just brought
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course if he has any claim on you, perhaps&mdash;&mdash;," he began, when she
+broke in.</p>
+
+<p>"Claim! He hasn't," she gasped. "I'll do as I please. And he'd better
+quit pesterin' me or I'll&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>She laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll put him through the clothes-wringer."</p>
+
+<p>Peter grinned. "He almost looks as though you'd done that already."</p>
+
+<p>And as she followed him to the door, "I thought I ought to tell you
+about Shad. When he gets ugly&mdash;he's ugly an' no mistake."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you still think he'll&mdash;er&mdash;swallow me at one gobble?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>She stared at him a moment and then laughed with a full throat. "I hope
+he don't&mdash;at least not 'til I've had my singin' lessons."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I can promise you that," said Peter.</p>
+
+<p>She followed him out to the porch, where they looked about for Shad. He
+had disappeared. And in the "Lizzie," which had been panting by the side
+of the road, Peter was conducted by the soiled young man at the wheel to
+Black Rock House.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing unusual had happened in his absence, nor had any other message
+or warning been posted, for Stryker, released for this duty, had
+searched all the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>morning and found nothing. "Hawk" was waiting, biding
+his hour.</p>
+
+<p>Curiously enough, an astonishing calm seemed to have fallen over the
+person of Jonathan K. McGuire. When Peter arrived he found his employer
+seated on the portico in a wicker chair, smoking his after-supper cigar.
+True, the day guards were posted near by and Stryker hovered as was his
+wont, but the change in his employer's demeanor was so apparent that
+Peter wondered how such a stolid-looking creature could ever have lost
+his self-control. It was difficult to understand this metamorphosis
+unless it could be that, having come to a decision and aware of the
+prospect of immunity, if only a temporary one, McGuire had settled down
+to make the best of a bad job and await with stoicism whatever the
+future was to bring. This was Peter's first impression, nothing else
+suggesting itself, but when he followed the old man up to his room and
+gave him the money he had brought he noted the deeply etched lines at
+nostril and jaw and felt rather than saw the meaning of them&mdash;that
+Jonathan McGuire was in the grip of some deep and sinister resolution.
+There was a quality of desperation in his calmness, a studied
+indifference to the dangers which the night before last had seemed so
+appalling.</p>
+
+<p>He put the money in the safe, carefully locked the combination and then
+turned into the room again.</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, Nichols," he said. "You'd better have some supper and get to
+bed to-night. I don't think you'll be needed." And then, as Peter's look
+showed his surprise, "I know my man better than you do. To-morrow night
+we shall see."</p>
+
+<p>He closed his lips into a thin line, shot out his jaw and lowered his
+brows unpleasantly. Courage of a sort had come back to him, the courage
+of the animal at bay, which fights against the inevitable.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>To Peter the time seemed propitious to state the need for the
+observation towers and he explained in detail his projects. But McGuire
+listened and when Peter had finished speaking merely shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"What you say is quite true. The towers must be built. I've thought so
+for a long time. In a few days we will speak of that again&mdash;<i>after
+to-morrow night</i>," he finished significantly.</p>
+
+<p>"As you please," said Peter, "but every day lost now may&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We'll gain these days later," he broke in abruptly. "I want you to stay
+around here now."</p>
+
+<p>On Friday morning he insisted on having Peter show him the tree where
+the placard had been discovered, and Peter, having taken lunch with him,
+led him down to the big sugar maple, off the path to the cabin. Peter
+saw that he scanned the woods narrowly and walked with a hand in his
+waist-band, which Peter knew held an Army Colt revolver, but the whine
+was gone from his voice, the trembling from his hands. He walked around
+the maple with Peter, regarding it with a sort of morbid abstraction and
+then himself led the way to the path and to the house. Why he wanted to
+look at the tree was more than Peter could understand, for it was Peter,
+and not he, who was to keep this costly assignation.</p>
+
+<p>"You understand, Nichols," he said when they reached the portico,
+"you've agreed to go&mdash;to-night&mdash;at eleven."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you'd let me meet him&mdash;without the money."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;no. I've made up my mind&mdash;&mdash;," gasped McGuire with a touch of his
+old alarm, "there can't be any change in the plan&mdash;no change at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, very well," said Peter, "it's not my money I'm giving away."</p>
+
+<p>"It won't matter, Nichols. I&mdash;I've got a lot more&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But the principle&mdash;&mdash;" protested Peter.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>"To H&mdash;&mdash; with the principle," growled the old man.</p>
+
+<p>Peter turned and went back to the Cabin, somewhat disgusted with his
+whole undertaking. Already he had been here for five days and, except
+for two walks through the woods for purposes of investigation, nothing
+that he had come to do had been accomplished. He had not yet even
+visited the sawmills which were down on the corduroy road five miles
+away. So far as he could see, for the present he was merely McGuire's
+handy man, a kind of upper servant and messenger, whose duties could
+have been performed as capably by Stryker or Shad Wells, or even Jesse
+Brown. The forest called him. It needed him. From what he had heard he
+knew that down by the sawmills they were daily cutting the wrong trees.
+He had already sent some instructions to the foreman there, but he could
+not be sure that his orders had been obeyed. He knew that he ought to
+spend the day there, making friends with the men and explaining the
+reasons for the change in orders, but as long as McGuire wanted him
+within telephone range, there was nothing to do but to obey.</p>
+
+<p>He reached the Cabin, threw off his coat, and had hardly settled down at
+the table to finish his drawing, a plan of the observation towers, when
+Beth appeared. He rose and greeted her. Her face was flushed, for she
+had been running.</p>
+
+<p>"Has Shad been here?" she asked breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" she gasped. "I was afraid he'd get here before me. I took the
+short cut through the woods."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"He said he&mdash;he was going to break you to bits&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"To bits! Me? Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because he&mdash;he says I oughtn't to come here&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>"Oh, I see," he muttered, and then, with a grin, "and what do <i>you</i>
+think about it, Beth?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll do what I please," she said. "So long as I think it's all right.
+What business has he got to stop me!"</p>
+
+<p>Peter laughed. "Don't let's bother then. Did you bring your books?"</p>
+
+<p>She hadn't brought them. She had come in such a hurry.</p>
+
+<p>"But aren't you afraid&mdash;when he comes?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said Peter. "Do you think I ought to be?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Shad's&mdash;he's what they call a Hellion around here."</p>
+
+<p>"What's a&mdash;er&mdash;Hellion?"</p>
+
+<p>"A&mdash;a scrapper."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a fighting man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>Peter sat down at the piano and struck loudly some strident discords in
+the bass. "Like this!" he laughed. "Isn't it ugly, Beth&mdash;that's what
+fighting is&mdash;I had it day and night for years. If Shad had been in the
+war he wouldn't ever want to fight again."</p>
+
+<p>"Were you in the war?" asked Beth in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. Where would I have been?" And before she could reply he had
+swept into the rumbling bass of the "Revolutionary &Eacute;tude." She sank into
+a chair and sat silent, listening, at first watching the door, and then
+as the soul of the artist within her awoke she forgot everything but the
+music.</p>
+
+<p>There was a long silence at the end when Peter paused, and then he heard
+her voice, tense, suppressed.</p>
+
+<p>"I could see it&mdash;you made me see it!" she gasped, almost in a whisper.
+"War&mdash;revolution&mdash;the people&mdash;angry&mdash;mumbling&mdash;crowding, pushing ... a
+crowd with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>guns and sticks howling at a gate ... and then a man trying
+to speak to them&mdash;appealing&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Peter turned quickly at the words and faced her. Her eyes were like
+stars, her soul rapt in the vision his music had painted. Peter had
+lived that scene again and again, but how could Beth know unless he had
+made her see it? There was something strange&mdash;uncanny&mdash;in Beth's vision
+of the great drama of Peter's life. And yet she had seen. Even now her
+spirit was afar.</p>
+
+<p>"And what happened to the man who was appealing to them?" he asked
+soberly.</p>
+
+<p>She closed her eyes, then opened them toward him, shaking her head.
+"I&mdash;I don't know&mdash;it's all gone now."</p>
+
+<p>"But you saw what I played. That is what happened."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" She questioned, startled in her turn.</p>
+
+<p>Peter shrugged himself into the present moment. "Nothing. It's
+just&mdash;revolution. War. War is like that, Beth," he went on quietly after
+a moment. "Like the motif in the bass&mdash;there is no end&mdash;the threat of it
+never stops&mdash;day or night. Only hell could be like it."</p>
+
+<p>Beth slowly came out of her dream.</p>
+
+<p>"You fought?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes."</p>
+
+<p>Another silence. "I&mdash;I think I understand now why you're not afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"But I <i>am</i> afraid, Beth," he said with a smile. "I was always afraid in
+the war. Because Death is always waiting just around the corner. Nobody
+who has been in the war wants ever to fight again."</p>
+
+<p>He turned to the piano. "They all want happiness, Beth. Peace. This!" he
+finished, and his roving fingers played softly the Tschaikowsky
+"Reverie."</p>
+
+<p>When he had finished he turned to her, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"What vision do you see in that, Beth?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>She started as though from a dream. "Oh, happiness&mdash;and sadness, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Peter soberly. "No one knows what it is to be happy unless
+one has been sad."</p>
+
+<p>"That's true, isn't it?" she muttered, looking at him in wonder. "I
+never knew what unhappiness was for&mdash;but I guess that's it."</p>
+
+<p>He caught the minor note in her voice and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Come now," he said, "we'll have our first lesson."</p>
+
+<p>"Without the books?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. We'll try breathing."</p>
+
+<p>"Breathing?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;from the diaphragm."</p>
+
+<p>And as she looked bewildered, "From the stomach&mdash;not from the
+chest&mdash;breathe deeply and say 'Ah.'"</p>
+
+<p>She obeyed him and did it naturally, as though she had never breathed in
+any other way.</p>
+
+<p>"Fine," he cried and touched a note on the piano. "Now sing it. Throw it
+forward. Softly first, then louder&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>It was while she was carrying out this instruction that a shadow
+appeared on the doorsill, followed in a moment by the figure of Shad
+Wells. Beth's "Ah" ceased suddenly. The visitor stood outside, his hands
+on his hips, in silent rage.</p>
+
+<p>Peter merely glanced at him over his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"How are you, Wells?" he said politely. "Won't you come in? We've having
+a singing lesson."</p>
+
+<p>Shad did not move or speak as Peter went on, "Take the chair by the
+door, old man. The cigarettes are on the table. Now, Beth&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But Beth remained as she was, uneasily regarding the intruder, for she
+knew that Shad was there for no good purpose. Peter caught her look and
+turned toward the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>door, deliberately ignoring the man's threatening
+demeanor.</p>
+
+<p>"We won't be long," he began coolly, "not over half an hour&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I know ye won't," growled Shad. And then to the girl, "Beth, come
+out o' there!"</p>
+
+<p>If Shad's appearance had caused Beth any uncertainty, she found her
+spirit now, for her eyes flashed and her mouth closed in a hard line.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you to say where I come or go?" she said evenly.</p>
+
+<p>But Shad stood his ground.</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't know enough to know what's what I'm here to show you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I say&mdash;&mdash;," said Peter coolly.</p>
+
+<p>"You can say what you like, Mister. And I've got somethin' to say to you
+when this lady goes."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh,&mdash;&mdash;" and then quietly to Beth, "Perhaps you'd better go. Bring the
+books to-morrow&mdash;at the same time."</p>
+
+<p>But Beth hadn't moved, and only looked at Peter appealingly. So Peter
+spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"This man is impolite, not to say disagreeable to you. Has he any right
+to speak to you like this?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Beth uneasily, "but I don't want any trouble."</p>
+
+<p>Peter walked to the door and faced Shad outside.</p>
+
+<p>"There won't be any trouble unless Wells makes it." And then, as if a
+new thought had come to him, he said more cheerfully, "Perhaps he
+doesn't quite understand&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I understand, all right. Are you goin', Beth?"</p>
+
+<p>She glanced at Peter, who nodded toward the path, and she came between
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on back, Shad," she said.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean it? If you do I'm through with you. You understand?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter took the girl by the arm and led her gently away.</p>
+
+<p>"Just wait a minute, Wells," he flung over his shoulder at the man,
+"I'll be back in a second."</p>
+
+<p>The careless tone rather bewildered the woodsman, who had expected to
+find either fear or anger. The forester-piano-player showed
+neither&mdash;only careless ease and a coolness which could only be because
+he didn't know what was coming to him.</p>
+
+<p>"D&mdash;n him! I'll fix him!" muttered Shad, quivering with rage. But Peter
+having fortified himself with a cigarette was now returning. Wells
+advanced into an open space where there was plenty of room to swing his
+elbows and waited.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Wells," said Peter alertly, "you wanted to see me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I did, ye stuck-up piano-playin', psalm-singin' &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;
+&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;." And suiting the action to the word leaped for Peter, both fists
+flying.</p>
+
+<p>The rugged and uncultured often mistake politeness for effeminacy,
+sensibility for weakness. Shad was a rough and tumble artist of a high
+proficiency, and he had a reputation for strength and combativeness. He
+was going to make short work of this job.</p>
+
+<p>But Peter had learned his boxing with his cricket. Also he had practiced
+the <i>Savate</i> and was familiar with <i>jiu jitsu</i>&mdash;but he didn't need
+either of them.</p>
+
+<p>Wells rushed twice but Peter was not where he rushed. The only damage he
+had done was to tear out the sleeve of Peter's shirt.</p>
+
+<p>"Stand up an' fight like a man," growled Shad.</p>
+
+<p>"There's no hurry," said Peter, calmly studying Shad's methods.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>"Oh, <i>ain't</i> there!"</p>
+
+<p>This bull-like rush Peter stopped with a neat uppercut, straightening
+Shad's head which came up with a disfigured nose and before he could
+throw down his guard, Peter landed hard on his midriff. Shad winced but
+shot out a blow which grazed Peter's cheek. Then Peter countered on
+Shad's injured nose. Shad's eyes were now regarding Peter in
+astonishment. But in a moment only one of them was, for Peter closed the
+other.</p>
+
+<p>"We'd better stop now," gasped Peter, "and talk this over."</p>
+
+<p>"No, you &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;," roared Shad, for he suspected that somewhere
+in the bushes Beth was watching.</p>
+
+<p>Peter lost what remained of his shirt in the next rush and sprained a
+thumb. It didn't do to fight Shad "rough and tumble." But he got away at
+last and stood his man off, avoiding the blind rushes and landing almost
+at will.</p>
+
+<p>"Had enough?" he asked again, as politely as ever.</p>
+
+<p>"No," gulped the other.</p>
+
+<p>So Peter sprang in and struck with all the force of his uninjured hand
+on the woodsman's jaw, and then Shad went down and lay quiet. It had
+been ridiculously easy from the first and Peter felt some pity for Shad
+and not a little contempt for himself. But he took the precaution of
+bending over the man and extracting the revolver that he found in Shad's
+hip pocket.</p>
+
+<p>As he straightened and turned he saw Beth standing in the path regarding
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Beth!" he exclaimed with a glance at Shad. "You saw?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." She covered her face with her hands. "It was horrible."</p>
+
+<p>"I tried to avoid it," he protested.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know. It was his own fault. Is he badly hurt?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>"No, I think not. But you'd better go."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"It will only make matters worse if he sees you."</p>
+
+<p>She understood, turned and vanished obediently.</p>
+
+<p>Then Peter went to the house, got a basin and, fetching some water from
+the creek, played the Samaritan. In a while Shad gasped painfully and
+sat up, looking at the victor.</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry," said Peter, "but you <i>would</i> have it."</p>
+
+<p>Shad blinked his uninjured eye and rose, feeling at his hip.</p>
+
+<p>"I took your revolver," said Peter calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Give it here."</p>
+
+<p>"A chap with a bad temper has no business carrying one," said Peter
+sternly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;&mdash;." The man managed to get to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, Shad," said Peter again, and held out his hand. "Let's be
+friends."</p>
+
+<p>Shad looked at the hand sullenly for a moment. "I'll fix <i>you</i>, Mister.
+I'll fix you yet," he muttered, then turned and walked away.</p>
+
+<p>If Peter had made one friend he had also made an enemy.</p>
+
+<p>The incident with Shad Wells was unfortunate, but Peter didn't see how
+it could have been avoided. He was thankful nevertheless for his English
+schooling, which had saved him from a defeat at the hands of a
+"roughneck" which could have been, under the circumstances, nothing less
+than ignominious. For if Shad Wells had succeeded in vanquishing him,
+all Peter's authority, all his influence with the rest of the men in
+McGuire's employ would have gone forever, for Shad Wells was not the
+kind of man upon whom such a victory would have lightly sat. If he had
+thrashed Peter, Shad and not Peter would have been <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>the boss of Black
+Rock and Peter's position would have been intolerable.</p>
+
+<p>As Peter laved his broken knuckles and bruised cheek, he wondered if,
+after all, the affair hadn't been for the best. True, he had made an
+enemy of Shad, but then according to the girl, Shad had already been his
+enemy. Peter abhorred fighting, as he had told Beth, but, whatever the
+consequences, he was sure that the air had cleared amazingly. He was
+aware too that the fact that he had been the champion of Beth's
+independence definitely stood forth. Whatever the wisdom or the
+propriety, according to the standards of Black Rock society, of Beth's
+visits to the Cabin, for the purpose of a musical education or for any
+other purposes, Peter was aware that he had set the seal of his approval
+upon them, marked, that any who read might run, upon the visage of Mr.
+Wells. Peter was still sorry for Shad, but still more sorry for Beth,
+whose name might be lightly used for her share in the adventure.</p>
+
+<p>He made up his mind to say nothing of what had happened, and he felt
+reasonably certain that Shad Wells would reach a similar decision. He
+was not at all certain that Beth wouldn't tell everybody what had
+happened for he was aware by this time that Beth was the custodian of
+her own destinies and that she would not need the oracles of Black Rock
+village as censors of her behavior.</p>
+
+<p>But when he went up to the house for supper he made his way over the
+log-jam below the pool and so to the village, stopping for a moment at
+the Bergen house, where Beth was sitting on the porch reading <i>The Lives
+of the Great Composers</i>. She was so absorbed that she did not see him
+until he stood at the little swing gate, hat in hand.</p>
+
+<p>She greeted him quietly, glancing up at his bruised cheek.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>"I'm so sorry," she said, "that it was on my account."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not&mdash;now that I've done the 'gobbling,'" he said with a grin. And
+then, "Where's Shad?"</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't seen him. I guess he's gone in his hole and pulled it in
+after him."</p>
+
+<p>Peter smiled. "I just stopped by to say that perhaps you'd better say
+nothing. It would only humiliate him."</p>
+
+<p>"I wasn't goin' to&mdash;but it served him right&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And if you think people will talk about your coming to the Cabin, I
+thought perhaps I ought to give you your lessons here."</p>
+
+<p>"Here!" she said, and he didn't miss the note of disappointment in her
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>"If your cousin Shad disapproves, perhaps there are others."</p>
+
+<p>She was silent for a moment and then she looked up at him shyly.</p>
+
+<p>"If it's just the same to you&mdash;I&mdash;I'd rather come to the Cabin," she
+said quietly. "It's like&mdash;like a different world&mdash;with your playin' an'
+all&mdash;&mdash;" And then scornfully, "What do I care what they think!"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course&mdash;I'm delighted. I thought I ought to consult you, that's all.
+And you'll come to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;of course."</p>
+
+<p>He said nothing about the meeting that was to take place that night with
+the mysterious "Hawk" at the maple tree. He meant to find out, if
+possible, how Beth could be concerned (if she was concerned) in the
+fortunes of the mysterious gentleman of the placard, but until he
+learned something definite he thought it wiser not to take Beth further
+into his confidence.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+<h2>"HAWK"</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>Three months ago it would have been difficult for His Highness, Grand
+Duke Peter Nicholaevitch, to imagine himself in his present situation as
+sponsor for Beth Cameron. He had been no saint. Saintly attributes were
+not usually to be found in young men of his class, and Peter's training
+had been in the larger school of the world as represented in the
+Continental capitals. He had tasted life under the tutelage of a father
+who believed that women, bad as well as good, were a necessary part of a
+gentleman's education, and Peter had learned many things.... Had it not
+been for his music and his English love of fair play, he would have
+stood an excellent chance of going to the devil along the precipitous
+road that had led the Grand Duke Nicholas Petrovitch there.</p>
+
+<p>But Peter had discovered that he had a mind, the needs of which were
+more urgent than those of his love of pleasure. Many women he had known,
+Parisian, Viennese, Russian&mdash;and one, Vera Davydov, a musician, had
+enchained him until he had discovered that it was her violin and not her
+soul that had sung to him ... Anastasie Galitzin ... a dancer in Moscow
+... and then&mdash;the War.</p>
+
+<p>In that terrible alembic the spiritual ingredients which made Peter's
+soul had been stirred until only the essential remained. But that
+essence was the real Peter&mdash;a wholesome young man steeped in idealism
+slightly tinged <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>with humor. It was idealism that had made him attempt
+the impossible, humor that had permitted him to survive his failure, for
+no tragedy except death itself can defy a sense of humor if it's
+whimsical enough. There was something about the irony of his position in
+Black Rock which interested him even more than the drama that lay hidden
+with McGuire's Nemesis in the pine woods. And he couldn't deny the fact
+that this rustic, this primitive Beth Cameron was as fine a little lady
+as one might meet anywhere in the wide world. She had amused him at
+first with originality, charmed him with simplicity, amazed him later
+with talent and now had disarmed him with trust in his integrity. If at
+any moment the idea had entered Peter's head that here was a wild-flower
+waiting to be gathered and worn in his hat, she had quickly disabused
+his mind of that chimera. Curious. He found it as difficult to conceive
+of making free with Beth as with the person of the Metropolitan of
+Moscow, or with that of the President of the Pennsylvania Railroad. She
+had her dignity. It was undeniable. He imagined the surprise in her
+large blue eyes and the torrent of ridicule of which her tongue could be
+capable. He had felt the sting of its humor at their first meeting. He
+had no wish to test it again.</p>
+
+<p>And now, after a few days of acquaintanceship, he found himself Beth's
+champion, the victor over the "Hellion" triplet, and the guardian of her
+good repute. He found, strangely enough, the responsibility
+strengthening his good resolves toward Beth and adding another tie to
+those of sympathy and admiration. The situation, while not altogether of
+his making, was not without its attractions. He had given Beth her
+chance to withdraw from the arrangement and she had persisted in the
+plan to come to the Cabin. Very well. It was his cabin. She <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>should come
+and he would teach her to sing. But he knew that Peter Nichols was
+throwing temptation in the way of Peter Nicholaevitch.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>McGuire was quiet that night and while they smoked Peter talked at
+length on the needs of the estate as he saw them. Peter went down to the
+Cabin and brought up his maps and his plans for the fire towers. McGuire
+nodded or assented in monosyllables, but Peter was sure that he heard
+little and saw less, for at intervals he glanced at the clock, or at his
+watch, and Peter knew that his obsession had returned. Outside,
+somewhere in the woods, "Hawk" was approaching to keep his tryst and
+McGuire could think of nothing else. This preoccupation was marked by a
+frowning thatch of brow and a sullen glare at vacancy which gave no
+evidence of the fears that had inspired him, but indicated a mind made
+up in desperation to carry out his plans, through Peter, whatever
+happened later. Only the present concerned him. But underneath his
+outward appearance of calm, Peter was aware of an intense alertness, for
+from time to time his eyes glowed suddenly and the muscles worked in his
+cheeks as he clamped his jaws shut and held them so.</p>
+
+<p>As the clock struck ten McGuire got to his feet and walked to the safe,
+which he opened carefully and took out the money that Peter had brought.
+Then he went to a closet and took out an electric torch which he tested
+and then put upon the table.</p>
+
+<p>"You're armed, Nichols?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Peter nodded. "But of course there's no reason why your mysterious
+visitor should take a pot at me," he said. And then, curiously, "Do you
+think so, Mr. McGuire?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," said the other quickly. "You have no interest in this affair.
+You're my messenger, that's all. But <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>I want you to follow my
+instructions carefully. I've trusted you this far and I've got to go the
+whole way. This man will say something. You will try to remember word
+for word what he says to you, and you're to repeat that message to me."</p>
+
+<p>"That shouldn't be difficult."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire was holding the money in his hand and went on in an abstraction
+as though weighing words.</p>
+
+<p>"I want you to go at once to the maple tree. I want you to go now so
+that you will be there when this man arrives. You will stand waiting for
+him and when he comes you will throw the light into his face, so that
+you can see him when you talk to him, and so that he can count this
+money and see that the amount is correct. I do not want you to go too
+close to him nor to permit him to go too close to you&mdash;you are merely to
+hand him this package and throw the light while he counts the money.
+Then you are to say to him these words, 'Don't forget the blood on the
+knife, Hawk Kennedy.'"</p>
+
+<p>"'Don't forget the blood on the knife, Hawk Kennedy,'" murmured Peter in
+amazement. And then, "But suppose he wants to tell me a lot of things
+you don't want me to know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll have to risk that," put in McGuire grimly. "I want you to watch
+him carefully, Nichols. Are you pretty quick on the draw?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean, can you draw your gun and shoot quickly&mdash;surely? If you can't,
+you'd better have your gun in your pocket, keep him covered and at the
+first sign, shoot through your coat."</p>
+
+<p>Peter took out his revolver and examined it quizzically. "I thought you
+said, Mr. McGuire," he put in coolly, "that I was not to be required to
+do anything a gentleman couldn't do."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>"Exactly," said the old man jerkily.</p>
+
+<p>"I shouldn't say that shooting a defenseless man answers that
+requirement."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire threw up his hands wildly.</p>
+
+<p>"There you go&mdash;up in the air again. I didn't say you were to shoot him,
+did I?" he whined. "I'm just warning you to be on the lookout in case he
+attacks you. That&mdash;that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"Why should he attack me?"</p>
+
+<p>"He shouldn't, but he might be angry because I didn't come myself."</p>
+
+<p>"I see. Perhaps you'd better go, sir. Then you can do your killing
+yourself."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire fell back against the table, to which he clung, his face gray
+with apprehension, for he saw that Peter had guessed what he hoped.</p>
+
+<p>"You want this man killed," Peter went on. "It's been obvious to me from
+the first night I came here. Well, I'm not going to be the one to do
+it."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire's glance fell to the rug as he stammered hoarsely, "I&mdash;I never
+asked you to do it. Y-you must be dreaming. I&mdash;I'm merely making plans
+to assure your safety. I don't want you hurt, Nichols. That's all.
+You're not going to back out now?" he pleaded.</p>
+
+<p>"Murder is a little out of my line&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You're not going to fail me&mdash;&mdash;?" McGuire's face was ghastly. "You
+<i>can't</i>," he whispered hoarsely. "You can't let me down now. <i>I</i> can't
+see this man. I can't tell Stryker all you know. You're the only one.
+You promised, Nichols. You promised to go."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And I'll keep my word&mdash;but I'll do it in my own way. I'm not
+afraid of any enemy of yours. Why should I be? But I'm not going to
+shoot him. If that's understood give me the money and I'll be off."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;yes. That's all right, Nichols. You're a good <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>fellow&mdash;and honest.
+I'll make it worth your while to stay with me here." He took up the
+money and handed it to Peter, who counted it carefully and then put it
+in an inside pocket. "I don't see why you think I wanted you to kill
+Hawk Kennedy," McGuire went on, whining. "A man's got a right to protect
+himself, hasn't he? And you've got a right to protect <i>yourself</i>, if he
+tries to start anything."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you any reason to believe that he might?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I can't say I have."</p>
+
+<p>"All right. I'll take a chance. But I want it understood that I'm not
+responsible if anything goes wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"That's understood."</p>
+
+<p>Peter made his way downstairs, and out of the front door to the portico.
+Stryker, curiously enough, was nowhere to be seen. Peter went out across
+the dim lawn into the starlight. Jesse Brown challenged him by the big
+tree and Peter stopped for a moment to talk with him, explaining that he
+would be returning to the house later.</p>
+
+<p>"The old man seems to be comin' to life, Mister," said Jesse.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not so skeered-like. He was out here when you went to the Cabin for
+them plans&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Out here?" said Peter in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>Andy nodded. "He seemed more natural-like,&mdash;asked what the countersign
+was and said mebbe we'd all be goin' back to the mills after a night or
+so."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, did he? That's good. You're pretty tired of this night work?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not so long as it pays good. But what did he mean by changin' the
+guards?"</p>
+
+<p>"He didn't say anything to me about it," said Peter, concealing his
+surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, didn't he? Well, he took Andy off the privet <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>hedge and sent him
+down to the clump of pines near the road."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," said Peter. "Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"You've got me, Mister. If there's trouble to-night, there ain't no one
+at the back of the house at all. We're one man short."</p>
+
+<p>"Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shad Wells. He ain't showed up."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I see," muttered Peter. And then, as he lighted a cigarette, "Oh,
+well, we'll get along somehow. But look sharp, just the same."</p>
+
+<p>Peter went down the lawn thoughtfully. From the first he hadn't been any
+too pleased with this mission. Though Peter was aware that in the realm
+of big business it masqueraded under other names, blackmail, at the
+best, was a dirty thing. At the worst&mdash;and McGuire's affair with the
+insistent Hawk seemed to fall into this classification,&mdash;it was both
+sinister and contemptible. To be concerned in these dark doings even as
+an emissary was hardly in accordance with Peter's notion of his job, and
+he had acceded to McGuire's request without thinking of possible
+consequences, more out of pity for his employer in his plight than for
+any other reason. But he remembered that it usually required a guilty
+conscience to make blackmail possible and that the man who paid always
+paid because of something discreditable which he wished to conceal.</p>
+
+<p>McGuire's explanations had been thin and Peter knew that the real reason
+for the old man's trepidations was something other than the ones he had
+given. He had come to Black Rock from New York to avoid any possible
+publicity that might result from the visits of his persecutor and was
+now paying this sum of money for a respite, an immunity which at the
+best could only be temporary. It was all wrong and Peter was sorry to
+have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>a hand in it, but he couldn't deny that the interest with which he
+had first approached Black Rock House had now culminated in a curiosity
+which was almost an obsession. Here, close at hand, was the solution of
+the mystery, and whether or not he learned anything as to the facts
+which had brought McGuire's discomfiture, he would at least see and talk
+with the awe-inspiring Hawk who had been the cause of them. Besides,
+there was Mrs. Bergen's share in the adventure which indicated that
+Beth's happiness, too, was in some way involved. For Peter, having had
+time to weigh Beth's remarks with the housekeeper's, had come to the
+conclusion that there had been but one man near the house that night.
+The man who had talked with Mrs. Bergen at the kitchen door was not John
+Bray the camera-man, or the man with the dark mustache, but Hawk Kennedy
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>Peter entered the path to the Cabin, and explored it carefully,
+searching the woods on either side and then, cutting into the scrub oak
+at the point where he and Beth had first seen the placard, made his way
+to the maple tree. There was no one there. A glance at his watch under
+the glare of the pocket torch showed that he was early for the tryst, so
+he walked around the maple, flashing his light into the undergrowth and
+at last sat down, leaning against the trunk of the tree, lighted another
+cigarette and waited.</p>
+
+<p>Under the depending branches of the heavy foliage it was very dark, and
+he could get only the smallest glimpses of the starlit sky. At one point
+toward Black Rock House beyond the boles of the trees he could see short
+stretches of the distant lawn and, in the distance, a light which he
+thought must be that of McGuire's bedroom, for to-night, Peter had
+noticed, the shutters had been left open. It was very quiet too. Peter
+listened for the sounds of approaching footsteps among the dry leaves,
+but heard only <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>the creak of branches overhead, the slight stir of the
+breeze in the leaves and the whistle of a locomotive many miles away, on
+the railroad between Philadelphia and Atlantic City.</p>
+
+<p>The sound carried his mind beyond the pine-belt out into the great world
+from which he had come, and he thought of many things that might have
+been instead of this that was&mdash;the seething yeast that was Russia, the
+tearing down of the idols of centuries and the worship of new gods that
+were no gods at all&mdash;not even those of brass or gold&mdash;only
+visions&mdash;will-o'-the-wisps.... The madness had shown itself here too.
+Would the fabric of which the American Ideal was made be strong enough
+to hold together against the World's new madness? He believed in
+American institutions. Imperfect though they were, fallible as the human
+wills which controlled them, they were as near Liberty, Equality,
+Fraternity as one might yet hope to attain in a form of government this
+side of the millennium.</p>
+
+<p>Peter started up suddenly, for he was sure that he had heard something
+moving in the underbrush. But after listening intently and hearing
+nothing more he thought that his ears had deceived him. He flashed his
+lantern here and there as a guide to Hawk Kennedy but there was no
+sound. Complete silence had fallen again over the woods. If McGuire's
+mysterious enemy was approaching he was doing it with the skill of an
+Indian scout. And it occurred to Peter at this moment that Hawk Kennedy
+too might have his reasons for wishing to be sure that he was to be
+fairly dealt with. The placard had indicated the possibility of
+chicanery on the part of McGuire. "No tricks," Hawk had written. He
+would make sure that Peter was alone before he showed himself. So Peter
+flashed his lamp around again, glanced at his watch, which showed that
+the hour of the appointment had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>passed, then lighted a third cigarette
+and sank down on the roots of the tree to wait.</p>
+
+<p>There was no other sound. The breeze which had been fitful at best had
+died and complete silence had fallen. Peter wasn't in the least alarmed.
+Why should he be? He had come to do this stranger a favor and no one
+else except McGuire could know of the large sum of money in his
+possession. The trees were his friends. Peter's thoughts turned back
+again, as they always did when his mind was at the mercy of his
+imagination. What was the use of it all? Honor, righteousness, pride,
+straight living, the ambition to do, to achieve something real by his
+own efforts&mdash;to what end? He knew that he could have been living snugly
+in London now, married to the Princess Galitzin, drifting with the
+current in luxury and ease down the years, enjoying those things&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Heigho! Peter sat up and shrugged the vision off. He must not be
+thinking back. It wouldn't do. The new life was here. <i>Novaya Jezn.</i>
+Like the seedling from the twisted oak, he was going to grow straight
+and true&mdash;to be himself, the son of his mother, who had died with a
+prayer on her lips that Peter might not be what his father had been.
+Thus far, he had obeyed her. He had grown straight, true to the memory
+of that prayer.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, life was good. He tossed away his cigarette, ground it into the
+ground with his heel, then lay back against the tree, drinking in great
+drafts of the clean night air. The forest was so quiet that he could
+hear the distant tinkle of Cedar Creek down beyond the Cabin. The time
+was now well after eleven. What if Hawk Kennedy failed to appear? And
+how long must&mdash;&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p>A tiny sound close at hand, clear, distinct. Peter took a chance and
+called out,</p>
+
+<p>"Is that you, Hawk Kennedy?"</p>
+
+<p>Silence and then a repetition of the sound a little louder <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>now and from
+directly overhead. Peter rose, peering upward in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I'm here," said a low voice among the leaves above him.</p>
+
+<p>And presently a foot appeared, followed by legs and a body, emerging
+from the gloom above. Peter threw the light of his torch up into the
+tree.</p>
+
+<p>"Hey! Cut that," commanded a voice sharply.</p>
+
+<p>And Peter obeyed. In a moment a shape swung down and stood beside him.
+After the glare of the torch Peter couldn't make out the face under the
+brim of the cap, but he could see that it wore a mustache and short
+growth of beard. In size, the stranger was quite as tall as Peter.</p>
+
+<p>Hawk Kennedy stood for a moment listening intently and Peter was so
+astonished at the extraordinary mode of his entrance on the scene that
+he did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>"You're from McGuire?" asked the man shortly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Why didn't he come himself?"</p>
+
+<p>The voice was gruff, purposely so, Peter thought, but there was
+something about it vaguely reminiscent.</p>
+
+<p>"Answer me. Why didn't he come?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"He didn't tell me why. Any more than you'd tell me why you've been up
+this tree."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm takin' no chances this trip. I've been watchin'&mdash;listenin'," said
+the other grimly. "Well, what's the answer? And who&mdash;who the devil are
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>The bearded visage was thrust closer to Peter's as though in
+uncertainty, but accustomed as both men now were to the darkness,
+neither could make out the face of the other.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm McGuire's superintendent. He sent me here to meet you&mdash;to bring you
+something&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah&mdash;he comes across. Good. Where is it?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>"In my pocket," said Peter coolly, "but he told me to tell you first not
+to forget the blood on the knife, Hawk Kennedy."</p>
+
+<p>The man recoiled a step.</p>
+
+<p>"The blood on the knife," he muttered. And then, "McGuire asked you to
+say that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Anything else?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. That's all."</p>
+
+<p>Another silence and then he demand in a rough tone,</p>
+
+<p>"Well, give me the money!"</p>
+
+<p>Impolite beggar! What was there about this shadow that suggested to
+Peter the thought that this whole incident had happened before? That
+this man belonged to another life that Peter had lived? Peter shrugged
+off the illusion, fumbled in his pocket and produced the envelope
+containing the bills.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better count it," said Peter, as the envelope changed hands.</p>
+
+<p>"It's not 'phoney'&mdash;&mdash;?" asked Hawk's voice suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>"Phoney?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fake money&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I got it in New York myself yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;&mdash;." There was a silence in which the shade stood uncertainly
+fingering the package, peering into the bushes around him and listening
+intently. And then, abruptly,</p>
+
+<p>"I want to see the color of it. Switch on your light."</p>
+
+<p>Peter obeyed. "You'd better," he said.</p>
+
+<p>In the glow of lamp Hawk Kennedy bent forward, his face hidden by his
+cap brim, fingering the bills, and Peter saw for the first time that his
+left hand held an automatic which covered Peter now, as it had covered
+him from the first moment of the interview.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>"Five hundreds&mdash;eh," growled Kennedy. "They're real enough, all right.
+One&mdash;two&mdash;three&mdash;four&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A roar from the darkness and a bullet crashed into the tree behind
+them.... Another shot! Peter's startled finger relaxed on the button of
+the torch and they were in darkness. A flash from the trees to the
+right, the bullet missing Peter by inches.</p>
+
+<p>"A trick! By &mdash;&mdash;!" said Hawk's voice in a fury, "but I'll get <i>you</i> for
+this."</p>
+
+<p>Peter was too quick for him. In the darkness he jumped aside, striking
+Kennedy with his torch, and then closed with the man, whose shot went
+wild. They struggled for a moment, each fighting for the possession of
+the weapon, McGuire's money ground under their feet, but Peter was the
+younger and the stronger and when he twisted Hawk's wrist the man
+suddenly relaxed and fell, Peter on his chest.</p>
+
+<p>The reason for this collapse was apparent when Peter's hand touched the
+moisture on Kennedy's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Damn you!" Hawk was muttering, as he struggled vainly.</p>
+
+<p>Events had followed so rapidly that Peter hadn't had time to think of
+anything but his own danger. He had acted with the instinct of
+self-preservation, which was almost quicker than his thought, but as he
+knew now what had happened he realized that he, too, had been tricked by
+McGuire and that the murderous volley directed at Hawk Kennedy had come
+perilously near doing for himself. With the calm which followed the
+issue of his struggle with Kennedy, came a dull rage at McGuire for
+placing him in such danger, which only showed his employer's desperate
+resolve and his indifference to Peter's fate. For Hawk Kennedy had been
+within his rights in supposing Peter to be concerned in the trick and
+only the miracle of the expiring torch which had blinded the intruder
+had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>saved Peter from the fate intended for Hawk. Peter understood now
+the meaning of McGuire's explicit instructions and the meaning of the
+changing of the guards. The old man had hoped to kill his enemy with one
+shot and save himself the recurrence of his terror. What had become of
+him now? There was no sound among the bushes or any sign of him. He had
+slipped away like the poltroon that he was, leaving Peter to his fate.</p>
+
+<p>"Damn you!" Hawk muttered again. "What did <i>you</i> want to come meddling
+for!"</p>
+
+<p>The man couldn't be dangerously hurt if he possessed the power of
+invective and so, having possessed himself of Hawk's automatic, Peter
+got off his chest and fumbled around for the electric torch.</p>
+
+<p>"It won't do you any good to lie there cursing me. Get up, if you're
+able to."</p>
+
+<p>"Got me in the shoulder," muttered the man.</p>
+
+<p>"And he might have gotten <i>me</i>," said Peter, "which would have been
+worse."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean&mdash;you didn't&mdash;<i>know</i>," groaned Hawk, getting up into a sitting
+posture.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I didn't," replied Peter.</p>
+
+<p>He had found the torch now and was flashing it around on the ground
+while he picked up the scattered money.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll fix him for this," groaned the stranger.</p>
+
+<p>Peter glanced at him.</p>
+
+<p>"His men will be down here in a moment. You'd better be getting up."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not afraid. They can't do anything to <i>me</i>. They'd better leave me
+alone. McGuire don't want me to talk. But I'll squeal if they bother
+me." Peter was aware that the man was watching him as he picked up the
+bills and heard him ask haltingly, "What are you&mdash;going to do&mdash;with that
+money?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>"My orders were to give it to you. Don't you want it?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter turned and for the first time flashed the lamp full in the injured
+man's face. Even then Peter didn't recognize him, but he saw Hawk
+Kennedy's eyes open wide as he stared at Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"Who&mdash;&mdash;?" gasped the man. And then, "<i>You</i> here! '<i>Cr&eacute; nom!</i> It's Pete,
+the waiter!"</p>
+
+<p>Peter started back in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Jim Coast!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>Hawk Kennedy chuckled and scrambled to his feet, halfway between a laugh
+and a groan.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm damned!"</p>
+
+<p>Peter was still staring at him, the recovered bills loose in his hand.
+Jim Coast thrust out an arm for them.</p>
+
+<p>"The money," he demanded. "The money, Pete."</p>
+
+<p>Without a word Peter handed it to him. It was none of his. Coast counted
+the bills, the blood dripping from his fingers and soiling them, but he
+wiped them off with a dirty handkerchief and put them away into his
+pocket. Blood money, Peter thought, and rightly named.</p>
+
+<p>"And now, <i>mon gars</i>, if it's all the same to you, I'd like you to take
+me to some place where we can tie up this hole in my shoulder."</p>
+
+<p>This was like Coast's impudence. He had regained his composure again
+and, in spite of the pain he was suffering, had become his proper self,
+the same Jim Coast who had bunked with Peter on the <i>Bermudian</i>, full of
+smirking assertiveness and sinister suggestion. Peter was too full of
+astonishment to make any comment, for it was difficult to reconcile the
+thought of Jim Coast with Hawk Kennedy, and yet there he was, the terror
+of Black Rock House revealed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Pete," he growled, "goin' to be starin' at me all night?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>"You'd better be off," said Peter briefly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"They'll be here in a minute. You've got your money."</p>
+
+<p>"Let 'em come. They'll have to take me to McGuire&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Or the lock-up at Egg Harbor&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"All right. I'll go. But when I open my mouth to speak, McGuire will
+wish that Hell would open for him." And then, "See here, Pete, do you
+know anything of what's between me and McGuire?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;except that he fears you."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. If you're workin' for him you'll steer these guys away from
+me. I mean it. Now think quick."</p>
+
+<p>Peter did. Angry as he was at McGuire, he knew that Jim Coast meant what
+he said and that he would make trouble. Also Peter's curiosity knew no
+subsidence.</p>
+
+<p>"You go to my cabin. It's hidden in the woods down this path at the
+right&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's where you live, is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. You'll find water there and a towel on the washstand. I'll be
+there to help you when I sheer these men off."</p>
+
+<p>Coast walked a few steps and then turned quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"No funny business, Pete."</p>
+
+<p>"No. You can clear out if you like. I don't care. I only thought if you
+were badly hurt&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, all right. Thanks."</p>
+
+<p>Peter watched the dim silhouette merge into the shadows and disappear.
+Then flashed his light here and there that the men who must be
+approaching now might be guided to him. In a moment they were crashing
+through the undergrowth, Jesse and Andy in the lead.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the shootin'?" queried Jesse Brown breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>"A man in the woods. I'm looking for him," said Peter. "He got away."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, don't it beat Hell&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But it may be a plan to get you men away from the house," said Peter as
+the thought came to him. "Did you see McGuire?"</p>
+
+<p>"McGuire! No. What&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"All right. You'd better hurry back. See if he's all right. I'll get
+along&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not if you go flashin' <i>that</i> thing. I could a got ye with my rifle as
+easy as&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, never mind. Get back to the house. I'll poke around here for a
+while. Hurry!"</p>
+
+<p>In some bewilderment they obeyed him and Peter turned his footstep
+toward the Cabin.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+<h2>ANCIENT HISTORY</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>Peter wasn't at all certain that he had done the right thing. One event
+had followed another with such startling rapidity that there hadn't been
+time to deliberate. Jim Coast was wounded, how badly Peter didn't know,
+but the obvious duty was to give him first aid and sanctuary until Peter
+could get a little clearer light on Coast's possibilities for evil. None
+of this was Peter's business. He had done what McGuire had asked him to
+do and had nearly gotten killed for his pains. Two fights already and he
+had come to Black Rock to find peace!</p>
+
+<p>In his anger at McGuire's trick he was now indifferent as to what would
+happen to the old man. There was no doubt that Jim Coast held all the
+cards and, unless he died, would continue to hold them. It was evident
+that McGuire, having failed in accomplishing the murder, had placed
+himself in a worse position than before, for Coast was not one to relax
+or to forgive, and if he had gotten his five thousand dollars so easily
+as this, he would be disposed to make McGuire pay more heavily now.
+Peter knew nothing of the merits of the controversy, but it seemed
+obvious that the two principals in the affair were both tarred with the
+same stick. <i>Arcades Ambo</i>. He was beginning to believe that Coast was
+the more agreeable villain of the two. At least he had made no bones
+about the fact of his villainy.</p>
+
+<p>Peter found Coast stripped to the waist, sitting in a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>chair by the
+table, bathing his wounded shoulder. But the hemorrhage had stopped and
+Peter saw that the bullet had merely grazed the deltoid, leaving a clean
+wound, which could be successfully treated by first aid devices. So he
+found his guest a drink of whisky, which put a new heart into him, then
+tore up a clean linen shirt, strips from which he soaked in iodine and
+bandaged over the arm and shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Coast was talking.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>mon vieux</i>, it's a little world, ain't it? To think I'd find
+<i>you</i>, my old bunkie, Pete, the waiter, out here in the wilds, passin'
+the buck for Mike McGuire! Looks like the hand o' Fate, doesn't it?
+Superintendent, eh? Some job! Twenty thousand acres&mdash;if he's got an
+inch. An' me thinkin' all the while you'd be slingin' dishes in a New
+York chop house!"</p>
+
+<p>"I studied forestry in Germany once," said Peter with a smile, as he
+wound the bandage.</p>
+
+<p>"Right y'are! Mebbe you told me. I don't know. Mebbe there's a lot o'
+things you <i>didn't</i> tell me. Mebbe there's a lot of things I didn't tell
+<i>you</i>. But I ought to 'a' known a globe trotter like you never would 'a'
+stayed a waiter. A waiter! <i>Nom de Dieu!</i> Remember that (sanguine)
+steward on the <i>Bermudian</i>? Oily, fat little beef-eater with the gold
+teeth? Tried to make us 'divy' on the tips? But we beat him to it, Pete,
+when we took French leave. H-m! I'm done with waitin' now, Pete. So are
+you, I reckon. Gentleman of leisure, <i>I</i> am!"</p>
+
+<p>"There you are," said Peter as he finished the bandage, "but you'll have
+to get this wound dressed somewhere to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Right you are. A hospital in Philly will do the trick. And McGuire pays
+the bill."</p>
+
+<p>Jim Coast got up and moved his arm cautiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Mighty nice of you, Pete. That's fine. I'll make him <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>pay through the
+nose for this." And then turning his head and eyeing Peter narrowly,
+"You say McGuire told you nothin'!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. It's none of my affair."</p>
+
+<p>The ex-waiter laughed. "He knows his business. Quiet as death, ain't he?
+He's got a right to be. And scared. He's got a right to be scared too.
+I'll scare him worse before I'm through with him."</p>
+
+<p>He broke off with a laugh and then, "Funny to find you guardin' <i>him</i>
+against <i>me</i>. House all locked&mdash;men with guns all over the place. He
+wanted one of those guys to kill me, didn't he? But I'm too slick for
+him. No locked doors can keep out what's scarin' Mike McGuire&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He broke off suddenly and held up his empty glass. "Another drink of the
+whisky, <i>mon gars</i>, and I'm yer friend for life."</p>
+
+<p>Peter was still curious, so he obeyed and after cleaning up the mess
+they had made he sank into a chair, studying the worn features of his
+old companion. He had taken the precaution to pull in the heavy shutter
+of the window which had been opened and to lock the door. Peter did not
+relish the idea of a murder committed in this cabin.</p>
+
+<p>"Not apt to come now, are they, Pete? Well, let 'em," he answered
+himself with a shrug. "But they won't if McGuire has his way. Murder is
+the only thing that will suit McGuire's book. He can't do that&mdash;not with
+witnesses around. Ain't he the slick one, though? I was watchin' for
+just what happened. That's why I stayed in the tree so long&mdash;listenin'.
+He must of slipped in like a snake. How he did it I don't know. I'm a
+worse snake than he is but I always rattle before I strike."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed again dryly.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got <i>him</i> rattled all O. K. Mebbe he'd of shot straighter if he
+hadn't been. He used to could&mdash;dead shot. But I reckon his talents are
+runnin' different <i>now</i>. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>Millions he has they say, <i>mon vieux</i>,
+millions. And I'll get my share of 'em."</p>
+
+<p>Jim Coast smoked for a moment in contented silence.</p>
+
+<p>"See here, Pete. I like you. Always did. Straight as a string&mdash;you are.
+You've done me a good turn to-night. You might of put me out&mdash;killed me
+when you had me down&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm no murderer, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Right. Nor I ain't either. I don't want to hurt a hair of McGuire's
+head. Every one of 'em is precious as refined gold. I want him to
+live&mdash;to keep on livin' and makin' more money because the more money
+he's got the more I'll get&mdash;see."</p>
+
+<p>"Blackmail," said Peter shortly.</p>
+
+<p>Coast glanced at him, shrugged and laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Call it that if you like. It's a dirty word, but I'll stand for it,
+seein' it's you. Blackmail! What's a waiter's tip but blackmail for good
+service? What's a lawyer's fee from a corporation but money paid by men
+to keep them out of the jail? What's a breach of promise case?
+Blackmail&mdash;legal blackmail. I'm doin' nothin' less an' nothin' more than
+a million other men&mdash;but I'm not workin' with a lawyer. I'll turn the
+trick alone. What would you say if I told you that half of every dollar
+McGuire has got is mine&mdash;a full half&mdash;to say nothin' of payment for the
+years I was wanderin' an' grubbin' over the face of the earth, while he
+was livin' easy. Oh! You're surprised. You'd better be. For that's the
+God's truth, <i>mon ami</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean&mdash;he&mdash;he&mdash;&mdash;" Peter's credulity was strained and he failed to
+finish his query.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you don't believe? Well, you needn't. But there's no blackmail when
+you only take what belongs to you. The money&mdash;the money that made his
+millions was as much mine as his. I'm going to have my share with
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>compound interest for fifteen years&mdash;and perhaps a bit more."</p>
+
+<p>"You surprise me. But it seems that if there's any justice in your
+claim, you could establish it legally."</p>
+
+<p>Jim Coast laughed again.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a quicker&mdash;a safer way than that. I'm takin' it." He filled his
+glass again and went on, leaning far over the table toward Peter.
+"<i>Voyons</i>, Pete. When we came ashore, I made you an offer to play my
+game. You turned me down. It's not too late to change your mind. The old
+man trusts you or he wouldn't of sent you out with that money. I may
+need some help with this business and you're fixed just right to lend me
+a hand. Throw in with me, do what I want, and I'll see that you're fixed
+for life."</p>
+
+<p>Peter shook his head slowly from side to side.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Jim. He pays me well. I'm no traitor."</p>
+
+<p>"H-m. Traitor!" he sneered. "<i>He</i> wasn't overparticular about <i>you</i>. He
+might of killed you or <i>I</i> might of, if you hadn't been too damn quick
+for me. What do you think Mike McGuire cares about <i>you</i>?" he laughed
+bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. But that makes no difference. I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A loud jangle of a bell from the corner and Jim Coast sprang to his
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>"The telephone," explained Peter, indicating the instrument. "That's
+McGuire now." He rose and moved toward it, but Coast caught him by the
+arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Worried, eh?" he said with a grin. "Wants to know what's happened! All
+right. Tell him&mdash;tell the&mdash;&mdash;." And then, as Peter released himself,
+"Wait a minute. Tell him you've got me here," laughed Coast, "a
+prisoner. Tell him I'm talking. Ask for instructions. He'll tell you
+what to do with me, damn quick," he sneered.</p>
+
+<p>Peter waited a moment, thinking, while the bell tinkled <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>again, and then
+took down the receiver. He was in no mood to listen to McGuire.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello&mdash;Yes, this is Nichols.... All right, yes. Shot at from the
+dark&mdash;while paying the money. You hit Hawk Kennedy in the shoulder....
+Yes, <i>you</i>. I'm no fool, McGuire.... He's here&mdash;at the Cabin. I've just
+fixed his shoulder&mdash;&mdash;. All right&mdash;&mdash;. What shall I do with him&mdash;&mdash;?
+Yes&mdash;Yes, he's talking.... Let him go&mdash;&mdash;! Hello! Let him go, you say?
+Yes&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Let me get to him&mdash;&mdash;," growled Coast, pushing close to the
+transmitter. "Hello&mdash;Mike McGuire&mdash;hello&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He's gone," said Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"'Let him go,'" sneered Coast. "You'd bet he'd let me go." Then he
+looked at Peter and laughed. "He's scared all right&mdash;beat it like a
+cottontail. Seems a shame to take the money, Pete&mdash;a real shame."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed uproariously, then sauntered easily over to the table, took
+another of Peter's cigarettes and sank into the easy chair again. Peter
+eyed him in silence. He was an unwelcome guest but he hadn't yet
+gratified Peter's curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what are you going to do?" asked Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"Me?" Coast inhaled Peter's cigarette luxuriously, and smiled. "I'm
+goin' West, <i>pronto</i>&mdash;to get my facts straight&mdash;all at the expense of
+the party of the first part. I might stop off at the Grand Ca&ntilde;on first
+for the view. I need a rest, Pete. I ain't as young as I was&mdash;or I
+mightn't of let you put me out so easy to-night. I'm glad of that,
+though. Wouldn't like to of done you hurt&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And then&mdash;&mdash;?" asked Peter steadily.</p>
+
+<p>"Then? Oh, I'll beat it down to Bisbee and ask a few questions. I just
+want to hook up a few things I <i>don't</i> know with the things I <i>do</i> know.
+I'll travel light but comfortable. Five thousand dollars makes a heap of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>difference in your point of view&mdash;and other people's. I'll be an
+eastern millionaire lookin' for investments. And what I won't know about
+Jonathan K. McGuire, alias Mike McGuire&mdash;won't be worth knowin'." He
+broke off and his glance caught the interested expression on the face of
+his host.</p>
+
+<p>"H-m. Curious, ain't you, Pete?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Peter frankly. "I am. Of course it's none of my business,
+but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But you'd like to know, just the same. I get you." He flicked off the
+ash of his cigarette and picked up his whisky glass. "Well&mdash;&mdash;," he went
+on, "I don't see why I shouldn't tell you&mdash;some of it&mdash;that is. It won't
+do any harm for you to know the kind of skunk you're workin' for.
+There's some of it that nobody on God's earth will ever know but me and
+Mike McGuire&mdash;unless he slips up on one of his payments, and then
+everybody's goin' to know. <i>Everybody</i>&mdash;but his daughter first of all."</p>
+
+<p>Coast was silent a long moment while he drained the whisky and slowly
+set the glass down upon the table. The shadows upon his face were
+unpleasant, darkened perceptibly as they marked the years his thoughts
+followed, and the lines at his lips and nostrils became more deeply
+etched in bitterness and ugly resolve.</p>
+
+<p>"It was down in the San Luis valley I first met up with Mike McGuire. He
+was born in Ireland, of poor but honest parents, as the books tell us.
+He changed his name to 'Jonathan K.' when he made his first 'stake.'
+That meant he was comin' up in the world&mdash;see? Me and Mike worked
+together up in Colorado, punchin' cattle, harvestin', ranchin'
+generally. We were 'buddies,' <i>mon gars</i>, like you an' me, eatin',
+sleepin' together as thick as thieves. He had a family somewhere, same
+as me&mdash;the wife had a little money but her old man made <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>him quit&mdash;some
+trouble. After awhile we got tired of workin' for wages, grub staked,
+and beat it for the mountains. That was back in nineteen one or two, I
+reckon. We found a vein up above Wagon Wheel Gap. It looked good and we
+staked out claims and worked it, hardly stoppin' to eat or sleep." Coast
+stopped with a gasp and a shrug. "Well, the long an' short of that, <i>mon
+vieux</i>, was a year of hard work with only a thousand or so apiece to
+show for it. It was only a pocket. Hell!" He broke off in disgust and
+spat into the fireplace. "Don't talk to me about your gold mines. There
+ain't any such animal. Well, Mike saved his. I spent mine. Faro. You
+know&mdash;an' women. Then I got hurt. I was as good as dead&mdash;but I pulled
+through. I ain't easy to kill. When I came around, I 'chored' for a
+while, doin' odd jobs where I could get 'em and got a little money
+together and went to Pueblo. When I struck town I got pretty drunk and
+busted a faro bank. I never <i>did</i> have any luck when I was sober."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you've told me about that," said Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"So I did&mdash;on the <i>Bermudian</i>. Well, it was at Pueblo I met up with Mike
+McGuire, and we beat it down into Arizona where the copper was. Bisbee
+was only a row of wooden shacks, but we got some backin', bought an
+outfit and went out prospectin' along the Mexican border. And what with
+'greasers' and thievin' redskins it was some job in those days. But we
+made friends all right enough and found out some of the things we wanted
+to know.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Pete, if I was to tell you all that went on in that long trail
+into the Gila Desert and what happened when we got what we went for,
+you'd know as much as I do. You'd know enough to hold up Mike McGuire
+yourself if you'd a mind to. This is where the real story stops. What
+happened in between is my secret <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>and Mike McGuire's. We found the mine
+we were lookin' for.... That's sure&mdash;&mdash;How we got it you'll never know.
+But we got it. And here's where the real story begins again. We were
+miles out in the Gila Desert and if ever there's a Hell on earth, it's
+there. Sand, rocks, rocks and sand and the sun. It was Hell with the
+cover off and no mistake! No water within a hundred miles.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, this is where the fine Eyetalian hand of Mike McGuire shows
+itself. We were rich. Any fool with half an eye could see that. The
+place was lousy&mdash;fairly lousy! It was ours&mdash;&mdash;," Coast's brow darkened
+and his eyes glittered strangely as a darting demon of the past got
+behind them. "Yes&mdash;<i>ours</i>. <i>Sacr&eacute; bleu!</i> Any man who went through what
+we did deserved it, by G&mdash;&mdash;! We were rich. There was plenty enough for
+two, but McGuire didn't think so. And here's what he does to me. In the
+middle of the night while I'm asleep he sneaks away as neat as you
+please, with the horses and the pack-mules and the water, leavin' me
+alone with all the money in the world, and a devourin' thirst, more than
+a hundred miles from nowhere."</p>
+
+<p>"Murder," muttered Peter.</p>
+
+<p>Coast nodded. "You bet you. Murder. Nothin' less. Oh, he knew what <i>he</i>
+was about all right. And I saw it quick. Death! That's what it meant.
+Slow but sure. Hadn't I seen the bones bleaching all along the trail? He
+left me there to die. He thought I would die. <i>Dios!</i> That thirst!"
+Coast reached for the pitcher and splashed rather than poured a glass of
+water which he gulped down avidly. "There was nothin' for it but to try
+afoot for Tucson, which was due east. Every hour I waited would of made
+me an hour nearer to bein' a mummy. So I set out through the hot sand,
+the sun burnin' through me, slowly parchin' my blood. My tongue swelled.
+I must of gone in circles. Days passed&mdash;nights when I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>lay gaspin' on my
+back, like a fish out of water, tryin' to suck moisture out of dry
+air.... Then the red sun again&mdash;up over the edge of that furnace,
+mockin' at me. I was as good as dead and I knew it. Only the mummy of
+me, parched black, stumbled on, fallin', strugglin' up again, fallin' at
+last, bitin' at the sand like a mad dog...."</p>
+
+<p>"Horrible," muttered Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"It was. I reckon I died&mdash;the soul of me, or what was left of it. I came
+to life under the starlight, with a couple of 'greasers' droppin' water
+on my tongue. They brought me around, but I was out of my head for a
+week. I couldn't talk the lingo anyhow. I just went with 'em like a
+child. There wasn't anything else to do. Lucky they didn't kill me. I
+guess I wasn't worth killin'. We went South. They were makin' for
+Hermosillo. Revolutionists. They took all my money&mdash;about three hundred
+dollars. But it was worth it. They'd saved my life. But I couldn't go
+back now, even if I wanted to. I had no money, nor any way of gettin'
+any."</p>
+
+<p>Jim Coast leaned forward, glowering at the rag carpet.</p>
+
+<p>"But I&mdash;I didn't want to go back just then. The fear of God was in me.
+I'd looked into Hell."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I joined the 'greasers' against Diaz. I've told you about that.
+And the 'Rurales' cleaned us up all right. A girl saved my life. Instead
+of shootin' me against a mud wall, they put me to work on a railroad. I
+was there three years. I escaped at last and reached the coast, where I
+shipped for South America. It was the only way out, but all the while I
+was thinkin' of Mike McGuire and the copper mine. You know the rest,
+Pete&mdash;the Argentine deal that might of made me rich <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>an' how it fell
+through. Don't it beat Hell how the world bites the under dog!"</p>
+
+<p>"But why didn't you go back to America and fight your claim with
+McGuire?" asked Peter, aware of the sinister, missing passage in the
+story.</p>
+
+<p>Coast shot a sharp glance at his questioner.</p>
+
+<p>"There were two reasons&mdash;one of which you won't know. The other was that
+I couldn't. I was on the beach an' not too popular. The only ships out
+of Buenos Aires were for London. That was the easiest way back to
+America anyhow. So I shipped as a cattle hand. And there you are. I
+lived easy in London. That's me. Easy come easy go. There it was I wrote
+a man I knew out in Bisbee&mdash;the feller that helped stake us&mdash;and he
+answered me that McGuire was dead, and that the mine was a flivver&mdash;too
+far away to work. You see he must of showed the letter to McGuire, and
+McGuire told him what to write. That threw me off the track. I forgot
+him and went to France...."</p>
+
+<p>Coast paused while he filled his glass again.</p>
+
+<p>"It wasn't until I reached New York that I found out McGuire was alive.
+It was just a chance while I was plannin' another deal. I took it. I
+hunted around the brokers' offices where they sell copper stocks. It
+didn't take me long to find that my mine was the 'Tarantula.' McGuire
+had developed it with capital from Denver, built a narrow gauge in. Then
+after a while had sold out his share for more than half a million
+clear."</p>
+
+<p>Peter was studying Coast keenly, thinking hard. But the story held with
+what he already knew of the man's history.</p>
+
+<p>"That's when Mike McGuire tacked the 'Jonathan K.' onto his name," Coast
+went on. "And that money's mine, the good half of it. Figure it out for
+yourself. Say five hundred thou, eight per cent, fifteen years&mdash;I
+reckon <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>I could worry along on that even if he wouldn't do better&mdash;which
+he will.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Pete&mdash;to shorten up&mdash;I found McGuire was here&mdash;in New York&mdash;and I
+laid for him. I watched for a while and then one day I got my nerve up
+and tackled him on the street. You ought to of seen his face when I told
+him who I was and what I'd come for. We were in the crowd at Broadway
+and Wall, people all about us. He started the 'high and mighty' stuff
+for a minute until I crumpled him up with a few facts. I thought he was
+goin' to have a stroke for a minute, when I made my brace for the five
+thou&mdash;then he turned tail and ran into the crowd pale as death. I lost
+him then. But it didn't matter. I'd find him again. I knew where his
+office was&mdash;and his hotel. It was dead easy. But he beat it down here.
+It took me awhile to pick up the trail. But here I am, Pete&mdash;here I
+am&mdash;safe in harbor at last."</p>
+
+<p>Coast took the bills out of his pocket and slowly counted them again.</p>
+
+<p>"And when you come back from the West, what will you do?" asked Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, now you're talkin', Pete. I'm goin' to settle down and live
+respectable. I like this country around here. I came from Jersey, you
+know, in the first place. I might build a nice place&mdash;keep a few horses
+and automobiles and enjoy my old age&mdash;run over to gay Paree once a
+year&mdash;down to Monte Carlo in the season. Oh, I'd know how to <i>live</i> now.
+You bet you. I've seen 'em do it&mdash;those swells. They won't have anything
+on me. I'll live like a prince&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"On blackmail&mdash;&mdash;," said Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"See here, Pete&mdash;&mdash;!"</p>
+
+<p>"I meant it." Peter had risen and faced Coast coolly. "Blackmail! You
+can't tell me that if you had any legal claim on McGuire you couldn't
+prove it."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>"I mightn't be able to&mdash;&mdash;," he shrugged.</p>
+
+<p>"What is McGuire frightened about? Not about what he owes you. He could
+pay that ten times over. It's something else&mdash;something that happened
+out there at the mine that you dare not tell&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That I <i>won't</i> tell," laughed Coast disagreeably.</p>
+
+<p>"That you <i>dare</i> not tell&mdash;that McGuire dares not tell. Something that
+has to do with his strange message about the blood on the knife, and
+your placard about what you've got holding over him&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Right you are," sneered the other.</p>
+
+<p>"It's dirty money, I tell you&mdash;bloody money. I know it. And I know who
+you are, Jim Coast."</p>
+
+<p>Coast started up and thrust the roll deep into his trousers pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know anything," he growled.</p>
+
+<p>Peter got up too. His mind had followed Coast's extraordinary story, and
+so far as it had gone, believed it to be true. Peter wanted to know what
+had happened out there at the mine in the desert, but more than that he
+wanted to know how the destinies of this man affected Beth. And so the
+thought that had been growing in his mind now found quick utterance.</p>
+
+<p>"I know this&mdash;that you've come back to frighten McGuire, but you've also
+come back to bring misery and shame to others who've lived long in peace
+and happiness without you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What&mdash;&mdash;?" said Coast incredulously.</p>
+
+<p>"I know who you are. You're Ben Cameron," said Peter distinctly.</p>
+
+<p>The effect of this statement upon Jim Coast was extraordinary. He
+started back abruptly, overturning a chair, and fell rather than leaned
+against the bedpost&mdash;his eyes staring from a ghastly face.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>"What&mdash;what did&mdash;you say?" he gasped chokingly.</p>
+
+<p>"You're Ben Cameron," said Peter again.</p>
+
+<p>Coast put the fingers of one hand to his throat and straightened slowly,
+still staring at Peter. Then uneasily, haltingly, he made a sound in his
+throat that grew into a dry laugh&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Me&mdash;B-Ben Cameron! That's damn good. Me&mdash;Ben Cameron! Say, Pete,
+whatever put <i>that</i> into your head?"</p>
+
+<p>"The way you frightened the old woman at the kitchen door."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" Coast straightened in relief. "I get you. You've been talkin' to
+<i>her</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. What did you say to her?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I just gave her a message for McGuire. I reckon she gave it to him."</p>
+
+<p>"A message?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you needn't say you don't know, Pete. It didn't fetch him. So I put
+up the placard."</p>
+
+<p>Peter was now more bewildered than Coast. "Do you deny that you're Ben
+Cameron?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Coast pulled himself together and took up his coat.</p>
+
+<p>"Deny it? Sure! I'm not&mdash;not him&mdash;not Ben Cameron&mdash;not Ben Cameron.
+Don't I know who I am?" he shouted. Then he broke off with a violent
+gesture and took up his cap. "Enough of your damn questions, I say. I've
+told you what I've told you. You can believe it or not, as you choose.
+I'm Jim Coast to you or Hawk Kennedy, if you like, but don't you go
+throwin' any more of your dirty jokes my way. Understand?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter couldn't understand but he had had enough of the man. So he
+pointed toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Go," he ordered. "I've had enough of you&mdash;get out!"</p>
+
+<p>Coast walked a few paces toward the door, then paused and turned and
+held out his hand.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>"Oh, Hell, Pete. Don't let's you and me quarrel. You gave me a start
+back there. I'm sorry. Of course, you knew. You been good to me
+to-night. I'm obliged. I need you in my business. More'n ever."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, very well. Suit yourself," said Coast with a shrug. "There's plenty
+of time. I'll be back in a month or six weeks. Think it over. I've made
+you a nice offer&mdash;real money&mdash;to help me a bit. Take it or leave it, as
+you please. I'll get along without you, but I'd rather have you with me
+than against me."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm neither," said Peter. "I want nothing to do with it."</p>
+
+<p>Coast shrugged. "I'm sorry. Well, so long. I've got a horse back in the
+dunes. I'll take the milk train from Hammonton to Philadelphia. You
+won't tell, Pete?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night."</p>
+
+<p>Peter didn't even reply. And when the man had gone he opened the door
+and windows to let in the night air. The room had been defiled by the
+man's very presence. Ben Cameron? Beth's father? The thing seemed
+impossible, but every fact in Peter's knowledge pointed toward it. And
+yet what the meaning of Jim Coast's strange actions at the mention of
+his name? And what were the facts that Jim Coast <i>didn't</i> tell? What had
+happened at the mine that was too terrible even to speak about? What was
+the bond between these two men, which held the successful one in terror,
+and the other in silence? Something unspeakably vile. A hideous pact&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>The telephone bell jangled again. Peter rose and went to it. But he was
+in no humor to talk to McGuire.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello," he growled. "Yes&mdash;he's gone. I let him go. You told me to....
+Yes, he talked&mdash;a long while.... No. He won't be back for a month....
+We'll talk that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>over later.... No. Not to-night. I'm going to bed....
+No. Not until to-morrow. I've had about enough of this.... All right.
+Good-night."</p>
+
+<p>And Peter hung up the receiver, undressed and went to bed.</p>
+
+<p>It had been rather a full day for Peter.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+
+<h2>CONFESSION</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>In spite of his perplexities, Peter slept soundly and was only awakened
+by the jangling of the telephone bell. But Peter wanted to do a little
+thinking before he saw McGuire, and he wanted to ask the housekeeper a
+few questions, so he told McGuire that he would see him before ten
+o'clock. The curious part of the telephone conversation was that McGuire
+made no mention of the shooting. "H-m," said Peter to himself as he hung
+up, "going to ignore that trifling incident altogether, is he? Well,
+we'll see about that. It doesn't pay to be too clever, old cock." His
+pity for McGuire was no more. At the present moment Peter felt nothing
+for him except an abiding contempt which could hardly be modified by any
+subsequent revelations.</p>
+
+<p>Peter ran down to the creek in his bath robe and took a quick plunge,
+then returned, shaved and dressed while his coffee boiled, thinking with
+a fresh mind over the events and problems of the night before. Curiously
+enough, he found that he considered them more and more in their relation
+to Beth. Perhaps it was his fear for her happiness that laid stress on
+the probability that Jim Coast was Ben Cameron, Beth's father. How
+otherwise could Mrs. Bergen's terror be accounted for? And yet why had
+Coast been so perturbed at the mere mention of Ben Cameron's name? That
+was really strange. For a moment the man had stared at Peter as though
+he were seeing a ghost. If he <i>were</i> Ben Cameron, why shouldn't <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>he have
+acknowledged the fact? Here was the weak point in the armor of mystery.
+Peter had to admit that even while Coast was telling his story and the
+conviction was growing in Peter's mind that this was Beth's father, the
+very thought of Beth herself seemed to make the relationship grotesque.
+This Jim Coast, this picturesque blackguard who had told tales on the
+<i>Bermudian</i> that had brought a flush of shame even to Peter's
+cheeks&mdash;this degenerate, this scheming blackmailer&mdash;thief, perhaps
+murderer, too, the father of Beth! Incredible! The merest contact with
+such a man must defile, defame her. And yet if this were the fact, Coast
+would have a father's right to claim her, to drag her down, a prey to
+his vile tongue and drunken humors as she had once been when a child.
+Her Aunt Tillie feared this. And Aunt Tillie did not know as Peter now
+did of the existence of the vile secret that sealed Coast's lips and
+held McGuire's soul in bondage.</p>
+
+<p>Instead of going directly up the lawn to the house Peter went along the
+edge of the woods to the garage and then up the path, as Coast must have
+done a few nights before. The housekeeper was in the pantry and there
+Peter sought her out. He noted the startled look in her eyes at the
+moment he entered the room and then the line of resolution into which
+her mouth was immediately drawn. So Peter chose a roundabout way of
+coming to his subject.</p>
+
+<p>"I wanted to talk to you about Beth, Mrs. Bergen," he began cheerfully.
+She offered him a chair but Peter leaned against the windowsill looking
+out into the gray morning. He told her what he had discovered about her
+niece's voice, that he himself had been educated in music and that he
+thought every opportunity should be given Beth to have her voice
+trained.</p>
+
+<p>He saw that Mrs. Bergen was disarmed for the moment <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>as to the real
+purpose of his visit and he went on to tell her just what had happened
+at the Cabin with Shad Wells the day before, and asking her, as Beth's
+only guardian, for permission to carry out his plan to teach her all
+that he knew, after which he hoped it would be possible for her to go to
+New York for more advanced training.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bergen listened in wonder, gasping at the tale of Shad Wells's
+undoing, which Peter asked her to keep in confidence. From Mrs. Bergen's
+comments he saw that she took little stock in Shad, who had been
+bothering Beth for two years or more, and that her own love for the girl
+amounted to a blind adoration which could see no fault in anything that
+she might do. It was clear that she was delighted with the opportunities
+Peter offered, for she had always known that Beth sang "prettier than
+anybody in the world." As to going to the Cabin for the lessons, that
+was nobody's business but Beth's. She was twenty-two&mdash;and able to look
+out for herself.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm an old woman, Mr. Nichols," she concluded timidly, "an' I've seen a
+lot of trouble, one kind or another, but I ain't often mistaken in my
+judgments. I know Beth. She ain't nobody's fool. And if she likes you,
+you ought to be glad of it. If she's willin' to come to your cabin, I'm
+willin' that she should go there&mdash;no matter who don't like it or why.
+She can look after herself&mdash;aye, better than I can look after her." She
+sighed. And then with some access of spirit, "You're different from most
+of the folks around here, but I don't see nothin' wrong with you. If you
+say you want to help Beth, I'm willin' to believe you. But if I thought
+you meant her any harm&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She broke off and stared at him with her mild eyes under brows meant to
+be severe.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you don't want to think that, Mrs. Bergen," said Peter gently.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>"No. I don't want to. Beth don't take up with every Tom, Dick and Harry.
+And if she likes you, I reckon she knows what's she's about."</p>
+
+<p>"I want to help her to make something of herself," said Peter calmly.
+"And I know I can. Beth is a very unusual girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you suppose I know that? She always was. She ain't the same as
+the rest of us down here. She always wanted to learn. Even now when
+she's through school, she's always readin'&mdash;always."</p>
+
+<p>"That's it. She ought to complete her education. That's what I mean. I
+want to help her to be a great singer. I can do it if you'll let me."</p>
+
+<p>"Where's the money comin' from?" sighed Mrs. Bergen.</p>
+
+<p>"No need to bother about that, yet. I can give her a beginning, if you
+approve. After that&mdash;&mdash;" Peter paused a moment and then, "We'll see," he
+finished.</p>
+
+<p>He was somewhat amazed at the length to which his subconscious thought
+was carrying him, for his spoken words could infer nothing less than his
+undertaking at his own expense the completion of the girl's education.
+The housekeeper's exclamation quickly brought him to a recognition of
+his meaning.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean&mdash;that <i>you</i>&mdash;&mdash;!" she halted and looked at him over her
+glasses in wonder.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said blandly, aware of an irrevocable step. "I do, Mrs.
+Bergen."</p>
+
+<p>"My land!" she exclaimed. And then again as though in echo, "My land!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's one of the reasons why I've come here to you to-day," he went on
+quickly. "I want to help Beth and I want to help <i>you</i>. I know that
+everything isn't going right for you at Black Rock House. I've been
+drawn more deeply into&mdash;into McGuire's affairs than I expected to be and
+I've learned a great many things that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>aren't any business of mine. And
+one of the things I've learned is that your peace of mind and Beth's
+happiness are threatened by the things that are happening around you."</p>
+
+<p>The housekeeper had risen and stood leaning against the dresser,
+immediately on her guard.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Bergen," he went on firmly, "there's no use of trying to evade
+this issue&mdash;because it's here! I know more than you think I do. I'm
+trying to get at the root of this mystery because of Beth. You told me
+the other night that Beth's happiness was involved when that stranger
+came to the kitchen porch&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," gasped the woman. "Don't ask me. I'll tell you nothin'."</p>
+
+<p>"You saw this man&mdash;outside the kitchen door in the dark," he insisted.
+"You talked with him&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;no. Don't ask me, Mr. Nichols."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you tell me what he said? I saw him last night&mdash;talked with him
+for an hour&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>You</i>&mdash;talked&mdash;with him!" she gasped in alarm. And then, haltingly,
+"What did he say to you? What did he do? Is he coming back?"</p>
+
+<p>She was becoming more disturbed and nervous, so Peter brought a chair
+and made her sit in it.</p>
+
+<p>"No. He's not coming back&mdash;not for a month or more," he replied
+reassuringly. "But if I'm to help you, I've got to know something more
+about him, and for Beth's sake you've got to help me." And then quietly,
+"Mrs. Bergen, was this man who came to the kitchen door, Ben Cameron,
+Beth's father?"</p>
+
+<p>"My God!" said the housekeeper faintly, putting her face in her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you tell me just what happened?" Peter asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I'm scared, Mr. Nichols," she groaned. "The whole thing has been too
+much for me&mdash;knowin' how scared Mr. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>McGuire is too. I can't understand,
+I can't even&mdash;think&mdash;no more."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me do your thinking for you. Tell me what happened the other night,
+Mrs. Bergen."</p>
+
+<p>The woman raised a pallid face, her colorless eyes blinking up at him
+beseechingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," he whispered. "It can do no possible harm."</p>
+
+<p>She glanced pitifully at him once more and then haltingly told her
+story.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I was sittin' in the kitchen there, the night of the supper
+party&mdash;by the door&mdash;restin' and tryin' to get cool&mdash;when&mdash;when a knock
+come on the door-jamb outside. It sounded queer&mdash;the door bein'
+open&mdash;an' my nerves bein' shook sorter with the goin's on here. But I
+went to the door an' leaned out. There was a man standin' in the
+shadow&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bergen paused in a renewed difficulty of breathing.</p>
+
+<p>"And then&mdash;&mdash;?" Peter urged.</p>
+
+<p>"He&mdash;he leaned forward toward me an' spoke rough-like. 'You're the cook,
+ain't you?' he says. I was that scared I&mdash;I couldn't say nothin'. An' he
+went on. 'You tell McGuire to meet me at the end of the lawn to-morrow
+night.'"</p>
+
+<p>"And what did you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin'. I couldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"What else did he tell you?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bergen bent her head but went on with an effort.</p>
+
+<p>"He says, 'Tell McGuire Ben&mdash;Ben Cameron's come back.'"</p>
+
+<p>"I see. And you were more frightened than ever?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. More frightened&mdash;terrible. I didn't know what to do. I mumbled
+somethin'. Then you an' Beth come in&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>"And <i>was</i> it Ben Cameron that you saw?"</p>
+
+<p>The poor creature raised her gaze to Peter's again.</p>
+
+<p>"B-Ben Cameron? Who else could it 'a' been? An' I thought he was dead,
+Mr. Nichols&mdash;years ago."</p>
+
+<p>"You didn't recognize him, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I don't know. It was all so sudden&mdash;like seein' a corpse&mdash;speakin'
+that name."</p>
+
+<p>"He wore a short beard?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But Ben Cameron was smooth shaved."</p>
+
+<p>"Did Ben Cameron have any distinguishing mark&mdash;anything you could
+remember him by?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Ben Cameron's little finger of his left hand was missin'&mdash;&mdash;. But
+of course, Mr. Nichols, I couldn't see nothin' in the dark."</p>
+
+<p>"No, of course," said Peter with a gasp of relief. "But his voice&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was gruff&mdash;hoarse&mdash;whisperin'-like."</p>
+
+<p>"Was the Ben Cameron you knew, your brother-in-law&mdash;was he tall?"</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated, her brows puckering.</p>
+
+<p>"That's what bothered me some. Beth's father wasn't over tall&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I see," Peter broke in eagerly, "and this man was tall&mdash;about my
+size&mdash;with a hook nose&mdash;black eyes and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I&mdash;I couldn't see his face," she muttered helplessly. "The night
+was too dark."</p>
+
+<p>"But you wouldn't swear it was Ben Cameron?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked up at him in a new bewilderment. "But who else could it 'a'
+been&mdash;sayin' that name&mdash;givin' that message?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter rubbed his chin thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Queer, isn't it? I don't wonder that you were alarmed&mdash;especially for
+Beth, knowing the kind of man he was."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>"It's terrible, Mr. Nichols. A man like Ben Cameron never gets made
+over. He's bad clear through. If you only knew&mdash;&mdash;" Mrs. Bergen's pale
+eyes seemed to be looking back into the past. "He means no good to
+Beth&mdash;that's what frightens me. He could take her away from me. She's
+his daughter&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;don't worry," said Peter at last. "We'll find a way to protect
+you." And then, "Of course you didn't take that message to McGuire?" he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, no&mdash;Mr. Nichols. I couldn't. I'd 'a' died first. But what does it
+all mean? <i>Him</i> bein' scared of Ben Cameron, too. I can't make it
+out&mdash;though I've thought and thought until I couldn't think no more."</p>
+
+<p>She was on the point of tears now, so Peter soothed her gently.</p>
+
+<p>"Leave this to me, Mrs. Bergen." And then, "You haven't said anything of
+this to any one?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a soul&mdash;I&mdash;I was hopin' it might 'a' been just a dream."</p>
+
+<p>Peter was silent for a moment, gazing out of the window and thinking
+deeply.</p>
+
+<p>"No. It wasn't a dream," he said quietly at last. "You saw a man by the
+kitchen door, and he gave you the message about Ben Cameron, <i>but the
+man you saw wasn't Ben Cameron</i>, Mrs. Bergen, because, unless I'm very
+much mistaken, Ben Cameron is dead&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"How do you&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"He didn't die when you thought he did, Mrs. Bergen&mdash;but later. I can't
+tell you how. It's only a guess. But I'm beginning to see a light in
+this affair&mdash;and I'm going to follow it until I find the truth. Good-by.
+Don't worry."</p>
+
+<p>And Peter, with a last pat on the woman's shoulder and an encouraging
+smile, went out of the door and into the house.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>Eagerly Peter's imagination was trying to fill the gap in Jim Coast's
+story, and his mind, now intent upon the solution of the mystery, groped
+before him up the stair. And what it saw was the burning Gila Desert ...
+the mine among the rocks&mdash;"lousy" with outcroppings of ore ... "Mike"
+McGuire and "Hawk" Kennedy, devious in their ways, partners in a vile
+conspiracy....</p>
+
+<p>But Peter's demeanor was careless when Stryker admitted him to McGuire's
+room and his greeting in reply to McGuire's was casual enough to put his
+employer off his guard. After a moment's hesitation McGuire sent the
+valet out and went himself and closed and locked the door. Peter refused
+his cigar, lighting one of his own cigarettes, and sank into the chair
+his host indicated. After the first words Peter knew that his surmise
+had been correct and that his employer meant to deny all share in the
+shooting of the night before.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," began the old man, with a glance at the door, "what did he say?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter shook his head judicially. He had already decided on the direction
+which this conversation must take.</p>
+
+<p>"No. It won't do, Mr. McGuire," he said calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Merely that before we talk of what Hawk Kennedy said to me, we'll
+discuss your reasons for unnecessarily putting my life in danger&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"This shooting you've spoken of&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"This attempted <i>murder</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"You're dreaming."</p>
+
+<p>Peter laughed at him. "You'll be telling me in a moment that you didn't
+hear the shots." And then, leaning forward so that he stared deep into
+his employer's eyes, "See here, Mr. McGuire, I'm not to be trifled with.
+I know too much of your affairs&mdash;more than you think I do&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>"He talked&mdash;&mdash;?" McGuire's poise was slipping from him.</p>
+
+<p>"One moment, if you please. I want this thing perfectly understood. Your
+arrangements were cleverly made&mdash;changing the guards&mdash;your instructions
+to me&mdash;the flashlight and all the rest. You didn't want to kill me if
+you could help it. I'm obliged for this consideration. You forgot that
+your hand isn't as steady now as it was when you were a dead shot out in
+Arizona&mdash;Ah! I see that you already understand what I mean."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire had started forward in his chair, his face livid.</p>
+
+<p>"You know&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. More than I wanted to know&mdash;more than I would ever have known if
+you'd played fair with me. You cared nothing for my life. You shot,
+twice, missed killing your man and then when the light went out, sneaked
+away like the coward that you are&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"D&mdash;&mdash;n you," croaked McGuire feebly, falling back in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Leaving me to the mercies of your ancient enemy in the dark&mdash;who
+thought <i>me</i> your accomplice. You can hardly blame him under the
+circumstances. But I got the best of him&mdash;luckily for me, and disarmed
+him. If you had remained a few moments longer you might have taken part
+in our very interesting conversation. Do you still deny all this?"</p>
+
+<p>McGuire, stifled with his fear and fury, was incapable of a reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Very good. So long as we understand each other thus far, perhaps you
+will permit me to go on. As you know, I came to you in good faith. I
+wanted to help you in any way that a gentleman could do. Last night you
+tricked me, and put my life in danger. If you had killed Kennedy
+everything would have been all right for <i>you</i>. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>And I would have been
+accused of the killing. If <i>I</i> had been killed no harm would have been
+done at all. That was your idea. It was a clever little scheme. Pity it
+didn't work out."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire's faltering courage was coming back.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on!" he muttered desperately.</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks," said Peter, "I will. One shot of yours scraped Kennedy's
+shoulder. He was bleeding badly, so I took him to the Cabin and fixed
+him up. He was rather grateful. He ought to have been. I gave him a
+drink too&mdash;several drinks. You said he wouldn't talk, but he did."</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>made</i> him talk, d&mdash;&mdash;n you," McGuire broke in hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>"No. He volunteered to talk. I may say, he insisted upon it. You see, I
+happened to have the gentleman's acquaintance&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;&mdash;!"</p>
+
+<p>"We met on the steamer coming over when we were escaping from Russia.
+His name was Jim Coast then. He was a waiter in the dining saloon. So
+was I. Funny, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>To McGuire it seemed far from that, for at this revelation his jaw
+dropped and he stared at Peter as though the entire affair were beyond
+his comprehension.</p>
+
+<p>"You knew him! A waiter, <i>you</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Misfortune makes strange bedfellows. It was either that or
+starvation. I preferred to wait."</p>
+
+<p>"For&mdash;for the love of God&mdash;go on," growled McGuire. His hands were
+clutching the chair arm and there was madness in his shifting eyes, so
+Peter watched him keenly.</p>
+
+<p>"I will. He told me how you and he had worked together out in Colorado,
+up in the San Luis valley, of the gold prospect near Wagon Wheel Gap, of
+its <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>failure&mdash;how you met again in Pueblo and then went down into the
+copper country&mdash;Bisbee, Arizona."</p>
+
+<p>Peter had no pity now. He saw McGuire straighten again in his chair, his
+gaze shifting past Peter from left to right like a trapped animal. His
+fingers groped along the chair arms, along the table edge, trembling,
+eager but uncertain. But the sound of Peter's narrative seemed to
+fascinate&mdash;to hypnotize him.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on&mdash;&mdash;!" he whispered hoarsely. "Go on!"</p>
+
+<p>"You got an outfit and went out into the Gila Desert," continued Peter,
+painting his picture leisurely, deliberately. "It was horrible&mdash;the
+heat, the sand, the rocks&mdash;but you weren't going to fail this time.
+There was going to be something at the end of this terrible pilgrimage
+to repay you for all that you suffered, you and Hawk Kennedy. There was
+no water, but what you carried on your pack-mules&mdash;no water within a
+hundred miles, nothing but sand and rocks and the heat. No chance at all
+for a man, alone without a horse, in that desert. You saw the bones of
+men and animals bleaching along the trail. That was the death that
+awaited any man&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You lie!"</p>
+
+<p>Peter sprang for the tortured man as McGuire's fingers closed on
+something in the open drawer of the table, but Peter twisted the weapon
+quickly out of his hand and threw it in the corner of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"You fool," he whispered quickly as he pinioned McGuire in his chair,
+"do you want to add another murder to what's on your conscience?"</p>
+
+<p>But McGuire had already ceased to resist him. Peter hadn't been too
+gentle with him. The man had collapsed. A glance at his face showed his
+condition. So Peter poured out a glass of whisky and water which he
+poured between his employer's gaping lips. Then he waited, watching the
+old man. He seemed really old now <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>to Peter, a hundred at least, for his
+sagging facial muscles seemed to reveal the lines of every event in his
+life&mdash;an old man, though scarcely sixty, yet broken and helpless. He
+came around slowly, his heavy gaze slowly seeking Peter's.</p>
+
+<p>"What&mdash;what are you going to do?" he managed at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. I'm no blackmailer." And then, playing his high card, "I've
+heard what Hawk said about Ben Cameron," said Peter. "Now tell me the
+truth."</p>
+
+<p>At the sound of the name McGuire started and then his eyes closed for a
+moment.</p>
+
+<p>"You know&mdash;everything," he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, <i>his</i> side," Peter lied. "What's yours?"</p>
+
+<p>McGuire managed to haul himself upright in his chair, staring up at
+Peter with bloodshot eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"He's lied to you, if he said I done it&mdash;&mdash;," he gasped, relapsing into
+the vernacular of an earlier day. "It was Hawk. He stabbed him in the
+back. I never touched him. I never had a thing to do with the killin'. I
+swear it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Peter's lips set in a thin line.</p>
+
+<p>"So Hawk Kennedy killed Ben Cameron!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"He did. I swear to God&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And then <i>you</i> cleared out with all the water, leaving Hawk to die.
+<i>That</i> was murder&mdash;cold-blooded murder&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My God, don't, Nichols!" the old man moaned. "If you only knew&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then&mdash;tell me the truth."</p>
+
+<p>Their glances met. Peter's was compelling. He had, when he chose, an air
+of command. And there was something else in Peter's look, inflexible as
+it was, that gave McGuire courage, an unalterable honesty which had been
+so far tried and not found wanting.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>"You know&mdash;already," he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me your story," said Peter bluntly.</p>
+
+<p>There was a long moment of hesitation, and then,</p>
+
+<p>"Get me a drink, Nichols. I'll trust you. I've never told it to a living
+man. I'll tell&mdash;I'll tell it all. It may not be as bad as you think."</p>
+
+<p>He drank the liquor at a gulp and set the glass down on the table beside
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"This&mdash;this thing has been hanging over me for fifteen years,
+Nichols&mdash;fifteen years. It's weighted me down, made an old man of me
+before my time. Maybe it will help me to tell somebody. It's made me
+hard&mdash;silent, busy with my own affairs, bitter against every man who
+could hold his head up. I knew it was going to come some day. I knew it.
+You can't pull anything like that and get away with it forever. I'd made
+the money for my kids&mdash;I never had any fun spending it in my life. I'm a
+lonely man, Nichols. I always was. No happiness except when I came back
+to my daughters&mdash;to Peggy and my poor Marjorie...."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire was silent for a moment and Peter, not taking his gaze from his
+face, patiently waited. McGuire glanced at him just once and then went
+on, slipping back from time to time into the speech of a bygone day.</p>
+
+<p>"I never knew what his first name was. He was always just 'Hawk' to us
+boys on the range. Hawk Kennedy was a bad lot. I knew it up there in the
+San Luis valley but I wasn't no angel from Heaven myself. And he had a
+way with him. We got on all right together. But when the gold mine up at
+the Gap petered out he quit me&mdash;got beaten up in a fight about a woman.
+I didn't see him for some years, when he showed up in Pueblo, where I
+was workin' in a smelter. He was all for goin' South into the copper
+country. He had some money&mdash;busted a faro bank he said, and talked big
+about the fortune he was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>goin' to make. Ah, he could talk, when he had
+something on his mind.... I had some money saved up too and so I quit my
+job and went with him down to Bisbee, Arizona. I wish to God I never
+had. I'd gotten pretty well straightened out up in Pueblo, sendin' money
+East to the wife and all&mdash;&mdash;. But I wanted to be rich. I was forty-five
+and I had to hurry. But I could do it yet. Maybe this was my chance.
+That's the way I thought. That's why I happened to listen to Hawk
+Kennedy and his tales of the copper country.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we got an outfit in Bisbee and set out along the Mexican border.
+We had a tip that let us out into the desert. It was just a tip, that's
+all. But it was worth following up. It was about this man Ben Cameron.
+He'd come into town all alone, get supplies and then go out again next
+day. He let slip something over the drink one night. That was the tip we
+were followin' up. We struck his trail all right&mdash;askin' questions of
+greasers and Indians. We knew he'd found somethin' good or he wouldn't
+have been so quiet about it.</p>
+
+<p>"I swear to God, I had no idea of harmin' him. I wanted to find what Ben
+Cameron had found, stake out near him and get what I could. Maybe Hawk
+Kennedy had a different idea even then. I don't know. He never said what
+he was thinkin' about.</p>
+
+<p>"We found Ben Cameron. Perched up in a hill of rocks, he was, livin' in
+the hole he'd dug where he'd staked his claim. But we knew he hadn't
+taken out any papers. He never thought anybody'd find him out there in
+that Hell-hole. It was Hell all right. Even now whenever I think of what
+Hell must be I think of what that gulch looked like. Just rocks and
+alkali dust and heat.</p>
+
+<p>"It all comes back to me. Every little thing that was said and
+done&mdash;every word. Ben Cameron saw us first&mdash;and when we came up, he was
+sittin' on a rock, his rifle <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>acrost his knees, a hairy man, thin,
+burnt-out, black as a greaser. Hawk Kennedy passed the time of day, but
+Ben Cameron only cursed at him and waved us off. 'Get the Hell out of
+here,' he says&mdash;ugly. But we only laughed at him&mdash;for didn't we both see
+the kind of an egg Ben Cameron was settin' on?</p>
+
+<p>"'Don't be pokin' jokes at the Gila Desert, my little man,' say Hawk,
+polite as you please. 'It's Hell that's here and here it will remain.'
+And then we said we were short of water&mdash;which we were not&mdash;and had he
+any to spare? But he waved us on with his rifle, never sayin' a word. So
+we moved down the gulch a quarter of a mile and went into camp. There
+was ore here, too, but nothin' like what Ben Cameron had.</p>
+
+<p>"Hawk was quiet that night&mdash;creepin' about among the rocks, but he
+didn't say what was on his mind. In the mornin' he started off to talk
+to Ben Cameron an' I went with him. The man was still sittin' on his
+rock, with the rifle over his knees&mdash;been there all night, I reckon. But
+he let us come to hailin' distance.</p>
+
+<p>"'Nice claim you got there, pardner,' says Hawk.</p>
+
+<p>"'Is it?' says he.</p>
+
+<p>"'Ain't you afraid of rubbin' some o' that verdigris off onto your
+pants,' says Hawk.</p>
+
+<p>"'They're my pants,' says Cameron. 'You ain't here for any good. Get
+out!' And he brings his rifle to his hip. We saw he was scared all
+right, maybe not so much at what we'd do to him as at sharin' what he'd
+found.</p>
+
+<p>"'The Gila Desert ain't <i>all</i> yours, is it, pardner? Or maybe you got a
+mortgage on the earth!' says Hawk, very polite. 'You ain't got no
+objection to our stakin' alongside of you, have you? Come along, now.
+Let's be neighbors. We see what you've got. That's all right. We'll take
+your leavin's. We've got a right to them.'</p>
+
+<p>"And so after a while of palaverin' with him, he lets us <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>come up and
+look over his claim. It didn't take any eye at all to see what he'd got.
+He wasn't much of a man&mdash;Ben Cameron&mdash;weak-eyed, rum-dum&mdash;poor too. You
+could see that by his outfit&mdash;worse off than we were. Hawk told him we
+had a lot of friends with money&mdash;big money in the East. Maybe we could
+work it to run a railroad out to tap the whole ridge. That kind of got
+him and we found he had no friends in this part of the country&mdash;so we
+sat down to grub together, Ben Cameron, like me, unsuspectin' of what
+was to happen.</p>
+
+<p>"My God, Nichols, I can see it all like it had happened yesterday. Hawk
+Kennedy stood up as though to look around and then before I knew what he
+was about had struck Ben Cameron in the back with his knife.</p>
+
+<p>"It was all over in a minute. Ben Cameron reached for his gun but before
+his hand got to it he toppled over sideways and lay quiet.</p>
+
+<p>"I started up to my feet but Hawk had me covered and I knew from what
+had happened that he'd shoot, too.</p>
+
+<p>"'Don't make a fuss,' he says. 'Give me your gun.' I knew he had me to
+rights and I did what he said. 'Now,' he says, 'it's yours and mine.'"</p>
+
+<p>McGuire made a motion toward the glass. Peter filled it for him and he
+drank.</p>
+
+<p>"And then&mdash;what happened?" asked Peter quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"Hawk Kennedy had me dead to rights. There was only one thing to do&mdash;to
+make believe I was 'with him.' We buried Ben Cameron, then went down and
+brought our outfit up, Hawk watchin' me all the while. He'd taken my gun
+and Ben Cameron's and unloaded them and carried all the ammunition about
+him. But I didn't know what I was in for. That night he made me sit down
+while he drew up a paper, torn from an old note book of Ben Cameron's&mdash;a
+partnership agreement, a contract."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire broke off suddenly and got up, moving <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>nervously to the safe,
+from one of the drawers of which he took a blue linen envelope and
+brought forth a paper which he handed to Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the hellish thing, Nichols," he said hoarsely. "That's why I'm
+afraid of Hawk Kennedy. A lie that he forced me to sign! And there's
+another paper like this in his possession. Read it, Nichols."</p>
+
+<p>Peter took the paper in his fingers and looked at it curiously. It was
+soiled and worn, broken at the edges, written over in lead pencil, but
+still perfectly legible.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>AGREEMENT BETWEEN HAWK KENNEDY AND MIKE McGUIRE</p>
+
+<p>Us two found Ben Cameron on his copper claim in Madre Gulch.
+We killed him. Both of us had a hand in it. This mine is
+Hawk Kennedy's and Mike McGuire's and we are pardners in the
+same until death us do part, so help us God.</p>
+
+<p>
+(Signed) <span class="smcap">Mike McGuire.</span><br />
+<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Hawk Kennedy.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"He wanted it on me&mdash;&mdash;" McGuire gasped. "You see? To keep me quiet."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand," said Peter. "This is 'what you've got and what I've got'
+referred to in the placard."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said McGuire. "A partnership agreement and a confession&mdash;of
+something I didn't do."</p>
+
+<p>Peter's eyes were searching him through and through.</p>
+
+<p>"You swear it?"</p>
+
+<p>McGuire held up his right hand and met Peter's gaze without flinching.</p>
+
+<p>"Before God, I do."</p>
+
+<p>Peter was silent for a moment, thinking.</p>
+
+<p>"And then, you left Hawk Kennedy there to die," he said slowly, watching
+the man.</p>
+
+<p>McGuire sank into his chair with a sigh, the perspiration now beaded on
+his pale forehead.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know what to do, I tell you," he almost <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>whispered. "He had
+me. I was unarmed. I'd 'a' killed him if I'd had a gun. But I waited a
+few days after we buried Cameron&mdash;makin' believe I was satisfied with
+everything and he believed me, and at last he fell asleep tired with
+keepin' watch on me. He was all in. I bored holes in Ben Cameron's
+barrels, lettin' the water out down the rocks, then took the three
+horses and the mules with all the water that was left and got away
+before he woke up.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a terrible thing to do, Nichols&mdash;call it murder if you like. But
+it served him right. It was comin' to him&mdash;and I got away with it. At
+first when I reached water I had a thought of goin' back&mdash;to save him
+before he died&mdash;to get that paper I couldn't get that was inside his
+shirt."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire leaned forward, his face in his hands for a moment, trying to
+finish.</p>
+
+<p>"But I didn't go back, Nichols. I didn't go back. That's the crime I'm
+payin' for now&mdash;not the other&mdash;not the murder of Ben Cameron&mdash;I didn't
+do that&mdash;the murder of Hawk Kennedy&mdash;who has come back."</p>
+
+<p>"What happened then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I turned Ben Cameron's horse and burros loose where there was water and
+grass and went on to Bisbee. I told them my buddy had died of a fever. I
+thought he had by now. They didn't ask any questions. I was safe. The
+rest was easy. I filed a claim, found some real money and told what I'd
+found. I waited a month, then went back to Madre Gulch with Bill Munroe,
+the fellow that helped stake us. There was no one there. We searched the
+rocks and plains for miles around for signs of Hawk Kennedy's body, for
+we knew he couldn't have got far in that heat without water. But we
+found nothin'. Hawk Kennedy had disappeared."</p>
+
+<p>"Then," said Peter, "you built a railroad in and sold out for half a
+million dollars&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>McGuire looked up, mystified.</p>
+
+<p>"Or thereabouts," he muttered. "But Hawk Kennedy was alive. I found that
+out later when he wrote from London. We steered him off the track. But I
+knew he'd come back some day with that paper I'd signed. That's what's
+been hangin' over me. An' now it's fallen. I've told you the truth. I
+had to. You believe me, don't you?" he asked appealingly.</p>
+
+<p>Peter had watched him keenly. There seemed little doubt that what he
+told was the truth. There was no flaw in the tale.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said after a pause. "I believe you've told me the truth. But
+you can hardly blame Hawk Kennedy, murderer though he is, for hating you
+and wanting what he thinks is his."</p>
+
+<p>"No. That's true."</p>
+
+<p>"And you can't blame me for being angry at the trick you played me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I was desperate. I've been desperate since I saw him in New York.
+Sometimes I've been a bit queer, I reckon&mdash;thinkin' about Peggy hearin'
+this. I wanted to kill him. It was a good chance last night. Nobody
+would have blamed me, after his being around the place. It was an easy
+shot&mdash;but my hand wasn't steady&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Pity you didn't know that before you put me in danger."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, Nichols&mdash;sorry. I'll do anything you like. What do you want
+me to do?"</p>
+
+<p>Instead of replying at once Peter took out a cigarette and lighted it
+carefully. And then,</p>
+
+<p>"You've never taken the trouble to make any inquiries as to the
+whereabouts of the family of Ben Cameron?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>The old man shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>"I was afraid to ask."</p>
+
+<p>"I see. Don't you think it's about time you did? It's <i>his</i> money that
+made your fortune."</p>
+
+<p>"He was no good. Nobody knew him. So far as I ever heard, nobody ever
+asked about him."</p>
+
+<p>"Nevertheless he must have had some friends somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe. I don't know. I'm willing to help them if I can, providing this
+thing can be kept quiet." And then, pleadingly, "You're not going to
+talk&mdash;to use it against me, Nichols?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter's pity for McGuire had come back. The man's terror, his
+desperation of the past weeks had burned him out, worn him to a shell.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I'm not going to talk. Hawk Kennedy didn't dare tell what you've
+told me. That's why I believe you."</p>
+
+<p>"And you'll stay on here and help me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;&mdash;We'll see how we can balk Hawk Kennedy."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll pay him fifty thousand&mdash;a hundred thousand&mdash;for that
+agreement&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a dollar. I've got a better use for your money than that."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire thought Peter referred to the necessary improvements of the
+estate. But Peter had another idea in mind.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+
+<h2>THE CHASE</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>Peter had discovered the means of providing for Beth's musical
+education. Upon inquiry he had found that McGuire hardly knew Beth
+except as a dependent relative of Mrs. Bergen, who came in sometimes to
+help her aunt with the cleaning&mdash;usually before McGuire came down from
+New York. Their little home was not on his visiting list.</p>
+
+<p>He delayed telling McGuire. There was plenty of time and there was no
+doubt of his employer's doing the right thing by the daughter of the
+murdered man. Meanwhile, having completed his plans for the estate, he
+had suggested that McGuire go off for a trip somewhere to rest and
+recover his poise. Peter had promised his allegiance to McGuire when
+Hawk Kennedy returned, but he knew that he would have to fight fire with
+fire. For Hawk had proved himself both skillful and dangerous, and would
+struggle desperately to get what he thought was his own. It was his last
+chance to make a big stake&mdash;to be independent for the rest of his life.
+He was tasting luxury now and wouldn't give up without a fight to the
+death. Something must be thought of&mdash;some plan to outwit him, to
+circumvent the schemes which would come out of his visit of
+investigation to the copper country.</p>
+
+<p>Peter had said nothing to Beth or to Mrs. Cameron of what he had
+discovered. He was under no oath of secrecy to the old man, but he
+realized that while Hawk Kennedy held the "confession" McGuire was in a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>predicament which would only be made more difficult if the facts got
+abroad. And so Peter had gone about his work silently, aware that the
+burden of McGuire's troubles had been suddenly shifted to his own
+shoulders. He spent most of his days at the lumber camp and now had
+every detail of the business at his fingers' ends. Timbers had been
+hauled to the appointed sites and under his direction the fire towers
+were now half way to completion.</p>
+
+<p>He had found Shad Wells down at the mills, morose, sullen and disposed
+to question his authority, but McGuire had visited the bunk-house one
+night before he went away, and it was soon discovered that Peter and no
+other was the boss of the job. Peter for reasons of his own retained
+Shad, much to that gentleman's surprise, as foreman of the lumbering
+gang, but Peter wasn't at all satisfied with conditions as he had found
+them at the lumber camp and mills and, as he discovered later, the
+continuance of Shad in the foreman's job was a mistake. If Peter had
+hoped by this act of conciliation to heal Shad's wounds and bring about
+a spirit of useful co&ouml;peration with the man, he soon found that the very
+reverse of this had been accomplished. The lumbermen were an
+unregenerate lot, some of them "pineys," a few Italians, but most of
+them the refuse of the factories and shipyards, spoiled by the fatal
+"cost plus" contracts of war time. All of these facts Peter learned
+slowly, aware of an undercurrent moving against him and yet entirely
+dependent upon this labor&mdash;which was the best, indeed the only labor, to
+be had. He made some improvements in the bunk-house for their comfort,
+increased the supply of food and posted notices that all complaints of
+whatever nature would be promptly investigated. But day after day new
+stories came to him of shirking, of dissatisfaction and continued
+trouble-making.</p>
+
+<p>This labor trouble was no new thing at Black Rock, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>and had existed
+practically since the beginning of the work on the lumber contract six
+months before Peter had been employed. But it was not long before Peter
+discovered through Jesse Brown, whose confidence he had gained, that
+there were agitators in the camp, undoubtedly receiving their
+inspiration and pay from sources inimical to all capital in the abstract
+and to all order and decency at Black Rock in the concrete, who were
+fomenting the unrest and dissatisfaction among the men. In order to
+investigate the difficulties personally Peter went down to the camp and
+lived there for a time, bunking with the men and listening to their
+stories, winning some of them to his side and tracing as far as he could
+the troubles to their sources, two men named Flynn and Jacobi. He
+discharged these two men and sent them out of the camp over Wells's
+protest. But even then he had a sense of failure. The trouble was deeper
+than was manifest upon the surface. No mere raise in wages would clear
+it away. It was born of the world's sickness, with which the men from
+the cities had been inoculated.</p>
+
+<p>One night while he sat in the bunk-house smoking a pipe and talking with
+Jesse Brown, Shad Wells suddenly appeared in the doorway, framed against
+the darkness. Shad's gaze and Peter's met&mdash;then Peter's glance turned to
+Shad's companion. As this man saw Peter he turned his head and went down
+the length of the bunk-house. Peter got up at once, followed him and
+faced him. The man now wore a dark beard, but there was no mistake. It
+was the fellow of the black mustache&mdash;the stranger whom Peter had seen
+in the Pennsylvania Station in New York, the same man he had caught
+prowling some weeks ago around his cabin in the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>Peter stared at him for a moment but the man would not meet his gaze.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you?" asked Peter at last. And then, as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>he made no reply,
+"What were you doing prowling around my cabin up by the creek?"</p>
+
+<p>The stranger shook his head from side to side.</p>
+
+<p>"No understan'," he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>At this point, Shad Wells, who had followed with Jesse Brown, came in
+between them.</p>
+
+<p>"That's right, Nichols," he growled. "No understan'&mdash;He's a 'guinea.'"
+To Wells all men were "guineas" who didn't speak his own language.</p>
+
+<p>"Italian? Are you? French? Spanish? Slovak?"</p>
+
+<p>Each time the man shook his head. And then, with an inspiration, Peter
+shot at him a quick phrase in Russian. But the man gave no sign of
+comprehension.</p>
+
+<p>"Who put this man on?" asked Peter, turning to Wells.</p>
+
+<p>"I did," said the native sullenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" said Peter, growing warmer. "Didn't I tell you that in future I
+would hire all the men myself?"</p>
+
+<p>"We're short-handed, since you fired two of the best axmen we got&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You disobeyed orders&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Orders</i>&mdash;Hell!"</p>
+
+<p>"All right. We'll see who's running this camp, you or me. To-morrow
+morning Jesse Brown starts as foreman here. Understand?"</p>
+
+<p>Shad's eyes shot fire, then smoldered and went out as he turned with a
+sneering laugh and walked away.</p>
+
+<p>"As for you," said Peter to the stranger, who stood uncertainly, "you go
+to the office in the morning and get your envelope." Then repeated the
+sentence in Russian. "If you don't understand&mdash;find somebody who does."</p>
+
+<p>That the stranger had understood Peter's demeanor if not his language
+was evident, for in the morning he had vanished.</p>
+
+<p>After that clearing of the air things went somewhat better at the camp.
+Jesse Brown, though not aggressive, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>was steady and honest and had a
+certain weight with the Jerseymen. As to the others, there was doubt as
+to whether anything would have satisfied them. For the present, at
+least, it was a question of getting on as well as possible with the
+means at hand. There was a limit to Peter's weekly pay roll and other
+men were not to be had. Besides, Peter had promised McGuire to keep the
+sawmills busy. He knew that when he had come to Black Rock the work on
+the lumber contract had already fallen behind the schedule, and that
+only by the greatest perseverance could he make up the time already
+lost.</p>
+
+<p>As he rode back to his cabin on the afternoon after his encounter with
+Shad Wells and the stranger with the black mustache, he found himself
+quite satisfied with regard to his summary dismissal of them both. On
+Beth's account he had hesitated to depose Shad. He knew that before he
+had come to Black Rock they had been friends as well as distant
+relatives, and Beth in her frequent meetings with Peter had expressed
+the hope that Shad would "come around." Peter had given him every
+chance, even while he had known that the Jerseyman was working against
+both McGuire's and Peter's interests. Flynn and Jacobi, the men Peter
+had sent away, were radicals and agitators. Flynn had a police record
+that did not bear close inspection, and Jacobi was an anarchist out and
+out. Before Peter had come to Black Rock they had abused Shad's
+credulity and after the fight at the Cabin, he had been their willing
+tool in interrupting the completion of the contract. For of course Shad
+had hoped that if Peter couldn't get the lumber out when promised,
+McGuire would put the blame on the new superintendent and let him go.
+That was Shad's idea. If he had ever been decent enough to warrant
+Beth's friendship, his jealousy had warped his judgment. Peter was no
+longer sorry for Shad Wells. He had brought all his troubles on
+himself.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>As to the stranger with the black mustache, that was a more serious
+matter. Every circumstance&mdash;the recognition in New York, the skill with
+which the man had traced him to Black Rock, the craft with which he had
+watched Peter and his success in finally getting into the camp and
+gaining Shad's confidence, made a certainty in Peter's mind that the
+stranger had some object in remaining near Peter and keeping him under
+observation. And what other object than a political one? The trail he
+had followed had begun with the look of recognition in the Pennsylvania
+Station in New York. And where could that look of recognition have
+sprung from unless he had identified Peter Nichols as the Grand Duke
+Peter Nicholaevitch? It seemed incredible, but there could be no other
+explanation. The man had seen him somewhere&mdash;perhaps in Russia&mdash;perhaps
+in Paris or London, or perhaps had only identified him by his portraits
+which had been published frequently in the Continental magazines and
+newspapers. But that he had really identified him there could not be the
+slightest doubt and Peter's hope that he would have been able to lose
+his identity in the continent of America and become merged into a
+different civilization where he could work out the personal problem of
+existence in his own time, by his own efforts and in his own way, seemed
+destined to failure.</p>
+
+<p>If the stranger knew that Peter was in New Jersey there was no doubt
+that there were others who knew it also, those who employed him&mdash;those
+in whose interests he was working. Who? The same madmen who had done
+Nicholas to death and had killed one by one the misguided Empress, Olga,
+Tania, the poor little Czarevitch and the rest.... Did they consider
+him, Peter Nichols, lumber-jack extraordinary, as a possible future
+claimant to the throne of Russia? Peter smiled grimly. They were
+"straining at a gnat while swallowing the camel." And <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>if they feared
+him, why didn't they strike? The stranger had already had ample
+opportunity to murder him if he had been so disposed, could still do it
+during Peter's daily rides back and forth from the Cabin to the camp and
+to the Upper Reserve.</p>
+
+<p>All of these thoughts percolated slowly, as a result of the sudden
+inspiration at the bunk-house which had liberated a new train of ideas,
+beginning with the identification of the Russian characteristics of the
+new lumberman, which were more clearly defined under the beard and
+workman's shirt than under the rather modish gray slouch hat and
+American clothing in which Peter had seen him earlier. And Peter had
+merely let the man go. He had no proof of the fellow's purposes, and if
+he had even discovered exactly what those purposes were, there was no
+recourse for Peter but to ask for the protection of Washington, and this
+he had no desire to do.</p>
+
+<p>If the man suspected from the quickly spoken Russian sentence that Peter
+now guessed his mission, he had given no sign of it. But that meant
+nothing. The fellow was clever. He was doubtless awaiting instructions.
+And unless Peter took his case to the Department of Justice he could
+neither expect any protection nor hope for any security other than his
+own alertness.</p>
+
+<p>At the Cabin Beth was waiting for him. These hours of music and Beth
+were now as much a part of Peter's day as his breakfast or his dinner.
+And he had only failed her when the pressure of his responsibilities was
+too great to permit of his return to the Cabin. The hour most convenient
+for him was that at the close of the day, and though weary or
+discouraged, Peter always came to the end of this agreeable hour rested
+and refreshed, and with a sense of something definitely achieved. For
+whatever the days brought forth of trouble and disappointment, down at
+the logging camp or the mills, here <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>was Beth waiting for him, full of
+enthusiasm and self-confidence, a tangible evidence of success.</p>
+
+<p>The diligence with which she applied his instructions, the ease with
+which she advanced from one step to another, showed her endowed with an
+intelligence even beyond his early expectations. She was singing simple
+ballads now, English and French, and already evinced a sense of
+interpretation which showed the dormant artist. He tried at first, of
+course, to eliminate all striving for effect, content to gain the purity
+of tone for which he was striving, but she soared beyond him sometimes,
+her soul defying limitations, liberated into an empyrean of song. If
+anything, she advanced too rapidly, and Peter's greatest task was to
+restrain her optimism and self-confidence by imposing the drudgery of
+fundamental principles. And when he found that she was practicing too
+long, he set her limits of half-hour periods beyond which she must not
+go. But she was young and strong and only once had he noted the
+slightest symptom of wear and tear on her vocal chords, when he had
+closed the piano and prohibited the home work for forty-eight hours.</p>
+
+<p>As to their personal relations, Peter had already noticed a difference
+in his own conduct toward Beth, and in hers toward him,&mdash;a shade of
+restraint in Beth's conversation when not on the topic of music, which
+contrasted rather strangely with the candor of their first meetings.
+Peter couldn't help smiling at his memories, for now Beth seemed to be
+upon her good behavior, repaying him for her earlier contempt with a
+kind of awe at his attainments. He caught her sometimes in unguarded
+moments looking at him curiously, as though in wonder at a mystery which
+could not be explained. And to tell the truth, Peter wondered a little,
+too, at his complete absorption in the task he had set himself. He tried
+to believe that it was only the music that impelled him, only the joy of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>an accomplished musician in the discovery of a budding artist, but he
+knew that it was something more than these. For reducing the theorem to
+different terms, he was obliged to confess that if the girl had been any
+one but Beth, no matter how promising her voice, he must have been bored
+to extinction. No. He had to admit that it was Beth that interested him,
+Beth the primitive, Beth the mettlesome, Beth the demure. For if now
+demure she was never dull. The peculiarity of their situation&mdash;of their
+own choosing&mdash;lent a spice to the relationship which made each of them
+aware that the other was young and desirable&mdash;and that the world was
+very far away.</p>
+
+<p>However far Beth's thoughts may have carried her in the contemplation of
+the personal pulchritude of her music master (somewhat enhanced by the
+extirpation of the Hellion triplet in her own behalf) it was Peter
+Nicholaevitch who made the task of Peter Nichols difficult. It was the
+Grand Duke Peter who wanted to take this peasant woman in his arms and
+teach her what other peasant girls had been taught by Grand Dukes since
+the beginning of the autocratic system of which he had been a part&mdash;but
+it was Peter Nichols who restrained him. Peter Nicholaevitch feared
+nothing, knew no restraint, lived only for the hour&mdash;for the moment.
+Peter Nichols was a coward&mdash;or a gentleman&mdash;he was not quite certain
+which.</p>
+
+<p>When Peter entered the Cabin on the evening after the appointment of
+Jesse Brown as foreman at the lumber camp, Beth could not help noticing
+the clouds of worry that hung over Peter's brows.</p>
+
+<p>"You're tired," she said. "Is anything wrong at the camp?"</p>
+
+<p>But he only shook his head and sat down at the piano. And when she
+questioned him again he evaded her and went on with the lesson. Music
+always rested him, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>the sound of her voice soothed. It was the
+"El&eacute;gie" of Massenet that he had given her, foolishly perhaps, a
+difficult thing at so early a stage, because of its purity and
+simplicity, and he had made her learn the words of the French&mdash;like a
+parrot&mdash;written them out phonetically, because the French words were
+beautiful and the English, as written, abominable. And now she sang it
+to him softly, as he had taught her, again and again, while he corrected
+her phrasing, suggesting subtle meanings in his accompaniment which she
+was not slow to comprehend.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know that music could mean so much," she sighed as she sank
+into a chair with a sense of failure, when the lesson was ended. "I
+always thought that music just meant happiness. But it means sorrow
+too."</p>
+
+<p>"Not to those who hear you sing, Beth," said Peter with a smile, as he
+lighted and smoked a corncob pipe, a new vice he had discovered at the
+camp. Already the clouds were gone from his forehead.</p>
+
+<p>"No! Do you really think that, Mr. Nichols?" she asked joyously.</p>
+
+<p>She had never been persuaded to call him by his Christian name, though
+Peter would have liked it. The "Mr." was the tribute of pupil to master,
+born also of a subtler instinct of which Peter was aware.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he replied generously, "you'll sing that very well in time&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"When I've suffered?" she asked quickly.</p>
+
+<p>He glanced up from the music in his hand, surprised at her intuition.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like to tell you so&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But I think I understand. Nobody can sing what she doesn't feel&mdash;what
+she hasn't felt. Oh, I know," she broke off suddenly. "I can sing songs
+of the woods&mdash;the water&mdash;the pretty things like you've been givin' me.
+But <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>the deep things&mdash;sorrow, pain, regret&mdash;like this&mdash;I'm not 'up' to
+them."</p>
+
+<p>Peter sat beside her, puffing contentedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't worry," he muttered. "Your voice will ripen."</p>
+
+<p>"And will I ripen too?"</p>
+
+<p>He laughed. "I don't want you ever to be any different from what you
+are."</p>
+
+<p>She was thoughtful a moment, for Peter had always taken pains to be
+sparing in personalities which had nothing to do with her voice.</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't want always to be what I am," she protested, "just growin'
+close to the ground like a pumpkin or a squash."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed. "You might do worse."</p>
+
+<p>"But not much. Oh, I know. You're teachin' me to think&mdash;and to feel&mdash;so
+that I can make other people do the same&mdash;the way you've done to me. But
+it don't make me any too happy to think of bein' a&mdash;a squash again."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you won't have to be," said Peter quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"And the factory&mdash;I've got to make some money next winter. I can't use
+any of Aunt Tillie's savin's. But when I know what I <i>might</i> be doin',
+it's not any too easy to think of goin' back <i>there</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you won't have to go," said Peter again.</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes glanced at him quickly, looked away, then returned to his face
+curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't just understand what you mean."</p>
+
+<p>"I mean," said Peter, "that we'll try to find the means to keep you out
+of the glass factory&mdash;to keep on with the music."</p>
+
+<p>"But how&mdash;&mdash;? I can't be dependent on&mdash;&mdash;" She paused with a glance at
+him. And then quickly, with her characteristic frankness that always
+probed straight to her point, "You mean that <i>you</i> will pay my way?"</p>
+
+<p>"Merely that I'm going to find the money&mdash;somehow."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>But she shook her head violently. "Oh, no, I couldn't let you do that,
+Mr. Nichols. I couldn't think of it."</p>
+
+<p>"But you've got to go on, Beth. I've made up my mind to that. You'll go
+pretty fast. It won't be long before you'll know all that I can teach
+you. And then I'm going to put you under the best teacher of this method
+in New York. In a year or so you'll be earning your own way&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But I can't let you do this for me. You're doin' too much as it is&mdash;too
+much that I can't pay back."</p>
+
+<p>"We won't talk of money. You've given me a lot of enjoyment. That's my
+pay."</p>
+
+<p>"But this other&mdash;this studyin' in New York. No, I couldn't let you do
+that. I couldn't&mdash;I can't take a cent from you or from any man&mdash;woman
+either, for that matter. I'll find some way&mdash;workin' nights. But I'm not
+goin' back," she added almost fiercely between her teeth, "not to the
+way I was before. I won't. I can't."</p>
+
+<p>"Good. That's the way great careers are made. I don't intend that you
+shall. I'm going to make a great singer of you, Beth."</p>
+
+<p>She colored with joy.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you, Mr. Nichols? Are you? Oh, I want to make good&mdash;indeed I do&mdash;to
+learn French and Italian&mdash;&mdash;" And then, with a sharp sigh, "O Lord, if
+wishes were horses&mdash;&mdash;!" She was silent again, regarding him wistfully.
+"Don't think I'm not grateful. I'm afraid you might. I <i>am</i> grateful.
+But&mdash;sometimes I wonder what you're doin' it all for, Mr. Nichols. And
+whether&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>As she paused again Peter finished for her.</p>
+
+<p>"Whether it wouldn't have been better if I hadn't let you just
+remain&mdash;er," he grinned, "a peach, let's say? Well, I'll tell you,
+Beth," he went on, laying his pipe aside, "I came here, without a
+friend, to a strange job <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>in a strange country. I found you. Or rather
+<i>you</i> found <i>me</i>&mdash;lost like a babe in the woods. You made fun of me.
+Nobody had ever done that before in my life, but I rather liked it. I
+liked your voice too. You were worth helping, you see. And then along
+came Shad. I couldn't have him ordering you about, you know&mdash;not the way
+he did it&mdash;if he hadn't any claim on you. So you see, I had a sense of
+responsibility for you after that&mdash;&mdash;About you, too&mdash;&mdash;," he added, as
+though thinking aloud.</p>
+
+<p>His words trailed off into silence while Beth waited for him to explain
+about his sense of responsibility. She wasn't altogether accustomed to
+have anybody responsible for her. But as he didn't go on, she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean that you&mdash;that I&mdash;that Shad forced me on you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bless your heart, child&mdash;no."</p>
+
+<p>"Then what <i>did</i> you mean?" she insisted.</p>
+
+<p>Peter thought he had a definite idea in his mind about what he felt as
+to their relationship. It was altruistic he knew, gentle he was sure,
+educational he was positive. But half sleepily he spoke, unaware that
+what he said might sound differently to one of Beth's independent mind.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean," he said, "that I wanted to look after you&mdash;that I wanted our
+friendship to be what it has proved to be&mdash;without the flaw of
+sentiment. I wouldn't spoil a single hour by any thought of yours or
+mine that led us away from the music."</p>
+
+<p>And then, while her brain worked rapidly over this calm negation of his,
+"But you can't be unaware, Beth, that you're very lovely."</p>
+
+<p>Now "sentiment" is a word over which woman has a monopoly. It is her
+property. She understands its many uses as no mere man can ever hope to
+do. The man who tosses it carelessly into the midst of a delicate
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>situation is courting trouble. Beth perked up her head like a startled
+fawn. What did he mean? All that was feminine in her was up in arms, nor
+did she lay them down in surrender at his last phrase, spoken with such
+an unflattering air of commonplace.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she startled Peter with a rippling laugh which made him sit up
+blinking at her. "Are you apologizin' for not makin' love to me?" she
+questioned impertinently. "Say&mdash;that's funny." And she went off into
+another disconcerting peal of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>But it wasn't funny for Peter, who was now made aware that she had
+turned his mind inside out upon the table between them, so to speak,
+that she might throw dust in the wheels. And so he only gasped and
+stared at her&mdash;startlingly convinced that in matters of sentiment the
+cleverest man is no match for even the dullest woman and Beth could
+hardly be considered in this category. At the challenge of his half
+expressed thought the demureness and sobriety of the lesson hour had
+fallen from her like a doffed cloak.</p>
+
+<p>Peter protested blandly.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't understand what&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But she broke in swiftly. "Maybe you were afraid I might be fallin' in
+love with <i>you</i>," she twitted him, and burst into laughter again.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I had no such expectation," said Peter, stiffening, sure that his
+dignity was a poor thing.</p>
+
+<p>"Or maybe&mdash;&mdash;," she went on joyfully, "maybe you were afraid <i>you</i> might
+be fallin' in love with <i>me</i>." And then as she rose and gathered up her
+music, tantalizingly, "What <i>did</i> you mean, Mr. Nichols?"</p>
+
+<p>He saw that he was losing ground with every word she uttered, but his
+sense of humor conquered.</p>
+
+<p>"You little pixie!" he cried, dashing for her, with a laugh. "Where have
+you hidden this streak of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>impudence all these weeks?" But she eluded
+him nimbly, running around the table and out of the door before he could
+catch up with her.</p>
+
+<p>He halted at the doorsill and called to her. She emerged cautiously from
+behind a bush and made a face at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Beth! Come back!" he entreated. "I've got something to say to you."</p>
+
+<p>"What?" she asked, temporizing.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to talk to you&mdash;seriously."</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord&mdash;seriously! You're not goin' to&mdash;to take the risk of&mdash;of
+havin' me 'vamp' you, are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I'll risk that," he grinned.</p>
+
+<p>But she only broke off a leaf and nibbled at it contemplatively. "Maybe
+<i>I</i> won't risk it. 'I don't want to spoil a single hour,'" she repeated,
+mocking his dignity, 'by any thought of yours or mine that would lead us
+away from the music.' Maybe <i>I'm</i> in danger." And then, "You know
+<i>you're</i> not so bad lookin' yourself, Mr. Nichols!"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop teasing, Beth."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll make you." He moved a step toward her.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe I hadn't better come any more," she said quizzically.</p>
+
+<p>"Beth!"</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose I <i>was</i> learnin' to love you a little," she went on ironically,
+"with you scared I might be&mdash;and not knowin' how to get out of it.
+Wouldn't that be terrible! For me, I mean. 'She loved and lost, in seven
+reels.'"</p>
+
+<p>She was treading on precarious ground, and she must have seen her danger
+in Peter's face, for as he came toward her she turned and ran down the
+path, laughing at him. Peter followed in full stride but she ran like a
+deer and by the time he had reached the creek she was already <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>halfway
+over the log-jam below the pool. Her laugh still derided him and now,
+eager to punish her, he leaped after her. But so intent he was on
+keeping her in sight upon the farther bank that his foot slipped on a
+tree trunk and he went into the water. A gay peal of laughter echoed in
+his ears. And he caught a last glimpse of her light frock as it vanished
+into the underbrush. But he scrambled up the bank after her and darted
+along the path&mdash;lost her in the dusk, and then deep in the woods at one
+side saw her flitting from tree to tree away from him. But Peter's blood
+was now warm with the chase&mdash;and it was the blood of Peter Nicholaevitch
+too. Forgotten were the studious hours of patience and toil. Here was a
+girl who challenged his asceticism&mdash;a beautiful young female animal who
+dared to mock at his self-restraint. She thought that she could get
+away. But he gained on her. She had stopped laughing at him now.</p>
+
+<p>"Beth! You little devil!" he cried breathlessly, as he caught her. "You
+little devil, I'll teach you to laugh at me."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me go&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He held her in his arms while she struggled vainly to release herself.
+Her flushed face was now a little frightened and her large blue eyes
+stared in dismay at what she saw in his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me go?" she whispered. "I didn't mean it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But he only held her closer while she struggled, as he kissed her&mdash;on
+the brows, the chin, the cheeks, and as she relaxed in sheer
+weakness&mdash;full on the lips&mdash;again&mdash;again.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think I haven't been trying to keep my hands off you all these
+weeks?" he whispered. "Do you think I haven't wanted you&mdash;to teach you
+what women were meant for? It's for this, Beth&mdash;and this. Do you think
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>I haven't seen how lovely you are? Do you think I'm a saint&mdash;an
+anchorite? Well, I'm not. I'll make you love me&mdash;love me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Something in the reckless tones of his voice&mdash;in his very words aroused
+her to new struggles. "Oh, let me go," she gasped. "I don't love you. I
+won't. Let me go."</p>
+
+<p>"You shall!"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Let me loose or I&mdash;I'll despise you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Beth!"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean it. Let me go."</p>
+
+<p>If a moment ago when she was relaxed in his arms he had thought that he
+had won her, he had no such notion now, for with a final effort of her
+strong young arms, she thrust away from him and stood panting and
+disordered, staring at him as though at one she had never seen before.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;how I hate you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Beth!"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean it. You&mdash;you&mdash;&mdash;," she turned away from him, staring at the torn
+music on the ground as at a symbol of her disillusionment. Peter saw her
+look, felt the meaning of it, tried to recall the words he had said to
+her and failed&mdash;but sure that they were a true reflection of what had
+been in his heart. He had wanted her&mdash;then&mdash;nothing else had
+mattered&mdash;not duty or his set resolve....</p>
+
+<p>"You mocked at me, Beth," he muttered. "I couldn't stand that&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And is <i>this</i> the way you punish me? Ah, if you'd only&mdash;if you'd
+only&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>And then with another glance at the torn music, she leaned against the
+trunk of a tree, sobbing violently.</p>
+
+<p>"Beth&mdash;&mdash;" he whispered, gently, "don't&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Go away. Oh, go. Go!"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't. I won't. What did you want me to say to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>you? That I love you?
+I do, Beth&mdash;I do," he whispered. It was Peter Nichols, not Peter
+Nicholaevitch, who was whispering now.</p>
+
+<p>"Was this what your teachin' meant?" she flashed at him bitterly. "Was
+this what you meant when you wanted to pay my way in New York? Oh, how
+you shame me! Go! Go away from me, please."</p>
+
+<p>"Please don't," he whispered. "You don't understand. I never meant that.
+I&mdash;I love you, Beth. I can't bear to see you cry."</p>
+
+<p>She made a valiant effort to control her heaving shoulders. And then,</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you&mdash;you've spoiled it all. S-spoiled it all, and it was so
+beautiful."</p>
+
+<p>Had he? Her words sobered him. No, that couldn't be. He cursed his
+momentary madness, struggling for words to comfort her, but he had known
+that she had seen the look in his eyes, felt the roughness of his
+embrace. Love? The love that she had sung to him was not of these. He
+wanted now to touch her again&mdash;gently, to lift up her flushed face, wet
+like a flower with the fresh dew of her tears, and tell her what love
+was. But he didn't dare&mdash;he couldn't, after what he had said to her. And
+still she wept over her broken toys&mdash;the music&mdash;the singing&mdash;for they
+had mattered the most. Very childlike she seemed, very tender and
+pathetic.</p>
+
+<p>"Beth," he said at last, touching her fingers gently. "Nothing is
+changed, Beth. It can't be changed, dear. We've got to go on. It means
+so much to&mdash;to us both."</p>
+
+<p>But she paid no attention to the touch of his fingers and turned away,
+leaving the music at her feet, an act in itself significant.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me go home. Please. Alone. I&mdash;I've got to think."</p>
+
+<p>She did not look at him, but Peter obeyed her. There <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>was nothing else
+to do. There was something in the clear depths of her eyes that had
+daunted him. And he had meant her harm. Had he? He didn't know. He
+passed his hand slowly across his eyes and then stood watching her until
+she had disappeared among the trees. When she had gone he picked up the
+torn music. It was Massenet's "El&eacute;gie."</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O doux printemps d'autrefois....<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tout est fl&eacute;trie.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The lines of the torn pieces came together. Spring withered! The joyous
+songs of birds&mdash;silenced! Beth's song? He smiled. No, that couldn't be.
+He folded the music up and strode off slowly, muttering to himself.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+
+<h2>TWO LETTERS</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>Peter passed a troublous evening and night&mdash;a night of self-revelations.
+Never that he could remember had he so deeply felt the sting of
+conscience. He, the Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch, in love with this
+little rustic? Impossible! It was the real Peter, tired of the sham and
+make-believe of self-restraint and virtue, who had merely kissed a
+country girl. He was no anchorite, no saint. Why had he tied himself to
+such a duty from a motive of silly sentimentalism?</p>
+
+<p>He winced at the word. Was it that? Sentimentalism. He had shown her the
+best side of him&mdash;shown it persistently, rather proud of his capacity
+for self-control, which had ridden even with his temptations. Why should
+it matter so much to him what this girl thought of him? What had he said
+to her? Nothing much that he hadn't said to other women. It was the fact
+that he had said it to Beth that made the difference. The things one
+might say to other women meant something different to Beth&mdash;the things
+one might do.... He had been a fool and lost his head, handled her
+roughly, spoken to her wildly, words only intended for gentle moods,
+softer purposes. Shrewd little Beth, whose wide, blue eyes had seen
+right down into the depths of his heart. He had been clumsy, if nothing
+else, and he had always thought that clumsiness was inexcusable. He had
+a guilty sense that while Beth was still the little lady to her finger
+tips, born to a natural nobility, he, the Grand Duke Peter, had been the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>boor, the vulgar proletarian. The look in her eyes had shamed him as
+the look in his own eyes had shamed her. She had known what his wooing
+meant, and it hadn't been what she wanted. The mention of love on lips
+that kissed as his had done was blasphemy.</p>
+
+<p>Yes. He cared what she thought of him&mdash;and he vainly cast about for a
+way in which to justify himself. To make matters worse Beth still
+believed that this was the payment he exacted for what he had done for
+her, what he had proposed to do for her, that he measured her favors in
+terms of value received. What else could she think but that? Every hour
+of his devotion to her music defamed her.</p>
+
+<p>The situation was intolerable. In the morning he went seeking her at her
+home. The house was open. No one in Black Rock village locked doors by
+day or night. Beth was not there. A neighbor said that she had gone
+early alone into the woods and Peter understood. If she hadn't cared for
+him she wouldn't have needed to go to the woods to be alone. Of course
+she didn't appear at the Cabin the next day, and Peter searched for
+her&mdash;fruitlessly. She weighed on his conscience, like a sin unshrived.
+He had to find her to explain the unexplainable, to tell her what her
+confidence had meant to him, to recant his blasphemy of her idols in
+gentleness and repentance.</p>
+
+<p>As he failed to find her, he wrote her a note, asking her forgiveness,
+and stuck it in the mirror of the old hat-rack in the hall. Many women
+in Europe and elsewhere, ladies of the great world that Beth had only
+dreamed about, would have given their ears (since ear puffs were in
+fashion) to receive such a note from Peter. It was a beautiful note
+besides&mdash;manly, gentle, breathing contrition and self-reproach. Beth
+merely ignored it. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>Whatever she thought of it and of Peter she wanted
+to deliberate a longer while.</p>
+
+<p>And so another music lesson hour passed while Peter sat alone in the
+Cabin waiting. That night two letters were brought to him. The
+superscription of one was scrawled in a boyish hand. The other was
+scented, dainty, of pale lavender, and bore a familiar handwriting and a
+familiar coronet. In amazement he opened this first. It was from the
+Princess Galitzin, written in the polyglot of French, English and
+Russian which she affected.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Chere Pierre</span>," it ran,&mdash;in the English, somewhat
+as follows: "You will no doubt be surprised at hearing from
+me in far-off America and amazed at the phenomenon of your
+discovered address at the outlandish place you've chosen for
+your domicile. It's very simple. In America you have been
+watched by agents of the so-called government of our
+wretched country. We know this here in London, because one
+of <i>our</i> agents is also a part of their secret organization.
+He came upon the report of your doings and knowing that
+father was interested, detailed the information to us.</p>
+
+<p>"So far as I can learn at the present writing you are in no
+immediate danger of death, but we do not know here in London
+how soon the word may be sent forth to 'remove' persons of
+your importance in the cosmic scheme. It seems that your
+desire to remain completely in hiding is looked upon with
+suspicion in Russia as evidence of a possible intention on
+your part to come to light at the beginnings of a Bourbon
+movement and proclaim yourself as the leader of a Royalist
+party. Your uncles and cousins have chosen the line of least
+resistance in yielding to the inevitable, living in
+Switzerland, and other spots where their identities are well
+known.</p>
+
+<p>"I pray, my well remembered and <i>bel ami</i>, that the cause of
+Holy Russia is still and ever present in your heart of
+hearts and that the thing these devils incarnate fear may
+one day come to pass. But I pray you to be discreet and
+watchful, if necessary changing your place of abode to one
+in which you will enjoy greater security from your enemies.
+There is at last one heart in London that ever beats fondly
+in memory of the dear dead days at Galitzin and Zukovo.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Helas!</i> London is dead sea fruit. People are very kind to
+us. We have everything that the law allows us, but life
+seems to have lost its charm. I have never quite forgiven
+you, <i>mon Pierre</i>, for your desertion of us at
+Constantinople, though doubtless your reasons for preserving
+your incognito were of the best. But it has saddened me to
+think that you did not deem me worthy of a closer
+confidence. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>You are doubtless very much alone and
+unhappy&mdash;also in danger not only from your political
+enemies, but also from the American natives in the far away
+woods in which you have been given occupation. I trust, such
+as it is, that you have taken adequate measures to protect
+yourself. I know little of America, but I have a longing to
+go to that splendid country, rugged in its primitive
+simplicity, in spite of inconveniences of travel and the
+mass of uncultured beings with whom one must come into
+contact. Do you think it would be possible for a spoiled
+creature like me to find a boudoir with a bath&mdash;that is, in
+the provinces, outside of New York?</p>
+
+<p>"It is terrible that you can have no music in your life! I
+too miss your music, <i>Pietro mio</i>, as I miss you. Perhaps
+one day soon you will see me. I am restless and bored to
+extinction, with these ramrods of Englishmen who squeeze my
+rings into my fingers. But if I come I will be discreet
+toward Peter Nichols. That was a clever invention of yours.
+It really sounds&mdash;quite&mdash;American.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Garde toi bien, entendez vous? Tout de suite je viendrai.
+Au revoir.</i></p>
+
+<p class="right">
+"<span class="smcap">Anastasie.</span>"<br />
+</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>Peter read the letter through twice, amused, astounded and dismayed by
+turns. His surmise in regard to the stranger with the black mustache had
+been correct then. The man was a spy of the Russian Soviets. And so
+instead of having been born immaculate into a new life, as he had
+hoped&mdash;a man without a past, and only a future to be accounted for&mdash;he
+was only the Grand Duke Peter after all. And Anastasie! Why the devil
+did she want to come nosing about in America, reminding him of all the
+things that he wanted to forget? The odor of her sachet annoyed him. A
+bath and boudoir! He realized now that she had always annoyed him with
+her pretty silly little affectations and her tawdry smatterings of the
+things that were worth while. He owed her nothing. He had made love to
+her, of course, because that was what a woman of her type expected from
+men of his. But there had been no damage done on either side, for he had
+not believed that she had ever really cared. And now distance, it
+seemed, had made her heart grow fonder, distance and the romantic
+circumstances of his exile.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>It was kind of her, of course, to let him know of his danger, but only
+human after all. She could have done no less, having the information.
+And now she was coming to offer him the charity of her wealth, to tempt
+him with ease, luxury and London. He would have none of them.</p>
+
+<p>He picked up the other letter with even more curiosity until he read the
+postmark, and then his interest became intense, for he knew that it was
+from Jim Coast&mdash;Hawk Kennedy. The letter bore the heading, "Antlers
+Hotel, Colorado Springs."</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Pete</span>," he read, through the bad spelling,
+"Here I am back at the 'Springs,' at the 'Antlers,' after a
+nice trip down Bisbee way, and out along the 'J. and A.' to
+the mine. It's there all right and they're workin' it yet to
+beat the cards with half a mountain still to be tapped. I
+ain't going into particulars&mdash;not in a letter, except to
+tell you that I got what I went for&mdash;names, dates and
+amounts&mdash;also met the gents our friend sold out to&mdash;nice
+people. Oh, I'm 'A1' with that outfit, old dear. I'm just
+writing this to show you I'm on the job and that if you've
+got an eye to business you'd better consider my proposition.
+I'll make it worth your while. You can help all right. You
+did me a good turn that night. I'll give you yours if you'll
+stand in proper and make McG. do what's right. It ain't what
+you said it was&mdash;it's justice all around. That's all I'm
+asking&mdash;what's right and proper.</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't coming back just yet, not for a month, maybe. I'm
+living easy and there's a lady here that suits my fancy. So
+just drop me a line at the above address, letting me know
+everything's O. K. Remember I'm no piker and I'll fix you up
+good.</p>
+
+<p class="right">
+<span style="padding-right: 8em;">"Your friend,</span><br />
+<span style="padding-right: 6em;" class="smcap">"Jim."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>Peter clenched the paper in his fist and threw it on the floor, frowning
+angrily at the thought of the man's audacity. But after a while he
+picked the crumpled note up and straightened it out upon the table,
+carefully rereading it. Its very touch seemed to soil his fingers, but
+he studied it for a long while, and then folded it up and put it in his
+pocket. It was a very careful game <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>that Peter would have to play with
+Hawk Kennedy, a game that he had no liking for. But if he expected to
+succeed in protecting McGuire, he would have to outwit Jim Coast&mdash;or
+Hawk Kennedy, as he now thought of him&mdash;by playing a game just a little
+deeper than his own.</p>
+
+<p>Of course he now had the advantage of knowing the whole of McGuire's
+side of the story, while Kennedy did not believe the old man would have
+dared to tell. And to hold these cards successfully it would be
+necessary to continue in Kennedy's mind the belief that Peter did not
+share McGuire's confidences. It would also be necessary for Peter to
+cast in his lot, apparently, with Kennedy against McGuire. It was a
+dirty business at best, but he meant to carry it through if he could,
+and get the signed agreement from the blackmailer.</p>
+
+<p>Peter seemed to remember an old wallet that Jim Coast had always
+carried. He had seen it after Coast had taken slips of paper from it and
+showed them to Peter,&mdash;newspaper clippings, notes from inamorata and the
+like&mdash;but of course, never the paper now in question. And if he had
+carried it all these years, where was it now? In the vault of some bank
+or trust company probably, and this would make Peter's task difficult,
+if not impossible.</p>
+
+<p>Peter got up and paced the floor, thinking deeply of all these things in
+their relation to Beth. And then at last he went out into the night, his
+footsteps impelled toward the village. After all, the thoughts uppermost
+in his mind were of Beth herself. Whatever the cost to his pride, he
+would have to make his peace with her. He knew that now. Why otherwise
+did his restless feet lead him out into the pasture back of the little
+post office toward the rear of Mrs. Bergen's house? Yet there he found
+himself presently, smoking his corncob pipe for comfort, and staring at
+the solitary light in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>Tillie Bergen's parlor, which proclaimed its
+occupant. Mrs. Bergen's house stood at a little distance from its
+nearest neighbor, and Peter stole slowly through the orchard at the rear
+toward the open window. It was then that he heard the music for the
+first time, the "harmonium" wailing softly, while sweet and clear above
+the accompaniment (worked out painstakingly but lovingly by the girl
+herself) came Beth's voice singing the "El&eacute;gie."</p>
+
+<p>Peter came closer until he was just at the edge of the shadow outside
+the window. He knew that her back would be turned to him and so he
+peered around the shutter at her unconscious back. She sang the song
+through until the end and then after a pause sang it again. Peter had no
+ear now for the phrasing, for faults in technique, or inaccuracies in
+enunciation. What he heard was the soul of the singer calling. All that
+he had taught her in the hours in the Cabin was in her voice&mdash;and
+something more that she had learned elsewhere.... Her voice was
+richer&mdash;deeper, a child's voice no longer, and he knew that she was
+singing of his mad moment in the woods, which had brought the end of all
+things that had mattered in her life. It was no girl who sang now, but a
+woman who had learned the meaning of the song, the plaint of birds once
+joyous, of woodland flowers once gay&mdash;at the memory of a spring that was
+no more. He had told her that she would sing that song well some day
+when she learned what it meant. She would never sing it again as she had
+sung it to-night. All the dross that Peter had worn in the world was
+stripped from him in that moment, all that was petty and ignoble in his
+heart driven forth and he stood with bowed head, in shame for what he
+had been, and in gentleness for this dear creature whose idols he had
+cast down.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of the second verse, her fingers slipped from <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>the keys and
+fell to her sides while she bowed her head and sat for a moment
+immovable. And then her shoulders moved slightly and a tiny smothered
+sound came from her throat. Suddenly her head bent and she fell forward
+on her arms upon the muted keys.</p>
+
+<p>Noiselessly he passed over the low windowsill and before she even knew
+that he was there, fell to his knees beside her.</p>
+
+<p>"Beth," he whispered. "Don't&mdash;child&mdash;don't!"</p>
+
+<p>She straightened, startled and incredulous at the sight of him, and
+tried to move away, but he caught one of her hands and with bent head
+gently laid his lips upon it.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't, Beth&mdash;please. I can't bear to see you cry&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I'm <i>not</i> crying," she stammered helplessly, while she winked back
+her tears, "I&mdash;I've just&mdash;just got the&mdash;the&mdash;stomachache."</p>
+
+<p>She tried to laugh&mdash;failing dismally in a sob.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Beth&mdash;don't&mdash;&mdash;" he whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I can't help it&mdash;if I&mdash;I've got a&mdash;a pain," she evaded him.</p>
+
+<p>"But I can," he murmured. "It's in your heart, Beth. I'm sorry for
+everything. Forgive me."</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing to forgive."</p>
+
+<p>"Please!"</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing to forgive," she repeated dully. But she had controlled
+her voice now and her fingers in his were struggling for release.</p>
+
+<p>"I was a brute, Beth. I'd give everything to have those moments back. I
+wouldn't hurt you for the world. See&mdash;how changed I am&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She released her fingers and turned slightly away.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I'm changed too, Mr. Nichols," she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"No. You mustn't be, Beth. And I've got to have you back. You've got to
+come back to me, Beth."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>"Things can't be the same now."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;just the same&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Something's gone."</p>
+
+<p>"But if something else has taken its place&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing can&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Something greater&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care for the sample you showed me," she returned quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"I was crazy, Beth. I lost my head. It won't happen again."</p>
+
+<p>"No. I know it won't&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't understand. It couldn't. I've made a fool of myself. Isn't it
+enough for me to admit that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I knew it all the time." She was cruel, and from her cruelty he guessed
+the measure of her pride.</p>
+
+<p>"I've done all I can to atone. I want you to know that I love you. I do,
+Beth. I love you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>There was a note in his voice different from that she had heard the
+other day. His head was bent and he did not hear the little gasp or see
+the startled look in her eyes, which she controlled before he raised his
+head. With great deliberateness she answered him.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe you and I&mdash;have a different idea of what love ought to be," she
+said. But he saw that her reproof was milder.</p>
+
+<p>"I know," he insisted. "You've sung it to me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;not to you&mdash;not love," she said, startled. And then, "You had no
+right to be listenin'." And then, with a glance at Aunt Tillie's clock,
+"You have no right to be here now. It's late."</p>
+
+<p>"But I can't go until you understand what I want to do for you. You say
+that I can't know what love is. It asks nothing and only gives. I swear
+I wanted to give without thought of a return&mdash;until you laughed at me.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>And then&mdash;I wanted to punish you because you wouldn't understand&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. You punished me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me. You shouldn't have laughed at me, Beth. If you knew
+everything, you'd understand that I'm doing it all without a hope of
+payment,&mdash;just because I've got to."</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes grew larger. "What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't tell you now&mdash;but something has happened that will make a great
+difference to you."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me. Come to-morrow and perhaps I'll tell you. We've already
+wasted two days."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not so sure they've been wasted," said Beth quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care if you'll only come. Will you, Beth? To-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>She nodded gravely at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps," she said. And then, gently, "Good-night, Mr. Nichols."</p>
+
+<p>So Peter kissed her fingers as though she had been his Czarina and went
+out.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+
+<h2>SUPERMAN</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>Of course Beth Cameron knew nothing of Russia's grand dukes. The only
+Duke that she had ever met was in the pages of the novel she had read in
+which the hero was named Algernon. That Duke was of the English variety,
+proud, crusty, and aged and had only made an unpleasant impression upon
+her because she had liked Algernon, who had fallen in love with the
+daughter of the Duke, and the Duke had been very horrid to him in
+consequence or by reason of that mishap. When she had said to Peter that
+he reminded her of Algernon she had meant it, and that was really very
+nice of her, because she thought Algernon all that a self-respecting
+hero should be. It was true that Peter, though mostly an Englishman,
+didn't play polo and ride to hounds or swagger around a club and order
+people about, because he was too poor and was obliged to work for his
+living.</p>
+
+<p>But he did remind her of Algernon somehow. He had a way with him, as
+though if there <i>had</i> been butlers and valets at Black Rock he <i>could</i>
+have swaggered and ordered them around if he'd had a mind to. He was
+good looking too. She had noted that even from the very first when she
+had found him lugging his suitcase down on the road from Pickerel River.
+Then too he did say things to her, nicer things than any fellow had ever
+known how to say to her before, and he was much more polite than she had
+ever believed it possible for any one, to be without seeming queer. But
+when, eavesdropping at McGuire's, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>she had heard Peter play the piano,
+she felt herself conducted into a new world which had nothing at all to
+do with glass factories and vineyards. Even the sartorial splendor of
+Miss Peggy McGuire paled into insignificance beside the new visions
+which the music of Peter Nichols had invoked. He hadn't just lied to
+her. He <i>was</i> a musician. He <i>could</i> play. She had never heard anybody
+bring from a piano sounds like these. And he had said he wanted her to
+sing for him.</p>
+
+<p>Beth had sung always&mdash;just as she had always breathed&mdash;but she had never
+heard any good music except on a talking machine at the boarding house
+at Glassboro&mdash;an old record of Madame Melba's that they played
+sometimes. But even that song from an opera ("Lay Boheem" they called
+it), mutilated as it was, had shown her that there was something more
+wonderful than the popular melodies that the other people liked. Beth's
+taste for good music, like her taste for nice people, was instinctive.
+And she had found that in her walk of life the one was about as
+difficult to find as the other. She had had her awakenings and her
+disillusionments, with women as well as men, but had emerged from her
+experiences of two winters in a factory town with her chin high and her
+heart pure&mdash;something of an achievement for one as pretty as Beth.</p>
+
+<p>All in all, she had liked Shad Wells better than any of the men she had
+met. He was rough, but she had discovered that good manners didn't
+always mean good hearts or clean minds.</p>
+
+<p>It was this discovery that had made her look askance at Peter Nichols
+when she had first met him on the road, for he was politer than anybody
+she had ever met. If her philosophy was to be consistent this new
+superintendent would need watching. But his music disarmed her and
+captured her imagination. And then came the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>incident of the jealous
+Shad and the extraordinary outcome of Mr. Nichols's championship of her
+rights. She had witnessed that fight from the shelter of the bushes. It
+had been dreadful but glorious. Peter's chivalry appealed to her&mdash;also
+his strength. From that moment he was superman.</p>
+
+<p>Then had followed the long wonderful weeks of music at the Cabin, in
+which she had learned the beginnings of culture and training. Her
+music-master opened new and beautiful vistas for her, told her of the
+great musicians and singers that the world had known, described the
+opera houses of Europe, the brilliant audiences, the splendid ballets,
+the great orchestras, and promised her that if she worked hard, she
+might one day become a part of all this. She had learned to believe him
+now, for she saw that as time went on he was more exacting with her
+work, more sparing in his praise of her, and she had worked hard&mdash;in
+despair at times, but with a slowly growing confidence in her star of
+destiny.</p>
+
+<p>And all the while she was wondering why Peter Nichols was doing this for
+her and what the outcome of it all was to be. He spoke little of the
+future except to hint vaguely at lessons elsewhere when he had taught
+her all that he knew. The present it seemed was sufficient for them
+both. His moods of soberness, of joy, of enthusiasm, were all catching
+and she followed him blindly, aware of this great new element in her
+life which was to make the old life difficult, if not impossible. He
+treated her always with respect, not even touching her arms or waist in
+passing&mdash;an accepted familiarity of men by girls of her social class.
+Beth understood that it was a consideration due to a delicate situation,
+the same consideration which had impelled her always to call him Mr.
+Nichols.</p>
+
+<p>And yet it was this very consideration of Peter's that vexed her. It
+wasn't an air of superiority, for she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>couldn't have stood that. It was
+just discretion, maybe, or something else, she couldn't decide what. But
+Beth didn't want to be put in a glass case like the wax flowers at home.
+Her voice was a mere mechanical instrument, as he had taken pains so
+often to tell her, but he seemed to be making the mistake of thinking
+<i>her</i> a mechanical instrument too. She wasn't. She was very much alive,
+tingling with vitality, very human under her demure aspect during the
+singing lessons, and it had bothered her that Peter shouldn't know it.
+His ignorance, his indifference affronted her. Didn't he see what she
+looked like? Didn't he see that she might be worth making love to ...
+just a little, a very little ... once in a while?</p>
+
+<p>The clouds had broken suddenly, almost without warning, when he had
+talked like a professor&mdash;about sentiment&mdash;apologized&mdash;that was what he
+had done&mdash;<i>apologized</i> for not making love to her! Oh!</p>
+
+<p>And then things had happened swiftly&mdash;incredible, unbelievable things.
+The lightning had flashed and it had shown an ugly Mr. Nichols&mdash;a
+different Mr. Nichols from anything that she could have imagined of him.
+The things he had said to her ... his kisses ... shameful things! A
+hundred times she had brushed them off like the vision of him from her
+mind. And still they returned, warm and pulsing to her lips. And still
+the vision of him returned&mdash;remained. He <i>had</i> been so nice to her
+before....</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Now Beth sat in the big chair opposite Peter in the Cabin by the log
+fire (for the evenings were getting cool) while he finished telling her
+about the death of Ben Cameron, of the murder and of Jonathan K.
+McGuire's share in the whole terrible affair. It was with some
+misgivings, even after swearing her to secrecy, that he told her what he
+had learned through Kennedy and McGuire. And she had listened,
+wide-eyed. Her father of course was only <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>the shadow of a memory to her,
+the evil shade in a half-forgotten dream, and therefore it was not grief
+that she could feel, not even sorrow for one who in life had been so
+vile, even if his miserable death had been so tragic&mdash;only horror and
+dismay at the thought of the perpetrator of the infamy. And not until
+Peter had come to the end of the story did she realize what this
+revelation meant, that the very foundation of McGuire's great fortune
+was laid upon property which belonged to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Out of all this evil must come some good, Beth," he finished soberly.
+"That copper mine was yours. McGuire took it and he is going to pay you
+what he owes."</p>
+
+<p>Beth had already exhausted all the expletives of horror and amazement,
+and now for a moment this last information staggered her and she stared
+at him unbelieving.</p>
+
+<p>"Pay me? I can't believe&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It was your property by every law of God and man, and I mean that you
+shall have it." He paused and smiled softly. "You see, Beth, you won't
+need to depend on me now for your training."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;then this was what you meant&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What I meant when I said that you should owe me nothing&mdash;that I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But I <i>will</i> owe you&mdash;everything. I shall still owe you everything."
+And then, wonderingly, "And just to think of my livin' here all this
+time so near the man&mdash;and not knowin' about&mdash;&mdash;" Her words trailed off
+into silent astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And to think of his making his fortune on money that belonged to
+you! Millions. And he's going to pay you what he got out of the
+Tarantula mine&mdash;every dollar with interest to date."</p>
+
+<p>"But how can you make him do that?" she cried eagerly. "What proof have
+you got?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>He smiled grimly into the fire as he poked a fallen log into the blaze.</p>
+
+<p>"Blackmail is an ugly word, Beth. But it shouldn't be blackmail, if
+silence is the price of getting what really belongs to you. McGuire is
+using your money&mdash;and he must give it to you. It's your money&mdash;not his.
+If he won't give it to you of his own free will, he will give it against
+his will."</p>
+
+<p>"But how can you make him do that?" asked Beth timidly.</p>
+
+<p>"By saving him from Hawk Kennedy. That's my price&mdash;and yours."</p>
+
+<p>"But how can you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I've got to fight Kennedy with his own weapons&mdash;outwit
+him. And I've thought out a plan&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But he's dangerous. You mustn't take any further risks with a man like
+that for me."</p>
+
+<p>Peter only smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"It will amuse me, Beth. And besides&mdash;&mdash;" He bent forward to tend the
+fire, his face immediately grave again. "Besides&mdash;I think I owe you
+that, now."</p>
+
+<p>She understood what he meant and thrilled gently. Her joy had come back
+to her with a rush. All through the music lesson and through the recital
+of the tale of mystery she had hung breathlessly on his words and
+watched the changing expression on his features as he talked into the
+fire. This was <i>her</i> Mr. Nichols who was speaking now, her friend and
+mentor, who wanted her to understand that this was his way of atonement.
+But she ignored his last remark, to Beth the most important of the
+entire conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"How&mdash;how much will the&mdash;the money amount to?" she asked timidly.</p>
+
+<p>Peter laughed.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>"Figure it out for yourself. Half a million&mdash;six per cent&mdash;fifteen
+years&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Half a million dollars&mdash;&mdash;!"</p>
+
+<p>"A million&mdash;or more!"</p>
+
+<p>"A million! God-a-mercy!"</p>
+
+<p>Peter recognized one of Aunt Tillie's expressions, Beth's vocabulary
+being inadequate to the situation.</p>
+
+<p>"But you haven't got it yet," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"And I daren't think of gettin' it. I won't think of it. I'd get my
+brain so full of things I wanted it would just naturally <i>bust</i>. Oh
+lordy!"</p>
+
+<p>Peter laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"You do want a lot of things, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. A silk waist, a satin skirt, some silk stockings&mdash;but most
+of all, a real sure enough piano," she gasped. And then, as though in
+reproach of her selfishness, "And I could pay off the mortgage on Aunt
+Tillie's farm back in the clearing!"</p>
+
+<p>"How much is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Three thousand dollars. I've already paid off three hundred."</p>
+
+<p>"There ought to be enough for that," said Peter soberly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mr. Nichols. I hope you don't think I'm an awful fool talkin' this
+way."</p>
+
+<p>"Not unless you think <i>I</i> am."</p>
+
+<p>"But it <i>is</i> nice to dream of things sometimes."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I do that too. What do you dream of, Beth?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, of bein' a great singer, mostly&mdash;standin' on a stage with people
+lookin' up and clappin' their hands at me."</p>
+
+<p>"What else?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she laughed gayly, "I used to dream of marryin' a prince&mdash;all
+girls do. But there ain't any princes now to marry."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>"No, that's true," he assented. "The old world hasn't any use for
+princes now." And then, "But why did you want to marry a prince?" he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know. It's just fairy tales. Haven't you ever lived in a
+fairy tale and loved a princess?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I've lived in a fairy tale, but I've never loved a princess."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess if everybody knew," said Beth with conviction, "the princes in
+Europe are a pretty bad lot."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Peter slowly, "I guess they are."</p>
+
+<p>She paused a moment, looking into the fire. And then, "Were you ever
+acquainted with any princes in Europe, Mr. Nichols?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter smiled. "Yes, Beth. I did know one prince rather
+intimately&mdash;rather too intimately."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh. You didn't like him?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not much. He was an awful rotter. The worst of it was that he had
+good instincts and when he went wrong, he went wrong in spite of 'em.
+You see&mdash;he was temperamental."</p>
+
+<p>"What's temperamental?"</p>
+
+<p>"Having the devil and God in you both at the same time," muttered Peter
+after a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"I know," she said. "Satan and God, with God just sittin' back a little
+to see how far Satan will go."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled at her. "You don't mean that you have temptations too, Beth?"</p>
+
+<p>She ignored his question, her face sober, and went back to her subject.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess your prince wasn't any better or any worse than a lot of other
+people. Maybe he didn't give God a chance?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Maybe not," said Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me he must have been kind of human, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>somehow," Beth
+commented reflectively. "What's become of him now?" she asked, then.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he's out of it," replied Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"Dead?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. His country has chucked all the nobility out on the dust heap."</p>
+
+<p>"Russia?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Did they kill him?"</p>
+
+<p>"They tried to, but couldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Where is he now?"</p>
+
+<p>"A wanderer on the face of the earth."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so sorry. It must be terrible to have to eat pork and beans when
+your stomach's only used to chocolate sundaes."</p>
+
+<p>Peter grinned.</p>
+
+<p>"Some of 'em were glad enough to get off with stomachs to put beans and
+pork into. Oh, you needn't waste your pity, Beth."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't. I read the papers. I guess they got what they deserved. The
+workin' people in the world ain't any too keen on buyin' any more
+diamond tiaras for loafers. I reckon it was about time for a new deal
+all around without the face cards."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps, Beth. But there's always the ten spot to take the deuce."</p>
+
+<p>"I hadn't thought of that," said Beth reflectively. "People aren't
+really equal&mdash;are they? Some apples <i>are</i> better than others. I guess,"
+she sighed, "that the real trouble with the world is because there ain't
+enough friendship in it."</p>
+
+<p>Peter was silent for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's true," he said, "not enough friendship&mdash;not enough love.
+And it's all on account of money, Beth. There wouldn't have been any
+European war if some <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>people hadn't wanted property that belonged to
+somebody else."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope wanting this money won't make me hate anybody or make anybody
+hate me. I don't want to make Mr. McGuire unhappy or Miss McGuire&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't worry," said Peter dryly. "You see, it's your money."</p>
+
+<p>Beth gave a deep sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't help it. I <i>would</i> like to have a sport coat and a <i>cerise</i>
+veil like Peggy wears."</p>
+
+<p>"You shall have 'em. What else?"</p>
+
+<p>"Some pretty patent leather shoes with rhinestone buckles&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And a black velvet hat and nice <i>lingerie</i>&mdash;&mdash;" (Beth pronounced it
+lingery).</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. And the piano&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes. A piano and books&mdash;lots of books."</p>
+
+<p>"And a red automobile?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I wouldn't dare wish for that."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? It's just as easy to wish for an automobile as a piano."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I suppose so." She became immediately grave again. "But I can't
+seem to believe it all. I'm afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"Of what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of Hawk Kennedy. I feel that he's going to make trouble for us all, Mr.
+Nichols. I'm afraid. I always seem to feel things before they happen.
+Any man who could do what he did&mdash;murder!"</p>
+
+<p>"There will be some way to get around him."</p>
+
+<p>"But it's dangerous. I don't feel I've got the right to let you do this
+for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, you have. I'd do it anyhow. It's only justice."</p>
+
+<p>"But suppose he&mdash;suppose&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>"What&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"He might kill you, too."</p>
+
+<p>Peter laughed. "Not a chance. You see, I wasn't born to die a violent
+death. If I had been, I'd have been dead months ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;the war, you mean?" she asked soberly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;the war. Everything is tame after that. I'm not afraid of Hawk
+Kennedy."</p>
+
+<p>"But there's danger just the same."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope not. I won't cross that bridge until I come to it."</p>
+
+<p>Beth was silent for a long moment and then with a glance at the clock on
+the mantel slowly gathered her music, aware of his voice close at her
+ear.</p>
+
+<p>"And if I do this, Beth,&mdash;if I get what belongs to you, will you believe
+that I have no motive but friendship for you, that I care for you enough
+to want you to forgive me for what has happened?"</p>
+
+<p>He had caught her fingers in his own but she did not try to release
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't speak of that&mdash;<i>please</i>! I want to forget you&mdash;that day."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you forget it more easily by remembering me as I am now, Beth?
+See. I want you as much now as I did then&mdash;just as much, but I cannot
+have you until you give yourself to me."</p>
+
+<p>What did he mean? She wasn't sure of him. If marriage was what he meant,
+why didn't he say so? Marriage. It was such an easy word to say. Her
+fingers struggled in his.</p>
+
+<p>"Please, Mr. Nichols," she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean that you won't&mdash;that you don't care enough&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I'm not sure of you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I love you, Beth&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>"You <i>say</i> so&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I do&mdash;better than anything in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Enough to&mdash;enough to...?"</p>
+
+<p>She was weakening fast. She felt her danger in the trembling of her
+fingers in his. Why didn't he finish her question for her? Marriage. It
+was such a little word. And yet he evaded it and she saw that he meant
+to evade it.</p>
+
+<p>"Enough to have you almost in my arms and yet hardly to touch
+you&mdash;enough to have your lips within reach of mine and yet not to take
+them. Isn't that what you wanted, Beth? Gentleness, tenderness&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She flung away from him desperately.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;no. I want nothing&mdash;nothing. Please! You don't want to understand."
+And then with an effort she found her poise. "Things must be as they
+are. Nothing else. It's getting late, I must go."</p>
+
+<p>"Beth&mdash;Not yet. Just a minute&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>But she did not go and only stood still, trembling with irresolution. He
+knew what she wanted him to say. There could be no middle ground for
+Beth. She must be all to him or nothing. Marriage. It was the Grand Duke
+Peter Nicholaevitch who had evaded this very moment while Peter Nichols
+had urged him to it. And it was Peter Nichols who knew that any words
+spoken of marriage to Beth Cameron would be irrevocable, the Grand Duke
+Peter (an opportunist) who urged him to utter them, careless of
+consequences. And there stood Beth adorable in her perplexity, conjuring
+both of him to speak.</p>
+
+<p>It was Peter Nichols who met the challenge, oblivious of all counsels of
+pride, culture, vainglory and hypocrisy. This was his mate, a sweeter
+lady than any he had ever known.</p>
+
+<p>"Beth," he whispered. "I love you. Nothing in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>world makes any
+difference to me but your happiness."</p>
+
+<p>He came to her and caught her in his arms, while she still struggled
+away from him. "I want you. It doesn't matter who I am or who you are. I
+want you to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Beth suddenly sprung away from him, staring at a figure which stood in
+the doorway as a strident, highly pitched voice cut in sharply on
+Peter's confession.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, excuse <i>me</i>! I didn't mean to intrude."</p>
+
+<p>It was Miss Peggy McGuire in her <i>cerise</i> veil and her sport suit, with
+hard eyes somewhat scandalized by what she had seen, for Peter was
+standing awkwardly, his arms empty of their prize, who had started back
+in dismay and now stood with difficulty recovering her self-possession.
+As neither of them spoke Miss McGuire went on cuttingly, as she glanced
+curiously around the Cabin.</p>
+
+<p>"So this is where you live? I seem to have spoiled your party. And may I
+ask who&mdash;&mdash;" and her eyes traveled scornfully over Beth's figure,
+beginning at her shoes and ending at her flushed face&mdash;"I think I've
+seen you before&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss McGuire," said Peter quietly, "This is Miss Cameron&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes&mdash;the kitchen maid."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Beth Cameron," insisted Peter frigidly, "who has just done me the
+honor of promising to marry me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I see&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Beth stared from one to the other, aware of the meaning of the visitor's
+manner and of Peter's reply.</p>
+
+<p>"That is not true," she said very quietly, her deep voice vibrant with
+emotion. "I come here often. Mr. Nichols is teaching me music. I am very
+proud of his friendship. But I did not promise to marry him."</p>
+
+<p>Peggy McGuire turned on her heel.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's almost time you did," she said insultingly.</p>
+
+<p>Peter, now pale and cold with fury, reached the door <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>before her and
+stood blocking the passageway. "Miss McGuire, I'll trouble you to be
+more careful in addressing my guests," he said icily.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me pass&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"In a moment."</p>
+
+<p>"You'd dare&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"I would like you to understand that this cabin is mine&mdash;while I am in
+Black Rock. Any guest here comes at my invitation and honors me by
+accepting my hospitality. But I reserve the privilege of saying who
+shall come and who shall not. I hope I make myself clear&mdash;&mdash;" And Peter
+bowed low and then moved aside, indicating the door. "Good-night," he
+finished.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Peggy McGuire glared at him, red as a young turkey cock, her
+finishing school training just saving her from a tirade. "Oh, you! We'll
+see about this&mdash;&mdash;" and dashed past him out of the door and disappeared
+into the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>Peter followed her with his angry gaze, struggling for his self-control,
+and at last turned into the room toward Beth, who now stood a smiling
+image turned into stone.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you deny what I said, Beth?" he pleaded.</p>
+
+<p>"It wasn't the truth. I never promised to marry you. You never asked me
+to."</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>would</i> have asked you. I ask you now. I <i>was</i> asking you when that
+little fool came in&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe you were. Maybe you weren't. Maybe I'm a little hard of hearin'.
+But I'm not goin' to make <i>that</i> an excuse for my bein' here&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's just that I came here because I wanted to come and because you
+wanted me. People have been talkin'. Let them talk. Let <i>her</i> talk&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She will. You can be pretty sure of that."</p>
+
+<p>Peter was pacing up and down the room, his hands <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>behind him. "If she'd
+been a man&mdash;&mdash;" he was muttering. "If she'd only been a man."</p>
+
+<p>Beth watched him a moment, still smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I got what she meant&mdash;she was just tryin' to insult me."</p>
+
+<p>She laughed. "Seems as if she'd kind of succeeded. I suppose I ought to
+have scratched her face for her. I think I would have&mdash;if she'd just
+stayed a minute longer. Funny too, because I always used to think she
+was so sweet."</p>
+
+<p>Peter threw his arms wildly into the air and exploded.</p>
+
+<p>"Sweet! Sweet! <i>That</i> girl! Yes, if vinegar is. She'll tear your
+reputation to shreds."</p>
+
+<p>Beth had stopped smiling now and leaned against the wall, her chin
+lowered.</p>
+
+<p>"I reckon it serves me right. I hadn't any business to be comin'
+here&mdash;not at night, anyway."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Beth," he pleaded, catching her hands. "Why couldn't you have let
+things be?"</p>
+
+<p>She struggled a little. And then, "Let <i>her</i> think I was <i>engaged</i> to
+you when I wasn't?" she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"But we are, Beth, dear. Say we are, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not when we're not."</p>
+
+<p>"Beth&mdash;&mdash;!"</p>
+
+<p>"You should have spoken sooner, if you'd really meant it. Oh, I know
+what it is. I've always known there's a difference between us."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;not unless you make it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. It was there before I was born. You were brought up in a different
+kind of life in a different way of thinkin' from mine&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What has that got to do with it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Everything. It's not my fault. And maybe I'm a little too proud. But
+I'm straight&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>"Don't, Beth&mdash;&mdash;" He put his arm around her but she disengaged herself
+gently.</p>
+
+<p>"No, let me finish. Maybe you wanted me. I guess you did. But not that
+much&mdash;not enough to speak out&mdash;and you were too straight to lie to me.
+I'm thankful for that&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But I <i>have</i> spoken, Beth," he insisted, taking her by the elbows and
+holding her so that he could look into her eyes. "I've asked you to&mdash;to
+be my wife. I ask you now. Is that clear?"</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes evaded him and she laughed uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it's clear&mdash;and&mdash;and your reason for it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I love you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"A little, maybe. But I'll marry no man just to save my face&mdash;and his."</p>
+
+<p>But he caught her close to him, finding a new joy in his momentous
+decision. She struggled still, but he would not be denied.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you will," he whispered. "You've got to marry me whether you want
+to or not. You're compromised."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, you do. And you love me, Beth."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't love you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You do. And I'm going to marry you whether you want it or not."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, <i>are</i> you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"When?"</p>
+
+<p>"Soon."</p>
+
+<p>He kissed her. She didn't resist him. Resistance was useless. He had
+won.</p>
+
+<p>"Beth, dear," he went on. "I couldn't lie to you. I'm glad you knew
+that. And I couldn't hurt you. I think I've always loved you&mdash;from the
+first."</p>
+
+<p>"I too&mdash;I too," she whispered. "I couldn't help it."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>"I think I knew that too&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no. You couldn't&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. It was meant to be. You've given a new meaning to life, torn from
+its very roots a whole rotten philosophy. Oh, you don't know what I
+mean&mdash;except that nobility is in the mind, beauty in the heart. Nothing
+else matters."</p>
+
+<p>"No. It doesn't," she sighed. "You see, I&mdash;I do believe in you."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God! But you know nothing of me&mdash;nothing of my past&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care what your past has been or who you are. You're good enough
+for me. I'm satisfied&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He laughed joyously at the terms of her acquiescence.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you want to know what I've been&mdash;who I am&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. It wouldn't make any difference&mdash;not now."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you some day."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll take a chance on that. I'm not afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"And whatever I am&mdash;you'll marry me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Whatever&mdash;you&mdash;are&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>While he smiled down at her she straightened in his arms and gently
+released herself, glancing guiltily at the clock.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I must be going now," she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>And so through the quiet forest they went to Black Rock village, hand in
+hand.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+
+<h2>IDENTIFICATION</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>The sudden and unexpected arrival of Miss Peggy McGuire upon the scene
+had been annoying. That young person was, as Peter knew, a soulless
+little snob and materialist with a mind which would not be slow to put
+the worst possible construction upon the situation. Of course as matters
+stood at the close of that extraordinary evening of self-revelations, it
+did not matter a great deal what Peggy McGuire thought or said or did,
+for nothing could hurt Beth now. The Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch had
+capitulated and Peter Nichols gloried in his victory over inherited
+tradition. He had no regrets and he had made his choice, for Beth was
+what he wanted. She completed him. She was effulgent,&mdash;even in homespun.
+A little tinsel more or less could make no difference in Beth. Those of
+his own class who would not accept her might go hang for all he cared.</p>
+
+<p>Still Peter had rather that almost any one but Peggy should have come
+upon the scene, and Beth's frankness had given her a handle for a
+scandal, if she chose to make one. Beth cared nothing, he knew, for her
+soul was greater than his, but Peter's anger still smoldered at the
+words that had been used to Beth.</p>
+
+<p>He did not fear complications with McGuire, nor did he court them, but
+he knew how this daughter had been brought up, spoiled and pampered to
+the very limits of McGuire's indulgence and fortune, and he couldn't
+help holding her up in comparison with Beth, much to Peggy's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>detriment.
+For Beth was a lady to her finger tips, born to a natural gentility that
+put to confusion the mannerisms of the "smart" finishing school which
+had not succeeded in concealing the strain of a plebeian origin, and
+Beth's dropped g's and her quaint inversions and locutions were
+infinitely more pleasing to Peter than Miss Peggy's slang and
+self-assurance, which reflected the modernity of the fashionable hotel
+tea-room.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately, Jonathan K. McGuire, who had returned from the seashore the
+night before, was not disposed to take his daughter's animadversions too
+seriously and when Peter announced his engagement to the niece of his
+housekeeper he made no comment further than to offer his
+congratulations. He did not even know her name and when McGuire was told
+that it was Beth Cameron, Peter did not miss his slight start of
+inquiry. But of course, having only owned his acres of woodland for half
+a dozen years, he knew little as to the origins of the inhabitants of
+Black Rock and as Peter said nothing at that moment he asked no
+questions and only listened to the forester's account of the progress of
+the work and of the difficulties experienced in attempting to complete
+the timber-contract. There was no way of improving the labor situation
+and a visit to the camp proved to him that Peter had done all that could
+be expected with the poor material at hand. On the way back they stopped
+at the Cabin and Peter showed him the letter from Hawk Kennedy. And
+there for a while they sat discussing plans to outwit the enemy and draw
+his sting.</p>
+
+<p>It was going to be no easy task and could only be accomplished by
+Peter's apparent compliance with Kennedy's wishes in throwing in his lot
+with Hawk and simulating an enmity for his employer. McGuire nodded his
+head and listened soberly. The rest at the seashore had done him good
+and he was disposed to meet the situation <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>with courage, reflecting
+Peter's own attitude of confidence and optimism, admitting that his
+confession to Peter had lifted a weight from his shoulders and given him
+the spirit to meet the issue, whatever it might be.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," he said at last, "if the worst comes I'm in a pretty bad
+hole. But it was the shock of meeting Hawk after all these years that
+took the courage out of me at first. I wasn't quite right in my head for
+a while. I'd have killed him gladly and gotten away with it perhaps&mdash;but
+I'm glad now that things turned out the way they did. I've got no blood
+on my hands&mdash;that's one thing&mdash;whatever I signed. I've been thinking a
+good deal since I've been away. If I signed that fake confession Hawk
+Kennedy signed it too. He won't dare to produce it except as a last
+resort in desperation, to drag me down with him if he fails. We can
+string him along for a while before he does that and if he falls for
+your game we may be able to get the paper away from him. You've thought
+of something, Nichols?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, of several things," said Peter slowly. "I'm going to try diplomacy
+first. If that doesn't work, then something else more drastic."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire rose at last and took up his hat.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know how to thank you for what you've done, Nichols," he said
+awkwardly. "Of course if&mdash;if money will repay you for this sort of
+service, you can count on my doing what you think is right."</p>
+
+<p>Peter rose and walked to the window, looking out.</p>
+
+<p>"I was coming to that, Mr. McGuire," he said gravely.</p>
+
+<p>McGuire paused and laid his hat down again.</p>
+
+<p>"Before you went away," Peter went on, turning slowly toward his
+employer, "you told me that you had never made any effort to discover
+the whereabouts of any of the relatives of Ben Cameron. But I inferred
+from what <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>you said that if you <i>did</i> find them, you'd be willing to do
+your duty. That's true, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>McGuire examined him soberly but agreed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's true. But why do you bring this question up now?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll explain in a moment. Mr. McGuire, you are said to be a very rich
+man, how rich I don't know, but I think you'll be willing to admit to
+me, knowing what I do of your history, that without the 'Tarantula' mine
+and the large sum it brought you you would never have succeeded in
+getting to your present position in the world of finance."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll admit that. But I don't see&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You will in a minute, sir&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Go on."</p>
+
+<p>"If I have been correctly informed, you sold out your copper holdings in
+Madre Gulch for something like half a million dollars&mdash;&mdash;" Peter paused
+for McGuire's comment. He made none. But he had sunk into his chair
+again and was listening intently.</p>
+
+<p>"The interest on half a million dollars, even at six per cent, if
+compounded, would in fifteen years amount with the principal to a
+considerable sum."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I see what you're getting at&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You will admit that what I say is true?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You'll admit also, if you're reasonable, that the money which founded
+your great fortune was as a matter of fact not yours but Ben
+Cameron's&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"But why speak of him now?" muttered the old man.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you admit this?"</p>
+
+<p>McGuire frowned and then growled, "How can I help admitting it, since
+you know the facts? But I don't see&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well then, admitting that the 'Tarantula' mine was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>Ben Cameron's and
+not yours or Hawk Kennedy's, it seems clear that if any of Ben Cameron's
+heirs should turn up unexpectedly, they might claim at least a share of
+what should have been their own."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire had started forward in his chair, his gaze on Peter's face, as
+the truth was suddenly borne in upon him.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean, Nichols, that&mdash;&mdash;." He paused and gasped as Peter nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that Ben Cameron's only child, a daughter, lives here at Black
+Rock&mdash;the niece of your housekeeper&mdash;Mrs. Bergen&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Cameron&mdash;My God!" McGuire fell back in his chair, staring at
+Peter, incapable of further speech.</p>
+
+<p>"Beth Cameron," said Peter gently, "the lady who has done me the honor
+of promising to become my wife&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But how do you know?" gasped McGuire. "There must be some mistake. Are
+you sure you&mdash;&mdash;" He broke off and then a sly smile curled at the
+corners of his lips. "You know, Nichols, Cameron is not an unusual name.
+It's quite possible that you're&mdash;er&mdash;mistaken."</p>
+
+<p>"No. I'm quite sure there's no mistake. I think the facts can be
+proved&mdash;that is, of course, if you're willing to help to establish this
+claim and to admit it when established. Otherwise I intend to establish
+it without your assistance&mdash;as an act of justice and
+of&mdash;er&mdash;retribution."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire watched his superintendent's face for a while before replying.
+And then, briefly, "What are the facts on which you base this
+extraordinary statement?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll present those facts when the time comes, Mr. McGuire," said Peter
+at a venture. "I don't think it will be a difficult matter to identify
+the murdered man. He wrote home once or twice. He can be traced
+successfully. But what I would like to know first is what your
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>disposition toward his daughter will be when the proper proofs are
+presented."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>If</i> they're presented," said McGuire.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you answer me?"</p>
+
+<p>"It would seem time enough to answer then. I'll do the right thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Meaning what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Money enough to satisfy her."</p>
+
+<p>"That won't do. She must have what is hers by right. Her price is one
+million dollars," said Peter quietly.</p>
+
+<p>McGuire started up. "You're dreaming," he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"It's her money."</p>
+
+<p>"But I developed that mine."</p>
+
+<p>"It was her mine that you developed."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire stopped by the window and turned.</p>
+
+<p>"And if I refuse&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think you will&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The two men stared at each other, but Peter had the whip hand&mdash;or
+McGuire thought he had, which was quite sufficient.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you help me to perform this act of justice?" Peter went on calmly.
+"It's the only thing to do, Mr. McGuire. Can't you see that?"</p>
+
+<p>McGuire paced the floor heavily a few times before replying. And then,</p>
+
+<p>"I've got to think this thing over, Nichols. It's all so very sudden&mdash;a
+million dollars. My God! man, you talk of a million as if it grew on the
+trees." He stopped abruptly before the fireplace and turned to Peter.
+"And where does Hawk Kennedy come in on this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Beth Cameron's claim comes before his&mdash;or yours," said Peter quietly.
+"Whatever happens to either of you&mdash;it's not her fault."</p>
+
+<p>Peter hadn't intended a threat. He was simply stating the principal
+thought of his mind. But it broke <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>McGuire's front. He leaned upon the
+armchair and then fell heavily into it, his head buried in his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll do&mdash;whatever you say," he groaned at last, "but you've got to get
+me out of this, Nichols. I've got to have that paper."</p>
+
+<p>Peter poured out a drink of the whisky and silently handed it to his
+employer.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Mr. McGuire," he said cheerfully, "we'll do what we can. There'll
+be a way to outwit Hawk Kennedy."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope to God there is," muttered McGuire helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll make a bargain with you."</p>
+
+<p>"What?" asked McGuire helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>"If I get the confession from Kennedy, you give Beth Cameron the money I
+ask for."</p>
+
+<p>"No publicity?"</p>
+
+<p>"None. I give you my word on it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," muttered the old man, "I guess it's coming to her. I'll see." He
+paused helplessly. "A million dollars! That's a big sum to get together.
+A big price&mdash;but not too big to clear this load off my conscience."</p>
+
+<p>"Good. I'm glad you see it in this way."</p>
+
+<p>The old man turned shrewdly. "But I've got to have the proofs&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. If you're honest in your intentions you'll help me confirm
+the evidence."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the other slowly. "I'll do what I can."</p>
+
+<p>"Then perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me what Ben Cameron looked
+like&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I've told you as near as I can remember," muttered McGuire.</p>
+
+<p>"Had the murdered man, for instance, lost the little finger of his left
+hand?" asked Peter, coolly concealing the anxiety which lay behind his
+question.</p>
+
+<p>But he had his reward, for McGuire shot a quick glance <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>at him, his
+heavy jowl sagging. And as he didn't reply, Peter urged him
+triumphantly.</p>
+
+<p>"You promised to help. Will you answer me truthfully? It will save
+asking a lot of questions."</p>
+
+<p>At last McGuire threw up his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he muttered, "that was Ben Cameron. One of his little fingers was
+missing all right enough."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks," said Peter, with an air of closing the interview. "If you want
+this proof that the murdered man was Beth's father, ask Mrs. Bergen."</p>
+
+<p>There was a silence. Peter had won. McGuire gathered up his hat with the
+mien of a broken man and moved toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Nichols. I guess there's no doubt of it. I'll admit the
+proof's strong enough. It can be further verified, I suppose, but I'd
+rather no questions were asked. You do your part and I&mdash;I'll do mine."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, sir. You can count on me. If that fake agreement is still in
+existence, I'll get it for you. If it has been destroyed&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll have to have proof of that&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you leave that in my hands?"</p>
+
+<p>McGuire nodded, shook Peter's hand and wandered out up the path in the
+direction of Black Rock House.</p>
+
+<p>From the first, Peter had had no doubt that the murdered man was Beth's
+father, but he had to admit under McGuire's questioning that there might
+still be a difficulty in tracing the vagrant from the meager history of
+his peregrinations that Mrs. Bergen had been able to provide. McGuire's
+attitude in regard to the absent little finger had been really
+admirable. Peter was thankful for that little finger, and for McGuire's
+honesty. There was no doubt in his mind now&mdash;if any had existed&mdash;who Ben
+Cameron's murderer was. The affair was simplified amazingly. With Beth's
+claim recognized, Peter could now <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>enter heart and soul into the
+interesting business of beating Hawk Kennedy at his own game. He would
+win&mdash;he must win, for the pitiful millionaire and for Beth.</p>
+
+<p>And so, jubilantly, he made his way to Black Rock village to fill a very
+agreeable engagement that he had, to take supper (cooked and served by
+her own hands) with Miss Beth Cameron. He found that Beth had tried to
+prevail upon Aunt Tillie to be present but that the arrival of the
+McGuire family at Black Rock House had definitely prevented the
+appearance of their chaperon. Peter's appetite, however, suffered little
+diminution upon that account and he learned that singing was not Beth's
+only accomplishment. The rolls, as light as feathers and steaming hot,
+were eloquent of her skill, the chicken was broiled to a turn, the
+creamed potatoes delicious, and the apple pie of puff-paste provoked
+memories of the Paris Ritz. Aunt Tillie's best tablecloth and family
+silver&mdash;old, by the looks of it&mdash;had been brought into requisition and a
+bunch of goldenrod and purple asters graced the centerpiece. And above
+it all presided Beth, her face aflame from the cookstove, gracious and
+more than lovable in her pride and self-consciousness.</p>
+
+<p>When the supper was finished, Peter helped her to clear away the things
+and insisted on being allowed to help wash the dishes. But to this Beth
+demurred for they were of Aunt Tillie's blue colonial china set and not
+to be trusted to impious hands. But she let Peter sit in the kitchen and
+watch her (which was quite satisfactory) and even spared him a kiss or
+two at propitious intervals.</p>
+
+<p>Then when all things had been set to rights they went into the little
+parlor and sat on the worn Victorian plush-covered sofa. There was much
+to talk about, matters of grave importance that concerned themselves
+alone, explanations to be made, hopes to be expressed, and Beth's affair
+with McGuire to be discussed in all its phases. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>Peter told her nothing
+of his rank or station in life, saving that revelation for a later
+moment. Was not the present all-sufficient? And hadn't Beth told him and
+didn't she tell him again now that she believed in him and that "no
+matter what" she loved him and was his, for ever after, Amen. She didn't
+care who he was, you see.</p>
+
+<p>And when the important business of affirming those vows was concluded
+again and again, the scarcely less important business of Beth's future
+was talked over with a calmness which did much credit to Beth's control
+of the situation. Peter brought out Hawk Kennedy's letter and they read
+it together, and talked about it, Peter explaining his intention to
+acquiesce in Hawk's plan. Then Peter told of his conversation with
+McGuire and of the proof of Ben Cameron's identity which the old man had
+honestly admitted.</p>
+
+<p>"It looks very much, Beth," said Peter at last, with a smile, "as though
+you were going to be a very wealthy young woman."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Peter," she sighed (the elimination of formal appellations had been
+accomplished during the earlier stages of the repast), "Oh, Peter, I
+hope it isn't going to bring us unhappiness."</p>
+
+<p>"Unhappiness! Why, Beth!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know. It seems to me that people with a lot of money always
+look unhappy wantin' <i>to want</i> somethin'."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"The secret of successful wanting is only to want the things you can
+get."</p>
+
+<p>"That's just the trouble. With a million dollars I'll get so much more
+than I want. And what then&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"You'll have to start all over again."</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said quietly. "I won't. If wantin' things <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>she can't buy makes
+a girl <i>hard</i>, like Peggy McGuire, I think I'd rather be poor."</p>
+
+<p>Peter grew grave again.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing could ever make you like Peggy McGuire," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I might be&mdash;if I ever get into the habit of thinkin' I was somethin'
+that I wasn't."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll never be a snob, Beth, no matter how much money you have."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope not," she said with a laugh. "My nose turns up enough already."
+And then, wistfully, "But I always <i>did</i> want a <i>cerise</i> veil."</p>
+
+<p>"I've no doubt you'll get it, a <i>cerise</i> veil&mdash;mauve, green and blue
+ones too. I'll be having to keep an eye on you when you go to the city."</p>
+
+<p>She eyed him gravely and then, "I don't like to hear you talk like
+that."</p>
+
+<p>But he kept to his topic for the mere delight of hearing her replies.</p>
+
+<p>"But then you might see somebody you liked better than me."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled at him gently. "If I'd 'a' thought that I wouldn't 'a' picked
+you out in the first place."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you did pick me out. When?"</p>
+
+<p>"H-m. Wouldn't you like to know!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. At the Cabin?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"At McGuire's&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"No-o. Before that&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"When&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She blushed very prettily and laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Down Pickerel River road."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you, Beth?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I liked your looks. You <i>do</i> smile like you meant it, Peter. I
+said to myself that anybody that could <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>bow from the middle like you was
+good enough for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Now you're making fun of me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no. I'm not. You see, dear, you've really lived up to that bow!"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope," said Peter gently, "I hope I always will."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not worryin'. And I'm glad I knew you loved me before you knew
+about the money."</p>
+
+<p>"You did know, then&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. What bothered me was your findin' it so hard to tell me so."</p>
+
+<p>Peter was more awkward and self-conscious at that moment than he could
+ever remember having been in his life. Her frankness shamed him&mdash;made it
+seem difficult for him ever to tell her the real reasons for his
+hesitation. What chance would the exercise of inherited tradition have
+in the judgment of this girl who dealt instinctively and intimately with
+the qualities of the mind and heart, and only with them?</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I was not good enough for you," he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>She put her fingers over his lips. And when he kissed them&mdash;took them
+away and gave him her lips.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll hear no more of <i>that</i>, Peter Nichols," she whispered. "You're
+good enough for me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Altogether, it may be said that the evening was a success at every angle
+from which Peter chose to view it. And he made his way back to the Cabin
+through the deep forest along the path that Beth had worn, the path to
+his heart past all the fictitious barriers that custom had built about
+him. The meddlesome world was not. Here was the <i>novaya jezn</i> that his
+people had craved and shouted for. He had found it. New
+life&mdash;happiness&mdash;with a mate ... his woman&mdash;soon to be his wife&mdash;whether
+Beth Nichols or the Grand Duchess Elizabeth...? There was no title of
+nobility that could make Beth's heart more noble, no pride of lineage
+that could <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>give her a higher place than that which she already held in
+his heart.</p>
+
+<p>His blood surging, he ran along the log at the crossing and up the path
+to the Cabin, where a surprise awaited him. For he found the lamp
+lighted, and, seated complacently in Peter's easy chair, stockinged feet
+toward the blaze of a fresh log, a bottle at his elbow, was Hawk
+Kennedy.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+
+<h2>PETER BECOMES A CONSPIRATOR</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>Peter entered and stood by the door, startled from his rhapsody by the
+appearance of the intruder, who had made himself quite at home,
+regardless of the fact that the final words of their last meeting had
+given no promise of a friendship which would make his air of easy
+familiarity acceptable to Peter, whose first impulse moved him to anger,
+fortunately controlled as he quickly remembered how much hung upon the
+assumption of an amicable relationship with McGuire's arch enemy. Peter
+hadn't replied to Hawk's letter which had indicated that some weeks
+might elapse before Black Rock received another of his visitations. The
+speculations in Peter's mind as to the change in his visitor's plans and
+the possible causes for them may have been marked in his face, for Hawk
+grinned at him amiably and rose and offered his hand with an air of
+assurance.</p>
+
+<p>"Wondering why I dropped in on you so unexpected-like? Let's say that I
+got tired of staring at the lonely grandeur of Pike's Peak, <i>mon gars</i>,
+or that the lady who gave me the pleasure of her society skipped for
+Denver with a younger man, or that the high altitude played
+Billy-be-damned with my nerves, and you'll have excuse enough. But the
+fact is, Pete, I <i>was</i> a bit nervous at being so long away from the
+center of financial operations, and thought I'd better come right on and
+talk to you."</p>
+
+<p>"I got your letter," said Peter calmly, "I hadn't answered it yet&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>"I thought it better to come for my answer."</p>
+
+<p>"I've been thinking it over&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Good. It will be worth thinkin' over. You'll bless the day Jim Coast
+ran athwart your course."</p>
+
+<p>"You seem to be taking a good deal for granted."</p>
+
+<p>"I do. I always do. Until the present opportunity it was about the only
+thing I got a chance to take. You wouldn't of done me a good turn that
+night, if you hadn't been O.K. Will you have a drink of your own? It's
+good stuff&mdash;ten years in the wood, I see by the label, and I'm glad to
+get it, for whisky is scarcer than hen's teeth between this and the
+Rockies."</p>
+
+<p>As Peter nodded he poured out the drinks and settled down in Peter's
+chair with the air of one very much at home.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Pete, what's yer answer to be?" he said at last. "You weren't any
+too polite when I left here. But I didn't think you'd turn me down
+altogether. And you're straight. I know that. I've been countin' on your
+sense of justice. How would <i>you</i> like to be treated the way <i>I</i> was
+treated by Mike McGuire?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't like it."</p>
+
+<p>"You just bet you wouldn't. You wouldn't stand for it, <i>you</i> wouldn't.
+I've got justice on my side and I've got the law&mdash;if I choose to use
+it&mdash;but I'd rather win this case as man to man&mdash;without its getting into
+the newspapers. That wouldn't matter much to a poor man like me, but it
+would make a heap of difference to a man who stands where McGuire does."</p>
+
+<p>"That's true."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And he knows it. He hasn't got a leg to stand on." Kennedy paused
+and looked Peter over coolly. Peter had been studying the situation
+critically, playing his game with some care, willing to placate his
+visitor and yet taking pains not to be too eager to gain his
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>confidence. So he carefully lighted his cigarette while he debated his
+course of action.</p>
+
+<p>"What makes you think that I'm in a different mood now from when you
+left here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Haven't I told you? Because I believe that you know that right's right
+and wrong's wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"But I told you that I didn't want to have anything to do with the
+case."</p>
+
+<p>"True for you. But you will when I've finished talking to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Will I?"</p>
+
+<p>"You will if you're not a fool, which you ain't. I always said you had
+somethin' between your ears besides ivory. You don't like to stay poor
+any more than anybody else. You don't have to. A good half of McGuire's
+money is mine. If it hadn't been for me helpin' to smell that copper out
+he'd of been out there grub-stakin' yet an' that's a fact. But I'm not
+goin' to be too hard on him. I'm no hog. I'm goin' to let him down easy.
+What's a million more or less to him? It might pinch him a little here
+and there sellin' out securities he had a fancy for, but in a year or so
+he'd have it all back and more, the way he works. Oh, I know. I've found
+out a bit since I've been away. And he'll come across all right, when he
+hears what I've got to say to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you go to him direct?" asked Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"And have him barricadin' the house and shootin' promiscuous at me from
+the windows? Not on your life. I know what I'm about. This thing has got
+to be done quiet. There's no use stirring up a dirty scandal to hurt his
+reputation for honest dealin' in New York. Even as it is, the story has
+got around about the mystery of Black Rock. No use makin' talk. That's
+why I want you. You stand ace high with the old man. He'll listen to you
+and we'll work the game all right and proper."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>"But suppose he won't listen to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Then we'll put the screws on."</p>
+
+<p>"What screws?"</p>
+
+<p>Hawk Kennedy closed one eye and squinted the other at Peter quizzically.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you that all in good time. But first I've got to know how you
+stand in the matter."</p>
+
+<p>Peter judicially examined the ash of his cigarette. "He ought to do the
+right thing," he said slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"He will&mdash;never you fear. But can I count on <i>you</i>, Pete?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want me to do?" asked Peter after a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, now we're talkin'. But wait a minute. We won't go so fast. Are you
+with me sure enough&mdash;hope I may die&mdash;cross my heart?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you'll make it worth my while," said Peter cautiously.</p>
+
+<p>"A hundred thousand. How's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"It sounds all right. But I can't see what I can do that you couldn't do
+yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you? Well, you don't know all this story. There's some of it you
+haven't heard. Maybe it's that will convince you you're makin' no
+mistake&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;I'm listening."</p>
+
+<p>A shrewd look came into Kennedy's face&mdash;a narrowing of the eyelids, a
+drawing of the muscles at the mouth, as he searched Peter's face with a
+sharp glance.</p>
+
+<p>"If you play me false, Pete, I'll have your heart's blood," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Peter only laughed at him.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not easily scared. Save the melodrama for McGuire. If you can do
+without me&mdash;go ahead. Play your hand alone. Don't tell me anything. I
+don't want to know."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>The bluff worked, for Kennedy relaxed at once.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you're a cool hand. I reckon you think I need you or I wouldn't be
+here. Well, that's so. I do need you. And I'm goin' to tell you the
+truth&mdash;even if it gives away my hand."</p>
+
+<p>"Suit yourself," said Peter, indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>He watched his old "bunkie" pour out another drink of the whisky, and a
+definite plan of action took shape in his mind. If he could only get
+Kennedy drunk enough.... The whisky bottle was almost empty&mdash;so Peter
+got up, went to his cupboard and brought forth another one.</p>
+
+<p>"Good old Pete!" said Hawk. "Seems like July the first didn't make much
+difference to you."</p>
+
+<p>"A present from Mr. McGuire," Peter explained.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, here's to his fat bank account. May it soon be ours." And he
+drank copiously. Peter filled his own glass but when the opportunity
+offered poured most of it into the slop-bowl just behind him.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm goin' to tell you, Pete, about me and McGuire&mdash;about how we got
+that mine. It ain't a pretty story. I told you some of it but not the
+real part&mdash;nobody but Mike McGuire and I know that&mdash;and he wouldn't tell
+if it was the last thing he said on earth."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Peter, "something crooked, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>Kennedy laid his bony fingers along Peter's arm while his voice sank to
+an impressive whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"Crooked as Hell, Pete&mdash;crooked as Hell. You wouldn't think Mike McGuire
+was a murderer&mdash;would you?"</p>
+
+<p>"A murderer&mdash;&mdash;!"</p>
+
+<p>Kennedy nodded. "We took that mine&mdash;stole it from the poor guy who had
+staked out his claim. Mike killed him&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. Killed him&mdash;stuck him in the ribs with a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>knife when he
+wasn't lookin'. What do you think of that?"</p>
+
+<p>"McGuire&mdash;a murderer&mdash;&mdash;!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure. Nice sort of a boss you've got! And he could swing for it if I
+didn't hold my tongue."</p>
+
+<p>"This is serious&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You bet it is&mdash;if he don't come across. Now I guess you know why he was
+so cut up when I showed up around here. I've got it on him all right."</p>
+
+<p>"Can you prove it?"</p>
+
+<p>Kennedy rubbed his chin for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"I could but I don't want to. You see&mdash;Pete&mdash;&mdash;" He paused again and
+blinked pensively at his glass. "Well, you see&mdash;in a manner of
+speakin'&mdash;he's got it on me too."</p>
+
+<p>And Peter listened while his villainous companion related the well known
+tale of the terrible compact between the two men in which both of them
+had agreed in writing to share the guilt of the crime, carefully
+omitting to state the compulsion as used upon McGuire. Hawk Kennedy
+lied. If Peter had ever needed any further proof of the honesty of his
+employer he read it in the shifting eye and uncertain verbiage of his
+guest, whose tongue now wagged loosely while he talked of the two
+papers, one of which was in McGuire's possession, the other in his own.
+Hawk was no pleasant companion for an evening's entertainment. From the
+interesting adventurer of the <i>Bermudian</i>, Jim Coast had been slowly
+changing under Peter's eyes into a personality more formidable and
+sinister. And the drink seemed to be bringing into importance
+potentialities for evil at which Peter had only guessed. That he meant
+to fight to the last ditch for the money was clear, and if the worst
+came would even confess, dragging McGuire down among the ruins of both
+their lives. In his drunken condition it would have been <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>ridiculously
+easy for Peter to have overpowered him, but he was not sure to what end
+that would lead.</p>
+
+<p>"You say there were two papers," said Peter. "Where are they?"</p>
+
+<p>"McGuire's got his&mdash;here at Black Rock," muttered Hawk.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know that?" asked Peter with interest.</p>
+
+<p>"Where would he keep it?" sneered Hawk. "In his business papers for
+'zecutors to look over?"</p>
+
+<p>"And where's yours?" asked Peter.</p>
+
+<p>He hoped for some motion of Kennedy's fingers to betray its whereabouts,
+but the man only poured out another drink and leered at Peter
+unpleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>"That'sh <i>my</i> business," he said with a sneer.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh. Is it? I thought I was to have a hand in this."</p>
+
+<p>Kennedy grinned.</p>
+
+<p>"Y'are. Your job is t' get other paper from McGuire's safe. And then
+we'll have fortune in&mdash;hic&mdash;nutshell."</p>
+
+<p>The man wasn't as drunk as he seemed. Peter shrugged.</p>
+
+<p>"I see. I've got to turn burglar to join your little criminal society.
+Suppose I refuse?"</p>
+
+<p>"Y' won't. Why, Pete, it ought to be easiest job in world. A few dropsh
+in glass when you're talkin' business and he'd never know it happened.
+Then we 'beat it,' y'understand, 'n' write lettersh&mdash;nice lettersh. One
+of 'em to that swell daughter of his. That would do the business,
+<i>pronto</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it might," admitted Peter ruminatively.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure it will&mdash;but we'll give him chance. Are y' on?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Peter was silent for a moment. And then,</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see why you want that paper of McGuire's," he said. "They're
+exactly alike, you say&mdash;both incriminating. And if you've got your paper
+handy&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>Peter paused but Kennedy was in the act of swallowing another glass of
+whisky and he didn't stop to answer the half-formulated query. He gave a
+gasp of satisfaction and then shrugged.</p>
+
+<p>"No use, Pete," he said huskily. "I said I had paper and I <i>have</i> paper
+handy, but I've got to have McGuire's paper too. I ain't got money and
+spotless rep'tation like Mike McGuire but I don't want paper like that
+floatin' roun' universh with <i>my</i> name signed to it."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't blame you," said Peter dryly.</p>
+
+<p>Hawk Kennedy was talking thickly now and spilled the whisky in trying to
+pour out a new glassful.</p>
+
+<p>"Goo' whisky this&mdash;goo' ole whisky, Pete. Goo' ole Peter. Say, you'll
+get pater, Peep&mdash;I mean Peter pape&mdash;Oh H&mdash;&mdash; Paper. <i>You</i> know."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll have to think about it, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't think when yer drunk, Pete," he muttered with an expiring grin.
+"To-morr'. 'Nother drink an' then we'll go sleep. Don't mind my sleepin'
+here, Pete. Nice plache shleep. Goo' old shleep...."</p>
+
+<p>Peter paused in the act of pouring out another drink for him and then at
+a sound from Kennedy set the bottle down again. The man suddenly
+sprawled sideways in the chair, his head back, snoring heavily. Peter
+watched him for a moment, sure that he couldn't be shamming and then
+looked around the disordered room. Hawk's overcoat and hat lay on the
+bed. On tiptoe Peter got up and examined them carefully, watching the
+man in the chair intently the while. Hawk stirred but did not awaken.
+Peter searched the overcoat inch by inch. There was nothing in the
+pockets, but a tin of tobacco and a Philadelphia newspaper. So Peter
+restored the articles and then hung the hat and coat on the nails behind
+the door. Hawk Kennedy did not move. He was dead drunk.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>The repulsive task of searching the recumbent figure now lay before him.
+But the game had been worth the candle. If the fateful confession was
+anywhere in Hawk's clothing Peter meant to find it and yet even now he
+hesitated. He put the whisky bottle away, cleared up the mess and then
+bodily picked his visitor up and carried him to the bed. Hawk muttered
+something in his sleep but fell prone and immediately was snoring
+stertorously. Then Peter went through his pockets methodically, removing
+an automatic pistol from his trousers, and examining all his papers
+carefully by the light of the lamp-a hotel bill receipted, some letters
+in a woman's hand, a few newspaper clippings bearing on the copper
+market, a pocketbook containing bills of large denomination, some soiled
+business cards of representatives of commercial houses, a notebook
+containing addresses and small accounts, a pass book of a Philadelphia
+bank, the address of which Peter noted. And that was all. Exhausting
+every resource Peter went over the lining of his coat and vest, inch by
+inch, even examined his underwear and his shoes and stockings. From the
+skin out, Hawk Kennedy had now no secrets from Peter. The incriminating
+confession was not on Hawk Kennedy's clothing.</p>
+
+<p>At last Peter gave up the search and went out into the air, and lighted
+his corncob pipe, puzzled at his failure. And yet, was it a failure
+after all? Hawk had eluded every attempt to discuss his copy of the
+confession. He had it "handy," he had said. A safe deposit box at the
+Philadelphia bank of which Peter had made record would be handy, but
+somehow Peter thought the chances were much against Kennedy's having put
+it there. Men of his type usually carry everything they possess about
+their persons. Peter remembered the ragged wallet of the <i>Bermudian</i>.
+What if after all these years of hardship the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>paper had been worn so
+that it was entirely illegible, or indeed that in Kennedy's many
+wanderings it had been lost? Either of these theories was plausible, but
+none provoked a decision. So after awhile Peter went indoors and opening
+all the windows and doors to cleanse the air, sat in the big chair and
+bundling himself in a blanket fell asleep.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+<h2>FACE TO FACE</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>We are told, alas, that at the highest moment of our expectations the
+gods conspire to our undoing, and therefore that it is wise to take our
+joys a little sadly, that we may not fall too far. But Beth, being
+wholesome of mind and body and an optimist by choice, was not disposed
+to question the completeness of her contentment or look for any dangers
+which might threaten its continuance. And so when Peter went home
+through the forest, she took her kerosene lamp to her room, there to
+smile at her joyous countenance in the mirror and to assure herself that
+never since the beginning of the world had there been a girl more glad
+that she had been born. All the clouds that had hung about her since
+that evening in the woods had been miraculously rolled away and she knew
+again as she had known before that Peter Nichols was the one man in all
+the world for her.</p>
+
+<p>Their evening together was a wonderful thing to contemplate, and she lay
+in bed, her eyes wide open, staring toward the window, beyond which in a
+dark mass against the starlit sky she could see the familiar pines,
+through which was the path to Peter's cabin. The stars twinkled jovially
+with assurance that the night could not be long and that beyond the
+night were to-morrows still more wonderful than to-day. And praying
+gently that all might be well with them both, she fell asleep, not even
+to dream.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>Early morning found her brisk at her work around the house, cleansing
+and polishing, finishing to her satisfaction the tasks which Peter's
+impatience had forbidden the night before. All of Aunt Tillie's blue
+china set was carefully restored to its shelves, the napery folded away,
+the shiny pots hung upon their hooks and the kitchen carefully mopped.
+Then, with a towel wrapped about her head (for such was the custom of
+the country), she attacked the dining-room and parlor with broom and
+dust-cloth, singing <i>arpeggios</i> to remind herself that everything was
+right with the world.</p>
+
+<p>It was upon the plush-covered sofa where she and Peter had sat the night
+before that Beth's orderly eye espied a square of paper just upon the
+point of disappearing in the crease between the seat and back of Aunt
+Tillie's most cherished article of furniture and of course she pounced
+upon it with the intention of destroying it at the cookstove. But when
+she drew it forth, she found that it was an envelope, heliotrope in
+color, that it bore Peter's name in a feminine handwriting, and that it
+had a strange delicate odor with which Beth was unfamiliar. She held it
+in her hand and looked at the writing, then turned it over and over, now
+holding it more gingerly by the tip ends of her fingers. Then she
+sniffed at it again. It was a queer perfume&mdash;strange&mdash;like violet mixed
+with some kind of spice.</p>
+
+<p>She put her broom aside and walked to the window, her brow puckered, and
+scrutinized the postmark. "London!" Of course&mdash;London was in England
+where Peter had once lived. And Peter had drawn the letter from his
+pocket last night with some other papers when he had shown her the
+communication from "Hawk" Kennedy. It was lucky that she had found it,
+for it might have slipped down behind the plush covering, and so have
+been definitely lost. Of course Peter had friends in London and of
+course they <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>should wish to write to him, but for the first time it
+seemed curious to Beth that in all their conversations Peter had never
+volunteered any information as to the life that he had lived before he
+had come to Black Rock. She remembered now that she had told him that
+whatever his past had been and whoever he was, he was good enough for
+her. But the heliotrope envelope with the feminine handwriting and the
+strange odor immediately suggested queries along lines of investigation
+which had never before entered her thoughts. Who was the lady of the
+delicate script and the strange perfume? What was her relationship to
+Peter? And upon what topic was she writing to him?</p>
+
+<p>Beth slipped the note about a quarter of an inch out of its envelope
+until she could just see a line of the writing and then quickly thrust
+it in again, put the envelope on the mantel above the "parlor heater"
+and resolutely went on with her sweeping. From time to time she stopped
+her work and looked at it just to be sure that it was still there and at
+last took it up in her fingers again, a prey to a more lively curiosity
+than any she had ever known. She put the envelope down again and turning
+her back to it went into the kitchen. Of course Peter would tell her who
+this lady was if she asked him. And there was no doubt at all that it
+<i>was</i> a lady who had written the letter, some one familiar with a
+delicate mode of existence and given to refinements which had been
+denied to Beth. It was this delicacy and refinement, this flowing
+inscription written with such careless ease and grace which challenged
+Beth's rusticity. She would have liked to ask Peter about the lady at
+once. But Peter would not be at the Cabin at this early hour of the
+morning, nor would Beth be able to see him until late this
+afternoon&mdash;perhaps not until to-night. Meanwhile, the note upon the
+mantel was burning its way into her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>consciousness. It was endued with a
+personality feminine, insidious and persuasive. No ladies of London
+affecting heliotrope envelopes had any business writing scented notes to
+Peter now. He was Beth's particular property....</p>
+
+<p>When she went up to the second floor of the cottage a few minutes later
+she took the heliotrope letter with her and put it on her bureau,
+propped against the pincushion, while she went on with her work. And
+then, all her duties for the morning finished, she sat down in her
+rocking chair by the window, the envelope in her idle fingers, a victim
+of temptation. She looked out at the pine woods, her gaze afar, her
+guilty fingers slipping the letter out of its covering an inch, two
+inches. And then Beth opened Peter's heliotrope note and read it. At
+least, she read as much of it as she could understand,&mdash;the parts that
+were written in English&mdash;with growing amazement and incertitude. A good
+deal of the English part even was Greek to her, but she could understand
+enough to know that a mystery of some sort hung about the letter and
+about Peter, that he was apparently a person of some importance to the
+heliotrope lady who addressed him in affectionate terms and with the
+utmost freedom. Beth had learned in the French ballads which Peter had
+taught her that <i>ami</i> meant friend and that <i>bel</i> meant beautiful. And
+as the whole of the paragraph containing those words was written in
+English, Beth had little difficulty in understanding it. What had Peter
+to do with the cause of Holy Russia? And what was this danger to him
+from hidden enemies, which could make necessary this discretion and
+watchfulness in Black Rock? And the last sentence of all danced before
+Beth's eyes as though it had been written in letters of fire. "There is
+at least one heart in London that ever beats fondly in memory of the
+dear dead days at Galitzin and Zukovo."</p>
+
+<p>What right had the heliotrope lady's heart to beat <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>fondly in memory of
+dear dead days with Peter Nichols at Galitzin or Zukovo or anywhere
+else? Who was she? Was she young? Was she beautiful? And what right had
+Peter given her to address him in terms of such affection? Anastasie!</p>
+
+<p>And now for the first time in her life, though to all outward appearance
+calm, Beth felt the pangs of jealousy. This letter, most of it in the
+queer-looking script (probably Russian) that she could not even read, in
+its strange references in English to things beyond her knowledge, seemed
+suddenly to erect a barrier between her and Peter that could never be
+passed, or even to indicate a barrier between them that had always
+existed without her knowledge. And if all of the parts of the letter
+that she could not understand contained sentiments like the English part
+that she <i>could</i> understand, it was a very terrible letter indeed and
+indicated that this heliotrope woman (she was no longer "lady" now) had
+claims upon Peter's heart which came long before Beth's. And if this
+Anastasie&mdash;other women too....</p>
+
+<p>Beth read the letter again and then slipped it back into its envelope,
+while she gazed out of the window at the pines, a frown at her brows and
+two tiny lines curving downward at the corners of her lips. She was very
+unhappy. But she was angry too&mdash;angry at the heliotrope woman, angry at
+Peter and angrier still at herself. In that moment she forgot that she
+had taken Peter Nichols without reference to what he was or had been.
+She had told him that only the future mattered and now she knew that the
+past was beginning to matter very much indeed.</p>
+
+<p>After a while she got up, and took the heliotrope letter to the bureau
+where she wrote upon the envelope rather viciously with a soft lead
+pencil, "You left <i>this</i> last night. You'd better go back to Anastasie."
+Then she slipped the letter into her waist and with an air of decision
+went <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>down the stairs (the ominous parentheses still around her mouth),
+and made her way with rapid footsteps toward the path through the forest
+which led toward Peter's cabin.</p>
+
+<p>Beth was primitive, highly honorable by instinct if not by precept, but
+a creature of impulse, very much in love, who read by intuition the
+intrusion of what seemed a very real danger to her happiness. If her
+conscience warned her that she was transgressing the rules of polite
+procedure, something stronger than a sense of propriety urged her on to
+read, something stronger than mere curiosity&mdash;the impulse of
+self-preservation, the impulse to preserve that which was stronger even
+than self&mdash;the love of Peter Nichols.</p>
+
+<p>The scrawl that she had written upon the envelope was eloquent of her
+point of view, at once a taunt, a renunciation and a confession. "You
+left <i>this</i> last night. You'd better go back to Anastasie!"</p>
+
+<p>It was the intention of carrying the letter to Peter's cabin and there
+leaving it in a conspicuous position that now led her rapidly down the
+path through the woods. Gone were the tender memories of the night
+before. If this woman had had claims upon Peter Nichols's heart at the
+two places with the Russian names, she had the same claims upon them
+now. Beth's love and her pride waged a battle within her as she
+approached the Cabin. She remembered that Peter had told her last night
+that he would have a long day at the lumber camp, but as she crossed the
+log-jam she found herself hoping that by some chance she would find
+Peter still at home, where, with a fine dignity (which she mentally
+rehearsed) she would demand explanation, and listening, grant
+forgiveness. Or else ... she didn't like to think of the alternative.</p>
+
+<p>But instead of Peter, at the Cabin door in the early morning sunlight
+she found a strange man, sitting in a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>chair in the portico, smoking one
+of Peter's cigarettes, and apparently much at home. The appearance of
+the stranger was for a moment disconcerting, but Beth approached the
+familiar doorway, her head high, the heliotrope letter burning her
+fingers. She had intended to walk in at the door of the Cabin, place the
+letter in a conspicuous position where Peter could not fail to see it,
+and then return to her home and haughtily await Peter's arrival. But the
+presence of this man, a stranger in Black Rock, making free of Peter's
+habitation, evidently with Peter's knowledge and consent, made her pause
+in a moment of uncertainty.</p>
+
+<p>At her approach the man in the chair had risen and she saw that he was
+tall&mdash;almost as tall as Peter, that he had a hooked nose and displayed a
+set of irregular teeth when he smiled&mdash;which he did, not unpleasantly.
+There was something about him which repelled her yet fascinated at the
+same time.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Nichols has gone out?" Beth asked, for something to say.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Miss," said the stranger, blinking at her with his bleary eyes.
+"Mr. Nichols is down at the lumber camp&mdash;won't be back until night, I
+reckon. Anythin' I can do for ye?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I&mdash;&mdash;?" Beth hesitated. "I just wanted to see him&mdash;to leave
+somethin' for him."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess he'll be right sorry to miss you. Who shall I say called?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it doesn't matter," said Beth, turning away. But she was now aware
+of a strange curiosity as to this person who sat with such an air of
+well-being in Peter's chair and spoke with such an air of
+proprietorship. The insistence of her own personal affair with Peter had
+driven from her mind all thoughts of the other matters suggested in the
+letter, of the possible dangers to Peter even <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>here in Black Rock and
+the mysterious references to Holy Russia. This man who stood in Peter's
+portico, whoever he was, was not a Russian, she could see that at a
+glance and read it in his accents, but she was equally certain from his
+general character that he could be no friend of Peter's and that his
+business here was not of Peter's choosing.</p>
+
+<p>"If ye'd like to wait a while&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He offered her the chair, but Beth did not accept it.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye don't happen to be Miss Peggy McGuire, do ye?" asked the stranger
+curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied the girl. "My name is Beth Cameron."</p>
+
+<p>"Beth&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Cameron," she finished firmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The stranger seemed to be examining her with a glowing interest, but his
+look was clouded.</p>
+
+<p>Beth had decided that until Peter came explaining she had no further
+possible interest either in him or his affairs, but in spite of this she
+found her lips suddenly asking,</p>
+
+<p>"Are you a friend of Mr. Nichols's?"</p>
+
+<p>The man in the portico grinned somberly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I guess I am&mdash;an old friend&mdash;before he came to America."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Beth quietly. "You've known him a long time then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ye might say so. We were buddies together."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you knew him in&mdash;in London?"</p>
+
+<p>The man grinned. "Can't say I did. Not in London. Why do you ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I just wanted to know."</p>
+
+<p>The gaze of the stranger upon her was disquieting. His eyes seemed to be
+smoldering like embers just ready to blaze. She knew that she ought to
+be returning and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>yet she didn't want to go leaving her object
+unaccomplished, the dignity of her plan having already been greatly
+disturbed. And so she hesitated, curiosity at war with discretion.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you mind telling me your name?" she asked timidly.</p>
+
+<p>The man shrugged a shoulder and glanced away from her. "I reckon my name
+wouldn't mean much to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;I'm sorry. Perhaps I shouldn't have asked?"</p>
+
+<p>The stranger put his hands into his coat pockets and stared down at Beth
+with a strange intrusive kind of smile.</p>
+
+<p>"You and Pete seem kind of thick, don't ye?" he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>"Pete!"</p>
+
+<p>"Pete Nichols. That's his name, ain't it? Kind of thick, I'd say. I
+can't blame him though&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You're mistaken," said Beth with dignity, "there's nothin' between
+Peter Nichols and me." And turning heel, Beth took a step away.</p>
+
+<p>"There! Put my foot in it, didn't I? I'm sorry. Don't go yet. I want to
+ask ye something."</p>
+
+<p>Beth paused and found that the stranger had come out from the portico
+and still stood beside her. And as her look inquired fearlessly,</p>
+
+<p>"It's about your name, Miss," he muttered, and then with an effort spoke
+the word savagely, as though it had been wrenched from him by an effort
+of will, "Cameron&mdash;&mdash;? Your name's Cameron?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Beth, in some inquietude.</p>
+
+<p>"Common name in some parts&mdash;Cameron&mdash;not so common in others&mdash;not in
+Jersey anyway&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Is yer father livin'?" he snapped.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;dead. Many years ago. Out West."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>"Tsch!" he breathed, the air whistling between his teeth, "Out West, ye
+say&mdash;out West?"</p>
+
+<p>He stood in front of Beth now, his arms akimbo, his head bent forward
+under the stress of some excitement. Beth drew away from him, but he
+came forward after her, his gaze still seeking hers.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;out West," said Beth haltingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Where?" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Was his name&mdash;was his name&mdash;Ben Cameron?" He shot the question at her
+with a strange fury, catching meanwhile at her arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me go&mdash;&mdash;," she commanded. "You're hurtin' me."</p>
+
+<p>"Was it&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Let me go."</p>
+
+<p>The stranger's grip on her arm suddenly relaxed and while she watched
+his face in curiosity the glow in his eyes suddenly flickered out, his
+gaze shifting from side to side as he seemed to shrink away from her.
+From timidity at his roughness she found new courage in her curiosity at
+his strange behavior. What had this stranger to do with Ben Cameron?</p>
+
+<p>"What did you want to know for?" she asked him.</p>
+
+<p>But his bent brows were frowning at the path at his feet. He tried to
+laugh&mdash;and the sound of the dry cackle had little mirth in it.</p>
+
+<p>"No matter. I&mdash;I thought it might be. I guess ye'd better go&mdash;I guess
+ye'd better." And with that he sank heavily in Peter's chair again.</p>
+
+<p>But Beth still stood and stared at him, aware of the sudden change in
+his attitude toward her. What did it all mean? What were Peter's
+relations with this creature who behaved so strangely at the mention of
+her name? <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>Why did he speak of Ben Cameron? Who was he? Who&mdash;&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p>The feeling of which she had at first been conscious, at the man's evil
+leering smile which repelled her suddenly culminated in a pang of
+intuition. This man ... It must be ... Hawk Kennedy&mdash;the man who ... She
+stared at him with a new horror in the growing pallor of her face and
+Hawk Kennedy saw the look. It was as though some devilish psychological
+contrivance had suddenly hooked their two consciousnesses to the same
+thought. Both saw the same picture&mdash;the sand, the rocks, the blazing sun
+and a dead man lying with a knife in his back.... And Beth continued
+staring as though in a kind of horrible fascination. And when her lips
+moved she spoke as though impelled by a force beyond her own volition.</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;you're Hawk Kennedy," she said tensely, "the man who killed my
+father."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a lie," he gasped, springing to his feet. "Who told you that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I guessed it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Who told ye about Hawk Kennedy? Who told ye about him?"</p>
+
+<p>"No one&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ye didn't dream it. Ye can't dream a name," he said tensely. "Pete told
+ye&mdash;he lied to ye."</p>
+
+<p>"He didn't."</p>
+
+<p>But he had caught her by the wrist again and dragged her into the Cabin.
+She was thoroughly frightened now&mdash;too frightened even to cry out&mdash;too
+terrified at the sudden revelation of this man who for some days had
+been a kind of evil spirit in the background of her happiness. He was
+not like what she had thought he was, but he embodied an idea that was
+sinister and terrible. And while she wondered what he was going to do
+next, he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>pushed her into the armchair, locked the door and put the key
+into his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"Now we can talk," he muttered grimly. "No chance of bein'
+disturbed&mdash;Pete ain't due for hours yet. So he's been tellin' <i>you</i> lies
+about me. Has he? Sayin' <i>I</i> done it. By G&mdash;, I'm beginnin' to see...."</p>
+
+<p>He leered at her horribly, and Beth seemed frozen into her chair. The
+courage that had been hers a moment ago when he had shrunk away from her
+had fled before the fury of his questions and the violence of his touch.
+She was intimidated for the first time in her life and yet she tried to
+meet his eyes, which burned wildly, shifting from side to side like
+those of a caged beast. In her terror she could not tell what dauntless
+instinct had urged her unless it was Ben Cameron's soul in agony that
+had cried out through her lips. And now she had not only betrayed
+Peter&mdash;but herself....</p>
+
+<p>"I'm beginnin' to see. You and Pete&mdash;playin' both ends against the
+middle, with McGuire comin' down somethin' very handsome for a weddin'
+present and leavin' me out in the cold. Very pretty! But it ain't goin'
+to work out just that way&mdash;not that way at all."</p>
+
+<p>All of this he muttered in a wildly casual kind of a way, at no one in
+particular, as his gaze flitted from one object in the room to another,
+always passing over Beth almost impersonally. But in a moment she saw
+his gaze concentrate upon her with sudden eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>"He told ye I done it, did he? Well, I didn't," he cried in a strident
+voice. "I didn't do it. It was McGuire and I'll prove it, all right.
+McGuire. Pete can't fix <i>that</i> on me&mdash;even if he wanted to. But he told
+<i>you</i> or ye wouldn't of spoke like ye did. I guess maybe ye wouldn't of
+said so much if Pete had been here. But ye let the cat slip out of the
+bag all right. You and Pete&mdash;and maybe McGuire's with ye too&mdash;all
+against me. Is <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>that so?... Can't yer speak, girl? Must ye sit there
+just starin' at me with yer big eyes? What are ye lookin' at? Are ye
+dumb?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I'm not dumb," gasped Beth, struggling for her courage, aware all
+the while of the physical threat in the man's very presence.</p>
+
+<p>"Speak then. Tell me the truth. Pete said it was your money McGuire
+took&mdash;your money McGuire's got to make good to ye? Ain't that the
+truth?"</p>
+
+<p>"I won't answer."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, ye will. You'll answer all right. I'm not goin' to trifle.
+What did ye come here to see Pete about? What's that letter ye came to
+give him? Give it to me!"</p>
+
+<p>Beth clutched the heliotrope note to her bosom but Hawk Kennedy caught
+at her hands and tried to tear it away from her. It needed only this new
+act of physical violence to give Beth the courage of despair. She sprang
+to her feet eluding him but he caught her before she reached the window.
+She struck at him with her fists but he tore the letter away from her
+and hurled her toward the bed over which she fell breathless. There was
+no use trying to fight this man.... There was a cruelty in his touch
+which spoke of nameless things.... And so she lay motionless, nursing
+her injured wrists, trying desperately to think what she must do.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, watching her keenly from the tail of his eye, Hawk Kennedy
+was reading the heliotrope letter, spelling out the English word by
+word. Fascinated, Beth saw the frown of curiosity deepen to interest and
+then to puzzled absorption.</p>
+
+<p>"Interestin'&mdash;very," she heard him mutter at last, as he glanced toward
+the bed. "Holy Russia. H&mdash;&mdash;! What's this mean, girl? Who <i>is</i> Peter
+Nichols? Answer me."</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I don't know," she said.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>"Yes, ye do. Where did ye get this letter?"</p>
+
+<p>"He left it at&mdash;at my house last night."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! <i>Your</i> house! Where?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the village."</p>
+
+<p>"I see. An' this scrawl on the envelope&mdash;you wrote it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Beth couldn't reply. He was dragging her through the very depths of
+humiliation.</p>
+
+<p>At her silence his lips curved in ugly amusement.</p>
+
+<p>"Anastasie!" he muttered. "Some queen that&mdash;with her purple paper an'
+all. And ye don't know who she is? Or who Pete is? Answer me!"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I don't know," she whispered. "I&mdash;I don't, really."</p>
+
+<p>"H-m! Well, he ain't what he's seemed to be, that's sure. He ain't what
+he's seemed to be to you and he ain't what he's seemed to be to me. But
+whoever he is he can't put anything over on <i>me</i>. We'll see about this."</p>
+
+<p>Beth straightened and sat up, watching him pace the floor in deep
+thought. There might be a chance that she could escape by the window.
+But when she started up he ordered her back roughly and she soon saw
+that this was impossible.</p>
+
+<p>At last he stopped walking up and down and stared at her, his eyes
+narrowed to mere slits, his brows drawn ominously together. It seemed
+that he had reached a decision.</p>
+
+<p>"You behave yourself an' do what I tell ye an' ye won't be hurt," he
+growled.</p>
+
+<p>"Wh-what are you goin' to do?" she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin' much. Ye're just goin' with me&mdash;that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"W-where?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's my business. Oh, ye needn't be scared of any love makin'. I'm
+not on that lay this trip."</p>
+
+<p>He went to the drawer of Peter's bureau and took out some
+handkerchiefs.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>"But ye'd better be scared if ye don't do what I tell ye. Here. Stand
+up!"</p>
+
+<p>Beth shrank away from, him, but he caught her by the wrists and held
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye're not to make a noise, d'ye hear? I can't take the chance."</p>
+
+<p>And while she still struggled desperately, he fastened her wrists
+together behind her. Then he thrust one of Peter's handkerchiefs in her
+mouth and securely gagged her. He wasn't any too gentle with her but
+even in her terror she found herself thanking God that it was only
+abduction that he planned.</p>
+
+<p>Hawk Kennedy went to the window and peered out up the path, then he
+opened the door and looked around. After a moment he came in quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Come," he muttered, "it's time we were off."</p>
+
+<p>He caught her by the arm and helped her to her feet, pushing her out of
+the door and into the underbrush at the corner of the cabin. Her feet
+lagged, her knees were weak, but the grasp on her shoulder warned her of
+cruelties she had not dreamed of and so she stumbled on&mdash;on into the
+depths of the forest, Hawk Kennedy's hard hand urging her on to greater
+speed.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+
+<h2>YAKIMOV REVEALS HIMSELF</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>It was with some misgivings that Peter left his cabin, leaving Hawk
+Kennedy there to sleep off the effects of his potations, but the
+situation at the lumber camp was so hazardous that his presence was
+urgently required. Hawk had awakened early, very early, and very
+thirsty, but Peter had told him that there was no more whisky and
+threatened to throw over the whole affair if he didn't sober up and
+behave himself. And so, having exacted a promise from Hawk Kennedy to
+leave the Cabin when he had had his sleep out, Peter had gotten the
+"flivver" from McGuire's garage (as was his custom) and driven rapidly
+down toward the camp.</p>
+
+<p>He had almost reached the conclusion that the copy of the partnership
+agreement which Hawk had held as a threat over McGuire had ceased to
+exist&mdash;that it had been lost, effaced or destroyed. But he wanted to be
+more certain of this before he came out into the open, showed his hand
+and McGuire's and defied the blackmailer to do his worst. He felt pretty
+sure now from his own knowledge of the man that, desperate though he was
+in his intention to gain a fortune by this expedient, he was absolutely
+powerless to do evil without the signature of McGuire. The question as
+to whether or not he would make a disagreeable publicity of the whole
+affair was important to McGuire and had to be avoided if possible, for
+Peter had given his promise to bring the affair to a quiet conclusion.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>Until he could have a further talk with McGuire, he meant to lead Hawk
+Kennedy on to further confidences and with this end in view and with the
+further purpose of getting him away from the Cabin, had promised to meet
+him late that afternoon at a fork of the road to the lumber camp, the
+other prong of which led to a settlement of several shanties where Hawk
+had managed to get a lodging on the previous night and on several other
+occasions. In his talk with the ex-waiter he learned that on his
+previous visits the man had made a careful survey of the property and
+knew his way about almost as well as Peter did. It appeared that he also
+knew something of Peter's problems at the lumber camp and the
+difficulties the superintendent had already encountered in getting his
+sawed lumber to the railroad and in completing his fire-towers. Indeed,
+these difficulties seemed only to have begun again, and it was with
+great regret that Peter was obliged to forego the opportunity of seeing
+Beth that day, perhaps even that evening. But he had told her nothing of
+his troubles the night before, not wishing to cloud a day so fair for
+them both.</p>
+
+<p>The facts were these: Flynn and Jacobi, the men he had dismissed, had
+appeared again at the camp in his absence, bent on fomenting trouble,
+and Shad Wells, already inflamed against the superintendent, had fallen
+an easy prey to their machinations. Accidents were always happening at
+the sawmills, accidents to machinery and implements culminating at last
+in the blowing out of a tube of one of the boilers. It was this
+misfortune that had held the work up for several days until a spare
+boiler could be installed. Peter tried to find out how these accidents
+had happened, but each line of investigation led up a blind alley. Jesse
+Brown, his foreman, seemed to be loyal, but he was easy-going and weak.
+With many of his own friends among the workers both at the camp and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>mills he tried to hold his job by carrying water on both shoulders and
+the consequences were inevitable. He moved along the line of least
+resistance and the trouble grew. Peter saw his weakness and would have
+picked another man to supersede him, but there was no other available.
+The truth was that though the men's wages were high for the kind of work
+that they were doing, the discontent that they had brought with them was
+in the air. The evening papers brought word of trouble in every
+direction, the threatened railroad and steel strikes and the prospect of
+a coalless winter when the miners went out as they threatened to do on
+the first of November.</p>
+
+<p>At first Peter had thought that individually many of the men liked him.
+He had done what he could for their comfort and paid them the highest
+price justifiable, but gradually he found that his influence was being
+undermined and that the good-natured lagging which Peter had at first
+tried to tolerate had turned to loafing on the job, and finally to overt
+acts of rebellion. More men had been sent away and others with even less
+conscience had taken their places. Some of them had enunciated
+Bolshevist doctrines as wild as any of Flynn's or Jacobi's. Jonathan K.
+McGuire stood as a type which represented the hierarchy of wealth and
+was therefore their hereditary enemy. Peter in a quiet talk at the
+bunk-house one night had told them that once Jonathan K. McGuire had
+been as poor, if not poorer, than any one of them. But even as he spoke
+he had felt that his words had made no impression. It was what McGuire
+was <i>now</i> that mattered, they told him. All this land, all this lumber,
+was the people's, and they'd get it too in time. With great earnestness,
+born of a personal experience of which they could not dream, Peter
+pointed out to them what had happened and was now happening in Russia
+and painted a harrowing picture of helplessness and starvation, but they
+smoked their <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>pipes in silence and answered him not at all. They were
+not to be reasoned with. If the Soviet came to America they were willing
+to try it. They would try anything once.</p>
+
+<p>But Shad Wells was "canny" and Peter had never succeeded in tracing any
+of the accidents or any of the dissensions directly to his door. Without
+evidence against him Peter did not think it wise to send him out of
+camp, for many of the men were friendly to Shad and his dismissal was
+sure to mean an upheaval of sorts. Peter knew that Shad hated him for
+what had happened at the Cabin but that in his heart he feared to come
+out into the open where a repetition of his undoing in public might
+destroy his influence forever. So to Peter's face he was sullenly
+obedient, taking care to give the appearance of carrying out his orders,
+while as soon as Peter's back was turned he laughed, loafed and
+encouraged others to do the same.</p>
+
+<p>And for the last week Peter had not liked the looks of things. At the
+lumber camp the work was almost at a standstill, and the sawmills were
+silent. Jesse Brown had told him that Flynn and Jacobi had been at the
+bunk-house and that the men had voted him down when the foreman had
+tried to send them away. It was clear that some radical step would have
+to be taken at once to restore discipline or Peter's authority and
+usefulness as superintendent would be only a matter of hours.</p>
+
+<p>It was of all of these things that Peter thought as he bumped his way in
+the "flivver" over the corduroy road through the swampy land which led
+to the lower reserve, and as he neared the scene of these material
+difficulties all thought of Hawk Kennedy passed from his mind. There was
+the other danger too that had been one of the many subjects of the
+letter of Anastasie Galitzin, for Peter had no doubt now that the
+foreigner with the dark <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>mustache who had followed him down from New
+York and who some weeks ago had been sent out of the camp was no other
+than the agent of the Soviets, who had forwarded to London the
+information as to his whereabouts. Peter had not seen this man since the
+day of his dismissal, but he suspected that he was in the plot with
+Flynn, Jacobi and perhaps Shad Wells to make mischief in the lumber
+camp.</p>
+
+<p>The opportunity that Peter sought to bring matters to a focus was not
+long in coming, for when he reached the sawmills, which had resumed
+desultory operations, he found Flynn and Jacobi, the "Reds," calmly
+seated in the office, smoking and talking with Shad Wells. Peter had
+left his "flivver" up the road and his sudden entrance was a surprise.
+The men got up sullenly and would have slouched out of the door but
+Peter closed it, put his back to it, and faced them. He was cold with
+anger and held himself in with difficulty, but he had taken their
+measure and meant to bring on a crisis, which would settle their status
+and his own, once and for all time.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you doing here?" he began shortly, eying Flynn.</p>
+
+<p>The Irishman stuck his hands into his pockets and shrugged impudently.</p>
+
+<p>"That's my business," he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>"H-m. You two men were discharged because you were incompetent, because
+you were getting money you didn't earn and because you were trying to
+persuade others to be as worthless and useless as yourselves. You were
+ordered off the property&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ye can't keep us off&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll come to that in a moment. What I want to say to you now is this,"
+said Peter, planting his barbs with the coolness of a matador baiting
+his bull. "Some men go wrong because they've been badly advised, some
+because <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>they can't think straight, others because they'd rather go
+wrong than right. Some of you 'Reds' believe in what you preach, that
+the world can be made over and all the money and the land divided up in
+a new deal. You two don't. You don't believe in anything except getting
+a living without working for it&mdash;and trying to make honest men do the
+same. You, Jacobi, are only a fool&mdash;a cowardly fool at that&mdash;who hides
+behind the coat-tails of a man stronger than you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Look-a here, Mister&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Flynn's your master, but he isn't mine. And he isn't the master of
+any man on this job while I'm superintendent&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We'll see about that," said Flynn with a chuckle.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we will. Very soon. <i>Now</i>, as a matter of fact&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"How?"</p>
+
+<p>"By proving which is the better man&mdash;you or me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it's a fight ye mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly."</p>
+
+<p>The Irishman leered at him cunningly.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm too old a bird to be caught wit' that stuff&mdash;puttin' you wit' the
+right on yer side. We're afther sheddin' no blood here, Misther Nichols.
+We're on this job for peace an' justice fer all."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you're afraid to fight?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. But I'm not a-goin' to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not if I tell you you're a sneak, a liar and a coward&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Flynn's jaw worked and his glance passed from Jacobi to Wells.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll make ye eat them names backwards one day, Misther Nichols&mdash;but not
+now&mdash;I'm here for a bigger cause. Stand away from the door."</p>
+
+<p>"In a moment. But first let me tell you this, and Shad <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>Wells too.
+You're going out of this door and out of this camp,&mdash;all three of you.
+And if any one of you shows himself inside the limits of this property
+he'll have to take the consequences."</p>
+
+<p>"Meanin' what?" asked Wells.</p>
+
+<p>"Meaning <i>me</i>," said Peter, "and after me, the law. Now go."</p>
+
+<p>He stood aside and swung the door open with one hand, but he didn't take
+his eyes from them.</p>
+
+<p>They laughed in his face, but they obeyed him, filing out into the open,
+and strolled away.</p>
+
+<p>Peter had hoped to coax a fight out of Flynn, thinking that the Irish
+blood in him couldn't resist his taunts and challenge. But Flynn had
+been too clever for him. A defeat for Flynn meant loss of prestige, a
+victory possible prosecution. Either way he had nothing to gain. Perhaps
+he was just a coward like Jacobi or a beaten bully like Shad. Whatever
+he was Flynn seemed very sure of himself and Peter, though apparently
+master of the situation for the present, was conscious of a sense of
+defeat. He knew as Flynn did that no matter what forces he called to his
+aid, it was practically impossible to keep trespassers off a property of
+this size, and that, after all, the success of his logging operations
+remained with the men themselves.</p>
+
+<p>But he breathed more freely now that he had made his decision with
+regard to Shad Wells. He spent a large part of the morning going over
+the mills, getting the men together and giving them a little talk, then
+went up to the camp in search of Jesse Brown. The news of his encounter
+with Shad and the "Reds" had preceded him and he saw that trouble was
+brewing. Jesse Brown wagged his head in a deprecating way and tried to
+side-step the entire situation. But Peter had reached a point where he
+was tired of equivocation.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>"I say, Jesse," he said at last, "you've let things get into a pretty
+bad mess down here."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a peaceable man, Mr. Nichols," said Jesse. "I've tried to steer
+this camp along easy-like, 'til this bit of woods is cleared up and here
+you go stirrin' up a hornet's nest about our ears."</p>
+
+<p>Peter frowned. "You know as well as I do that the men are doing just as
+they please. At the rate they're going they wouldn't have this section
+finished by Christmas. I'm paying them for work they don't do and you
+know it. I put you in here to see that McGuire gets what he's paying
+for. You haven't done it."</p>
+
+<p>"I've done the best I could," muttered Jesse.</p>
+
+<p>"That isn't the best I want. You knew Flynn and Jacobi were back in camp
+yesterday. Why didn't you tell me so?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't do nothin'. They've got friends here."</p>
+
+<p>"And haven't you got friends here too? I sent those men out of camp. If
+they're here again I'll find the power to arrest them."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd advise you not to try that."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"They're stronger than you think."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll take my chances on that. But I want to know where you stand. Are
+you with me or against me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Jesse, rubbing his head dubiously, "I'll do what I can."</p>
+
+<p>"All right. We'll make a fresh start. Round up all hands. I'm going to
+talk to them at dinner time."</p>
+
+<p>Jesse glanced at him, shrugged and went out and Peter went into the
+office where he spent the intervening time going over the books. It was
+there that one of the clerks, a man named Brierly, brought forth from
+the drawer of his desk a small pamphlet which he had picked up yesterday
+in the bunk-house. Peter opened and read it. It was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>a copy of the new
+manifest of the Union of Russian Workers and though written in English,
+gave every mark of origin in the Lenin-Trotzky regime and was cleverly
+written in catch phrases meant to trap the ignorant. It proposed to
+destroy the churches and erect in their stead places of amusement for
+the working people. He read at random. "Beyond the blood-covered
+barricades, beyond all terrors of civil war, there already shines for us
+the magnificent, beautiful form of man, without a God, without a master,
+and full of authority." Fine doctrine this! The pamphlet derided the law
+and the state, and urged the complete destruction of private ownership.
+It predicted the coming of the revolution in a few weeks, naming the
+day, of a general strike of all industries which would paralyze all the
+functions of commerce. It was Bolshevik in ideal, Bolshevik in
+inspiration and it opened Peter's eyes as to the venality of the
+gentleman with the black mustache. Brierly also told him that whisky had
+been smuggled into the camp the night before and that a fire in the
+woods had luckily been put out before it had become menacing. Brierly
+was a discharged soldier who had learned something of the value of
+obedience and made no effort to conceal his anxiety and his sympathies.
+He voiced the opinion that either Flynn or Jacobi had brought in the
+liquor. Peter frowned. Jesse Brown had said nothing of this. The
+inference was obvious.</p>
+
+<p>At the dinner-shed, Peter was to be made aware immediately of the
+difficulty of the task that confronted him, for dour looks met him on
+all sides. There were a few men who sat near him whom he thought he
+might count on at a venture, but they were very few and their positions
+difficult. Some of the men still showed the effects of their drink and
+hurled epithets about the room, obviously meant for Peter's ear, but he
+sat through the meal <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>patiently and then got to his feet and demanded
+their attention.</p>
+
+<p>As he began he was interrupted by hoots and cat-calls but he waited
+calmly for silence and seeing that they couldn't ruffle him by
+buffoonery they desisted after a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Men, I'm not going to take much of your time," he said. "A short while
+ago I came down here and talked to you. Some of you seemed to be
+friendly toward me and those are the men I want to talk to now. The
+others don't matter."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't they?" came a gruff voice from a crowd near the door. And
+another, "We'll see about that."</p>
+
+<p>Peter tried to find the speakers with his gaze for a moment and then
+went on imperturbably. "I'm going to talk to you in plain English,
+because some things have happened in this camp that are going to make
+trouble for everybody, trouble for me, trouble for McGuire, but more
+trouble for you."</p>
+
+<p>"That's what we're lookin' for&mdash;trouble&mdash;&mdash;," cried the same voice, and
+Peter now identified it as Flynn's, for the agitator had come back and
+stolen in unawares.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, it's you, Flynn," said Peter easily. "You've come back." And then
+to the crowd, "I don't think Flynn is likely to be disappointed if he's
+looking for trouble," he said dryly. "Trouble is one of the few things
+in this world a man can find if he looks for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Aye, mon, an' without lookin' for it," laughed a broad-chested Scot at
+Peter's table.</p>
+
+<p>"That's right. I met Flynn a while ago over in the office. I made him an
+offer. I said I'd fight him fair just man to man, for our opinions. He
+refused. I also told him he was a coward, a sneak and a liar. But he
+wouldn't fight&mdash;because he's what I said he was."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>"I'll show ye, Misther&mdash;&mdash;," shouted Flynn, "but I ain't ready yet."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll be ready when this meeting is over. And one of us is going out
+of this camp feet first."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll see about that."</p>
+
+<p>"One of us will. And I think I'll do the seeing."</p>
+
+<p>A laugh went up around Peter, drowned immediately by a chorus of jeers
+from the rear of the room.</p>
+
+<p>But Peter managed to be heard again.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>I</i> didn't come on this job looking for trouble," he went on
+coolly. "I wanted to help you chaps in any way I could." ("The Hell you
+did.") "Yes, I did what I could for your comfort. I raised your wages
+and I didn't ask more than an honest day's work from any one of you.
+Some of you have stuck to your jobs like men, in spite of the talk
+you've heard all about you, and I thank you. You others," he cried,
+toward the rear of the room, "I've tried to meet in a friendly spirit
+where I could, but some of you don't want friendship&mdash;&mdash;" ("Not with
+you, we don't.") "Nor with any one else&mdash;&mdash;" Peter shouted back
+defiantly. "You don't know what friendship means, or you wouldn't try to
+make discontent and trouble for everybody, when you're all getting a
+good wage and good living conditions." ("That ain't enough!")</p>
+
+<p>Peter calmly disregarded the interruptions and went on. "Perhaps you
+fellows think I don't know what socialism means. I do. To the true
+socialist, socialism is nothing else but Christianity. It's just
+friendship, that's all. He believes in helping the needy and the weak.
+He believes in defending his own life and happiness and the happiness of
+others." ("That's true&mdash;that's right.") "And he believes that the world
+can be led and guided by a great brotherhood of humanity seeking just
+laws and equality for all men." (Conflicting cries of "That's not
+enough!" and "Let him speak!") "But I know what anarchy means <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span>too,
+because less than six months ago I was in Russia and I saw the hellish
+thing at work. I saw men turn and kill their neighbors because the
+neighbors had more than they had; I saw a whole people starving, women
+with children at the breast, men raging, ready to fly at one another's
+throats from hunger, from anger, from fear of what was coming next. That
+is what anarchy means."</p>
+
+<p>"What you say is a lie," came a clear voice in English, with a slight
+accent. A man had risen at the rear of the room and stood facing Peter.
+He was not very tall and he was not in working clothes, but Peter
+recognized him at once as the man with the dark mustache, the mysterious
+stranger who had followed him to Black Rock. Peter set his jaw and
+shrugged. He was aware now of all the forces with which he had to deal.</p>
+
+<p>"What does anarchy mean, then?" he asked coolly.</p>
+
+<p>"You know what it means," said the man, pointing an accusing finger at
+Peter. "It means only the end of all autocracy whether of money or of
+power, the destruction of class distinction and making the working
+classes the masters of all general wealth which they alone produce and
+to which they alone are entitled."</p>
+
+<p>A roar of approval went up from the rear of the room and cries of, "Go
+it, Bolsche," and "Give him Hell, Yakimov."</p>
+
+<p>Peter waited until some order was restored, but he knew now that this
+type of man was more to be feared than Flynn or any other professional
+agitator of the I. W. W. When they had first come face to face, this
+Russian had feigned ignorance of English, but now his clearly enunciated
+phrases, though unpolished, indicated a perfect command of the language,
+and of his subject. That he should choose this time to come out into the
+open showed that he was more sure of himself and of his audience than
+Peter liked. And Peter had no humor to match <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>phrases with him. Whatever
+his own beliefs since he had come to America, one fact stood clear: That
+he was employed to get this work done and that Yakimov, Flynn and others
+were trying to prevent it. It was to be no contest of philosophies but
+of personalities and Peter met the issue without hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>"You are a communist then and not a socialist," said Peter, "one who
+believes in everybody sharing alike whether he works for it or not&mdash;or
+an anarchist who believes in the destruction of everything. You're an
+agent of the Union of Russian Workers, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"And what if I am&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothing, except that you have no place in a nation like the United
+States, which was founded and dedicated to an ideal, higher than any you
+can ever know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"An ideal&mdash;with money as its God&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And what's your God, Yakimov?"</p>
+
+<p>"Liberty&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"License! You want to inflame&mdash;pillage&mdash;destroy&mdash;And what then?"</p>
+
+<p>"You shall see&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What I saw in Russia&mdash;no wages for any one, no harvests, factories
+idle, blood&mdash;starvation&mdash;if that's what you like, why did you leave
+there, Yakimov?"</p>
+
+<p>The man stood tense for a second and then spoke with a clearness heard
+in every corner of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"I came for another reason than yours. I came to spread the gospel of
+labor triumphant. <i>You</i> came because&mdash;&mdash;" Here the Russian leaned
+forward, shaking his fist, his eyes suddenly inflamed and hissing his
+words in a fury. "<i>You</i> came because you believed in serfs and human
+slavery&mdash;because your own land spewed you out from a sick stomach,
+because you were one of the rotting sores in its inside&mdash;that had made
+Russia the dying nation that she was; because it was time that your
+country <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>and my country cleansed herself from such as you. That's why
+you came. And we'll let these men judge which of us they want to lead
+them here."</p>
+
+<p>The nature of the attack was so unexpected that Peter was taken for a
+moment off his guard. A dead silence had fallen upon the room as the
+auditors realized that a game was being played here that was not on the
+cards. Peter felt the myriads of eyes staring at him, and beyond them
+had a vision of a prostrate figure in the corner of a courtyard, the
+blood reddening his blouse under the falling knout. They were all
+Michael Kuprins, these foreigners who stared at him, all the grievances
+born of centuries of oppression. And as Peter did not speak at once,
+Yakimov pursued his advantage.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not come here to tell who this man is," he shouted, "this man who
+tells you what liberty is. But you ought to know. It's your right. You
+know why Russia rose and threw off the yoke of bondage of centuries. It
+was because this man before you who calls himself Peter Nichols and
+others like him bound the people to work for him by terrible laws, taxed
+them, starved them, beat them, killed them, that he and others like him
+might buy jewels for their mistresses and live in luxury and ease, on
+the sweat of the labor of the people. And he asks me why I came to
+America! It was for a moment such as this that I was sent here to find
+him out that I might meet him face to face and confront him with his
+crimes&mdash;and those of his father&mdash;against humanity."</p>
+
+<p>Yakimov paused suddenly in his furious tirade for lack of breath and in
+the deathly silence of the room, there was a sudden stir as a rich
+brogue queried anxiously of nobody in particular:</p>
+
+<p>"Who in Hell <i>is</i> he, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you who he is," the Russian went on, getting his breath.
+"He's one of the last of a race of tyrants and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>oppressors, the worst
+the world has ever known&mdash;in Russia the downtrodden. He fled to America
+to hide until the storm had blown over, hoping to return and take his
+place again at the head of a new government of the Democrats and the
+Bourgeoisie&mdash;the Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch!"</p>
+
+<p>The uproar that filled the room for a moment made speech impossible. But
+every eye was turned on Peter now, some in incredulity, some in
+malevolence, and some in awe. He saw that it was now useless to deny his
+identity even if he had wished to do so, and so he stood squarely on his
+feet, staring at Yakimov, who still leaned forward menacingly, shrieking
+above the tumult, finally making himself heard.</p>
+
+<p>"And this is the man who dares to talk to you about a brotherhood of
+humanity, just laws and equality among men! This tyrant and son of
+tyrants, this representative of a political system that you and men like
+you have overthrown for all time. Is this the man you'll take your
+orders from? Or from the Union of Russian Workers which hates and kills
+all oppressors who stand in the way of the rights and liberties of the
+workers of the world!"</p>
+
+<p>A roar of negation went up from the rear of the room, and an ominous
+murmur spread from man to man. Only those grouped around Peter, some
+Americans, the Scot, Brierly, the ex-soldier, Jesse Brown, and one or
+two of the Italians remained silent, but whether in awe of Peter or of
+his position could not be determined. But Peter still stood, his hands
+in his pockets, firm of jaw and unruffled. It has been said that Peter
+had a commanding air when he chose and when he slowly raised a hand for
+silence the uncouth "Reds" at the rear of the room obeyed him, the
+menacing growl sinking to a mere murmur. But he waited until perfect
+silence was restored. And then quietly,</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span>"What this man has said is true," he announced calmly. "I <i>am</i> Peter
+Nicholaevitch. I came to America as you have come&mdash;to make my way. What
+does it matter who my fathers were? I am not responsible for what my
+fathers did before me. I am only responsible for what I am&mdash;myself. If
+this man in whom you put your trust would speak the truth, he would tell
+you that I tried to bring peace and brotherhood into the part of Russia
+where I lived&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He lies&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I speak the truth. There people knew that I was their friend. They came
+to me for advice. I helped them&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Then why did they burn down your castle?" broke in Yakimov
+triumphantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Because people such as you from the Soviet came among honest and
+peaceful men, trying to make them as mad as you&mdash;I came from Russia to
+find new life, work, peace and happiness. I came to build. You came to
+destroy. And I intend to build and you shall not destroy. If the madness
+of Russia comes to Black Rock it will be because mad dogs come foaming
+at the mouth and making others mad&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A savage cry went up and a glass came hurtling at Peter's head, but it
+missed him and crashed against the wall behind him. That crash of glass
+liberated the pent-up forces in the hearts of these men, for in a moment
+the place was in a furious uproar, the men aligning themselves in two
+camps, that of Peter and his friends much the smaller.</p>
+
+<p>Peter retreated a pace or two as a shot was fired from a revolver, but
+the Scot and Brierly and two of the Americans joined him and met the
+first onslaught bravely. The handful of men was forced back against the
+wall by sheer weight of numbers, but they struck out manfully with their
+fists, with chairs, and with their feet, with any object <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>that came to
+hand, and men went down with bleeding heads. Peter was armed but he did
+not wish to kill any one&mdash;his idea being to make a successful retreat to
+the office, where the telephone would put him in touch with May's
+Landing and reinforcements. Yakimov stood at the edge of the crowd,
+waving a revolver, when a well-aimed missile from the hand of the Scot
+sent him sprawling to the floor among the benches.</p>
+
+<p>Peter and his crowd had fought their way to the door, when Flynn and
+Jacobi who had led a group of men by the other door, fell on them from
+the rear. Between the two groups their position was hopeless but Peter
+fought his way out into the open, dodging a blow from Jacobi and using
+the terrible <i>savate</i> in Flynn's stomach, just as Shad Wells rushed at
+him from one side. Peter saw the blow coming from a broken axhandle&mdash;but
+he had no time to avoid it. Instinctively he ducked his head and threw
+up his left arm, but the bludgeon descended and Peter fell, remembering
+nothing more.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+
+<h2>THE RUSSIAN PAYS</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>When Peter came back to consciousness, he found himself lying in the
+shelter of the underbrush alone. And while he attempted to gather his
+scattered wits together a figure came creeping through the bushes toward
+him. It was Brierly, the clerk, carrying a hatful of water which he had
+procured from the neighboring rivulet. Brierly had a lump on his
+forehead about the size of a silver dollar, and his disheveled
+appearance gave evidence of an active part in the m&ecirc;l&eacute;e.</p>
+
+<p>"What's happened?" asked Peter slowly, starting up as memory came back
+to him.</p>
+
+<p>But Brierly didn't answer at once.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, drink this. I don't think you're badly hurt&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Just dazed a bit," muttered Peter, and let Brierly minister to him
+for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, there were too many for us," Brierly explained. "We made a
+pretty good fight of it at that, but they buried us by sheer weight of
+numbers. Yours isn't the only bruised head, though. Yakimov got his
+early in the game&mdash;and Jacobi. And gee! but that was a 'beaut' you
+handed Flynn&mdash;right in the solar plexus with your heel. The
+<i>savate</i>&mdash;wasn't it? I saw a Frenchy pull that in a dive in Bordeaux. I
+reckon Flynn won't be doin' much agitatin' for a while&mdash;except in his
+stommick."</p>
+
+<p>"How did I get here?" asked Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"I hauled you into the bush as soon as I got a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span>chance&mdash;in the
+confusion&mdash;and gradually, got you back in here. But I think they're
+lookin' for us, so we'd better get a move on soon as you're fit enough."</p>
+
+<p>"Where's Jesse?"</p>
+
+<p>"Beat it, I reckon. Haven't seen him."</p>
+
+<p>"I see." And then, "Brierly, I'm obliged to you. I'll try to make it up
+to you for this."</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't bother. I'm for you. You can't let a lot of roughnecks put
+it over on you like this."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;I can't&mdash;I can't," muttered Peter.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish we had a bunch of the boys I was with over in France down here.
+There's a few up in May's Landing who'd clean this lot up in no time."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish we had them." Peter straightened with some difficulty and rose
+to a sitting posture as the thought came to him. "I've got to get to the
+'phone, Brierly."</p>
+
+<p>"No. I wouldn't advise that&mdash;not here. Those roughnecks are between us
+and the office&mdash;in the office too, I reckon, by this time. It wouldn't
+be safe. Who were you goin' to 'phone to?"</p>
+
+<p>"May's Landing&mdash;the Sheriff. I'm going to see this thing through."</p>
+
+<p>"Righto! And I'm with you to a fare-ye-well. But it's got to be managed
+different. They'll beat you to death if you show up now. It was Yakimov
+that shot at you. He's after you. You were armed. It's a wonder you
+didn't shoot him down." And then, with some hesitation, "Say, Mr.
+Nichols. You ain't really the Grand Duke Peter, are you?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter smiled. "What's left of him&mdash;I am. This man Yakimov is an agent of
+Trotzky."</p>
+
+<p>Brierly whistled softly between his teeth. "I reckon <i>they</i> want to get
+you, don't they?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter nodded. "But they won't&mdash;not yet."</p>
+
+<p>They held a brief council of war and in a moment on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>hands and knees
+were making their way through the underbrush in the general direction of
+Black Rock. Behind them they heard rough laughter and an occasional
+outburst of song which proclaimed that new supplies of whisky had been
+unearthed and that the anarchy which Yakimov so much desired now
+prevailed. After a while, Peter managed to get to his feet and moved on
+at a greater speed. He had only been stunned by Shad's blow&mdash;a part of
+the force of which he had caught on his arm. The arm was still numb and
+his head thumped, but as he went on in the cool air his brain cleared
+and he found it possible to plan with some definiteness. Brierly knew
+the sheriff at May's Landing. There was nothing his friends would rather
+do than to be sworn in as deputies for a job like this. He had thought
+it a wonder that Peter hadn't called the Sheriff in before.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I could manage the situation alone, Brierly," said Peter
+quietly, "but it's got the best of me."</p>
+
+<p>The way was long to Black Rock&mdash;at least eight miles by the way they
+took&mdash;and it was almost six o'clock when, they reached McGuire's. They
+knew that with the "flivver" in the possession of the outlaws it was
+quite possible that some of the ringleaders of the disturbance might
+have preceded them, and so they kept under cover until near the house,
+when they quickly emerged from the bushes and made their way to the
+kitchen door, entering without knocking.</p>
+
+<p>An unpleasant surprise awaited them here, for in the kitchen, securely
+gagged and bound to a chair, they found McGuire's valet, Stryker.</p>
+
+<p>It took only a moment to release the man and to get the gag out of his
+mouth, when he began sputtering and pointing toward the door into the
+house.</p>
+
+<p>"Hawk&mdash;Hawk Kennedy!" the amazed Peter made out.</p>
+
+<p>And after staring at the man in a moment of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>bewilderment, Peter drew
+out his revolver and dashed through the house, keyed up at once to new
+adventure, the eager Brierly at his heels. They went up the stairs and
+to the door of McGuire's own room, where they stood for a moment aghast
+at the disorder and havoc before them.</p>
+
+<p>Papers and books were scattered everywhere upon the floor, chairs were
+overturned, and the door of the safe was ajar. At first he saw no one,
+but when Peter entered the room he heard a sound from the corner beyond
+the table, a sound halfway between a gasp and a groan, and there he
+found his employer, Jonathan K. McGuire, doubled up on the floor, bound
+and trussed like his valet and quite as helpless. It was evident that
+the long awaited terror had come to Black Rock.</p>
+
+<p>But if he was dismayed and frightened it seemed that McGuire was
+uninjured and when he was released he was lifted to his feet and a
+chair, into which he sank speechless for a moment of rehabilitation.
+There was no need to question him as to what had happened in this room,
+for the evidences of Hawk's visit and its purpose were all too evident.
+Without a word to McGuire, Peter found the telephone in the hall, called
+for May's Landing, then turning the instrument over to Brierly, with
+instructions as to what he was to do, returned to McGuire's room and
+closed the door behind him.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir," he said briefly. "I see he's come."</p>
+
+<p>"My God, yes," gasped McGuire. "And you know what he came for&mdash;he got
+it, Nichols. He got it."</p>
+
+<p>"That proves that he <i>had</i> lost the duplicate," said Peter quietly. "How
+did it all happen?"</p>
+
+<p>The old man drew a trembling hand across his brow.</p>
+
+<p>"He took me off my guard&mdash;all of us. I don't know. It only happened half
+an hour ago. Where's Stryker?"</p>
+
+<p>"He was tied to a chair in the kitchen. We let him loose. He's outside
+somewhere."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>"And Mrs. Bergen and Sarah?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Peter went to the door and called Stryker and that bewildered person
+appeared at the foot of the steps with Mrs. Bergen and Sarah who had
+been locked in the cellar. Peter called them up and they all began
+screaming their tale at once. But at last Peter got at the facts. Hawk
+Kennedy had come suddenly into the kitchen where the two women were and,
+brandishing a revolver, commanding silence, threatening death if they
+made a sound. He had surprised the valet in the lower hall and had
+marched him back into the kitchen, where he had bound him to a chair
+with a clothes-line and then gagged him.</p>
+
+<p>McGuire waved the trio out of the room when their story was told, and
+signaled to Peter to close the door again, when he took up his
+interrupted tale.</p>
+
+<p>"I was at the window, looking out, Nichols. I didn't expect him for a
+couple of weeks anyway. I'd just about gotten my nerve back. But he got
+the drop on me, Nichols. How he ever got into the room without my
+hearin' him! I must have been in a trance. His shoes were off. The first
+thing I know is a voice close at my ear and a gun in my ribs. I turned
+quick&mdash;but my gun was in the table drawer. His face was close to mine
+and I knew he meant business. If I'd 'a' moved he'd 'a' killed me. So I
+put my hands up. There wasn't anything else to do. I thought I'd play
+for time but he caught my glance toward the door and only laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"'There ain't anybody comin', Mike,' he says. 'It's just you an' me.' I
+asked him what he wanted and he grinned. 'You know,' he says. And with
+his left hand he brought out a rope he had stuffed in his pocket. 'I'll
+fix <i>you</i> first. Then we'll talk,' he says. He was cool like he always
+was. He caught a slip noose around my wrists before I knew it, twisted
+the rope around me and threw <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span>me over on the floor. I tell you that man
+is the devil himself."</p>
+
+<p>"What then?"</p>
+
+<p>"He made me give up the keys to the drawers in the safe&mdash;it was open
+just like it is now. I wouldn't speak at first but he kicked me and then
+put the gun at my head. I still hoped some one would come. I gave in at
+last. He found it. My God!" The old man aroused himself with an effort
+and rose to his feet. "But we've got to catch him&mdash;just you and I. He
+can't have gone far. We've got the right to shoot him now&mdash;to shoot on
+sight&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;yes. I'm getting the Sheriff at May's Landing now&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The Sheriff!" The Irishman's small eyes stared and then became alive in
+sudden comprehension. "Not the Sheriff, Nichols. I won't have him."</p>
+
+<p>"You've got to&mdash;at once." And then rapidly Peter gave an account of what
+had happened at the logging camp. But it seemed to have no effect upon
+McGuire, who listened with glassy eyes. He was obsessed with the
+other&mdash;the graver danger.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll keep this thing quiet if you like&mdash;the real meaning of this
+visit, and we've got to pick up his trail. But we can't let those men at
+the camp have the run of the place. They'll be looting this house next."
+And then, as McGuire seemed to agree, Peter went to the door and found
+Brierly still on the 'phone. He was talking to the Sheriff and had told
+the whole story. The Sheriff had already heard something about the Black
+Rock camp trouble and would be ready to move in an hour.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell him to move fast and to come to McGuire's first," said Peter. "And
+you'll be here to show him the way."</p>
+
+<p>Brierly nodded and finished the message, while Peter returned to
+McGuire.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>"What else did Kennedy say?" Peter asked him.</p>
+
+<p>"He asked a lot of questions&mdash;about you and Beth Cameron&mdash;about the
+money&mdash;about what I'd promised you. He's the very devil, I tell you. He
+knows everything. He said he'd 'get' you and that he'd 'get' Beth
+Cameron."</p>
+
+<p>Peter caught McGuire fiercely by the shoulder. "What did you say? Are
+you sure?"</p>
+
+<p>With all of his other troubles Peter had forgotten Beth and now thought
+guiltily of the possible danger to which she might have been subjected.</p>
+
+<p>How could Hawk have found out about Beth Cameron?</p>
+
+<p>"What I told you," muttered McGuire wearily, "he said he'd 'get'
+her&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Sick with anxiety, Peter flung away from his protesting employer and
+made for the door, rushing past the astonished Brierly in the hall, down
+the stairs and out at a run over the bridge and through the village to
+the Bergen house. The door was open and he rushed in, calling Beth's
+name. There was no response. Now desperate and fearing the worst, he ran
+from room to room, downstairs and up. There were signs of her&mdash;a towel
+on a chair, a broom leaning against a door upstairs, the neatly made
+beds, the orderly kitchen, giving evidence of the morning cleaning, but
+no supper cooking on the stove, the fire of which had burned to cinders.
+She had not been here for a long while&mdash;since early morning possibly.
+But where had she gone&mdash;where? Hawk Kennedy would hardly have dared to
+come here&mdash;to the village&mdash;hardly have succeeded in enticing her away
+from this house, surrounded by neighbors&mdash;still less have succeeded in
+carrying her off without their knowledge. He rushed out into the road
+and questioned. No one seemed to have seen her. The eagerness and
+suppressed anxiety of Peter's manner quickly drew a crowd which felt the
+contagion of his excitement. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>A man joined the group. Yes. He had seen
+Beth in the morning early. She was hurrying down the path which led into
+the pines. He had not seen her since.</p>
+
+<p>Peter glanced at him just once more to be sure that he was speaking the
+truth and then, without a thought as to the impression he had created in
+the minds of the villagers, set off running through the path toward his
+cabin.</p>
+
+<p>Fool that he had been! To leave Beth unguarded&mdash;unwarned even&mdash;with Hawk
+within a quarter of a mile of her. Why had he not seen the hand of fate
+in Beth's presence here at Black Rock near McGuire, the man who had
+wronged her father&mdash;the hand of fate, which with unerring definiteness
+was guiding the principals in this sordid tragedy together from the ends
+of the earth for a reckoning? And what was this reckoning to be? McGuire
+had already fallen a victim to the man's devilish skill and audacity.
+And Beth&mdash;&mdash;? What match was she for a clever desperate rogue who balked
+at nothing? How had he learned of Beth's existence and how, knowing of
+it, had he managed to beguile her away from the village? Peter was
+beginning to believe with McGuire that Hawk Kennedy was indeed in league
+with the devil.</p>
+
+<p>Peter was not now aware of any pain or even of bodily fatigue, for there
+was no room in his mind for any thought of self. Scarcely conscious of
+his new exertions, he ran across the log-jam below the pool and up the
+path to the Cabin. What he expected to find there he did not know, but
+it seemed clear that Beth had come this way in the morning and if not to
+the Cabin, where else? Hawk had been here when she had come into the
+woodland path. That was enough. As he reached the turn in the path, he
+saw that the door of the Cabin was open and when he rushed in, prepared
+for anything, he saw that the room was unoccupied. He stood aghast for a
+moment, trying to adjust his mind to take in logically the evidence he
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>found there&mdash;the overturned chair, the blankets dragging on the floor
+by the bed, the broken water pitcher, the opened bureau drawers, the
+torn bits of linen&mdash;parts of his own handkerchiefs&mdash;upon the floor&mdash;all
+visible signs' of a commotion, perhaps of a struggle, that had taken
+place. And then under the table he espied a square of heliotrope paper.
+He picked it up quickly and took it to the light of the window. It was
+the envelope of the letter he had received from Anastasie Galitzin. And
+what was this&mdash;&mdash;? A scrawl in Beth's hand, "You left <i>this</i> last night.
+You'd better go back to Anastasie."</p>
+
+<p>Bewildered for a moment, Peter stared at the forceful characters of the
+handwriting, written hurriedly in a scrawl of lead pencil, and then the
+probable sequence of events came to him with a rush. She had opened the
+note of Anastasie Galitzin and read it. What had it said? He had
+forgotten details. But there were phrases that might have been
+misconstrued. And Beth&mdash;&mdash;. He could see her now coming up the path, her
+head high, seeking explanations&mdash;and meeting Hawk!</p>
+
+<p>But where was the letter itself? He searched for it without success.
+Hawk! The answer to all of his questions was in the personality of the
+man as Peter knew him. The bits of torn linen and Beth's own
+handkerchief, which he found in the corner of the bed against the wall,
+crumpled into a ball and still moist with her tears, were mute but
+eloquent evidences of her suffering and torture in the presence of this
+man who had not been too delicate in the means by which he had
+accomplished her subjugation.</p>
+
+<p>Peter raged up and down the floor of the Cabin like a caged animal. What
+must he do&mdash;which way turn? That Hawk had gagged and bound her was
+obvious. But what then? He rushed outside and examined the shrubbery
+around the Cabin. There was nothing to indicate the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>direction in which
+he had taken her&mdash;and the forest at his very elbow stretched for miles
+in all directions, a hiding place that had served other guilty ones
+before Hawk&mdash;the New Jersey pines that he had learned to love, now
+wrapped in a conspiracy of silence. It would be dusk very soon. A search
+of the pine barrens at night would be hopeless. Besides, Hawk had had
+the whole of the morning and most of the afternoon in which to carry out
+his purpose.... What was that purpose? Where had he taken Beth? Where
+had he left her when he had returned to Black Rock House to rob McGuire?
+Or had he...? Impossible! Even Hawk wouldn't have dared.... Peter
+clenched his fists in agony and rage at the terrible thoughts that came
+swarming into his brain, driving out all reason.</p>
+
+<p>His Highness had suffered greatly the last few years of his life, the
+physical pain of wounds received in battle, the mental pain of falling
+hopes, of fallen pride, of disillusionment, but he could not remember
+any pain that had seemed to matter like the anguish of the present
+moment. The other sufferings were those of the Grand Duke Peter
+Nicholaevitch, material sufferings born of his high estate. But this
+present suffering was primitive. It wrenched at the very fibers of the
+heart, for the love that he had found was a finer thing than had ever
+happened in his life, a love which asked nothing and only craved the joy
+of giving. And this woman&mdash;this mate that he had chosen out of all the
+women that he had known in the world...!</p>
+
+<p>Hawk Kennedy would have fared badly if Peter could have had him within
+arm's reach at that moment. But after a time, as Peter went into the
+Cabin, he grew calmer, and pacing the floor for a while, began to think
+more lucidly. Less than an hour ago Hawk Kennedy had been at Black Rock
+House giving Jonathan McGuire and Stryker their unpleasant half-hour. He
+wouldn't have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span>dared to return and accomplish what he had done after a
+deed so terrible as that which had entered Peter's thoughts. He was
+still a human being and Beth.... He couldn't have killed Beth out of
+hand. The thought was monstrous&mdash;even of Hawk.</p>
+
+<p>He had taken her somewhere&mdash;to one of his hiding-places in the woods,
+and proposed keeping her, the legal heir of Ben Cameron, for ransom, as
+a part of his plot to win his share of the McGuire fortune. He had
+stolen the telltale agreement too and now held all the cards&mdash;all of
+them.</p>
+
+<p>Peter paused standing by the window seat, looking out at the leaves
+falling in the rising wind, his mind already resolved on a plan. He was
+about to turn toward the telephone, when he noted a commotion in the
+bushes opposite his window. A flash of fire almost at the same moment, a
+crash of broken glass, and the hair on his head twitched violently.</p>
+
+<p>Instinctively Peter dropped to the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Close shooting! His scalp stung uncomfortably&mdash;but aside from that he
+knew that he was not hurt. A fraction of an inch lower&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Hawk&mdash;&mdash;! His first impulse had been to rush to the door&mdash;but the events
+of the day had taught him caution and so he crouched, drawing his
+revolver. Too much depended upon his existence at the present moment to
+take a chance in the open with a hidden enemy&mdash;especially if that enemy
+were Hawk Kennedy. He listened intently. No sound. Then the breaking of
+a twig and the sibilance of whispering voices&mdash;two of them&mdash;perhaps
+more. And still Peter did not move. His quick thinking had done him a
+service. It was clear that the men outside had decided that the shot had
+taken effect.</p>
+
+<p>And now, instead of creeping to the doorway, Peter settled back upon the
+floor again, prostrate, but in such <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span>a position that his eyes and his
+revolver commanded the entrance to the Cabin. He waited. It was a
+nerve-racking business but the thought of all that depended upon his
+safety steadied him into a preternatural calm like that which falls at
+the presence of death. Death was imminent here for some one. It lurked
+just outside. It lurked in the finger that Peter held against the
+trigger. And Peter meant that the adventure should end at the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he heard a gentle shuffling of feet outside and the whisper
+again, this time quite distinctly, "You got him, I reckon."</p>
+
+<p>Whose voice was that? Not Hawk Kennedy's ... Peter lowered his head to
+his arm and closed his eyes, watching the door-jamb through his
+eyelashes, his revolver hidden but its muzzle in line. A bulky shadow on
+the step, a foot and then a head cautiously protruded&mdash;that of Shad
+Wells, followed immediately by another, swathed in a bandage which only
+partially concealed the dark eyes and beard of Yakimov the Russian. It
+took considerable exercise of will on Peter's part to remain quiescent
+with the stare of those four eyes upon him, especially when he noted the
+weapon in the fingers of the Russian. But he waited until the two men
+got into the room.</p>
+
+<p>"There he is. You got him, Yakimov," said Shad with a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps&mdash;&mdash;" Peter heard, "but I'll make sure of it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Yakimov's pistol rose slowly, halfway to the level of his eyes. But it
+was never fired, for Peter's revolver flashed fire, twice&mdash;three times,
+and Yakimov with a sudden wide stare at vacancy pitched forward and
+crashed down. The surprise was complete, for a fourth shot went into the
+right arm of Shad Wells, which ruined his shot and sent his weapon
+clattering to the floor.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span>Peter had taken Shad's measure once before and the memory of the blow
+from the axhandle earlier in the day did nothing to soften Peter's
+intent. The quick command as he scrambled to his feet and the sight of
+the imminent weapon caused Shad suddenly to forget everything but the
+desire, whatever else happened, not to die as Yakimov had done. And so
+he put his hands up&mdash;staggering back against the wall. Peter, with his
+weapon still covering Shad, put his fingers over Yakimov's heart. The
+man was dead. Then he rose soberly and faced Shad.</p>
+
+<p>"I ought to kill you like the dog that you are," he said tensely, "but I
+want to question you first. Stand over by the bed."</p>
+
+<p>Shad obeyed and Peter, watching him closely, picked up his weapon and
+Yakimov's and examined them carefully, putting one in his pocket and
+laying the other beside him on the mantel. But all the fight was out of
+Shad, who stood stupidly while Peter bound his wrists behind him. The
+man was badly hurt, but it was no time for Peter to be playing the good
+Samaritan.</p>
+
+<p>"So much for keeping bad company," said Peter coolly. "You'll find more
+of the same sort in the lock-up at May's Landing."</p>
+
+<p>"You daresn't send me there," muttered Shad, with a feeble attempt at
+bravado.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't I? You'll see&mdash;for attempted murder. The Sheriff is on his way
+here now. Have you anything to say?"</p>
+
+<p>Shad was silent, eying the dead man.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, very well," said Peter. He closed and locked the door and, keeping
+the man covered with his revolver, moved to the telephone and got
+McGuire at Black Rock House, telling him in a few phrases what had
+happened.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Yakimov the Russian&mdash;I shot him.... Yes.... I killed him. It was
+to save my own life.... Shad <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span>Wells.... A prisoner. Send Brierly with a
+car down here at once. Hawk has been here too and has met Beth Cameron
+... God knows. He has taken her away with him somewhere&mdash;abducted
+her.... Yes ... Yes ... I've got to find her. Yes, <i>Beth</i>&mdash;can't you
+understand?... She came here to bring me a letter ... I found it. Hawk
+was here early this morning.... I know it. He bound her with some of my
+handkerchiefs ... No, there's no doubt of it&mdash;none at all.... I can't
+stand here talking. Send Brierly at once. Understand?"</p>
+
+<p>And Peter hung up the receiver and turned toward Shad, who was leaning
+forward toward him, his face pale, his mouth agape at what he had heard.
+But Peter, unaware of the sudden transformation in his prisoner, only
+glanced at him and bending over began a search of the pockets of the
+dead man, when Shad's voice cut the silence&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;you say&mdash;&mdash;," he stammered chokingly, "you say B-Beth has been
+abducted, Mister&mdash;Beth Cameron?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter straightened, his eyes searching the lumberman's face.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. To-day&mdash;this morning," he answered crisply. "What of it? Do you
+know anything&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hawk Kennedy took her?" the man faltered. "Are you sure?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter sprang up, his eyes blazing with eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you know of Hawk Kennedy?" he cried. And then, as Shad seemed
+suddenly to have been stricken dumb, Peter seized him by the shoulder
+and shook him. "Speak! Do you know Hawk Kennedy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Shad in a bewildered way. "I do&mdash;but Beth&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He's taken her away&mdash;don't you understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"W-Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"God knows," said Peter wildly. "It's part of a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span>plot&mdash;against
+McGuire&mdash;to get money. Do you know where he is? Do you know where he's
+gone with her? Speak, man! Or must I&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know him. I've seen him&mdash;&mdash;," muttered Shad with a hang-dog air.</p>
+
+<p>"To-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>Peter gasped in disappointment, but still questioned quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you see him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Down near the camp. He came back again yesterday. He'd been away&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, I know. What did he say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he was very peart&mdash;swaggered around like he owned the place and
+talked about a lot of money he was goin' to have. An' how he was&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know where he took Beth Cameron?" broke in Peter again.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I don't&mdash;My God&mdash;<i>him!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, <i>him</i>. You know what it means. He'd kill her if he dared."</p>
+
+<p>"Would he? My God! Mister. You can't let&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No. No." And then, sharply, "Speak up, Wells, and I'll set you free. Do
+you know where he could have taken her?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not sure, but maybe&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Where&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"He stayed down at the Forks&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But he wouldn't have dared to take her there&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No. That's so. Maybe&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Where?"</p>
+
+<p>"Some other place&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. Was there any other place that he knew about?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span>"Yes, there was. But when he first came he rode down on a horse from
+Hammonton."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes. Go on. And later&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He used to come around the camp for food. It was when you first came on
+the job. But he bought it and paid for it."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care about that. Where was he hiding?"</p>
+
+<p>"Back in the woods. He used to sleep in the old tool house down by the
+cedar swamp."</p>
+
+<p>Peter was now on edge with excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think he'd be likely to take Beth there?"</p>
+
+<p>"How should I know? Maybe he took her to Hammonton or Egg Harbor."</p>
+
+<p>"No. He wouldn't have had time. Where's this tool house?"</p>
+
+<p>"About half a mile from the mills."</p>
+
+<p>"Could you show me the way?"</p>
+
+<p>"I reckon I could&mdash;&mdash;," Shad Wells sank into a chair and bent his head.
+"My God! Mister. If I'd only 'a' known! If you'd only let me help you&mdash;I
+can't stand thinkin' of anythin' happenin' to Beth&mdash;you an' me&mdash;we ain't
+got along, an' maybe you've got the upper hand of me, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We've got to forget that now," put in Peter quickly, and taking out his
+hasp knife he cut the cords that bound Shad's wrists. "Just to show you
+that I mean what I say." And then, soberly, "You know these woods. Help
+me to find Beth Cameron and I'll make no charge against you. Is that a
+bargain?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Mister."</p>
+
+<p>Peter glanced at his face and at the blood dripping from his finger
+ends. The man was suffering much pain but he hadn't whimpered.</p>
+
+<p>"All right. Take off your coat and I'll tie your arm up first."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span>Silently Shad rose and obeyed while Peter got water and washed the
+wound, a clean one right through the muscles of the forearm. But no
+bones were broken and Peter bandaged it skillfully. Shad clenched his
+jaws during the washing of the wound but he said nothing more. Peter
+knew that the man still hated him but he knew also that Shad was now
+powerless to do him any injury, and that there was a tie to bind them
+now into this strange alliance. As Peter finished the bandaging and was
+improvising a sling for the wounded arm, Shad crumpled side-long upon
+the edge of the bed, his face ghastly, and would have fallen to the
+floor if Peter hadn't held him upright, and half carried him to the
+armchair. Then Peter unlocked a cupboard and brought forth whisky,
+giving Shad half a tumblerful and in a moment the man began to revive.
+So Peter poured another glass and slowly Shad pulled himself together.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you're not up to it&mdash;&mdash;," Peter began.</p>
+
+<p>But Shad wagged his head with some determination.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I&mdash;I'm up to it all right. I've got to go, Mister. We'll find her
+if she's in these woods&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Bully for you. Feeling better now?"</p>
+
+<p>Shad nodded and then raised his head, staring with a frown out of the
+window by the piano. Peter had been so absorbed in his task of setting
+the man to rights that he had not noticed the dull glow that had risen
+in the southern sky. And following Shad's glance he turned his head and
+looked out of the window. At first he thought it might be the afterglow
+of the sunset until a word from Shad aroused him to the real
+significance of the light.</p>
+
+<p>"Fire!" gasped the lumberman.</p>
+
+<p>"Fire!" echoed Peter, aghast.</p>
+
+<p>"They've set the woods afire, Mister," muttered Shad helplessly.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span>At the same moment the telephone from the house began jangling
+furiously. It was McGuire, who had made the same discovery.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied Peter to the hysterical questions. "It's the lumber camp.
+They've broken loose and set the woods afire. You've got to get all the
+men you can together and rush them down there. Where's Brierly? On the
+way? Oh, all right. Good. He'll take me down and I'll send him back....
+Yes. I've got a clew to Hawk ... I don't know, but I'm going to try it.
+I'm taking Shad Wells with me ... The old tool house by the cedar swamp.
+Brierly will know. Send the men on in relays when they come&mdash;with
+shovels and sacks.... What did you say?... What?... Oh, 'D&mdash;&mdash;n the
+woods.'... All right. I'll get the paper if I can ... Yes. It's my
+affair as much as yours now.... Yes.... Good-by."</p>
+
+<p>Peter hung up the receiver and turned to Shad, who had risen, his arm in
+the sling, just as Brierly came running up the path to the door.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+
+<h2>THE INFERNO</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>The way through the woods was long, but Beth stumbled on, urged by the
+rough tone and strong hand of her captor. She knew the woods well,
+better than Hawk, but she had never ventured so far into the forest as
+he led her. She felt very certain that he knew even less than she of the
+way he was taking, and that his object in avoiding the roads and paths
+which led to the southward was to keep her hidden from the eyes of any
+persons that might be met on the paths between Black Rock and the lumber
+camp. But after a while she began to think that he knew with more or
+less definiteness the general direction in which they were moving, for
+he stopped from time to time to look at the sun and get his bearings.
+And then with a gruff word he would move on again, always to the south
+and east, and she knew that he had already decided upon their
+destination. With her hands still bound behind her, progress through the
+underbrush was difficult, for the branches stung her like whip-lashes,
+and thorn-bushes caught at her arms and tore her flimsy frock to shreds.
+The gag in her mouth made breathing painful, but Hawk seemed to be
+unaware of her sufferings or purposely oblivious of them, for he hardly
+glanced at her and said no word except to urge her on to greater
+exertion.</p>
+
+<p>When they approached the road which he wanted to cross, he warned her
+with an oath to remain where he left her and went forward to
+investigate, after which he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span>returned and hurried her across into the
+thicket upon the other side. And it was not until they were securely
+hidden again far from the sight of any possible passers-by that he
+untied the bonds at her wrists and took the gag from her mouth. But she
+knew more than ever that she was completely in his power.</p>
+
+<p>He was sinister. He typified terror, physical and mental&mdash;and behind the
+threat of his very presence lay the gruesome vision of sand and sun and
+the bearded man lying with the knife in his back. She tried to summon
+her native courage to combat her fears, to believe that the situation in
+which she found herself was not so evil as she imagined it&mdash;and that
+soon Hawk Kennedy would have a change of heart and give her a chance to
+speak in her own behalf. But he silenced her gruffly whenever she
+addressed him and she gave up at last, in fear of bringing his wrath
+upon her. She could see that he was deeply intent upon his object to get
+her away from Black Rock where none could find her. And what then?</p>
+
+<p>In a wild impulse&mdash;a moment of desperation, she broke away from him and
+ran, but he caught her easily, for by this time she was very tired.
+Again, she thought of a struggle with him hand to hand, but he read her
+mind and drew a pistol, pushing her on ahead of him as before,
+threatening bodily injury. By this time she had learned to believe him
+capable of any cruelty. But she thanked God that the dangers that
+threatened were only those which could come from a brutal enemy and in
+his very brutality she even found refuge from the other and more
+terrible alternative of his amiability. As Hawk had said, he wasn't "on
+that lay this trip."</p>
+
+<p>But what his ultimate purpose was she had no means of determining. She
+knew that he was totally without scruple and had thought in her first
+moments of terror that he meant to take her far back into the woods&mdash;and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>there kill her as he had done her father, thus again destroying all
+claim. But as the moments passed and she saw that he had some definite
+objective, the feeble remnants of her courage gathered strength. Her
+attempt to escape had failed, of course, but his tolerance gave her a
+hope that he did not dare to do the dreadful violence of which she had
+thought.</p>
+
+<p>For hours&mdash;it seemed&mdash;they went through underbrush and swamp-land,
+stopping from time to time at Hawk's command while he listened and got
+their bearings. Beth had never been in this part of the woods, but she
+had an idea, from the crossing of the road and the character of the
+trees, that they were now somewhere in the Lower Reserve and not very
+far from the lumber camp. It was there that Peter Nichols was. Her heart
+leaped at the thought of his nearness. All memory of the heliotrope
+envelope and of its contents seemed to have been wiped from her
+consciousness by the rough usage of this enemy to them both. It seemed
+to matter very little now who this woman was that Peter had known. She
+belonged to a mysterious and unhappy past&mdash;for he had hinted at
+that&mdash;which had nothing to do with the revelation that Beth had read in
+his eyes as to the meaning of the wonderful present for them both. She
+knew now that he could have explained, if she had given him the chance.
+Instead of which she had rushed heedlessly to misfortune, the victim of
+a childish pride, plunging them both into this disaster. That pride was
+a pitiful thing now, like her disordered hair and her bedraggled frock,
+which flapped its ribbons, soaked and muddy, about her knees.</p>
+
+<p>But as long as she was still alive and in no immediate danger, she tried
+to hope for some incident which would send Peter back to Black Rock
+earlier than Hawk had expected, where, at the Cabin, he would guess the
+truth as to her meeting with Hawk and what had followed. But <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span>how could
+he guess all that? The difficulty dismayed her, He would hunt for her of
+course as soon as he learned of her disappearance, but clever as he was
+there seemed no way in which he could solve the mystery of her flight,
+still less, having guessed Hawk Kennedy's purpose, follow any trail
+through the wilderness by which her captor had led her.</p>
+
+<p>Even in the apparent hopelessness of her situation, she had not reached
+the point of actual despair. Youth and her customary belief in all that
+was good in the world sustained her. Something would happen&mdash;something
+<i>must</i> happen.... As she trudged along, she prayed with her whole heart,
+like David, to be delivered from the hand of the oppressor.</p>
+
+<p>That prayer comforted her and gave her strength and so when they came
+out at the edge of the swamp some moments later she obeyed his
+instructions more hopefully. There was a path along the edge of the
+water which presently led into the heart of the woods again, and there
+almost before she was aware of it she found herself facing a small
+wooden house or shanty which seemed in a fairly good state of
+preservation.</p>
+
+<p>Silently, Hawk Kennedy unfastened the hasp which held the door, and
+gruffly ordered her to go inside. Wondering, she obeyed him. But her
+captor now acted with a celerity which while it gave her new fears, set
+other fears at rest, for he took the handkerchiefs from his pockets and
+gagged and bound her arms and wrists again, pushing her down on a pile
+of sacking which had served some one for a bed, tying her feet and knees
+with ropes that were there so that she could neither move nor make a
+sound.</p>
+
+<p>There for a moment he stood, staring down at her with a grim kind of
+humor, born of his successful flight.</p>
+
+<p>"Some kid, by G&mdash;&mdash;! I'm kinder sorry&mdash;d&mdash;&mdash; if I ain't. But ye hadn't
+any business bein' who ye are. I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span>believe I'd rather kill ye outright
+than hurt ye any more&mdash;that I would. Maybe I won't have to do either.
+Understand? But I got somethin' to do first. It ain't any child's play
+an' I ain't got much time to spare. Be a good kid an' lie quiet an' go
+to sleep and I'll be back after a while an' set ye free. Understand?"</p>
+
+<p>Beth nodded helplessly, for it was the only thing that she could do and
+with relief watched his evil shape darken the doorway out of which he
+went, carefully closing the door and fastening the hasp on the outside.
+Then she heard the crunch of his footsteps in the dry leaves behind the
+Cabin. They moved rapidly and in a few moments she heard them no more.</p>
+
+<p>Lying on her side, her head pillowed on the bagging, it did not seem at
+first as though she were uncomfortable, and her eyes, wide open, peered
+around her prison. There was a small window unglazed and by the light
+which came from it she could see some axhandles piled in one corner of
+the hut, several cross-cut saws on a box at one side, a few picks and a
+shovel or two. It must be a tool house used for the storage of extra
+implements and she remembered dimly that Shad had once spoken of the
+cutting that had been begun down by the swamp and abandoned for a better
+location. This then was where Hawk Kennedy had taken her and she knew
+that it was a spot little visited nowadays except by hunters, and at
+some distance from the scene of present logging operations, toward the
+spur of the railroad. It was here perhaps that Hawk Kennedy had hidden
+while making his earlier investigations of Black Rock while he ripened
+his plot against Mr. McGuire. There were several empty bottles upon the
+floor, a moldy crust of bread, and a broken water-pitcher which
+confirmed the surmise.</p>
+
+<p>She realized that Hawk had planned well. It seemed hardly possible to
+hope for a chance passer-by in this <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span>deserted spot. And even if she
+heard the sound of guns or even heard footsteps in the leaves, what
+chance had she of making known her whereabouts? But she strained her
+ears, listening, only to hear the twittering of the birds, the
+chattering of squirrels and the moaning of the wind in the tree tops.
+How near was freedom and yet how difficult of attainment! She wriggled
+gently in her bonds but each motion seemed to make them tighter, until
+they began to cut more and more cruelly into her tender flesh. She tried
+by twisting her hands and bending her body to touch the knots at her
+knees but her elbows were fastened securely and she couldn't reach them.
+And at last she gave up the attempt, half stifled from her exertions and
+suffering acutely. Then she lay quiet, sobbing gently to herself, trying
+to find a comfortable posture, and wondering what was to be the end of
+it all.</p>
+
+<p>Hours passed in which the scampering of the four-footed things grew less
+and less and the birds ceased their chirping. Only the moaning of the
+wind continued, high in the tree tops. Once or twice she thought she
+plainly heard footsteps near by and renewed her efforts to free herself,
+but desisted again when she learned that it was only the sound of the
+flying leaves dancing against the outside walls of her prison.</p>
+
+<p>She thought of all the things that had happened in her brief and
+uneventful life, but most she thought of Peter Nichols, and all that his
+visit to Black Rock had meant to her. And even in her physical
+discomfort and mental anguish found herself hoping against hope that
+something would yet happen to balk the sinister plans of Hawk Kennedy,
+whatever they were. She could not believe that happiness such as hers
+had been could come to such a dreadful end so soon. But what was Hawk
+Kennedy's mission now? Where had he gone unless to Black Rock again? And
+what would he be doing there? Was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span>revenge his motive now, stronger
+since her revelation of her parentage? And was it Peter that he was
+going to...? Her cry was muffled in the bandage. He had gone back to
+Black Rock to lie in wait for Peter&mdash;to kill him perhaps. Sobbing anew
+she struggled again with her bonds, until at last she lay back relaxed
+and exhausted, and prayed with all her might to the God that had always
+been her guide.</p>
+
+<p>And after a while she grew calm again, refreshed and strengthened by her
+faith. No harm would befall Peter. No further harm would come to her.
+Evil such as Hawk's was powerless against her prayers. Already he had
+done her a great injury. The God of her faith would keep her scatheless
+until Peter, the man she loved, came to save her. She was as sure of
+this now as though she could see him coming, vengeance in his hand, with
+long strides through the forest to her hiding-place. And so, after a
+while, exhausted from her efforts, she fell into a doze.</p>
+
+<p>When she awoke from troubled dreams it was with a sense of suffocation.
+She had stirred in her sleep and the thongs had cut more deeply into the
+flesh at her knees, causing her pain. Below the knees she was numb from
+the constant pressure, but she moved her toes up and down and her limbs
+tingled painfully as the constricted blood flowed into her extremities.
+How long she had lain there she did not know, but the interior of the
+shed seemed to have grown quite dark, as though a storm were rising
+outside. The wind was still blowing, and above the moaning of the pines
+she could hear the continuous rustle of the leaves and the creaking of
+moving branches. She managed with an effort to turn her head toward the
+window, where through the dark leaves of the overshadowing trees she
+could catch glimpses of the sky, which seemed to have turned to a
+pinkish purple, like the afterglow of a sunset. Was it possible that she
+could have slept so long? <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span>In the turning of her head it seemed that the
+bandage over her mouth had become loosened and as she tried the
+experiment again, the handkerchief slipped down around her neck. In a
+moment she had gotten rid of the wad of linen in her mouth. At least she
+could breathe freely now and moisten her parching lips. This boon seemed
+almost in answer to her prayers. And if one bandage could come loose by
+God's help, why not another?</p>
+
+<p>And so cheerfully and with a persistence which took no thought of the
+pain she was inflicting upon herself, she began working her hands to and
+fro behind her until she fancied that the pressure on her wrists was not
+so great as before. With an effort she managed to wriggle over against
+the wall and so to straighten into a sitting posture.</p>
+
+<p>It was then that she suddenly raised her head and sniffed at the air
+from the small window above her through which a slender wisp of smoke
+came curling. Smoke! The smell of burning brush, familiar to her, and
+yet back here in the woods, unless from a well tended camp-fire, fraught
+with perilous meaning. She glanced out of the small opening again. The
+purple had grown redder, a dull crimson shot with streaks of blue&mdash;smoke
+everywhere, endless streamers and tortuous billows sweeping down on the
+wings of the wind.</p>
+
+<p>Fire in the woods! She knew the meaning of that. And the reddish purple
+was not the sunset but the glow of mighty flames near by, a "crown" fire
+in the pines! From the volume of smoke, increasing with every moment, it
+seemed that the old tool house in which she was imprisoned must be
+directly in the path of the flames. Now thoroughly aware of her possible
+fate if she could not release herself she strained her ears, listening,
+and now heard distinctly above the sounds nearer at hand a distant
+crackling roar and the thud of heavy branches falling. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span>The interior of
+the cabin had now grown even dimmer&mdash;to a dark redness&mdash;and the smoke
+came billowing in at the window almost stifling her with its acrid
+fumes. Outside the window, when she struggled for freedom, she caught a
+glimpse of sparks, flying like meteors past the dim rectangle of her
+vision, small ones, larger ones, and then flaming brands which must set
+fire to whatsoever they touched.</p>
+
+<p>She was half mad now with terror. She tried to think calmly, because she
+knew that unless a miracle happened she would die alone here&mdash;the most
+horrible of all deaths. And then her eye caught the gleam of something
+upon the tool chest in the shadows beyond&mdash;the teeth of the cross-cut
+saw!</p>
+
+<p>If she could reach it! She fell over purposely on the sacking and with
+great difficulty wriggled slowly toward it, inch by inch. Could she
+reach it with her wrists? With an effort she squirmed to the chest and
+straightened, her back against it, as she had done against the wall, and
+then turning, in spite of the increased pressure of her thongs, managed
+in some way to get to her knees, feeling for the teeth of the saw with
+her fingers behind her. It was not very sharp, but if she could direct
+it between her wrists it would do.</p>
+
+<p>In her new thrill of hope, she was hardly conscious of the suffocating
+smoke which now filled the cabin, stinging her eyes so that she could
+hardly see, or of the heat which with her exertions had sent the
+perspiration streaming down her face. For now, balancing herself with
+great care, she moved her tortured arms, half numb with pain, up and
+down against the rusty edges. A sharp pain and she bit her
+lips,&mdash;readjusting herself to her task. But she felt the saw cutting
+into the rope&mdash;one strand, another, and in a moment her hands were
+released.</p>
+
+<p>In her joy of the achievement, she toppled over on the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span>floor, but
+managed to release her elbows. Now, panting with her exertions and
+moving her arms quickly to restore the circulation, she felt for the
+knots at her knees and ankles and in a moment her limbs were free. But
+she had not reckoned with the effects of their long period of
+inactivity, for when she tried to get to her feet she found that her
+limbs were powerless. But she moved her knees up and down, suffering
+keenly as the blood took up its course, and after a time managed to
+scramble to her feet, and stagger to the opening in the wall.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed that all the forest was now a mass of flaming brands and that
+the roar of the flames was at her very ears. It was stiflingly hot too
+and in one corner of the cabin there was a tiny bright spot and a curl
+of smoke. Had her liberty come too late? She was not even free yet, for
+the hole in the wall of the building was no larger than a single pane of
+glass and the door of the shanty was fastened by the hasp on the
+outside.</p>
+
+<p>There was no time now to hesitate unless she wished to be burned alive.
+With an effort she threw herself against the door&mdash;again and again, but
+it would not yield. Despairing and blinded by smoke, she staggered to
+the box hunting an ax, when her fingers met the handle of the friendly
+saw. It was heavy but she knew how to use it, and set it at the hole in
+the wall, drawing it back and forth. The wood was dead and she felt it
+yield to the strong teeth of the tool, so that she struggled on, the
+width of the board; then cut again, at the upper edge of the aperture,
+and in a moment the board fell away.</p>
+
+<p>She was not a moment too soon, for as she crawled through the opening
+and fell exhausted on the outside, one end of the building suddenly
+caught fire, blazing fiercely. The sparks were all around her and her
+skirt caught fire in the flaming leaves into which she had fallen, but
+she put it out with her blistered hands and rose to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span>her feet. A figure
+was coming toward her, bent, its hand before its eyes. She could not
+make out who it was, but as she turned to run Hawk Kennedy espied her.</p>
+
+<p>"Ho there, kid! Got loose, hey? Just in time. Did ye think I was goin'
+to let ye be burned to death?"</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>With Brierly leading them to the machine and listening to Peter's story
+as they went, Peter made his way across the foot of the lawn to the road
+where the machine was waiting for them. As they climbed into it, the
+glow to the south had turned a lurid red, staining the dusky sky to the
+zenith. Brierly drove and for precaution's sake Peter sat in the tonneau
+with Shad. But the lumberman, if he had ever been considered formidable
+even in his own estimation, showed no evidence of any self-confidence.
+Peter had given him signs of mettle which were not to be denied and like
+all bullies Shad knew that he was beaten. The one vestige of his
+decency,&mdash;his honorable affection for Beth, which had blinded him to
+reason and all sense of duty, was now dedicated to the task of saving
+her. And though the dull hatred of Peter still burned in his breast, the
+instinct of self-preservation, and the chance of retrieving himself at
+the last, made it necessary for him to put his pride in his pocket and
+accept the inevitable.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye'll keep yer word, Mister?" he inquired of Peter, after a moment. "I
+didn't have nothin' to do with settin' them woods afire. Ye'll get me
+out o' this scrape?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Peter shortly. "I will."</p>
+
+<p>But he watched him nevertheless.</p>
+
+<p>The ex-soldier drove the car at a furious pace over the rough road,
+rejoicing in the open cut-out and the rush of the wind past his ears. He
+had been, for a time, a chauffeur of a staff car on the other side, and
+the present conditions were full of promise of the kind of excitement
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span>that appealed to his youthful spirit. Shad shouted instructions over
+his shoulder but Brierly only nodded and sent the car on over the
+corduroy to which they had come, with the throttle wide. Night had
+nearly fallen but the road was a crimson track picked out with long
+pencilings of shadow. The wind was still tossing the tree tops and
+leaves and twigs cut sharply across their faces. There was no mistaking
+the danger to the whole of the Lower Reserve unless the wind fell&mdash;a
+"crown" fire after two weeks of drought was not a subject for jest.</p>
+
+<p>But Peter was not thinking of the damage to McGuire's property. He
+roared questions eagerly at Wells as to the location of the cabin with
+reference to the probable course of the flames. The man only shook his
+head dubiously, but it was plain that he was considering that danger. As
+they neared the fire they could see the flames clearly now, beyond the
+pines just before them, which were etched in deeply bitten lines, every
+quivering frond in silhouette against the glare.</p>
+
+<p>As the car neared the "Forks," Shad directed Brierly to take the turn to
+the left&mdash;away from the main road to camp, and they swung into a sandy
+road, the wind at their backs, their way for a time almost parallel to
+the course of the flames. They passed the small settlement of the
+"Forks," the few denizens of which were standing beside the road, their
+few household goods packed in barrows and carts, undecided whether or
+not the red terror would come their way. The flames were clearly visible
+now, leaping skyward like devils freed from Hell, and so hot was the
+fire and so high the wind that whole branches were carried high into the
+air and flaming fell beyond into the cool dark to kindle new
+destruction. Anything that lay to leeward of the holocaust was doomed.
+Peter furiously questioned Wells again, but he only shook his head while
+he anxiously watched the flames as the road <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span>converged toward them. But
+as the road swung to the left Shad shouted and held up his hand and
+Brierly brought the car to a stop.</p>
+
+<p>"This is the nearest point, I guess, Mister. From here on to Cranberry
+town the road runs to the left of Cedar Swamp."</p>
+
+<p>"Where's the cabin?" queried Peter anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"In yonder, not far from the edge of the swamp," Shad replied with a
+frown. "Looks like the fire's pretty near there."</p>
+
+<p>"Come on, then," said Peter quickly. "Brierly, you go back to Black Rock
+and bring the men here. Follow in. We'll be on the lookout for you."</p>
+
+<p>And leaving Brierly to turn the car, he started off with Shad Wells into
+the underbrush. His heart sank as he saw how furiously the fire was
+raging and how near it seemed to be. But Shad needed no urging now and
+led the way with a long stride, Peter following closely. The woods were
+not so heavy here and the forest was now as bright as at midday, and so
+they made rapid progress, coming out at the end of some minutes at the
+edge of the swamp, whose burnished pools sullenly reflected the fiery
+heavens. There they found a path and proceeded more quickly. To Peter's
+anxious questions Shad shook his head and only peered before him,
+forgetting his own suffering in the dreadful danger to which the girl
+they sought might be subjected. A terrible thought had come into Peter's
+mind in the last few moments&mdash;that it was Hawk Kennedy who had set fire
+to the woods after imprisoning Beth in a cabin in the path of the
+flames. This was his vengeance, terrible in its simplicity&mdash;for a
+lighted match in the dry leaves would do the trick, and incendiarism in
+the woods was difficult to trace. A vengeance fatal in its
+effectiveness, for such a fire would tell no tales. Peter found himself
+hoping that it was not to the old tool cabin <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span>that Beth had been
+taken&mdash;that she was even far away from this inferno that lay before him.
+The glare was already hot on his face and stray breezes which blew
+toward him from time to time showed that the wind might be veering to
+the eastward, in which case all the woods which they now traversed would
+soon be afire.</p>
+
+<p>But to the credit of Shad Wells it may be said that he did not hesitate,
+for when he reached a point in the path where it turned closely along
+the edge of the swamp, he plunged boldly into the woods, directly toward
+the flames, and Peter, even more eager than he, ran ahead, peering to
+right and left for signs of the cabin which now could not be far away.
+The roar and the crackling were now ominously near and the flames seemed
+to be all about them, while the tree tops seemed to be filled with
+flaming brands. Sparks and live cinders fell upon them and the hot
+breath of the wind blistered them with its heat.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the panting Shad grasped Peter sharply by the arm with his
+uninjured hand.</p>
+
+<p>"The cabin! My God! It's burning now&mdash;&mdash;Quick, Mister&mdash;or&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Peter sprang forward through the flaming leaves. He seemed to be in the
+very midst of the flames. Blinded and suffocated by the smoke, Peter
+plunged forward and reached the cabin. One end and side of it was
+blazing furiously but he dashed around the lower end of it, seeking the
+door. It was open and already aflame. The hut was empty. He ran out
+again, blinded by the smoke and the glare. Was it a fool's errand? And
+had he and Shad only entrapped themselves to no good end? To the right
+of him the fire roared and with his back to the glare his eyes eagerly
+sought the shadows down the wind. Vague shapes of gnarled branches and
+pallid tree trunks, spectral bushes quivering before the advancing
+demon, some of them already alight. Safety lay only in this one
+direction&mdash;for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span>Beth, if she had been there, for Shad&mdash;&mdash;Peter suddenly
+remembered the lumberman and turned to his left to look, when suddenly
+he espied a figure moving away from him and ran after it, calling. He
+realized immediately that his hoarse cry was lost in the inferno of the
+flames, but he ran more rapidly, beating out the embers which had
+ignited the sleeve of his shirt.</p>
+
+<p>He saw the figure clearly now, but it was not Shad&mdash;for Shad had been in
+his shirt sleeves. This figure wore a coat and stumbled away half bent,
+one arm over its head, pushing something&mdash;some one ahead of it. Peter
+drew his revolver, leaping the burning leaves and calling aloud.</p>
+
+<p>He saw the figures ahead of him halt and turn as they heard his voice
+and the glare behind him shone full upon them, the face of the man agape
+with inflamed surprise&mdash;Hawk Kennedy's, and the other, wide-eyed as at
+the sight of an apparition&mdash;Beth's.</p>
+
+<p>Only thirty paces separated them when Hawk Kennedy fired. Peter heard
+Beth's scream and saw her strike at the man's arm, but furiously he
+swung her in front of him and fired again. But her struggles and the
+uncertain light sent the bullet wide. Peter did not dare to shoot for
+the man was using her as a shield, but he did not hesitate and ran in,
+trusting to luck and Beth's struggles. One bullet struck him somewhere
+as Beth seemed to stumble and crumple to the ground, but he went on
+unspent and catapulted into his man with a rush that sent them both
+sprawling into the smoldering foliage. Blinded by the smoke, but mad
+with fury, Peter struck and clutched, and Hawk's last shot went upward
+for Peter wrenched his wrist and then struck him full on the head with
+his own weapon.</p>
+
+<p>He felt the man relax and slip down into the dust and smoke, where he
+lay motionless.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span>Peter drew himself up to arm's length, wondering at the feebleness of
+his muscles and the trouble with his breathing.</p>
+
+<p>"Beth!" he gasped, frantically, searching the smoking ground for her.</p>
+
+<p>"Peter&mdash;thank God!" Her voice was just at his ear and an arm went around
+his neck.</p>
+
+<p>"Beth! Beth! You've got to get out of this."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Peter&mdash;there's time&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Just then a branch crashed down just beside them, showering them with
+sparks.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Peter&mdash;come!" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>He struggled up with an effort, one hand clutching at his breast.</p>
+
+<p>"Go, Beth!" he gasped. "For God's sake, go!"</p>
+
+<p>Beth stared at him for one short terrible moment as she realized what
+had happened to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Peter! You&mdash;you're&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I think I'm hurt&mdash;a little&mdash;it isn't much."</p>
+
+<p>He swayed but she caught him and put an arm around one shoulder,
+clutching it with the other hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Lean on me," she muttered. "I'm strong enough&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;go, Beth&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But she put her strength under him and began walking while he staggered
+on beside her. Sparks and fiery brands rained down upon them, blistering
+and burning, the hot breath of the furnace drove their breath poisoned
+back into their lungs and scorched their bodies, but still they remained
+upright&mdash;and by a miracle still moved on.</p>
+
+<p>"To the left," Peter heard dimly, "the swamp is close by."</p>
+
+<p>He obeyed her, more dead than alive, and by sheer effort of will kept
+his feet moving, paced to hers. He seemed to be walking as though in a
+red fever, on leaden feet, carrying a body that had no weight or
+substance.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span>But after a while his feet too seemed to grow lighter and he felt
+himself falling through space. But her arms were still about him.</p>
+
+<p>"Peter," he heard her voice in agony, "only a few yards further&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>With a last remaining effort he struggled and then his feet stumbling,
+toppled forward and sank into something soft, something deliciously cool
+and soothing. He felt a hand tugging at him, but he had no pain now, no
+weakness&mdash;only the perfect happiness of a body that, seeking rest, has
+found it.</p>
+
+<p>After a while he revived at the sound of a voice at his ear. Water was
+splashing over his face and he struggled up.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;keep down," he heard Beth's voice saying. "We're safe, Peter&mdash;the
+wind is changing&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And you, Beth&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"All right, dear. A little patience&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The voice trembled, but there was a world of faith in it. After all that
+had happened, it was impossible that further disaster should follow now.</p>
+
+<p>"Y-you're all right?" he gasped weakly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Yes. Lie still for a while."</p>
+
+<p>And so they half lay, half crouched in the mud and water, while the
+inferno swept over them, passing to the south. His head was on her
+breast and against his ear he could feel her heart beating bravely, a
+message of strength and cheer. From time to time her wet fingers brushed
+his hair with water and then, as he seemed to be sinking into a dream
+again, he felt lips light as thistle-down upon his brows.</p>
+
+<p>Death such as this, he thought, was very pleasant.</p>
+
+<p>And then later he was aroused by a shrill clear call.... Then saw lights
+flashing.... Heard men's voices.... Felt himself carried in strong arms
+... but all the while there were soft fingers in his own.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+
+<h2>RETRIBUTION</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>When they lifted him into the automobile and Beth got in beside him, his
+fingers moved in her own.</p>
+
+<p>"Beth," she heard him whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"Peter&mdash;I'm here."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God. And&mdash;and Shad&mdash;&mdash;? He&mdash;he was with me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He's asking for Shad," she repeated to Brierly, unaware that her
+cousin, like his Biblical namesake, had come scatheless through the
+fiery furnace. But some one heard the question and replied:</p>
+
+<p>"Shad's here, Miss. He's all right&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," gasped Peter. "And there's something else&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no&mdash;we must go. Your wound&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But he insisted. "I&mdash;I'm all&mdash;right. Something else,&mdash;Beth&mdash;some one
+must get&mdash;paper&mdash;blue envelope&mdash;Hawk Ken&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>His words ended in a gasp and he sank back in her arms.</p>
+
+<p>Beth was frightened at the sudden collapse and the look in his face, but
+she knew that his injunction was important. And keeping her courage she
+called Shad Wells to the side of the car and gave quick directions.
+There was a note of appeal in her voice and Shad listened, his gaze over
+his shoulder in the direction she indicated.</p>
+
+<p>"If he ain't burned to a crisp by now&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Go, Shad&mdash;please! And if you can get to him bring the papers in his
+pocket to me."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span>He met her gaze and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"I reckon I'll get to him if anybody can."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thanks, Shad&mdash;thanks&mdash;&mdash;" she muttered, as the lumberman turned,
+followed by one of the others, and silently moved toward the flames.</p>
+
+<p>And in a moment the car was on its way to Black Rock, Brierly driving
+carefully over the rough road. That was a terrible ride for Beth. She
+supported the wounded man against her shoulder, her gaze on his pallid
+face. Her poor blistered arm was about his waist, but she had no thought
+for her own suffering. Every ounce of strength that remained to her was
+given to holding Peter close to her so that he would not slip down,
+every ounce of faith in her soul given to combat with the fears that
+assailed her. It seemed to Beth that if the Faith that had brought her
+through this day and out of that furnace were still strong enough she
+could combat even the Death that rode with them. And so she prayed
+again, holding him closely. But he was so cold and inert. She put her
+hand over his heart and a tiny pulsation answered as though to reassure
+her. Her hand came away dry, for the wound was not near his heart. She
+thanked God for that. She found it high up on the right side just below
+the collar bone and held her fingers there, pressing them tightly. If
+this blood were life and she could keep it within him she would do it.
+But he was so pale....</p>
+
+<p>Brierly drove to Black Rock House instinctively. Here were beds,
+servants and the telephone. He sounded his horn as they came up the
+driveway and an excited group came out upon the porch. But Beth saw only
+McGuire.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Nichols has been shot, Mr. McGuire&mdash;he's dangerously hurt," she
+appealed. "He's got to have a doctor&mdash;at once."</p>
+
+<p>"Who&mdash;who shot him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hawk Kennedy."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span>"And he&mdash;Hawk&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"He's dead, I think."</p>
+
+<p>She heard McGuire's sudden gasp and saw Aunt Tillie come running.</p>
+
+<p>"He's got to be put to bed&mdash;Aunt Tillie," she pleaded.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said McGuire, finding his voice suddenly, "Of course&mdash;at
+once. The blue room, Mrs. Bergen. We'll carry him up. Send Stryker."</p>
+
+<p>And Aunt Tillie ran indoors.</p>
+
+<p>Peter was still quite unconscious, but between them they managed to get
+him upstairs.</p>
+
+<p>McGuire seemed now galvanized into activity and while the others cut
+Peter's coat away and found the wound he got Hammonton and a doctor on
+the 'phone. It was twelve miles away but he promised to be at Black Rock
+House inside half an hour.</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty minutes and you won't regret it. Drive like Hell. It's a matter
+of life or death."</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Aunt Tillie, with anxious glances at Beth, had brought
+absorbent cotton, clean linen, a basin of water and a sponge, and
+Stryker and Brierly washed the wound, while McGuire rushed for his
+bottle and managed to force some whisky and water between Peter's teeth.
+The bullet they found had gone through the body and had come out at the
+back, shattering the shoulder-blade. But the hemorrhage had almost
+ceased and the wounded man's heart was still beating faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the blood he's lost," muttered Brierly sagely.</p>
+
+<p>"He'll come around all right. You can't kill a man as game as that."</p>
+
+<p>Beth clung to the arms of the chair in which they had placed her. "You
+think&mdash;he&mdash;he'll live?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure he will. I've seen 'em worse'n that&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She sank back into her chair, exhausted. She had never fainted in her
+life and she wasn't going to begin. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>But now that all that they could do
+had been done for Peter, they turned their attention to Beth. She had
+not known how much she needed it. Her hair was singed, her wrists were
+raw and bleeding, and her arms, half naked, were red and blistered. Her
+dress, soaked with mud and water, was partly torn or burned away.</p>
+
+<p>"She must be put to bed here, Mrs. Bergen," said McGuire. "She'll need
+the doctor too."</p>
+
+<p>Beth protested and would not leave the room until the doctor came. But
+McGuire, who seemed&mdash;and somewhat justly&mdash;to have complete faith in the
+efficacy of his own remedy, gave her some of the whisky and water to
+drink, while Aunt Tillie washed her face and rubbed vaseline upon her
+arms, crooning over her all the while in the comforting way of women of
+her kind, to the end that Beth felt the pain of her body lessen.</p>
+
+<p>It was not until the doctor arrived with a businesslike air and made his
+examination, pronouncing Peter's condition serious but not necessarily
+fatal, that the tension at Beth's heart relaxed.</p>
+
+<p>"He&mdash;he'll get well, Doctor?" she asked timidly.</p>
+
+<p>"I think so," he said with a smile, "but we've got to have absolute
+quiet now. I'd like some one here to help me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If you'd only let me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But she read refusal in his eyes as he looked at her critically, and saw
+him choose Stryker.</p>
+
+<p>"You're to be put to bed at once," he said dryly. "You'll need attention
+too, I'm thinking."</p>
+
+<p>And so Beth, with McGuire's arm supporting and Aunt Tillie's arm around
+her, was led to the room adjoining,&mdash;the pink room of Miss Peggy
+McGuire. McGuire closed the door and questioned her eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"You say Hawk Kennedy was killed&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think so&mdash;or&mdash;or burned," said Beth, now quivering <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span>in the reaction
+of all that she had experienced. "I&mdash;I sent Shad Wells to see. We left
+him lying there. We just had time to get away. The fire was all around.
+We got to the swamp&mdash;into the water&mdash;but he&mdash;&mdash;" She put her face into
+her hands, trembling with the recollection. "It was horrible. I can't
+talk about it."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Tillie glared at McGuire, but he still questioned uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;you saw nothing of a blue envelope, a paper&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>With an effort Beth lowered her hands and replied:</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;Peter&mdash;Mr. Nichols thought of it. Shad Wells will bring it&mdash;if it
+isn't burned."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I see&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But what you can't see," broke in Aunt Tillie with spirit, "is that the
+poor child ain't fit to answer any more questions to-night. And she
+shan't."</p>
+
+<p>"Er&mdash;no&mdash;of course," said McGuire, and went out.</p>
+
+<p>If it had been an eventful day for Peter and Beth, the night was to
+prove eventful for McGuire, for not content to wait the arrival of Shad
+Wells, he took his courage in his hands and with Brierly drove at once
+to the scene of the disaster. The wind had died and a gentle rain began
+to fall, but the fire was burning fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>The other matter in McGuire's thoughts was so much the more important to
+him that he had given little thought to the damage to his property. His
+forests might all be burned down for all that he cared.</p>
+
+<p>At the spot to which Beth and Peter had been carried he met Shad and the
+party of men that had been looking for Hawk Kennedy, but the place where
+the fight had taken place was still a mass of fallen trees and branches
+all flaming hotly and it was impossible for any one to get within
+several hundred yards of it.</p>
+
+<p>There seemed little doubt as to the fate of his enemy. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span>Jonathan K.
+McGuire stood at the edge of the burned area, peering into the glowing
+embers. His look was grim but there was no smile of triumph at his lips.
+In his moments of madness he had often wished Hawk Kennedy dead, but
+never had he wished him such a death as this. He questioned Shad sharply
+as to his share in the adventure, satisfying himself at last that the
+man had told a true story, and then, noting his wounded arm, sent him
+back with Brierly in the car to Black Rock House for medical treatment
+with orders to send the chauffeur with the limousine.</p>
+
+<p>The rain was now falling fast, but Jonathan K. McGuire did not seem to
+be aware of it. His gaze was on the forest, on that of the burning area
+nearest him where the fire still flamed the hottest, beneath the embers
+of which lay the one dreadful secret of his life. Even where he stood
+the heat was intense, but he did not seem to be aware of it, nor did he
+follow the others when they retreated to a more comfortable spot. No one
+knew why he waited or of what he was thinking, unless of the damage to
+the Reserve and what the loss in money meant to him. They could not
+guess that pity and fear waged their war in his heart&mdash;pity that any man
+should die such a death&mdash;fear that the man he thought of should not die
+it.</p>
+
+<p>But as the hours lengthened and there was no report brought to him of
+any injured man, being found in the forest near by, he seemed to know
+that Peter Nichols had not struck for Beth in vain.</p>
+
+<p>When the limousine came, he sent the other watchers home, and got into
+it, sitting in solitary grandeur in his wet clothing, peering out of the
+window. The glow of the flames grew dimmer and died at last with the
+first pale light to the eastward which announced the coming of the dawn.
+A light drizzle was still falling when it grew light enough to see.
+McGuire got down and without awakening <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span>the sleeping chauffeur went
+forth into the spectral woods. He knew where the old tool cabin had
+stood and, from the description Wells had given him, had gained a
+general idea of where the fight had taken place&mdash;two hundred yards from
+the edge of the swamp where Nichols and the Cameron girl had been found,
+and nearly in a line with the biggest of the swamp-maples, the trunk of
+which still stood, a melancholy skeleton of its former grandeur.</p>
+
+<p>The ground was still hot under the mud and cinders, but not painfully
+so, and he was not aware of any discomfort. Clouds of steam rose and
+among them he moved like the ghost of a sin, bent, eager, searching with
+heavy eyes for what he hoped and what he feared to find. The old tool
+house had disappeared, but he saw a heap of ashes and among them the
+shapes of saws and iron picks and shovels. But he passed them by, making
+a straight line to the eastward and keeping his gaze upon the charred
+and blackened earth, missing nothing to right and left, fallen branches,
+heaps of rubbish, mounds of earth.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly startled, McGuire halted and stood for a long moment.... Then,
+his hand before his eyes he turned away and slowly made his way back to
+his automobile. But there was no triumph in his eyes. A power greater
+than his own had avenged Ben Cameron.</p>
+
+<p>His vigil was over&mdash;his nightly vigil&mdash;the vigil of years. He made his
+way to his car and, awakening his chauffeur, told him to drive to Black
+Rock House. But when he reached home, the set look that his face had
+worn for so many weeks had disappeared. And in its place among the
+relaxed muscles which showed his years, sat the benignity of a new
+resolution.</p>
+
+<p>It was broad daylight when he quietly knocked at the door of the room in
+which the injured man lay. The doctor came to the door. It seemed that
+all immediate danger of a further collapse had passed for the heart was
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span>stronger and unless there was a setback Peter Nichols had an excellent
+chance of recovery. McGuire himself offered to watch beside the bed; but
+the doctor explained that a trained nurse was already on the way from
+Philadelphia and would arrive at any moment. So McGuire went to his own
+room and, sinking into his armchair, slept for the first time in many
+weeks at peace, smiling his benignant smile.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Beth awoke in the pink room of Miss Peggy McGuire in which she had been
+put to bed. She lay for a moment still stupefied, her brain struggling
+against the effects of the sleeping potion that the doctor had given her
+and then slowly straightened to a sitting posture, regarding in
+bewilderment the embroidered night-robe which she wore and the flowered
+pink hangings at the windows. She couldn't at first understand the pain
+at her head and other aches and pains which seemed to come mysteriously
+into being. But she heard a familiar voice at her ear and saw the
+anxious face of Aunt Tillie, who rose from the chair at her bedside.</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Tillie!" she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right, dearie," said the old woman. "You're to lie quite still
+until the doctor sees you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The doctor&mdash;&mdash;? Oh, I&mdash;I remember&mdash;&mdash;" And then with a sudden awakening
+to full consciousness&mdash;"Peter!" she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"He's better, dearie."</p>
+
+<p>"But what does the doctor say?"</p>
+
+<p>"He's doin' as well as possible&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Will he get well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes. The doctor is very hopeful."</p>
+
+<p>"You're sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. He's sleepin' now&mdash;quiet&mdash;ye'd better just lie back again."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span>"But I want to go to him, Aunt Tillie. I want to."</p>
+
+<p>"No. Ye can't, dearie&mdash;not now."</p>
+
+<p>And so by dint of reassurance and persuasion, Aunt Tillie prevailed upon
+the girl to lie back upon her pillows and after a while she slept again.</p>
+
+<p>But Beth was no weakling and when the doctor came into her room some
+time later, the effects of her potion wearing away, she awoke to full
+consciousness. He saw the imploring question in her eyes, before he took
+her pulse and answered it with a quick smile.</p>
+
+<p>"He's all right. Heart coming on nicely&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Will h-he live?" she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"He'll be a fool if he doesn't."</p>
+
+<p>"What&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd be, if I knew there was a girl like you in the next room with that
+kind of look in her eyes asking for me."</p>
+
+<p>But his remark went over Beth's head.</p>
+
+<p>"He's better?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Conscious too. But he'll have to be kept quiet."</p>
+
+<p>"D-did he speak of me?"</p>
+
+<p>The doctor was taking her pulse and put on a professional air which hid
+his inward smiles and provoked a repetition of her question.</p>
+
+<p>"D-did he?" she repeated softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," he said with a laugh. "He won't talk of anything else. I had
+to give him a hypodermic to make him stop."</p>
+
+<p>Beth was silent for a moment. And then timidly&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"What did he say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, just that you saved his life, that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing else?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes. Now that I come to think of it, he did."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"That he wanted to see you."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span>"Oh! And can I&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>The doctor snapped his watch and relinquished her wrist with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"If everything goes well&mdash;to-morrow&mdash;for two minutes&mdash;just two minutes,
+you understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Not until to-morrow?" she asked ruefully.</p>
+
+<p>"You ought to be glad to see him alive at all. He had a narrow shave of
+it. An inch or two lower&mdash;&mdash;" And then with a smile, "But he's going to
+get well, I promise you that."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thanks," said Beth gratefully.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't worry. And if you behave yourself I'll let you get up after
+lunch." He gave some directions to Mrs. Bergen as to the treatment of
+Beth's blistered arms, and went out.</p>
+
+<p>So in spite of the pain that she still suffered, Beth was content. At
+least she was content until Aunt Tillie brought her Miss Peggy McGuire's
+silver hand-mirror and she saw the reflection of her once beautiful
+self.</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Tillie!" she gasped. "I'm a sight."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe&mdash;but that's a sight better than bein' burned to death," said the
+old lady, soberly.</p>
+
+<p>"My hair&mdash;&mdash;!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's only frizzled. They say that's good for the hair," she said
+cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well," sighed Beth as she laid the mirror down beside her. "I guess
+I ought to be glad I'm alive after&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>And then with an uncontrollable shudder, she asked, "And&mdash;and&mdash;<i>him</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dead," said Aunt Tillie with unction. "Burned to a crisp."</p>
+
+<p>Beth gasped but said nothing more. She didn't want to think of
+yesterday, but she couldn't help it&mdash;the horrors that she had passed
+through&mdash;the fate that might <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span>have been in store for her, if&mdash;Peter
+hadn't found her in time!</p>
+
+<p>Beth relaxed in comfort while Aunt Tillie bathed and anointed her,
+brushed out the hair that was "frizzled," refreshing and restoring her
+patient, so that after lunch she got up and put on the clothing that had
+been brought from her home. Her arms were swathed in bandages from
+wrists to shoulders but the pain was much less, so, when McGuire knocked
+at the door and asked if he might see her, she was sitting in a chair by
+the window and greeted him with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>He entered timidly and awkwardly, rubbing his fingers uncomfortably
+against the palms of his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"They tell me you're feelin' better, Miss Cameron," he said soberly.
+"I&mdash;I'd like to talk to you for a moment," and with a glance at Aunt
+Tillie, "alone if you don't mind."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Tillie gathered up some bandages and grudgingly departed.</p>
+
+<p>McGuire came forward slowly and sank into a chair beside Beth's, laying
+his hand timidly on hers.</p>
+
+<p>"I thank God nothing happened to you, child, and I hope you believe me
+when I say it," he began in an uncertain voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, sir, I do."</p>
+
+<p>"Because the only thing that matters to me now is setting myself
+straight with you and Mr. Nichols."</p>
+
+<p>He paused in a difficulty of speech and then went on.</p>
+
+<p>"He&mdash;Mr. Nichols has told you everything&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>Beth wagged her head like a solemn child and then laid her other hand on
+his.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm so sorry for you," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"You mustn't say that," he muttered. "I&mdash;I've done you a great
+wrong&mdash;not trying to find out about Ben Cameron&mdash;not trying to find
+<i>you</i>. But I've suffered for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span>it, Miss&mdash;&mdash;" And then eagerly&mdash;&mdash;"You
+don't mind my calling you Beth, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Mr. McGuire."</p>
+
+<p>"I ought to have told what happened. I ought to have tried to find out
+if Ben Cameron had any kin. I did wrong. But I've paid for it. I've
+never had a happy hour since I claimed that mine that didn't belong to
+me. I've made a lot of money but what I did has been hanging over me for
+years making an old man of me before my time&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, please don't be unhappy any more&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Let me talk Miss&mdash;Beth. I've got to tell you. It'll make me feel a lot
+easier." Beth smoothed his hand reassuringly and he clasped hers eagerly
+as though in gratitude. "I never was much good when I was a lad, Beth,
+and I never could get along even after I got married. It wasn't in me
+somehow. I was pretty straight as young fellows go but nothing went
+right for me. I was a failure. And then&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He paused a moment with bent head but Beth didn't speak. It was all very
+painful to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Hawk Kennedy killed your father. But I was a crook too. I left Hawk
+there without water to die. It was a horrible thing to do&mdash;even after
+what he'd done to me. My God! Maybe I didn't suffer for that! I was glad
+when I learned Hawk didn't die, even though I knew from that time that
+he'd be hanging over me like a curse. He did for years and years. I knew
+he'd turn up some day, I tried to forget, but I couldn't. The sight of
+him was always with me."</p>
+
+<p>"How terrible!" whispered Beth.</p>
+
+<p>"But from that moment everything I did went well. Money came fast. I
+wasn't a bad business man, but even a bad business man could have put
+<i>that</i> deal through. I sold out the mine. I've got the figures and I'm
+going to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span>show them to you, because they're yours to see. With the money
+I made some good investments. That money made more money and more
+besides. Making money got to be my passion. It was the only thing I
+cared for&mdash;except my girls&mdash;and it was the only thing that made me
+forget."</p>
+
+<p>"Please don't think you've got to tell me any more."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I want to. I don't know how much I'm worth to-day." And then in a
+confidential whisper&mdash;"I couldn't tell within half a million or so, but
+I guess it ain't far short of ten millions, Beth. You're the only person
+in the world outside the Treasury Department that knows how much I'm
+worth. I'm telling you. I've never told anybody&mdash;not even Peggy. And the
+reason I'm telling you is because, you've got to know, because I can't
+sleep sound yet, until I straighten this thing out with you. It didn't
+take much persuading for Mr. Nichols to show me what I had to do when
+he'd found out, because everything I've got comes from money I took from
+you. And I'm going to give you what belongs to you, the full amount I
+got for that mine with interest to date. It's not mine. It's yours and
+you're a rich girl, Beth&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I won't know what to do with all that money, Mr. McGuire," said Beth in
+an awed voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, you will. I've been thinking it all out. It's a deed by gift.
+We'll have to have a consideration to make it binding. We may have to
+put in the facts that I've been&mdash;er&mdash;only a sort of trustee of the
+proceeds of the 'Tarantula' mine. I've got a good lawyer. He'll know
+what to do&mdash;how to fix it."</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I'm sure I'm very grateful."</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't be." He paused and laid his hand over hers again. "But if
+it's all the same to you, I'd rather not have much talk about it&mdash;just
+what's said in the deed&mdash;to explain."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll say nothin' you don't want said."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span>"I knew you wouldn't. Until the papers are drawn I'd rather you wouldn't
+speak of it."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't."</p>
+
+<p>"You're a good girl. I&mdash;I'd like to see you happy. If money will make
+you happy, I'm glad I can help."</p>
+
+<p>"You've been very kind, Mr. McGuire&mdash;and generous. I can't seem to think
+about all that money. It's just like a fairy tale."</p>
+
+<p>"And you forgive me&mdash;for what I did&mdash;&mdash;? You forgive me, Beth?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I do, Mr. McGuire. Don't say anythin' more about it&mdash;please!"</p>
+
+<p>The old man bent his head and kissed her hand and then with a great sigh
+of relief straightened and rose.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God!" he said quietly. And bidding her good-by he walked from the
+room.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+
+<h2>A VISITOR</h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>The two minutes permitted by the doctor had come and gone. There had
+been much to say with too little time to say it in. For Beth, admonished
+that the patient must be kept quiet, and torn between joy at Peter's
+promised recovery and pity for his pale face, could only look at him and
+murmur soothing phrases, while Peter merely smiled and held her hand.
+But that, it seemed, was enough, for Beth read in his eyes that what had
+happened had merely set an enduring seal upon the affection of both of
+them.</p>
+
+<p>With the promise that she could see him again on the morrow, Beth went
+back to her room. She had wanted to return to the village, but McGuire
+had insisted upon her staying where she was under the care of the doctor
+until what they were pleased to call the shock to her system had yielded
+to medical treatment. Beth said nothing. She was already herself and
+quite able to take up her life just where she had left it, but she
+agreed to stay in McGuire's house. It seemed to make him happier when
+she acquiesced in his wishes. Besides, it was nice to be waited on and
+to be next to the room where the convalescent was.</p>
+
+<p>But the revelation as to Peter's identity could not be long delayed.
+Brierly had brought the tale back from the lumber camp, and the village
+was all agog with excitement. But Beth had seen no one but Mr. McGuire
+and Aunt Tillie, and Peter had requested that no one should tell her but
+himself. And so in a day or so when Beth went <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span>into Peter's room she
+found him with a color in his cheeks, and wearing a quizzical smile.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were never coming, Beth," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I came as soon as they'd let me, Peter. Do you feel stronger?"</p>
+
+<p>"Every hour. Better when you're here. And you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm all right."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her with his head on one side.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think you could stand hearing something very terrible about me,
+Beth?"</p>
+
+<p>She glanced at him anxiously and then a smile of perfect faith responded
+to his. She knew that he was getting well now, because this was a touch
+of his old humor.</p>
+
+<p>"H-m. I guess so. I don't believe it can be so <i>very</i> terrible, Peter."</p>
+
+<p>"It is&mdash;<i>very</i> terrible, Beth."</p>
+
+<p>But the pressure of his fingers was reassuring.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm listenin'," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know, you told me once that you'd marry me no matter what I'd
+been&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I meant that, Peter. I mean it now. It's what you are&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Nichols chuckled. It was his last chuckle as Peter Nichols.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm not what you thought I was. I've been acting under false
+colors&mdash;under false pretenses. My name isn't Peter Nichols. It's Peter
+Nicholaevitch&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Then you <i>are</i> all Russian!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>Peter shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"No. Only half of me. But I used to live in Russia&mdash;at a place called
+Zukovo. The thing I wanted to tell you was that they fired me out
+because they didn't want me there."</p>
+
+<p>"You! How dared they! I'd like to give them a piece of my mind," said
+Beth indignantly.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span>"It wouldn't have done any good. I tried to do that."</p>
+
+<p>"And wouldn't they listen?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. They burned my&mdash;my house and tried to shoot me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! How could they!" And then, gently, "Oh, Peter. You <i>have</i> had
+troubles, haven't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mind. If I hadn't had them, I wouldn't have come here and I
+wouldn't have found you."</p>
+
+<p>"So after all, I ought to be glad they did fire you out," she said
+gently.</p>
+
+<p>"But aren't you curious to know <i>why</i> they did?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am, if you want to tell me, but even if it was bad, I don't care
+<i>what</i> you did, Peter."</p>
+
+<p>He took her fingers to his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"It wasn't so very bad after all, Beth. It wasn't so much what I did as
+what my&mdash;er&mdash;my family had done that made them angry."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>you</i> weren't responsible for what your kin-folks did."</p>
+
+<p>Peter laughed softly.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>They</i> seemed to think so. My&mdash;er&mdash;my kin-folks were mixed up in
+politics in Russia and one of my cousins had a pretty big job&mdash;too big a
+job for <i>him</i> and that's the truth." A cloud passed for a moment over
+Peter's face and he looked away.</p>
+
+<p>"But what did <i>his</i> job have to do with <i>you</i>?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you see, we were all mixed up with him, just by being related&mdash;at
+least that's what the people thought. And so when my cousin did a lot of
+things the people thought he oughtn't to do and didn't do a lot of other
+things that they thought he <i>ought</i> to have done, they believed that I
+was just the same sort of man that he was."</p>
+
+<p>"How unjust, Peter!"</p>
+
+<p>He smiled at the ceiling.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought so. I told them what I thought. I did <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span>what I could to
+straighten things out and to help them, but they wouldn't listen.
+Instead they burned my&mdash;my house down and I had to run away."</p>
+
+<p>"How terrible for you!" And then, after a pause, "Was it a pretty house,
+Peter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he replied slowly, "it was. A very pretty house&mdash;in the midst of
+a forest, with great pines all about it. I wish they hadn't burned that
+house, Beth, because I loved it."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor dear! I'm <i>so</i> sorry."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you would be, because it was a big house, with pictures,
+books, music&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"All burned! Land's sakes alive!"</p>
+
+<p>"And a wonderful grand piano."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Peter!" And then with a flash of joy, "But you're goin' to have
+another grand piano just like it soon."</p>
+
+<p>"Am I? Who's going to give it to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> am," said Beth quietly. "And another house and pictures and books
+and music."</p>
+
+<p>He read her expression eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. McGuire has told you?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>She nodded. "You knew?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he replied. "He told me yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it wonderful?" she whispered. And then went on rapidly, "So you
+see, Peter, maybe I can be some good to you after all."</p>
+
+<p>He pressed her fingers, enjoying her happiness.</p>
+
+<p>"I can hardly believe it's true," she gasped, "but it must be, because
+Mr. McGuire had his lawyer here yesterday talkin' about it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. It's true. I think he's pretty happy to get all that off his
+conscience. You're a rich girl, Beth." And then, with a slow smile,
+"That was one of the reasons why I wanted to talk with you about who <i>I</i>
+was. You see, I thought that now that you're going to have all this
+money, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span>you might want to change your mind about marrying a forester
+chap who&mdash;who just wants to try to show the trees how to grow."</p>
+
+<p>"Peter! Don't make fun of me. <i>Please.</i> And you hurt me so!" she
+reproached him. "You know I'll never want to change my mind ever,
+<i>ever</i>&mdash;even if I had all the money in the world."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed, drew her face down to his and whispered, "Beth, dear. I knew
+you wouldn't want to&mdash;but I just wanted to hear you say it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I <i>have</i> said it. And I don't want you ever to say such a thing
+again. As if I cared for anythin'&mdash;anythin' but <i>you</i>."</p>
+
+<p>He kissed her on the lips and she straightened.</p>
+
+<p>"I wanted to hear you say <i>that</i> too," he said with a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>And then, after a silence which they both improved by gazing at each
+other mutely, "But you don't seem very curious about who I am."</p>
+
+<p>Beth pressed his fingers confidently. What he was to <i>her</i> mattered a
+great deal&mdash;and she realized that nothing else did. But she knew that
+something was required of her. And so, "Oh, yes. Indeed I am,
+Peter,&mdash;awfully curious," she said politely.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know, Beth, I'm not really so poor as I seem to be. I've got
+a lot of securities in a bank in Russia, because nobody knew where they
+were and so they couldn't take them."</p>
+
+<p>"And they would have taken your money too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. When this cousin of mine&mdash;his name was Nicholas&mdash;when Nicholas was
+killed&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"They killed him! Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Bolsheviki&mdash;they killed Nicholas and his whole family&mdash;his wife,
+son and four daughters&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Peter!" Beth started up and stared at him in startled <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span>bewilderment, as
+she remembered the talks she had had with him about the Russian
+Revolution. "Nicholas&mdash;&mdash;!" she gasped. "His wife&mdash;son&mdash;daughters. He
+had the same name as&mdash;as the Czar&mdash;!" And as her gaze met his again she
+seemed to guess.... "Peter!" she gasped. "What&mdash;what do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that it was the Little Father&mdash;the Czar&mdash;who was my cousin,
+Beth."</p>
+
+<p>She stared at Peter in awe and a kind of fear of this new element in
+their relations.</p>
+
+<p>"And&mdash;and you&mdash;&mdash;? You're&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm just Peter Nichols&mdash;&mdash;," he said with a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"But over there&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm nothing. They chucked us all out, the Bolsheviki&mdash;every last one of
+us that had a handle to his name."</p>
+
+<p>"A handle&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I used to be Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch of Zukovo and
+Galitzin&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"G-Grand Duke Peter!" she whispered in a daze. And then, "Oh&mdash;how&mdash;how
+<i>could</i> you?" she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>Peter laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't help it, Beth. I was born that&mdash;way. But you <i>will</i> forgive
+me, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive&mdash;&mdash;? Oh&mdash;it&mdash;it makes such a difference to find&mdash;you're not
+<i>you</i>&mdash;but somebody else&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I <i>am</i>&mdash;<i>me</i>. I'm not anybody else. But I had to tell
+you&mdash;sometime. You don't think any the less of me, do you, Beth?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I don't know <i>what</i> to think. I'm so&mdash;you're so&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"Grand&mdash;and I'm&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Peter caught her hands and made her look at him.</p>
+
+<p>"You're the only woman in the world I've ever <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span>wanted&mdash;the only
+one&mdash;and you've promised me you'd marry me&mdash;you've promised, Beth."</p>
+
+<p>Her fingers moved gently in his and her gaze, wide-eyed, sought his.</p>
+
+<p>"And it won't make any difference&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Beth. Why should you think that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I was afraid&mdash;it might," she gasped. And then for a while Peter held
+her hands, whispering, while Beth, still abashed, answered in
+monosyllables, nodding from time to time.</p>
+
+<p>Later the nurse entered, her glance on her wrist-watch.</p>
+
+<p>"Time's up," she said. And Beth rose as one in a dream and moved slowly
+around the foot of the bed to the door.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Jonathan K. McGuire had been as much astonished as Beth at the
+revelation of Peter's identity, and the service that Peter had rendered
+him made him more than anxious to show his appreciation by doing
+everything he could for the wounded man's comfort and happiness. He
+visited the bedside daily and told Peter of his conversation with Beth,
+and of the plans that he was making for her future&mdash;which now, it
+seemed, was Peter's future also. Peter told him something of his own
+history and how he had met Jim Coast on the <i>Bermudian</i>. Then McGuire
+related the story of the suppression of the outbreak at the lumber camp
+by the Sheriff and men from May's Landing, and the arrest of Flynn and
+Jacobi on charges of assault and incendiarism. Some of the men were to
+be deported as dangerous "Reds." Brierly had been temporarily put in
+charge at the Mills and Jesse Brown, now much chastened, was helping
+McGuire to restore order. Shad Wells was technically under arrest, for
+the coroner had "viewed" the body of the Russian Committeeman before it
+had been removed by his friends and buried, and taken the testimony. But
+McGuire had given bail and arranged for a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span>hearing both as to the
+shooting of and the death of Hawk Kennedy, when Peter was well enough to
+go to May's Landing.</p>
+
+<p>The death of Hawk had produced a remarkable change in the character and
+personality of the owner of the Black Rock Reserve. His back was
+straighter, his look more direct, and he entered with avidity into the
+business of bringing order out of the chaos that had resulted from the
+riot. His word carried some weight, his money more, and with the
+completion of his arrangements with Beth Cameron, he drew again the
+breath of a free man.</p>
+
+<p>But of all this he had said nothing to Peggy, his daughter. He had
+neither written to her nor telephoned, for he had no desire that she
+should know more than the obvious facts as to the death of Hawk Kennedy,
+for conflicting reports would lead to questions. Since she had suspected
+nothing, it was needless to bring that horror to her notice, now that
+the threat had passed. McGuire was a little afraid of his colorful
+daughter. She talked too much and it had been decided that nobody,
+except the lawyer, Peter, Beth and Mrs. Bergen should know the source of
+Beth's sudden and unexpected inheritance. The girl had merely fallen
+heir to the estate of her father, who had died many years before, not
+leaving any record of this daughter, who had at last been found. All of
+which was the truth, so far as it went, and was enough of a story to
+tell Peggy when he should see her.</p>
+
+<p>But Jonathan McGuire found himself somewhat disturbed when he learned
+one morning over the telephone that Peggy McGuire and a guest were on
+their way to Black Rock House for the week-end. The message came from
+the clerk of the hotel, and since Peggy and her friend had already
+started from New York, he knew of no way to intercept them. There was
+nothing to do but make the best of the situation. Peter had the best
+guest <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span>room, but Beth had decided the day before to return to the
+cottage, which was greatly in need of her attention. And so McGuire
+informed Mrs. Bergen of the impending visit and gave orders that Miss
+Peggy's room and a room in the wing should be prepared for the
+newcomers.</p>
+
+<p>Beth had no wish to meet Peggy McGuire in this house after the scene
+with Peter in the Cabin, when the young lady had last visited Black
+Rock, for that encounter had given Beth glimpses of the kind of thoughts
+beneath the pretty toques and <i>cerise</i> veils that had once been the
+apple of her admiring eyes. But as luck would have it, as Beth finished
+her afternoon's visit to Peter's bedside and hurried down to get away to
+the village before the visitors arrived, Miss Peggy's low runabout
+roared up to the portico. Beth's first impulse was to draw back and go
+out through the kitchen, but the glances of the two girls met, Peggy's
+in instant recognition. And so Beth tilted her chin and walked down the
+steps just beside the machine, aware of an elegantly attired lady with a
+doll-like prettiness who sat beside Peggy, oblivious of the sharp
+invisible daggers which shot from eye to eye.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>You</i> here!" said Peggy, with an insulting shrug.</p>
+
+<p>Beth merely went her way. But no feminine adept of the art of give and
+take could have showed a more perfect example of studied indifference
+than Beth did. It was quite true that her cheeks burned as she went down
+the drive and that she wished that Peter were well out of the house so
+long as Peggy was in it.</p>
+
+<p>But Peggy McGuire could know nothing of Beth's feelings and cared not at
+all what she thought or felt. Peggy McGuire was too much concerned with
+the importance of the visitor that she had brought with her, the first
+live princess that she had succeeded in bringing into captivity. But
+Anastasie Galitzin had not missed the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span>little by-play and inquired with
+some amusement as to the very pretty girl who had come out of the house.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;the housekeeper's niece," replied Peggy, in her boarding school
+French. "I don't like her. I thought she'd gone. She's been having a
+<i>petite affaire</i> with our new forester and superintendent."</p>
+
+<p>Anastasie Galitzin, who was in the act of descending from the machine,
+remained poised for a moment, as it were, in midair, staring at her
+hostess.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" she said. "<i>Vraiment!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>By this time the noise of the motor had brought Stryker and the
+downstairs maid from the house, and in the confusion of carrying the
+luggage indoors, the conversation terminated. It was not until Peggy's
+noisy greetings to her father in the hallway were concluded and the
+introduction of her new guest accomplished that Jonathan McGuire was
+permitted to tell her in a few words the history of the past week, and
+of the injury to the superintendent, who lay upstairs in the room of the
+guest of honor.</p>
+
+<p>"H-m," sniffed Peggy, "I don't see why you had to bring him <i>here</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a long story, Peg," said McGuire calmly. "I'll tell you presently.
+Of course the Princess is very welcome, but I couldn't let him be taken
+anywhere but here, after he'd behaved so fine all through the rioting."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it seems to me," Peggy began, when the voice of her guest cut in
+rather sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Pierre!</i>" gasped Anastasie sharply, and then, in her pretty broken
+English, "You say, Monsieur, it is he&mdash;Pe-ter Nichols&mdash;who 'as been
+badly 'urt?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am, pretty bad&mdash;shot through the breast&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Sainte Vierge!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"But he's getting on all right now. He'll be sitting <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span>up in a day or so,
+the doctor says. Did you know him, ma'am?"</p>
+
+<p>Anastasie Galitzin made no reply, and only stared at her host, breathing
+with some difficulty. Peggy, who had been watching her startled face,
+found herself intensely curious. But as she would have questioned, the
+Princess recovered herself with an effort.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;yes, Monsieur. It&mdash;it is nothing. But if you please&mdash;I should like
+to go at once to my room."</p>
+
+<p>And Peggy and her father, both of them much mystified, led the way up
+the stairs and to the room that had been prepared in the wing of the
+house, Stryker following with the bag and dressing case.</p>
+
+<p>At the door of the room the Princess begged Peggy to excuse her,
+pleading weariness, and so the astonished and curious hostess was forced
+to relinquish her latest social conquest and seek her own room, there to
+meditate upon the extraordinary thing that had happened. Why was
+Anastasie Galitzin so perturbed at learning of the wounds of Peter
+Nichols? What did it all mean? Had she known him somewhere in the
+past&mdash;in England&mdash;in Russia? What was he to her?</p>
+
+<p>But in a moment Jonathan McGuire joined her and revealed the identity of
+his mysterious forester and superintendent. At first Peggy was
+incredulous, then listened while her father told a story, half true,
+half fictitious, which had been carefully planned to answer all the
+requirements of the situation. And unaware of the cyclonic disturbances
+he was causing in the breast of his only child, he told her of Beth and
+Peter, and of the evidences of their devotion each to the other in spite
+of their difference in station. Peggy's small soul squirmed during the
+recital, but she only listened and said nothing. She realized that in a
+situation such as this mere words on her part would be superfluous. The
+Grand Duke <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span>Peter Nicholaevitch! Here at Black Rock! Her pop's
+superintendent! And she had not known. She had even insulted him. It was
+hideous!</p>
+
+<p>And the Princess? The deep emotion that she had shown on hearing of the
+dangerous wound of the convalescent was now explained. But only partly
+so. The look that Peggy had surprised in Anastasie Galitzin's face meant
+something more than mere solicitude for the safety of one of Russia's
+banished Grand Dukes. It was the Princess who had been shocked at the
+information, but it was the woman who had showed pain. Was there&mdash;had
+there ever been&mdash;anything between Anastasie Galitzin and this&mdash;this
+Peter Nichols?</p>
+
+<p>Facts about the early stages of her acquaintanceship with Anastasie
+Galitzin now loomed up with an unpleasant definiteness. She had been
+much flattered that so important a personage had shown her such
+distinguished marks of favor and had rejoiced in the celerity with which
+the intimacy had been established. The thought that the Princess
+Galitzin had known all the while that the Grand Duke was living
+incognito at Black Rock and had merely used Peggy as a means to bring
+about this visit was not a pleasant one to Peggy. But the fact was now
+quite obvious. She had been making a convenience of her. And what was
+now to be the result of this visit? The Princess did not yet know of the
+engagement of His Highness to the scullery maid. Who was to tell her?</p>
+
+<p>The snobbish little heart of Peggy McGuire later gained some
+consolation, for Anastasie Galitzin emerged from her room refreshed and
+invigorated, and lent much grace to the dinner table, telling father and
+daughter something of the early life of the convalescent, exhibiting a
+warm friendship which could be satisfied with nothing less than a visit
+on the morrow to the sick-room. And His Highness now very much on the
+mend, sent word, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span>with the doctor's permission, that he would be charmed
+to receive the Princess Galitzin at ten in the morning.</p>
+
+<p>What happened in the room of the convalescent was never related to Peggy
+McGuire. But Anastasie emerged with her head erect, her pretty face
+wearing the fixed smile of the eternally bored. And then she told Peggy
+that she had decided to return to New York. So after packing her
+belongings, she got into Peggy's car and was driven much against the
+will of her hostess to the Bergen cottage. Peggy wouldn't get out of the
+car but Anastasie went to the door and knocked. Beth came out with her
+sleeves rolled above her elbows, her fingers covered with flour. The
+Princess Galitzin vanished inside and the door was closed. Her call
+lasted ten minutes while Peggy cooled her heels. But whether the visit
+had been prompted by goodness of heart or whether by a curiosity to
+study the lady of Peter's choice at close range, no one will ever know.
+Beth was very polite to her and though she identified her without
+difficulty as the heliotrope-envelope lady, she offered her some of the
+"cookies" that she had made for Peter, and expressed the warmest thanks
+for her kind wishes. She saw Anastasie Galitzin to the door, marking her
+heightened color and wondering what her fur coat had cost. Beth couldn't
+help thinking, whatever her motive in coming, that the Princess Galitzin
+was a very beautiful lady and that her manners had been lovely. But it
+was with a sigh of relief that she saw the red car vanish down the road
+in a cloud of dust.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>His convalescence begun, Peter recovered rapidly and in three weeks more
+he was himself again. In those three weeks many interesting things had
+happened.</p>
+
+<p>Jonathan K. McGuire had held a series of important conferences with
+Peter and Mrs. Bergen who seemed to have grown ten years younger. And
+one fine day after a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span>protracted visit to New York with Mrs. Bergen, he
+returned laden with mysterious packages and boxes, and stopped at the
+door of the cottage, where Peter was taking a lunch of Beth's cooking.</p>
+
+<p>It was a beautiful surprise. Mrs. Bergen whispered in Beth's ear and
+Beth followed her into the kitchen, where the contents of one or two of
+the boxes were exposed to Beth's astonished gaze. Peter, of course,
+being in the secret, kept aloof, awaiting the result of Mrs. Bergen's
+disclosures. But when Beth came back into the plush-covered parlor, he
+revealed his share in the conspiracy by producing, with the skill of a
+conjurer taking a rabbit from a silk hat, a minister and a marriage
+license, the former having been hidden in the house of a neighbor. And
+Jonathan K. McGuire, with something of an air, fully justified by the
+difficulties he had been at to secure it, produced a pasteboard box,
+which contained another box of beautiful white velvet, which he opened
+with pride, exhibiting its contents. On the soft satin lining was a
+brooch, containing a ruby as large as Beth's thumbnail.</p>
+
+<p>With a gasp of joy, she gazed at it, for she knew just what it was, the
+family jewel that had been sold to the purser of the <i>Bermudian</i>. And
+then she threw her arms around McGuire's neck and kissed him.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Some weeks later Beth and Peter sat at dusk in the drawing-room of Black
+Rock House, for McGuire had turned the whole place over to them for the
+honeymoon. The night was chilly, a few flakes of snow had fallen during
+the afternoon, so a log fire burned in the fireplace. Peter sat at the
+piano playing the "Romance" of Sibelius, for which Beth had asked, but
+when it was finished, his fingers, impelled by a thought beyond his own
+control, began the opening rumble of the "Revolutionary &Eacute;tude." The
+music was familiar to Beth and it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span>stirred her always because it was
+this gorgeous plaint of hope and despair that had at the very first
+sounded depths in her own self the existence of which she had never even
+dreamed. But to-night Peter played it as she had never heard him play it
+before, with all his soul at his finger tips. And she watched his
+downcast profile as he stared at vacancy while he played. It was in
+moments like these that Beth felt herself groping in the dark after him,
+he was so far away. And yet she was not afraid, for she knew that out of
+the dreams and mysticism of the half of him that was Russian he would
+come back to her,&mdash;just Peter Nichols.</p>
+
+<p>He did presently, when his hands fell upon the last chords and he sat
+with head still bowed until the last tremor had died. Then he rose and
+turned to her. She smiled at him and he joined her on the divan. Their
+fingers intertwined and they sat for a long moment looking into the
+fire. But Beth knew of what he was thinking and Peter knew that she
+knew. Their honeymoon was over. There was work to do in the world.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<div class="tr">
+<p class="cen"><a name="TN" id="TN"></a>Transcriber's Note</p>
+<br />
+
+Typographical errors corrected in the text:<br />
+<br />
+Page&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;   9&nbsp;  Nicolaevitch changed to Nicholaevitch<br />
+Page&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  12&nbsp;  Vasil changed to Vasili<br />
+Page&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  39&nbsp;  reassuring changed to reassuring<br />
+Page&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  90&nbsp;  rigidily changed to rigidly<br />
+Page&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  94&nbsp;  seee changed to see<br />
+Page&nbsp; 158&nbsp;  Andy should read Jesse<br />
+Page&nbsp; 164&nbsp;  the changed to he<br />
+Page&nbsp; 188&nbsp;  Well's changed to Wells's<br />
+Page&nbsp; 353&nbsp;  musn't changed to mustn't<br />
+Page&nbsp; 355&nbsp;  Its changed to It's<br />
+Page&nbsp; 362&nbsp;  Lukovo changed to Zukovo<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Vagrant Duke, by George Gibbs
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Vagrant Duke, by George Gibbs
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Vagrant Duke
+
+Author: George Gibbs
+
+Release Date: August 6, 2009 [EBook #29617]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VAGRANT DUKE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Barbara Tozier, Barbara Kosker, Bill Tozier
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  _The_
+
+  VAGRANT DUKE
+
+
+
+
+  BY GEORGE GIBBS
+
+  The Vagrant Duke
+  The Splendid Outcast
+  The Black Stone
+  The Golden Bough
+  The Secret Witness
+  Paradise Garden
+  The Yellow Dove
+  The Flaming Sword
+  Madcap
+  The Silent Battle
+  The Maker of Opportunities
+  The Forbidden Way
+  The Bolted Door
+  Tony's Wife
+  The Medusa Emerald
+
+  D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
+  Publishers     New York
+
+[Illustration: PETER STRUCK HIM FULL ON THE HEAD]
+
+
+
+
+  _The_
+  VAGRANT DUKE
+
+
+
+
+  BY
+
+  GEORGE GIBBS
+
+  AUTHOR OF "THE SPLENDID OUTCAST," "THE YELLOW DOVE,"
+  "THE SECRET WITNESS," ETC.
+
+
+
+
+  D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
+  NEW YORK        LONDON
+  1921
+
+
+
+
+  COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY
+  D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
+
+  Copyright, 1920, by The Story Press Corporation
+  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+
+
+
+
+  CONTENTS
+
+
+  CHAPTER                                      PAGE
+
+           PROLOGUE                               1
+
+       I   INTRODUCING PETER NICHOLS             15
+
+      II   NEW YORK                              27
+
+     III   THE OVERALL GIRL                      42
+
+      IV   THE JOB                               56
+
+       V   NEW ELEMENTS                          71
+
+      VI   THE HOUSE OF TERROR                   88
+
+     VII   MUSIC                                105
+
+    VIII   THE PLACARD                          121
+
+      IX   SHAD IS UNPLEASANT                   137
+
+       X   "HAWK"                               153
+
+      XI   ANCIENT HISTORY                      170
+
+     XII   CONFESSION                           186
+
+    XIII   THE CHASE                            207
+
+     XIV   TWO LETTERS                          226
+
+      XV   SUPERMAN                             236
+
+     XVI   IDENTIFICATION                       253
+
+    XVII   PETER BECOMES A CONSPIRATOR          266
+
+   XVIII   FACE TO FACE                         276
+
+     XIX   YAKIMOV REVEALS HIMSELF              291
+
+      XX   THE RUSSIAN PAYS                     308
+
+     XXI   THE INFERNO                          326
+
+    XXII   RETRIBUTION                          343
+
+   XXIII   A VISITOR                            357
+
+
+
+
+  _The_
+  VAGRANT DUKE
+
+
+
+
+THE VAGRANT DUKE
+
+_PROLOGUE_
+
+
+_At the piano a man sat playing the "Revolutionary Etude" of Chopin. The
+room was magnificent in its proportions, its furnishings were massive,
+its paneled oak walls were hung with portraits of men and women in the
+costumes of a bygone day. Through the lofty windows, the casements of
+which were open to the evening sky there was a vista of forest and
+meadow-land stretching interminably to the setting sun. The mosquelike
+cupola of a village church, a few versts distant, glimmered like a pearl
+in the dusky setting of wooded hills, and close by it, here and there,
+tiny spirals of opalescent smoke marked the dwellings of Zukovo
+village._
+
+_But the man at the piano was detached, a being apart from this scene of
+quiet, absorbed in his piano, which gave forth the turbulence which had
+been in the soul of the great composer. The expression upon the dark
+face of the young musician was rapt and eager, until he crashed the
+chords to their triumphant conclusion when he sank back in his chair
+with a gasp, his head bent forward upon his breast, his dark gaze fixed
+upon the keys which still echoed with the tumult._
+
+_It was at this moment that a door at the side of the room was opened
+and a white-haired man in purple livery entered and stood in silence
+regarding rather wistfully the man at the piano, who raised his head
+abruptly like one startled from a dream._
+
+_"What is it, Vasili?" asked the musician._
+
+_The servant approached softly a few steps._
+
+_"I did not wish to intrude, Highness, but----"_
+
+_As the old servant hesitated, the young man shrugged and rose,
+disclosing a tall, straight figure, clad in a dark blue blouse, loose
+trousers and brown boots liberally bespattered with mud. The glow of the
+sun which shot across his face as he came forward into the light, showed
+swarthy features, level brows, a straight nose, a well turned chin, a
+small mustache and a generous mouth which revealed a capacity for humor.
+He was quite calm now, and the tones of his voice were almost boyish in
+their confidence and gayety._
+
+_"Well, what is it, Vasili?" he repeated. "You have the air of one with
+much on your conscience. Out with it. Has Sacha been fighting with you
+again?"_
+
+_"No, Master, not Sacha," said the old man clearing his throat
+nervously, "it is something worse--much worse than Sacha."_
+
+_"Impossible!" said the other with a laugh as he took up a cigarette
+from the table. "Nothing could be worse than a Russian cook when she
+gets into a rage----"_
+
+_"But it is, Master--something worse--much worse----"_
+
+_"Really! You alarm me." The Grand Duke threw himself into an armchair
+and inhaled luxuriously of his cigarette. And then with a shrug,
+"Well?"_
+
+_The old man came a pace or two nearer muttering hoarsely, "They've
+broken out in the village again," he gasped._
+
+_The Grand Duke's brow contracted suddenly._
+
+_"H-m. When did this happen?"_
+
+_"Last night. And this morning they burned the stables of Prince
+Galitzin and looted the castle."_
+
+_The young man sprang to his feet._
+
+_"You are sure of this?"_
+
+_"Yes, Master. The word was brought by Serge Andriev less than ten
+minutes ago."_
+
+_He took a few rapid paces up and down the room, stopping by the open
+window and staring out._
+
+_"Fools!" he muttered to himself. Then turning to the old servitor,
+"But, Vasili--why is it that I have heard nothing of this? To-day
+Conrad, the forester, said nothing to me. And the day before yesterday
+in the village the people swept off their caps to me--as in the old
+days. I could have sworn everything would be peaceful at Zukovo--at
+least, for the present----" he added as though in an afterthought._
+
+_"I pray God that may be true," muttered Vasili uncertainly. And then
+with unction, "In their hearts, they still love you, Highness. They are
+children--your children, their hearts still full of reverence for the
+Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch in whom runs the same blood as that which
+ran in the sacred being of the Little Father--but their brains! They are
+drunk with the poison poured into their minds by the Committeemen from
+Moscow."_
+
+_"Ah," eagerly, "they returned?"_
+
+_"Last night," replied the old man wagging his head. "And your people
+forgot all that you had said to them--all that they owe to you. They are
+mad," he finished despairingly, "mad!"_
+
+_The Grand Duke had folded his arms and was staring out of the window
+toward the white dome of the church now dyed red like a globule of blood
+in the sunset._
+
+_The old man watched him for a moment, all the fealty of his many years
+of service in his gaze and attitude._
+
+_"I do not like the look of things, Highness. What does it matter how
+good their hearts are if their brains are bad?"_
+
+_"I must go and talk with them, Vasili," said the Grand Duke quietly._
+
+_The old man took a step forward._
+
+_"If I might make so free----"_
+
+_"Speak----"_
+
+_"Not to-night, Master----"_
+
+_"Why not?"_
+
+_"It will be dangerous. Last night their voices were raised even against
+you."_
+
+_"Me! Why? Have I not done everything I could to help them? I am their
+friend--because I believe in their cause: and they will get their rights
+too but not by burning and looting----"_
+
+_"And murder, Master. Two of Prince Galitzin's foresters were killed."_
+
+_The Grand Duke turned. "That's bad. Murder in Zukovo!" He flicked his
+extinguished cigarette out of the window and made a gesture with his
+hand._
+
+_"Go, Vasili. I want to think. I will ring if I need you."_
+
+_"You will not go to Zukovo to-night?"_
+
+_"I don't know."_
+
+_And with another gesture he waved the servant away._
+
+_When Vasili had gone, the Grand Duke sat, his legs across the chair by
+the window, his arms folded along its back while his dark eyes peered
+out, beyond the hills and forests, beyond the reddened dome of the
+village church into the past where his magnificent father Nicholas
+Petrovitch held feudal sway over all the land within his vision and his
+father's fathers from the time of his own great namesake held all Russia
+in the hollow of their hands._
+
+_The Grand Duke's eyes were hard and bright above the slightly prominent
+cheek bones, the vestiges of his Oriental origin, but there was
+something of his English mother too in the contours of his chin and
+lips, which tempered the hardness of his expression. The lines at his
+brows were not the savage marks of anger, or the vengefulness that had
+characterized the pitiless blood which ran in his veins, but rather were
+they lines of disappointment, of perplexity at the problem that
+confronted him, and pity for his people who did not know where to turn
+for guidance. He still believed them to be his people, a heritage from
+his lordly parent, his children, who were responsible to him and to whom
+he was responsible. It was a habit of thought, inalienable, the product
+of the ages. But it was the calm philosophy of his English mother that
+had first given him his real sense of obligation to them, her teachings,
+even before the war began, that had shown him how terrible were the
+problems that confronted his future._
+
+_His service in the Army had opened his eyes still wider and when Russia
+had deserted her allies he had returned to Zukovo to begin the work of
+reconstruction in the ways his awakened conscience had dictated. He had
+visited their homes, offered them counsel, given them such money as he
+could spare, and had, he thought, become their friend as well as their
+hereditary guardian. All had gone well at first. They had listened to
+him, accepted his advice and his money and renewed their fealty under
+the new order of things, vowing that whatever happened elsewhere in
+Russia, blood and agony and starvation should not visit Zukovo._
+
+_But the news that Vasili brought was disquieting. It meant that the
+minds of his people were again disturbed. And the fact that Prince
+Galitzin had always been hated made the problems the Grand Duke faced
+none the less difficult. For his people had burned, pillaged and killed.
+They had betrayed him. And he had learned in the Army what fire and the
+smell of blood could do...._
+
+_With a quick nod of resolution he rose. He would go to them. He knew
+their leaders. They would listen to him. They_ must _listen...._
+
+_He closed the piano carefully, putting away the loose sheets of music,
+picked up his cap and heavy riding crop from the divan, on his way to
+the door, pausing, his hand on the bell-rope as a thought brought a
+deeper frown to his brow.... Why had Conrad Grabar, his chief forester,
+said nothing to-day? He must have known--for news such as this travels
+from leaf to leaf through the forest. Conrad! And yet he would have
+sworn by the faithfulness of his old friend and hunting companion.
+Perhaps Conrad had not known...._
+
+_The Grand Duke pulled the bell-rope, then went to the window again and
+stood as though listening for the voices of the woods. Silence. The sun
+had sunk, a dull red ball, and the dusk was falling swiftly. The aspens
+below his window quivered slightly, throwing their white leaves upwards
+as though in pain. The stately pines that he loved, mute, solemn,
+changeless, filled the air with balsam, but they gave no answer to his
+problem. It was difficult to believe that, there, in the restless souls
+of men war could rage. And yet...._
+
+_He peered out more intently. Beyond the pine forest, a murky cloud was
+rising. A storm? Hardly. For the sun had set in a clear sky. But there
+was a cloud surely, growing in darkness and intensity. He could see it
+more clearly now, billowing upward in grim portent._
+
+_The Grand Duke started and then stared again. The cloud was of smoke.
+Through the woods, tiny lights were sparkling, picked out with ominous
+brilliancy against the velvet dusk. Peter Nicholaevitch leaned far out
+of the window, straining his ears to listen. And now he seemed to hear
+the crackle of flames, the distant sound of hoarse voices, shouting and
+singing._
+
+_And while he still listened, aware that a great crisis had come into
+his life, there was a commotion just below him, the sound of voices
+close at hand and he saw a man come running from the woods, approaching
+the gateway of the Castle._
+
+_He recognized him by the gray beard and thickset figure. It was Boris
+Rylov, the Huntsman, and as he ran he shouted to some one in the
+courtyard below. The Grand Duke made out the words:_
+
+_"They're burning the Hunting Lodge--where is the Master----?"_
+
+_Peter Nicholaevitch waited at the window no longer, but ran out of the
+room and down the flight of stairs into the great hall below. For he
+knew what had happened now. The Red Terror had come to Zukovo._
+
+_He went out to the garden terrace, crossing quickly to the courtyard
+where he met the frightened group of servants that had assembled._
+
+_Boris, the Huntsman, much out of breath was waving his arms excitedly
+toward the cloud of smoke rising above the pine trees, now tinged a
+dirty orange color from beneath._
+
+_"They came from all directions, Master," he gasped, "like the black
+flies upon a dead horse--hundreds--thousands of them from the village
+and all the country round. I talked with the first that came, Anton
+Lensky, Gleb Saltykov, Michael Kuprin and Conrad Grabar----"_
+
+_"Conrad----!" gasped the Grand Duke._
+
+_"Yes, Highness," muttered Boris, his head bowed, "Conrad Grabar. They
+tried to restrain me. Michael Kuprin I struck upon the head with a
+stick--and then I fled--to warn your Highness--that they mean to come
+hither."_
+
+_The face of the Grand Duke, a trifle pale under its tan, was set in
+stern lines, but there was no fear in his manner as he quickly
+questioned, his eyes eagerly scrutinizing the frightened men and women
+about him while he spoke to them with cool decision._
+
+_"Thanks, Friend Rylov--you have done me a service I shall not forget."
+Then to the others, "If there are any of you who fear to remain with me,
+you may go. I cannot believe that they will come to Zukovo Castle, but
+we will close the gate to the courtyard at once. I will talk with them
+from the terrace wall."_
+
+_"Master! Highness!" broke in the Huntsman violently, "you do not
+understand. You cannot stay here. They are mad. They will kill you. It
+is for that they come----"_
+
+_"Nevertheless--I mean to stay----"_
+
+_"It is death----"_
+
+_"Go thou, then, and Vasili, and Ivan. For before they burn Zukovo, I
+mean to talk with them----"_
+
+_"It is madness----!"_
+
+_"Come, Highness," broke in Leo Garshin, the head-groom, eagerly, "I
+will put the saddle upon Vera, and you can go out of the iron gate from
+the stable-yard into the forest. Nothing can catch you and you can reach
+the river----"_
+
+_"No, Leo----" put in the Grand Duke kindly. "I shall stay."_
+
+_The servants glanced at one another, appalled at the Master's attitude.
+Some of them, had already disappeared into the Castle but others, less
+timorous, had already rushed to close the courtyard gate._
+
+_"You say they are many, Friend Rylov?" he asked again._
+
+_"As the hairs of your head, Master--from Ivanovna,
+Jaroslav--everywhere--and women, Highness, more terrible than the
+men----"_
+
+_"And the leaders----?"_
+
+_"Dmitri Sidorov of the Zemstvo and Michael Kositzin and Anton Lensky.
+See, yonder! Where the road turns from the clearing--they come!"_
+
+_The keen eyes of Boris saw further through the forest than those of
+most men but in a moment those of the Grand Duke Peter confirmed him.
+Figures were moving in the twilight, along the roads and bypaths._
+
+_To Peter Nicholaevitch they seemed like a great river which had flooded
+over its banks seeking new levels. Behind them the flames from the
+wooden hunting lodge roared upward painting a lurid sky. He saw that the
+flood came rapidly, and above the roar of the flames came the sound of
+voices singing the Russian version of the "Marseillaise." The Grand Duke
+stood at the terrace wall watching their approach. He knew that if they
+meant to attack the Castle the gate could not hold long, but he had hope
+that he might still be able to prevail upon them to listen to him. In a
+moment they saw him and began running forward toward the courtyard gate.
+He recognized individuals now--Anton Lensky, Michael Kuprin, with his
+head tied in a dirty handkerchief--and Conrad Grabar. The defection of
+his old instructor in wood-lore disturbed him. Conrad must have known
+what was to happen and he had said nothing. If Conrad had turned against
+him, what hope had he of prevailing against the others?_
+
+_The singing died away and in its place, shouts and cries burst forth in
+a bedlam. "Open the gate!" "Let us in!"_
+
+_The Grand Duke had heard that note in men's voices in the Carpathian
+passes, and he knew what it meant, but while his gaze sought out the fat
+figure of Michael Kositzin who was the leader of the uprising, he held
+up his hand for silence._
+
+_There was a roar of voices._
+
+_"Peter Nicholaevitch wishes to speak."_
+
+_"It is our turn to speak now."_
+
+"Nasha pora prishla," (_our time has come_).
+
+_"Let the little master speak."_
+
+_"We know no little masters here!"_
+
+_"No, nor old ones!"_
+
+"Smiert Bourjouiam" (_Death to the bourgeoisie_).
+
+_But as the young Grand Duke began to speak the voices of the most rabid
+of the peasants were hushed for a moment by the others._
+
+_"My friends and my children" he began, "one word before you do
+something that you will forever regret. I am your friend. I am young--of
+the new generation. I have kept abreast of the new thought of the time
+and I believe in the New Life that is for you and for us all. I have
+proved it to you by bringing the New Life to Zukovo by peaceful means,
+by friendliness and brotherhood while other parts of Russia near by are
+in agony and darkness." (Cries of "That is true.") "It was in my heart
+that I had brought the Revolution to Zukovo, a Revolution against the
+old order of things which can be no more, implanting in you the strong
+seeds of Peace and Brotherhood which would kill out the ugly weeds of
+violence and enmity."_
+
+_Here a hoarse voice rang out: "Fire--only fire can clean." Then the
+reply of a woman, "Yes,_ Tovaristchi, _it is the only way."_
+
+_Peter Nicholaevitch tried to seek out the speakers with his gaze. One
+of them was Michael Kuprin whom when a child the Grand Duke had seen
+flogged in this very courtyard._
+
+_"There are sins of the past," he went on, raising his voice against the
+low murmur of the mob, "many sins against you, but one sin does not wash
+out another. Murder, rapine, vengeance will never bring peace to
+Zukovo. What you do to-day will be visited on you to-morrow. I pray
+that you will listen to me. I have fought for you and with you--with
+Gleb Saltykov and Anton Lensky, against the return of Absolutism in
+Russia. The old order of things is gone. Do not stain the new with crime
+in Zukovo. I beseech you to disperse--return to your homes and I will
+come to you to-morrow and if there are wrongs I will set them right. You
+have believed in me in the past. Believe in me now and all may yet be
+well in Zukovo. Go, my friends, before it is too late----"_
+
+_The crowd wavered, murmuring. But just then a shot rang out and the cap
+of the Grand Duke twitched around on his head._
+
+_A roar went up from near the gate,_ "Nasha pora prishla! _Break in the
+gate!" cried the voices and there were those of women among them
+shouting_ "Tovaristchi! _Forward!"_
+
+_Over the heads of those in the front ranks, Peter Nicholaevitch saw
+some men bringing from the forest the heavy trunk of a felled pine tree.
+They meant to break down the gate. He knew that he had failed but still
+he stood upright facing them. Another shot, the bullet this time grazing
+his left arm. The sting of it angered him._
+
+_"Cowards!" he yelled, shaking his fist at them. "Cowards!"_
+
+_A volley followed but no other bullets struck him. Behind him in the
+Castle doorway he heard the voice of Boris Rylov, calling to him
+hoarsely._
+
+_"Come, Master. For the love of God! There is yet time."_
+
+_There was a crash of the heavy timbers at the gate._
+
+_"Come, Master----"_
+
+_With a shrug Peter Nicholaevitch turned and walked across the terrace
+toward the Castle._ "Bolvany!" _he muttered. "I've finished with
+them."_
+
+_Boris and Vasili stood just within the door, pleading with him to
+hurry, and together they made their way through the deserted kitchens
+and over past the vegetable gardens to the stables, where Leo Garshin
+awaited them, the saddles on several horses. Behind them they could now
+hear the triumphant cries as the courtyard gate crashed in._
+
+_"Hurry, Master!" cried Garshin eagerly._
+
+_"Where are the others?" asked the Grand Duke._
+
+_"Gone, Highness. They have fled."_
+
+_Boris Rylov was peering out past an iron door into the forest._
+
+_"There is no one there?" asked Garshin._
+
+_"Not yet. They have forgotten."_
+
+_"Come then, Highness."_
+
+_But the Grand Duke saw that the aged Vasili was mounted first and then
+they rode out of the iron gate into a path which led directly into the
+forest. It was not until they were well clear of the buildings that a
+shout at one side announced that their mode of escape had been
+discovered. Men came running, firing pistols as they ran. Boris Rylov,
+bringing up the rear, reined in his horse and turning emptied a revolver
+at the nearest of their pursuers. One man fell and the others halted._
+
+_Until they found the other horses in the stables pursuit was
+fruitless._
+
+_Peter Nicholaevitch rode at the head of the little cavalcade, down the
+familiar aisles of the forest, his head bowed, a deep frown on his
+brows. It was Vasili who first noticed the blood dripping from his
+finger ends._
+
+_"Master," he gasped, "you are wounded."_
+
+_"It is nothing," said the Grand Duke._
+
+_But Vasili bound the arm up with a handkerchief while Leo Garshin and
+Boris Rylov watched the path down which they had come. They could hear
+the crackling of the flames at the Hunting Lodge to the southward and
+the cries of the mob at the Castle, but there was no sign of pursuit.
+Perhaps they were satisfied to appease their madness with pillage and
+fire. Half an hour later Boris pointed backward. A new glow had risen, a
+redder, deeper glow._
+
+_"The Castle, Master----" wailed Vasili._
+
+_Peter Nicholaevitch drew rein at a cross-path, watched for a moment and
+then turned to his companions, for he had reached a decision._
+
+_"My good friends," he said gently, "our ways part here."_
+
+_"Master! Highness!"_
+
+_But he was resolute._
+
+_"I am going on alone. I will not involve you further in my misfortunes.
+You can do nothing for me--nor I anything for you except this. Vasili
+knows. In the vault below the wine-cellar, hidden away, are some objects
+of value. They will not find them. When they go away you will return.
+The visit will repay you. Divide what is there into equal parts--silver,
+plate and gold. As for me--forget me. Farewell!"_
+
+_They saw that he meant what he said. He offered these few faithful
+servitors his hand and they kissed his fingers--a last act of fealty and
+devotion and in a moment they stood listening to the diminishing
+hoof-beats of Vera as the young master went out of their lives._
+
+_"May God preserve him," muttered Vasili._
+
+_"Amen," said Boris Rylov and Leo Garshin._
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+INTRODUCING PETER NICHOLS
+
+
+The British refugee ship _Phrygia_ was about to sail for Constantinople
+where her unfortunate passengers were to be transferred to other vessels
+sailing for Liverpool and New York. After some difficulties the refugee
+made his way aboard her and announced his identity to the captain. If he
+had expected to be received with the honor due to one of his rank and
+station he was quickly undeceived, for Captain Blashford, a man of rough
+manners, concealing a gentle heart, looked him over critically, examined
+his credentials (letters he had happened to have about him), and then
+smiled grimly.
+
+"We've got room for one more--and that's about all."
+
+"I have no money----" began the refugee.
+
+"Oh, that's all right," shrugged the Captain, "you're not the only one.
+We've a cargo of twenty princes, thirty-two princesses, eighteen
+generals and enough counts and countesses to set up a new nation
+somewhere. Your 'Ighness is the only Duke that has reached us up to the
+present speakin' and if there are any others, they'll 'ave to be brisk
+for we're sailin' in twenty minutes."
+
+The matter-of-fact tones with which the unemotional Britisher made this
+announcement restored the lost sense of humor of the Russian refugee,
+and he broke into a grim laugh.
+
+"An embarrassment of riches," remarked the Grand Duke.
+
+"Riches," grunted the Captain, "in a manner of speakin', yes. Money is
+not so plentiful. But jools! Good God! There must be half a ton of
+diamonds, rubies and emeralds aboard. All they're got left most of 'em,
+but complaints and narvousness. Give me a cargo of wheat and I'm your
+man," growled the Captain. "It stays put and doesn't complain," and then
+turning to Peter--"Ye're not expectin' any r'yal suite aboard the
+_Phrygia_, are ye?"
+
+"No. A hammock for'rad will be good enough for me."
+
+"That's the way I like to 'ear a man talk. Good God! As man to man, I
+arsk you,--with Counts throwin' cigarette butts around an' princesses
+cryin' all over my clean white decks an' all, what's a self-respectin'
+skipper to do? But I 'ave my orders to fetch the odd lot to
+Constantinople an' fetch 'em I will. Oh! They're odd--all right. Go
+below, sir, an' 'ave a look at 'em."
+
+But Peter Nicholaevitch shook his head. He had been doing a deal of
+quiet thinking in those starry nights upon the Dnieper, and he had
+worked out his problem alone.
+
+"No, thanks," he said quietly, "if you don't mind, I think I'd rather
+preserve my incognito."
+
+"Incognito, is it? Oh, very well, suit yourself. And what will I be
+callin' your Highness?"
+
+"Peter Nichols," said the Grand Duke with a smile, "it's as good as any
+other."
+
+"Right you are, Peter Nichols. Lay for'rad and tell the bos'n to show
+you up to my cabin."
+
+So Peter Nichols went forward, avoiding the cargo aft, until within a
+day's run of the Bosphorus when he found himself accosted by no less a
+person than Prince Galitzin who had strolled out to get the morning air.
+He tried to avoid the man but Galitzin planted himself firmly in his
+path, scrutinizing him eagerly.
+
+"You too, Highness!" he said with an accent of grieved surprise.
+
+The Grand Duke regarded him in a moment of silence.
+
+"It must be evident to you, Prince Galitzin, that I have some object in
+remaining unknown."
+
+"But, Your Highness, such a thing is unnecessary. Are we not all
+dedicated to the same misfortunes? Misery loves company."
+
+"You mean that it makes you less miserable to discover that I share your
+fate?"
+
+"Not precisely that. It is merely that if one holding your liberal views
+cannot escape the holocaust that has suddenly fallen there is little
+hope for the rest of us."
+
+"No," said the Grand Duke shortly. "There is no hope, none at all, for
+us or for Russia."
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+"To America."
+
+"But, your Highness, that is impossible. We shall all have asylum in
+England until conditions change. You should go there with us. It will
+lend influence to our mission."
+
+"No."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I am leaving Russia for the present. She is outcast. For, not content
+with betraying others, she has betrayed herself."
+
+"But what are you going to do?"
+
+Peter Nicholaevitch smiled up at the sky and the fussy, fat, bejeweled
+sycophant before him listened to him in amazement.
+
+"Prince Galitzin," said the Grand Duke amusedly, "I am going to do that
+which may bring the blush of shame to your brow or the sneer of pity to
+your lips. I am going to fulfill the destiny provided for every man with
+a pair of strong hands, and a willing spirit--I am going to work."
+
+The Prince stepped back a pace, his watery eyes snapping in
+incomprehension.
+
+"But your higher destiny--your great heritage as a Prince of the Royal
+blood of Holy Russia."
+
+"There is no Holy Russia, my friend, until she is born again. Russia is
+worse than traitor, worse than liar, worse than murderer and thief. She
+is a fool."
+
+"All will come right in time. We go to England to wait."
+
+"I have other plans."
+
+"Then you will not join us? Princess Anastasie, my daughter, is here.
+General Seminoff----"
+
+"It is useless. I have made up my mind. Leave me, if you please."
+
+Prince Galitzin disappeared quickly below to spread the information of
+his discovery among the disconsolate refugees and it was not long before
+it was known from one end of the _Phrygia_ to the other that the fellow
+who called himself Peter Nichols was none other than the Grand Duke
+Peter Nicholaevitch, a cousin to his late Majesty Nicholas and a Prince
+of the Royal blood. Peter Nichols sought the Captain in his cabin,
+putting the whole case before him.
+
+"H-m," chuckled the Captain, "Found ye out, did they? There's only a few
+of you left, that's why. Better stay 'ere in my cabin until we reach
+Constantinople. I'd be honored, 'Ighness, to say nothin' of savin' you a
+bit of bother."
+
+"You're very kind."
+
+"Not at all. Make yourself at 'ome. There's cigarettes on the locker and
+a nip of the Scotch to keep the chill out. Here's a light. You've been
+worryin' me some, 'Ighness. Fact is I didn't know just how big a bug you
+were until to-day when I arsked some questions. You'll forgive me,
+'Ighness?"
+
+"Peter Nichols," corrected the Grand Duke.
+
+"No," insisted the Captain, "we'll give you yer title while we can. You
+know we British have a bit of a taste for r'yalty when we know it's the
+real thing. I don't take much stock in most of my cargo aft. And beggin'
+yer 'Ighness's pardon I never took much stock in Russia since she lay
+down on the job and left the Allies in the lurch----"
+
+"Captain Blashford," said the Grand Duke quietly. "You can't hurt my
+feelings."
+
+"But I do like you, 'Ighness, and I want to do all that I can to 'elp
+you when we get to anchor."
+
+"Thanks."
+
+"I take it that you don't want anybody ashore to know who ye are?"
+
+"Exactly. Most of these refugees are going to England. I have reasons
+for not wishing to go with them."
+
+"Where then do you propose to go?"
+
+"To the United States," said the Grand Duke eagerly.
+
+"Without money?"
+
+"I'd have no money if I went to England unless I subsisted on the
+charity of my friends. My branch of the family is not rich. The war has
+made us poorer. Such securities as I have are in a vault in Kiev. It
+would be suicide for me to attempt to reclaim them now. I'm going to try
+to make my own way."
+
+"Impossible!"
+
+The Grand Duke laughed at the Englishman's expression.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Yer 'ands, 'Ighness."
+
+The Grand Duke shrugged and grinned.
+
+"I'll risk it. I'm not without resources. Will you help me to a ship
+sailing for America?"
+
+"Yes--but----"
+
+"Oh, I'll work my passage over--if nobody bothers me."
+
+"By George! I like your spirit. Give me your 'and, sir. I'll do what I
+can. If the _Bermudian_ hasn't sailed from the Horn yet, I think I can
+manage it for ye."
+
+"And keep me clear of the rest of your passengers?" added His Highness.
+
+"Righto. They'll go on the _Semaphore_. You stay right 'ere and mum's
+the word." And Captain Blashford went out on deck leaving Peter Nichols
+to his cigarette and his meditations.
+
+Many times had the Grand Duke Peter given thanks that the blood of his
+mother flowed strongly in his veins. He was more British than Russian
+and he could remember things that had happened since he had grown to
+adolescence which had made the half of him that was English revolt
+against the Russian system. It was perhaps his musical education rather
+than his University training or his travels in England and France that
+had turned him to the _Intelligentsia_. In the vast republic of art and
+letters he had imbibed the philosophy that was to threaten the very
+existence of his own clan. The spread of the revolution had not dismayed
+him, for he believed that in time the pendulum would swing back and
+bring a constitutional government to Russia. But in the weeks of
+struggle, privation, and passion a new Peter Nicholaevitch was born.
+
+The failure of his plans in the sudden flood of anarchy which had swept
+over Zukovo, the treachery of those he had thought faithful and the
+attempt upon his life had changed his viewpoint. It takes a truly noble
+spirit to wish to kiss the finger that has pulled the trigger of a
+revolver, the bullet from which has gone through one's hat. From
+disappointment and dismay Peter Nicholaevitch had turned to anger. They
+hadn't played the game with him. It wasn't cricket. His resolution to
+sail for the United States was decided. To throw himself, an object of
+charity, upon the mercies of the Earl of Shetland, his mother's cousin,
+was not to be thought of.
+
+To his peasants he had preached the gospel of labor, humility and peace,
+in that state of life to which they had been called. He had tried to
+exemplify it to them. He could do no less now, to himself. By teaching
+himself, he could perhaps fit himself to teach them. In England it would
+perhaps be difficult to remain incognito, and he had a pride in wishing
+to succeed alone and unaided. Only the United States, whose form of
+government more nearly approached the ideal he had for Russia, could
+offer him the opportunities to discover whether or not a prince could
+not also be a man.
+
+To the Princess Anastasie he gave little thought. That their common
+exile and the chance encounter under such circumstances had aroused no
+return of an entente toward what had once been a half-sentimental
+attachment convinced him of how little it had meant to him. There were
+no royal prohibitions upon him now. To marry the Princess Anastasie and
+settle in London, living upon the proceeds of her wealthy father's
+American and British securities, was of course the easiest solution of
+his difficulties. A life of ease, music, good sportsmanship, the comfort
+that only England knows.... She was comely too--blond, petite, and
+smoked her cigarette very prettily. Their marriage had once been
+discussed. She wanted it still, perhaps. Something of all this may have
+been somewhere in the back of Prince Galitzin's ambitious mind. The one
+course would be so easy, the other----
+
+Peter Nicholaevitch rose and carefully flicked his cigarette through the
+open port. No. One does not pass twice through such moments of struggle
+and self-communion as he had had in those long nights of his escape
+along the Dnieper. He had chosen. Peter Nichols! The name amused him. If
+Captain Blashford was a man of his word to-night would be the end of the
+Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch, and the Princess Anastasie might find
+some more ardent suitor to her grace and beauty.
+
+She did not seek him out. Perhaps the hint to Galitzin had been
+sufficient and the Grand Duke from his hiding place saw her pretty
+figure set ashore among the miscellany of martyred "r'yalty." He turned
+away from his port-hole with a catch of his breath as the last vestige
+of his old life passed from sight. And then quietly took up a fresh
+cigarette and awaited the Captain.
+
+The details were easily arranged. Blashford was a man of resource and at
+night returned from a visit to the Captain of the _Bermudian_ with word
+that all was well. He had been obliged to relate the facts but Captain
+Armitage could keep a secret and promised the refugee a job under his
+steward who was short-handed. And so the next morning, after shaving and
+dressing himself in borrowed clothes, Peter Nichols shook Captain
+Blashford warmly by the hand and went aboard his new ship.
+
+Peter Nichols' new job was that of a waiter at the tables in the dining
+saloon. He was a very good waiter, supplying, from the wealth of a
+Continental experience, the deficiencies of other waiters he had known.
+He wore a black shell jacket and a white shirt front which remained
+innocent of gravy spots. The food was not very good nor very plentiful,
+but he served it with an air of such importance that it gained flavor
+and substance by the reflection of his deference. There were English
+officers bound for Malta, Frenchmen for Marseilles and Americans of the
+Red Cross without number bound for New York. Girls, too, clear-eyed,
+bronzed and hearty, who talked war and politics beneath his very nose,
+challenging his own theories. They noticed him too and whispered among
+themselves, but true to his ambition to do every task at the best of his
+bent, he preserved an immobile countenance and pocketed his fees, which
+would be useful ere long, with the grateful appreciation of one to whom
+shillings and franc pieces come as the gifts of God. Many were the
+attempts to draw him into a conversation, but where the queries could
+not be answered by a laconic "Yes, sir," or "No, sir," this paragon of
+waiters maintained a smiling silence.
+
+"I'm sure he's a prince or something," he heard one young girl of a
+hospital unit say to a young medico of the outfit. "Did you ever see
+such a nose and brows in your life? And his hands----! You can never
+mistake hands. I would swear those hands had never done menial work for
+a thousand years."
+
+All of which was quite true, but it made the waiter Peter uncomfortably
+careful. There were no women in the kitchen, but there was an amatory
+stewardess, fat and forty, upon whom the factitious technique of the
+saloon fell with singular insipidity. He fled from her. Peter, the
+waiter, was already a good democrat but he was not ready to spread his
+philosophy out so thin.
+
+He slept forward, messed abaft the galley, enriched his vocabulary and
+broadened his point of view. There is no leveler like a ship's fo'c'sle,
+no better school of philosophy than that of men upon their "beam ends."
+There were many such--Poles, Slovaks, Roumanians, an Armenian or two,
+refugees, adventurers from America, old, young, dissolute, making a
+necessity of virtue under that successful oligarchy, the ship's bridge.
+
+In the Americans Peter was interested with an Englishman's point of
+view. He had much to learn, and he invented a tale of his fortunes which
+let him into their confidences, especially into that of Jim Coast,
+waiter like himself, whose bunk adjoined his own. Jim Coast was a
+citizen of the world, inured to privation under many flags. He had been
+born in New Jersey, U. S. A., of decent people, had worked in the
+cranberry bogs, farmed in Pennsylvania, "punched" cattle in Wyoming,
+"prospected" in the Southwest, looted ranches in Mexico, fought against
+Diaz and again with the insurgents in Venezuela, worked on cattle-ships
+and so, by easy stages, had drifted across the breadth of Europe living
+by his wits at the expense of the credulous and the unwary. And now, for
+the first time in many years, he was going home--though just what that
+meant he did not know. He had missed great fortune twice--"by the skin
+of his teeth," as he picturesquely described it, once in a mine in
+Arizona and again in a land-deal in the Argentine. There were reasons
+why he hadn't dared to return to the United States before. He was a man
+with a grievance, but, however free in his confidences in other
+respects, gave the interested Peter no inkling as to what that grievance
+was.
+
+No more curious acquaintanceship could possibly be imagined, but
+privation, like politics, makes strange bedfellows, and, from tolerance
+and amusement, Pete, as the other called him, found himself yielding,
+without stint, to the fantastic spell of Jim Coast's multifarious
+attractions. He seemed to have no doubts as to the possibility of making
+a living in America and referred darkly to possible "coups" that would
+net a fortune. He was an agreeable villain, not above mischief to gain
+his ends, and Peter, who cherished an ideal, made sure that, once safe
+ashore, it would be best if they parted company. But he didn't tell Jim
+Coast so, for the conversational benefits he derived from that
+gentleman's acquaintance were a liberal education.
+
+We are admonished that they are blessed who just stand and wait, and
+Peter Nichols, three days out of New York harbor, found himself the
+possessor of forty dollars in tips from the voyage with sixty dollars
+coming to him as wages--not so bad for a first venture upon the high
+seas of industry. It was the first real money he had ever made in his
+life and he was proud of it, jingling it contentedly in his pockets and
+rubbing the bills luxuriously one against the other. But his plans
+required more than this, for he had read enough to know that in the
+United States one is often taken at one's own estimate, and that if he
+wasn't to find a job as a ditch-digger, he must make a good appearance.
+And so it was now time to make use of the one Grand Ducal possession
+remaining to him, a gold ring set with a gorgeous ruby that had once
+belonged to his father. This ring he had always worn and had removed
+from his finger at Ushan, in the fear that its magnificence might betray
+him. He had kept it carefully tied about his neck in a bag on a bit of
+string and had of course not even shown it to Jim Coast who might have
+deemed it an excuse to sever their strange friendship.
+
+Through the Head Steward he managed a message to Captain Armitage and
+was bidden to the officer's cabin, where he explained the object of his
+visit, exhibited his treasure and estimated its value.
+
+The Captain opened his eyes a bit wider as he gazed into the sanguine
+depths of the stone.
+
+"If I didn't know something of your history, Nichols," he said with a
+wink, "I might think you'd been looting the strong box of the Sultan of
+Turkey. Pigeon's blood and as big as my thumb nail! You want to sell
+it?"
+
+"I need capital."
+
+"What do you want for it?"
+
+"It's worth a thousand pounds of English money. Perhaps more, I don't
+know. I'll take what I can get."
+
+"I see. You're afraid to negotiate the sale ashore?"
+
+"Exactly. I'd be arrested."
+
+"And you don't want explanations. H-m--leave it with me over night. I'll
+see the Purser. He'll know."
+
+"Thanks."
+
+The Captain offered the waiter in the shell-jacket the hospitality of
+his cabin, but Peter Nichols thanked him gratefully and withdrew.
+
+The result of this arrangement was that the ruby ring changed owners.
+The Purser bought it for two thousand in cash. He knew a good thing when
+he saw it. But Peter Nichols was satisfied.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+NEW YORK
+
+
+The Duke-errant had prepared himself for the first glimpse of the
+battlements of lower New York, but as the _Bermudian_ came up the bay
+that rosy spring afternoon, the western sun gilding the upper half of
+the castellated towers which rose from a sea of moving shadows, it
+seemed a dream city, the fortress of a fairy tale. His fingers tingled
+to express this frozen music, to relieve it from its spell of
+enchantment, and phrases of Debussy's "Cathedrale Engloutie" came
+welling up within him from almost forgotten depths.
+
+"_Parbleu!_ She's grown some, Pete, since I saw her last!"
+
+This from his grotesque companion who was not moved by concord of sweet
+sounds. "They've buried the Trinity clean out of sight."
+
+"The Trinity?" questioned Peter solemnly.
+
+"Bless your heart----" laughed Coast, "I'd say so----But I mean, the
+church----And that must be the Woolworth Building yonder. Where's yer
+St. Paul's and Kremlin now? Some village,--what?"
+
+"Gorgeous!" muttered Peter.
+
+"Hell of a thing to tackle single-handed, though, eh, boh?"
+
+Something of the same thought was passing through Peter's mind but he
+only smiled.
+
+"I'll find a job," he said slowly.
+
+"Waitin'!" sneered Coast. "Fine job that for a man with your learnin'.
+'Hey, waiter! Some butter if you please,'" he satirized in mincing
+tones, "'this soup is cold--this beef is underdone. Oh, _cawn't_ you
+give me some service here!' I say, don't you hear 'em--people that never
+saw a servant in their own home town. Pretty occupation for an old war
+horse like me or a globe-trotter like you. No. None for me. I'll fry my
+fish in a bigger pan. _Allons!_ Pete. I like you. I'll like you more
+when you grow some older, but you've got a head above your ears that
+ain't all bone. I can use you. What d'ye say? We'll get ashore, some
+way, and then we'll show the U. S. A. a thing or two not written in the
+books."
+
+"We'll go ashore together, Jim. Then we'll see."
+
+"Righto! But I'll eat my hat if I can see you balancin' dishes in a
+Broadway Chop House."
+
+Peter couldn't see that either, but he didn't tell Jim Coast so. Their
+hour on deck had struck, for a final meal was to be served and they went
+below to finish their duties. That night they were paid off and
+discharged.
+
+The difficulties in the way of inspection and interrogation of Peter
+Nichols, the alien, were obviated by the simple expedient of his going
+ashore under cover of the darkness and not coming back to the ship--this
+at a hint from the sympathetic Armitage who gave the ex-waiter a
+handclasp and his money and wished him success.
+
+Midnight found Peter and Jim Coast on Broadway in the neighborhood of
+Forty-second Street with Peter blinking comfortably up at the electric
+signs and marveling at everything. The more Coast drank the deeper was
+his cynicism but Peter grew mellow. This was a wonderful new world he
+was exploring and with two thousand dollars safely tucked on the inside
+of his waistcoat, he was ready to defy the tooth of adversity.
+
+In the morning Peter Nichols came to a decision. And so over the coffee
+and eggs when Coast asked him what his plans were he told him he was
+going to look for a job.
+
+Coast looked at him through the smoke of his cigar and spoke at last.
+
+"I didn't think you'd be a quitter, Pete. The world owes us a
+livin'--you and me----Bah! It's easy if you'll use your headpiece. If
+the world won't give, I mean to take. The jobs are meant for little
+men."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"An enterprisin' man wouldn't ask such a question. Half the people in
+the world takes what the other half gives. You ought to know what half
+_I_ belong to."
+
+"I'm afraid I belong to the other half, Jim Coast," said Peter quietly.
+
+"_Sacre--!_" sneered the other, rising suddenly. "Where you goin' to
+wait, Pete? At the Ritz or the Commodore? In a month you'll be waitin'
+on _me_. It'll be _Mister_ Coast for you then, _mon garcon_, but you'll
+still be Pete." He shrugged and offered his hand. "Well, we won't
+quarrel but our ways split here."
+
+"I'm sorry, Jim. Good-by."
+
+He saw Coast slouch out into the street and disappear m the crowd moving
+toward Broadway. He waited for a while thinking deeply and then with a
+definite plan in his mind strolled forth. First he bought a second-hand
+suit case in Seventh Avenue, then found a store marked "Gentlemen's
+Outfitters" where he purchased ready-made clothing, a hat, shoes,
+underwear, linen and cravats, arraying himself with a sense of some
+satisfaction and packing in his suitcase what he couldn't wear, went
+forth, found a taxi and drove in state to a good hotel.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+New York assimilates its immigrants with surprising rapidity. Through
+this narrow funnel they pour into the "melting pot," their racial
+characteristics already neutralized, their souls already inoculated with
+the spirit of individualism. Prepared as he was to accept with a good
+grace conditions as he found them, Peter Nichols was astonished at the
+ease with which he fitted into the niche that he had chosen. His room
+was on the eighteenth floor, to which and from which he was shot in an
+enameled lift operated by a Uhlan in a monkey-cap. He found that it
+required a rather nice adjustment of his muscles to spring forth at
+precisely the proper moment. There was a young lady who presided over
+the destinies of the particular shelf that he occupied in this enormous
+cupboard, a very pretty young lady, something between a French Duchess
+and a lady's maid. Her smile had a homelike quality though and it was
+worth risking the perilous catapulting up and down for the mere pleasure
+of handing her his room key. Having no valuables of course but his money
+which he carried in his pockets there was no danger from unprincipled
+persons had she been disposed to connive at dishonesty.
+
+His bedroom was small but neat and his bathroom was neat but small,
+tiled in white enamel, containing every device that the heart of a clean
+man could desire. He discovered that by dropping a quarter into various
+apertures he could secure almost anything he required from tooth paste
+to razor blades. There was a telephone beside his bed which rang at
+inconvenient moments and a Bible upon the side table proclaimed the
+religious fervor of this extraordinary people. A newspaper was sent in
+to him every morning whether he rang for it or not, and every time he
+did ring, a lesser Uhlan brought a thermos bottle containing iced water.
+This perplexed him for a time but he was too much ashamed of his
+ignorance to question. You see, he was already acquiring the first
+ingredient of the American character--omniscience, for he found that in
+New York no one ever admits that he doesn't know everything.
+
+But it was all very wonderful, pulsing with life, eloquent of
+achievement. He was in no haste. By living with some care, he found that
+the money from his ruby would last for several months. Meanwhile he was
+studying his situation and its possibilities. Summing up his own
+attainments he felt that he was qualified as a teacher of the piano or
+of the voice, as an instructor in languages, or if the worst came, as a
+waiter in a fashionable restaurant--perhaps even a head-waiter--which
+from the authority he observed in the demeanor of the lord of the hotel
+dining room seemed almost all the honor that a person in America might
+hope to gain. But, in order that no proper opportunity should slip by,
+he scanned the newspapers in the hope of finding something that he could
+do.
+
+As the weeks passed he made the discovery that he was being immensely
+entertained. He was all English now. It was not in the least difficult
+to make acquaintances. Almost everybody spoke to everybody without the
+slightest feeling of restraint. He learned the meaning of the latest
+American slang but found difficulty in applying it, rejoiced in the
+syncopation of the jazz, America's original contribution to the musical
+art, and by the end of a month thought himself thoroughly acclimated.
+
+But he still surprised inquiring glances male and female cast in his
+direction. There was something about his personality which, disguise it
+as he might under American-made garments and American-made manners,
+refused to be hidden. It was his charm added to his general good nature
+and adaptability which quickly made Peter Nichols some friends of the
+better sort. If he had been willing to drift downward he would have cast
+in his lot with Jim Coast. Instead, he followed decent inclinations and
+found himself at the end of six weeks a part of a group of young
+business men who took him home to dine with their wives and gave him the
+benefit of their friendly advice. To all of them he told the same story,
+that he was an Englishman who had worked in Russia with the Red Cross
+and that he had come to the United States to get a job.
+
+It was a likely story and most of them swallowed it. But one clever girl
+whom he met out at dinner rather startled him by the accuracy of her
+intuitions.
+
+"I have traveled a good deal, Mr. Nichols," she said quizzically, "but
+I've never yet met an Englishman like you."
+
+"It is difficult for me to tell whether I am to consider that as
+flattery or disapproval," said Peter calmly.
+
+"You talk like an Englishman, but you're entirely too much interested in
+everything to be true to type."
+
+"Ah, really----"
+
+"Englishmen are either bored or presumptuous. You're neither. And
+there's a tiny accent that I can't explain----"
+
+"Don't try----"
+
+"I must. We Americans believe in our impulses. My brother Dick says
+you're a man of mystery. I've solved it," she laughed, "I'm sure you're
+a Russian Grand Duke incognito."
+
+Peter laughed and tried bravado.
+
+"You are certainly all in the mustard," he blundered helplessly.
+
+And she looked at him for a moment and then burst into laughter.
+
+These associations were very pleasant, but, contrary to Peter's
+expectations, they didn't seem to be leading anywhere. The efforts that
+he made to find positions commensurate with his ambitions had ended in
+blind alleys. He was too well educated for some of them, not well enough
+educated for others.
+
+More than two months had passed. He had moved to a boarding house in a
+decent locality, but of the two thousands dollars with which he had
+entered New York there now remained to him less than two hundred. He
+was beginning to believe that he had played the game and lost and that
+within a very few weeks he would be obliged to hide himself from these
+excellent new acquaintances and go back to his old job. Then the tide of
+his fortune suddenly turned.
+
+Dick Sheldon, the brother of the girl who was "all in the mustard,"
+aware of Peter's plight, had stumbled across the useful bit of
+information and brought it to Peter at the boarding house.
+
+"Didn't you tell me that you'd once had something to do with forestry in
+Russia?" he asked.
+
+Peter nodded. "I was once employed in the reafforestation of a large
+estate," he replied.
+
+"Then I've found your job," said Sheldon heartily, clapping Peter on the
+back. "A friend of Sheldon, Senior's, Jonathan K. McGuire, has a big
+place down in the wilderness of Jersey--thousands of acres and he wants
+a man to take charge--sort of forestry expert and general
+superintendent, money no object. I reckon you could cop out three
+hundred a month as a starter."
+
+"That looks good to me," said Peter, delighted that the argot fell so
+aptly from his lips. And then, "You're not spoofing, are you?"
+
+"Devil a spoof. It's straight goods, Nichols. Will you take it?"
+
+Peter had a vision of the greasy dishes he was to escape.
+
+"Will I?" he exclaimed delightedly. "Can I get it?"
+
+"Sure thing. McGuire is a millionaire, made a pot of money somewhere in
+the West--dabbles in the market. That's where Dad met him. Crusty old
+rascal. Daughter. Living down in Jersey now, alone with a lot of
+servants. Queer one. Maybe you'll like him--maybe not."
+
+Peter clasped his friend by the hands.
+
+"Moloch himself would look an angel of mercy to me now."
+
+"Do you think you can make good?"
+
+"Well, rather. Whom shall I see? And when?"
+
+"I can fix it up with Dad, I reckon. You'd better come down to the
+office and see him about twelve."
+
+Peter Sheldon, Senior, looked him over and asked him questions and the
+interview was quite satisfactory.
+
+"I'll tell you the truth, as far as I know it," said Sheldon, Senior
+(which was more than Peter Nichols had done). "Jonathan K. McGuire is a
+strange character--keeps his business to himself----. How much he's
+worth nobody knows but himself and the Treasury Department. Does a good
+deal of buying and selling through this office. A hard man in a deal but
+reasonable in other things. I've had his acquaintance for five years,
+lunched with him, dined with him--visited this place in Jersey, but I
+give you my word, Mr. Nichols, I've never yet got the prick of a pin
+beneath that man's skin. You may not like him. Few people do. But
+there's no harm in taking a try at this job."
+
+"I shall be delighted," said Nichols.
+
+"I don't know whether you will or not," broke in Sheldon, Senior,
+frankly. "Something's happened lately. About three weeks ago Jonathan K.
+McGuire came into this office hurriedly, shut the door behind him,
+locked it--and sank into a chair, puffing hard, his face the color of
+putty. He wouldn't answer any questions and put me off, though I'd have
+gone out of my way to help him. But after a while he looked out of the
+window, phoned for his car and went again, saying he was going down into
+Jersey."
+
+"He was sick, perhaps," ventured Peter.
+
+"It was something worse than that, Mr. Nichols. He looked as though he
+had seen a ghost or heard a banshee. Then this comes," continued the
+broker, taking up a letter from the desk. "Asks for a forester, a good
+strong man. You're strong, Mr. Nichols? Er--and courageous? You're not
+addicted to 'nerves'? You see I'm telling you all these things so that
+you'll go down to Black Rock with your eyes open. He also asks me to
+engage other men as private police or gamekeepers, who will act under
+your direction. Queer, isn't it? Rather spooky, I'd say, but if you're
+game, we'll close the bargain now. Three hundred a month to start with
+and found. Is that satisfactory?"
+
+"Perfectly," said Peter with a bow. "When do I begin?"
+
+"At once if you like. Salary begins now. Fifty in advance for expenses."
+
+"That's fair enough, Mr. Sheldon. If you will give me the directions, I
+will go to-day."
+
+"To-morrow will be time enough." Sheldon, Senior, had turned to his desk
+and was writing upon a slip of paper. This he handed to Peter with a
+check.
+
+"That will show you how to get there," he said as he rose, brusquely.
+"Glad to have met you. Good-day."
+
+And Peter felt himself hand-shaken and pushed at the same time, reaching
+the outer office, mentally out of breath from the sudden, swift movement
+of his fortunes. Sheldon, Senior, had not meant to be abrupt. He was
+merely a business man relaxing for a moment to do a service for a
+friend. When Peter Nichols awoke to his obligations he sought out
+Sheldon, Junior, and thanked him with a sense of real gratitude and
+Sheldon, Junior, gave him a warm handclasp and Godspeed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Pennsylvania Station caused the new Superintendent of Jonathan K.
+McGuire to blink and gasp. He paused, suit case in hand, at the top of
+the double flight of stairs to survey the splendid proportions of the
+waiting room where the crowds seemed lost in its great spaces. In Europe
+such a building would be a cathedral. In America it was a railway
+station. And the thought was made more definite by the Gregorian chant
+of the train announcer which sounded aloft, its tones seeking concord
+among their own echoes.
+
+This was the portal to the new life in which Peter was to work out his
+own salvation and the splendor of the immediate prospect uplifted him
+with a sense of his personal importance in the new scheme of things of
+which this was a part. He hadn't the slightest doubt that he would be
+able to succeed in the work for which he had been recommended, for apart
+from his music--which had taken so many of his hours--there was nothing
+that he knew more about or loved better than the trees. He had provided
+himself the afternoon before with two books by American authorities and
+other books and monographs were to be forwarded to his new address.
+
+As he descended the stairs and reached the main floor of the station,
+his glance caught the gaze of a man staring at him intently. The man was
+slender and dark, dressed decently enough in a gray suit and soft hat
+and wore a small black mustache. All of these facts Peter took note of
+in the one glance, arrested by the strange stare of the other, which
+lingered while Peter glanced away and went on. Peter, who had an
+excellent memory for faces, was sure that he had never seen the man
+before, but after he had taken a few steps, it occurred to him that in
+the stranger's eyes he had noted the startled distention of surprise and
+recognition. And so he stopped and turned, but as he did so the fellow
+dropped his gaze suddenly, and turned and walked away. The incident was
+curious and rather interesting. If Peter had had more time he would have
+sought out the fellow and asked him why he was staring at him, but
+there were only a few moments to spare and he made his way out to the
+concourse where he found his gate and descended to his train. Here he
+ensconced himself comfortably in the smoking car, and was presently shot
+under the Hudson River (as he afterwards discovered) and out into the
+sunshine of the flats of New Jersey.
+
+He rolled smoothly along through the manufacturing and agricultural
+districts, his keenly critical glances neglecting nothing of the waste
+and abundance on all sides. He saw, too, the unlovely evidences of
+poverty on the outskirts of the cities, which brought to his mind other
+communities in a far country whose physical evidences of prosperity were
+no worse, if no better, than these. Then there came a catch in his
+throat and a gasp which left him staring but seeing nothing. The feeling
+was not nostalgia, for that far country was no home for him now. At last
+he found himself muttering to himself in English, "My home--my home is
+here."
+
+After a while the mood of depression, recurrent moments of which had
+come to him in New York with diminishing frequency, passed into one of
+contemplation, of calm, like those which had followed his nights of
+passion on the Dnieper, and at last he closed his eyes and dozed.
+Visions of courts and camps passed through his mind--of brilliant
+uniforms and jeweled decorations; of spacious polished halls,
+resplendent with ornate mirrors and crystal pendant chandeliers; of
+diamond coronets, of silks and satins and powdered flunkies. And then
+other visions of gray figures crouched in the mud; of rain coming out of
+the dark and of ominous lights over the profile of low hills; of
+shrieks; of shells and cries of terror; of his cousin, a tall, bearded
+man on a horse in a ravine waving an imperious arm; of confusion and
+moving thousands, the creak of sanitars, the groans of men calling upon
+mothers they would never see. And then with a leap backward over the
+years, the vision of a small man huddled against the wall of a courtyard
+being knouted until red stains appeared on his gray blouse and then
+mingled faintly in the mist and the rain until the small man sank to the
+full length of his imprisoned arms like one crucified....
+
+Peter Nichols straightened and passed a hand across his damp forehead.
+Through the perspective of this modern civilization what had been
+passing before his vision seemed very vague, very distant, but he knew
+that it was not a dream....
+
+All about him was life, progress, industry, hope--a nation in the
+making, proud of her brief history which had been built around an ideal.
+If he could bring this same ideal back to Russia! In his heart he
+thanked God for America--imperfect though she was, and made a vow that
+in the task he had set for himself he should not be found wanting.
+
+Twice he changed trains, the second time at a small junction amid an
+ugliness of clay-pits and brickyards and dust and heat. There were
+perhaps twenty people on the platform. He walked the length of the
+station and as he did so a man in a gray suit disappeared around the
+corner of the building. But Peter Nichols did not see him, and in a
+moment, seated in his new train in a wooden car which reminded him of
+some of the ancient rolling stock of the St. Petersburg and Moscow
+Railroad, he was taken haltingly and noisily along the last stage of his
+journey.
+
+But he was aware of the familiar odor of the pine balsam in his
+nostrils, and as he rolled through dark coverts the scent of the growing
+things in the hidden places in the coolth and damp of the sandy loam. He
+saw, too, tea-colored streams idling among the sedges and charred
+wildernesses of trees appealing mutely with their blackened stumps like
+wounded creatures in pain, a bit of war-torn Galicia in the midst of
+peace. Miles and miles of dead forest land, forgotten and uncared for.
+There was need here for his services.
+
+With a wheeze of steam and a loud crackling of woodwork and creaking of
+brakes the train came to a stop and the conductor shouted the name of
+the station. Rather stiffly the traveler descended with his bag and
+stood upon the small platform looking about him curiously. The baggage
+man tossed out a bundle of newspapers and a pouch of mail and the train
+moved off. Apparently Peter Nichols was the only passenger with Pickerel
+River as a destination.
+
+And as the panting train went around a curve, at last disappearing, it
+seemed fairly reasonable to Peter Nichols that no one with the slightest
+chance of stopping off anywhere else would wish to get off here. The
+station was small, of but one room and a tiny office containing, as he
+could see, a telegraph instrument, a broken chair with a leather
+cushion, a shelf and a rack containing a few soiled slips of paper, but
+the office had no occupant and the door was locked. This perhaps
+explained the absence of the automobile which Mr. Sheldon had informed
+him would meet him in obedience to his telegram announcing the hour of
+his arrival. Neither within the building nor without was there any
+person or animate thing in sight, except some small birds fluttering and
+quarreling along the telegraph wires.
+
+There was but one road, a sandy one, wearing marks of travel, which
+emerged from the scrub oak and pine and definitely concluded at the
+railroad track. This, then, was his direction, and after reassuring
+himself that there was no other means of egress, he took up his black
+suitcase and set forth into the wood, aware of a sense of beckoning
+adventure. The road wound in and out, up and down, over what at one time
+must have been the floor of the ocean, which could not be far distant.
+Had it not been for the weight of his bag Peter would have enjoyed the
+experience of this complete isolation, the fragrant silences broken only
+by the whisper of the leaves and the scurrying of tiny wild things among
+the dead tree branches. But he had no means of knowing how far he would
+have to travel or whether, indeed, there had not been some mistake on
+Sheldon, Senior's, part or his own. But the directions had been quite
+clear and the road must of course lead somewhere--to some village or
+settlement at least where he could get a lodging for the night.
+
+And so he trudged on through the woods which already seemed to be
+partaking of some of the mystery which surrounded the person of Jonathan
+K. McGuire. The whole incident had been unusual and the more interesting
+because of the strange character of his employer and the evident fear he
+had of some latent evil which threatened him. But Peter Nichols had
+accepted his commission with a sense of profound relief at escaping the
+other fate that awaited him, with scarcely a thought of the dangers
+which his acceptance might entail. He was not easily frightened and had
+welcomed the new adventure, dismissing the fears of Jonathan K. McGuire
+as imaginary, the emanations of age or an uneasy conscience.
+
+But as he went on, his bag became heavier and the perspiration poured
+down his face, so reaching a cross-path that seemed to show signs of
+recent travel he put the suitcase down and sat on it while he wiped his
+brow. The shadows were growing longer. He was beginning to believe that
+there was no such place as Black Rock, no such person as Jonathan K.
+McGuire and that Sheldon, Senior, and Sheldon, Junior, were engaged in a
+conspiracy against his peace of mind, when above the now familiar
+whisperings of the forest he heard a new sound. Faintly it came at first
+as though from a great distance, mingling with the murmur of the
+sighing wind in the pine trees, a voice singing. It seemed a child's
+voice--delicate, clear, true, as care-free as the note of a
+bird--unleashing its joy to the heavens.
+
+Peter Nichols started up, listening more intently. The sounds were
+coming nearer but he couldn't tell from which direction, for every leaf
+seemed to be taking up the lovely melody which he could hear quite
+clearly now. It was an air with which he was unfamiliar, but he knew
+only that it was elemental in its simplicity and under these
+circumstances startlingly welcome. He waited another long moment,
+listening, found the direction from which the voice was coming, and
+presently noted the swaying of branches and the crackling of dry twigs
+in the path near by, from which, in a moment, a strange figure emerged.
+
+At first he thought it was a boy, for it wore a pair of blue denim
+overalls and a wide-brimmed straw hat, from beneath which the birdlike
+notes were still emitted, but as the figure paused at the sight of him,
+the song suddenly ceased--he saw a tumbled mass of tawny hair and a pair
+of startled blue eyes staring at him.
+
+"Hello," said the figure, after a moment, recovering its voice.
+
+"Good-afternoon," said Peter Nichols, bowing from the waist in the most
+approved Continental manner. You see he, too, was a little startled by
+the apparition, which proclaimed itself beneath its strange garments in
+unmistakable terms to be both feminine and lovely.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE OVERALL GIRL
+
+
+They stood for a long moment regarding each other, both in curiosity;
+Peter because of the contrariety of the girl's face and garments, the
+girl because of Peter's bow, which was the most extraordinary thing that
+had ever happened in Burlington County. After a pause, a smile which
+seemed to have been hovering uncertainly around the corners of her lips
+broke into a frank grin, disclosing dimples and a row of white teeth,
+the front ones not quite together.
+
+"Could you tell me," asked Peter very politely as he found his voice,
+"if this road leads to Black Rock?"
+
+She was still scrutinizing him, her head, birdlike, upon one side.
+
+"That depends on which way you're walkin'," she said.
+
+She dropped her "g" with careless ease, but then Peter had noticed that
+many Americans and English people, some very nice ones, did that.
+
+Peter glanced at the girl and then down the road in both directions.
+
+"Oh, yes, of course," he said, not sure whether she was smiling at or
+with him. "I came from a station called Pickerel River and I wish to go
+to Black Rock."
+
+"You're _sure_ you want to go there?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+"I guess that's because you've never been to Black Rock, Mister."
+
+"No, I haven't."
+
+The girl picked a shrub and nibbled at it daintily.
+
+"You'd better turn and go right back." Her sentence finished in a shrug.
+
+"What's the matter with Black Rock?" he asked curiously.
+
+"It's just the little end of nothin'. That's all," she finished
+decisively.
+
+The quaint expression interested him. "I must get there, nevertheless,"
+he said; "is it far from here?"
+
+"Depends on what you call far. Mile or so. Didn't the 'Lizzie' meet the
+six-thirty?"
+
+Peter stared at her vacuously, for this was Greek.
+
+"The 'Lizzie'?"
+
+"The tin 'Lizzie'--Jim Hagerman's bus--carries the mail and papers.
+Sometimes he gives me a lift about here."
+
+"No. There was no conveyance of any sort and I really expected one. I
+wish to get to Mr. Jonathan K. McGuire's."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+The girl had been examining Peter furtively, as though trying vainly to
+place him definitely in her mental collection of human bipeds. Now she
+stared at him with interest.
+
+"Oh, you're goin' to McGuire's!"
+
+Peter nodded. "If I can ever find the way."
+
+"You're one of the new detectives?"
+
+"Detective!" Peter laughed. "No. Not that I'm aware. I'm the new
+superintendent and forester."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+The girl was visibly impressed, but a tiny frown puckered her brow.
+
+"What's a forester?" she asked.
+
+"A fellow who looks after the forests."
+
+"The forests don't need any lookin' after out here in the barrens. They
+just grow."
+
+"I'm going to teach them to grow better."
+
+The girl looked at him for a long moment of suspicion. She had taken off
+her hat and the ruddy sunlight behind her made a golden halo all about
+her head. Her hands he had noted were small, the fingers slender. Her
+nose was well shaped, her nostrils wide, the angle of her jaw firmly
+modeled and her slender figure beneath the absurd garments revealed both
+strength and grace. But he did not dare to stare at her too hard or to
+question her as to her garments. For all that Peter knew it might be the
+custom of Burlington County for women to wear blue denim trousers.
+
+And her next question took him off his guard.
+
+"You city folk don't think much of yourselves, do you?"
+
+"I don't exactly understand what you mean," said Peter politely, marking
+the satirical note.
+
+"To think you can make these trees grow better!" she sniffed.
+
+"Oh, I'm just going to help them to help themselves."
+
+"That's God's job, Master."
+
+Peter smiled. She wouldn't have understood, he thought, so what was the
+use of explaining. There must have been a superior quality in Peter's
+smile, for the girl put on her hat and came down into the road.
+
+"I'm goin' to Black Rock," she said stiffly, "follow me." And she went
+off with a quick stride down the road.
+
+Peter Nichols took up his bag and started, with difficulty getting to a
+place beside her.
+
+"If you don't mind," he said, "I'd much rather walk with you than behind
+you."
+
+She shrugged a shoulder at him.
+
+"Suit yourself," she said.
+
+In this position, Peter made the discovery that her profile was quite as
+interesting as her full face, but she no longer smiled. Her reference to
+the Deity entirely eliminated Peter and the profession of forestry from
+the pale of useful things. He was sorry that she no longer smiled
+because he had decided to make friends at Black Rock and he didn't want
+to make a bad beginning.
+
+"I hope you don't mind," said Peter at last, "if I tell you that you
+have one of the loveliest voices that I have ever heard."
+
+He marked with pleasure the sudden flush of color that ran up under her
+delicately freckled tan. Her lips parted and she turned to him
+hesitating.
+
+"You--you heard me!"
+
+"I did. It was like the voice of an angel in Heaven."
+
+"Angel! Oh! I'm sorry. I--I didn't know any one was there. I just sing
+on my way home from work."
+
+"You've been working to-day?"
+
+She nodded. "Yes--Farmerettin'."
+
+"Farmer----?"
+
+"Workin' in the vineyard at Gaskill's."
+
+"Oh, I see. Do you like it?"
+
+"No," she said dryly. "I just do it for my health. Don't I look sick?"
+
+Peter wasn't used to having people make fun of him. Even as a waiter he
+had managed to preserve his dignity intact. But he smiled at her.
+
+"I was wondering what had become of the men around here."
+
+"They're so busy walkin' from one place to another to see where they can
+get the highest wages, that there's no time to work in between."
+
+"I see," said Peter, now really amused. "And does Mr. Jonathan McGuire
+have difficulty in getting men to work for him?"
+
+"Most of his hired help come from away--like you----But lately they
+haven't been stayin' long."
+
+"Why?"
+
+She slowed her pace a little and turned to look at him curiously.
+
+"Do you mean that you don't know the kind of a job you've got?"
+
+"Not much," admitted Peter. "In addition to looking after the preserve,
+I'm to watch after the men--and obey orders, I suppose."
+
+"H-m. Preserve! Sorry, Mr. what's your name----"
+
+"Peter Nichols----" put in Peter promptly.
+
+"Well, Mr. Peter Nichols, all I have to say is that you're apt to have a
+hard time."
+
+"Yes, I'm against it!" translated Peter confidently.
+
+The girl stopped in the middle of the road, put her hands on her hips
+and laughed up at the purpling sky. Her laugh was much like her
+singing--if angels in Paradise laugh (and why shouldn't they?). Then
+while he wondered what was so amusing she looked at him again.
+
+"_Up_ against it, you mean. You're English, aren't you?"
+
+"Er--yes--I am."
+
+"I thought so. There was one of you in the glass factory. He always
+muffed the easy ones."
+
+"Oh, you work in a glass factory?"
+
+"Winters. Manufacturin' whiskey and beer bottles. Now we're goin' dry,
+they'll be makin' pop and nursin' bottles, I guess."
+
+"Do you help in the factory?"
+
+"Yes, and in the office. I can shorthand and type a little."
+
+"You must be glad when a summer comes."
+
+"I am. In winter I can't turn around without breakin' something. They
+dock you for that----"
+
+"And that's why you sing when you can't break anythin'?"
+
+"I suppose so. I like the open. It isn't right to be cooped up."
+
+They were getting along beautifully and Peter was even beginning to
+forget the weight of his heavy bag. She was a quaint creature and quite
+as unconscious of him as though he hadn't existed. He was just somebody
+to talk to. Peter ventured.
+
+"Er--would you mind telling me your name?"
+
+She looked at him and laughed friendly.
+
+"You must have swallowed a catechism, Mr. Nichols. But everybody in
+Black Rock knows everybody else--more'n they want to, I guess. There's
+no reason I shouldn't tell you. I don't mind your knowin'. My name is
+Beth Cameron."
+
+"Beth----?"
+
+"Yes, Bess--the minister had a lisp."
+
+Peter didn't lack a sense of humor.
+
+"Funny, isn't it?" she queried with a smile as he laughed, "bein' tied
+up for life to a name like that just because the parson couldn't talk
+straight."
+
+"Beth," he repeated, "but I like it. It's like you. I hope you'll let me
+come to see you when I get settled."
+
+"H-m," she said quizzically. "You don't believe in wastin' your time, do
+you?" And then, after a brief pause, "You know they call us Pineys back
+here in the barrens, but just the same we think a lot of ourselves and
+we're a little offish with city folks. You can't be too particular
+nowadays about the kind of people you go with."
+
+Peter stared at her and grinned, his sense of the situation more keenly
+touched than she could be aware of.
+
+"Particular, are you? I'm glad of that. All the more credit to me if
+you'll be my friend."
+
+"I didn't say I was your friend."
+
+"But you're going to be, aren't you? I know something about singing.
+I've studied music. Perhaps I could help you."
+
+"You! You've studied? Lord of Love! You're not lyin', are you?"
+
+He laughed. "No. I'm not lying. I was educated to be a musician."
+
+She stared at him now with a new look in her eyes but said nothing. So
+Peter spoke again.
+
+"Do you mean to say you've never thought of studying singing?"
+
+"Oh, yes," she said slowly at last, "I've thought of it, just as I've
+thought of goin' in the movies and makin' a million dollars. Lots of
+good _thinkin'_ does!"
+
+"You've thought of the movies?"
+
+"Yes, once. A girl went from the glass factory. She does extra ladies.
+She visited back here last winter. I didn't like what it did to her."
+
+"Oh!" Peter was silent for a while, aware of the pellucid meaning of her
+"it." He was learning quite as much from what she didn't say as from
+what she did. But he evaded the line of thought suggested.
+
+"You do get tired of Black Rock then?"
+
+"I would if I had time. I'm pretty busy all day, and--see
+here--Mr.--er--Nichols. If I asked as many questions as you do, I'd know
+as much as Daniel Webster."
+
+"I'm sorry," said Peter, "I beg your pardon."
+
+They walked on in silence for a few moments, Peter puzzling his brain
+over the extraordinary creature that chance had thrown in his way. He
+could see that she was quite capable of looking out for herself and that
+if her smattering of sophistication had opened her eyes, it hadn't much
+harmed her.
+
+He really wanted to ask her many more questions, but to tell the truth
+he was a little in awe of her dry humor which had a kind of primitive
+omniscience and of her laughter which he was now sure was more _at_,
+than with, him. But he had, in spite of her, peered for a moment into
+the hidden places of her mind and spirit.
+
+It was this intrusion that she resented and he could hardly blame her,
+since they had met only eighteen minutes ago. She trotted along beside
+him as though quite unaware of the sudden silence or of the thoughts
+that might have been passing in his mind. It was Beth who broke the
+silence.
+
+"Is your bag heavy?" she asked.
+
+"Not at all," said Peter, mopping the perspiration from his forehead.
+"But aren't we nearly there?"
+
+"Oh, yes. It's just a mile or so."
+
+Peter dropped his bag.
+
+"That's what you said it was, back there."
+
+"Did I? Well, maybe it isn't so far as that now. Let me carry your bag a
+while."
+
+Thus taunted, he rose, took the bag in his left hand and followed.
+
+"City folks aren't much on doin' for themselves, are they? The taxi
+system is very poor down here yet."
+
+Her face was expressionless, but he knew that she was laughing at him.
+He knew also that his bag weighed more than any army pack. It seemed too
+that she was walking much faster than she had done before--also that
+there was malicious humor in the smile she now turned on him.
+
+"Seems a pity to have such a long walk--with nothin' at the end of it."
+
+"I don't mind it in the least," gasped Peter. "And if you don't object
+to my asking you just one more question," he went on grimly, "I'd like
+you to tell me what is frightening Mr. Jonathan K. McGuire?"
+
+"Oh, McGuire. I don't know. Nobody does. He's been here a couple of
+weeks now, cooped up in the big house. Never comes out. They say he
+sees ghosts and things."
+
+"Ghosts!"
+
+She nodded. "He's hired some of the men around here to keep watch for
+them and they say some detectives are coming. You'll help too, I guess."
+
+"That should be easy."
+
+"Maybe. I don't know. My aunt works there. She's housekeeper. It's
+spooky, she says, but she can't afford to quit."
+
+"But they haven't _seen_ anything?" asked Peter incredulously.
+
+"No. Not yet. I guess it might relieve 'em some if they did. It's only
+the things you don't see that scare you."
+
+"It sounds like a great deal of nonsense about nothing," muttered Peter.
+
+"All right. Wait until you get there before you do much talkin'."
+
+"I will, but I'm not afraid of ghosts." And then, as an afterthought,
+"Are you?"
+
+"Not in daylight. But from what Aunt Tillie says, it must be something
+more than a ghost that's frightenin' Jonathan K. McGuire."
+
+"What does she think it is?"
+
+"She doesn't know. Mr. McGuire won't say. He won't allow anybody around
+the house without a pass. Oh, he's scared all right and he's got most of
+Black Rock scared too. He was never like this before."
+
+"Are you scared?" asked Peter.
+
+"No. I don't think I am really. But it's spooky, and I don't care much
+for shootin'."
+
+"What makes you think there will be shooting?"
+
+"On account of the guns and pistols. Whatever the thing is he's afraid
+of, he's not goin' to let it come near him if he can help it. Aunt
+Tillie says that what with loaded rifles, shotguns and pistols lyin'
+loose in every room in the house, it's as much as your life is worth to
+do a bit of dustin'. And the men--Shad Wells, Jesse Brown, they all
+carry automatics. First thing they know they'll be killin' somebody,"
+she finished with conviction.
+
+"Who is Shad Wells----?"
+
+"My cousin, Shadrack E. Wells. He was triplets. The other two died."
+
+"Shad," mused Peter.
+
+"Sounds like a fish, doesn't it? But he isn't." And then more slowly,
+"Shad's all right. He's just a plain woodsman, but he doesn't know
+anything about making the trees grow," she put in with prim irony.
+"You'll be his boss, I guess. He won't care much about that."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because he's been runnin' things in a way. I hope you get along with
+him."
+
+"So do I----"
+
+"Because if you don't, Shad will eat you at one gobble."
+
+"Oh!" said Peter with a smile. "But perhaps you exaggerate. Don't you
+think I might take two--er--gobbles?"
+
+Beth looked him over, and then smiled encouragingly.
+
+"Maybe," she said, "but your hands don't look over-strong."
+
+Peter looked at his right hand curiously. It was not as brown as hers,
+but the fingers were long and sinewy.
+
+"They are, though. When you practice five hours a day on the piano, your
+hands will do almost anything you want them to."
+
+A silence which Peter improved by shifting his suitcase. The weight of
+it had ceased to be amusing. And he was about to ask her how much
+further Black Rock was when there was a commotion down the road ahead of
+them, as a dark object emerged from around the bend and amid a whirl of
+dust an automobile appeared.
+
+"It's the 'Lizzie'," exclaimed Beth unemotionally.
+
+And in a moment the taxi service of Black Rock was at Peter's disposal.
+
+"Carburetor trouble," explained the soiled young man at the wheel
+briefly, without apology. And with a glance at Peter's bag--
+
+"Are you the man for McGuire's on the six-thirty?"
+
+Peter admitted that he was and the boy swung the door of the tonneau
+open.
+
+"In here with me, Beth," he said to the girl invitingly.
+
+In a moment, the small machine was whirled around and started in the
+direction from which it had come, bouncing Peter from side to side and
+enveloping him in dust. Jim Hagerman's "Lizzie" wasted no time, once it
+set about doing a thing, and in a few moments from the forest they
+emerged into a clearing where there were cows in a meadow, and a view of
+houses. At the second of these, a frame house with a portico covered
+with vines and a small yard with a geranium bed, all enclosed in a
+picket fence, the "Lizzie" suddenly stopped and Beth got down.
+
+"Much obliged, Jim," he heard her say.
+
+Almost before Peter had swept off his hat and the girl had nodded, the
+"Lizzie" was off again, through the village street, and so to a wooden
+bridge across a tea-colored stream, up a slight grade on the other side,
+where Jim Hagerman stopped his machine and pointed to a road.
+
+"That's McGuire's--in the pines. They won't let me go no further."
+
+"How much do I owe you?" asked Peter, getting down.
+
+"It's paid for, Mister. Slam the door, will ye?" And in another moment
+Peter was left alone.
+
+It was now after sunset, and the depths of the wood were bathed in
+shadow. Peter took the road indicated and in a moment reached two stone
+pillars where a man was standing. Beyond the man he had a glimpse of
+lawns, a well-kept driveway which curved toward the wood. The man at the
+gate was of about Peter's age but tall and angular, well tanned by
+exposure and gave an appearance of intelligence and capacity.
+
+"I came to see Mr. McGuire," said Peter amiably.
+
+"And what's your name?"
+
+"Nichols. I'm the new forester from New York."
+
+The young man at the gate smiled in a satirical way.
+
+"Nichols. That was the name," he ruminated. And then with a shout to
+some one in the woods below, "Hey, Andy. Come take the gate."
+
+All the while Peter felt the gaze of the young man going over him
+minutely and found himself wondering whether or not this was the person
+who was going to take him at a gobble.
+
+It was. For when the other man came running Peter heard him call the
+gateman, "Shad."
+
+"Are you Mr. Shad Wells?" asked Peter politely with the pleasant air of
+one who has made an agreeable discovery.
+
+"That's my name. Who told you?"
+
+"Miss Beth Cameron," replied Peter. "We came part of the way together."
+
+"H-m! Come," he said laconically and led the way up the road toward the
+house. Peter didn't think he was very polite.
+
+Had it not been for the precautions of his guide, Peter would have been
+willing quite easily to forget the tales that had been told him of Black
+Rock. The place was very prettily situated in the midst of a very fine
+growth of pines, spruce and maple. At one side ran the tea-colored
+stream, tumbling over an ancient dam to levels below, where it joined
+the old race below the ruin that had once been a mill. The McGuire
+house emerged in a moment from its woods and shrubbery, and stood
+revealed--a plain square Georgian dwelling of brick, to which had been
+added a long wing in a poor imitation of the same style and a garage and
+stables in no style at all on the slope beyond. It seemed a most prosaic
+place even in the gathering dusk and Peter seemed quite unable to
+visualize it as the center of a mystery such as had been described. And
+the laconic individual who had been born triplets was even less
+calculated to carry out such an illusion.
+
+But just as they were crossing the lawn on the approach to the house,
+the earth beneath a clump of bushes vomited forth two men, like the
+fruit of the Dragon's Teeth, armed with rifles, who barred their way.
+Both men were grinning from ear to ear.
+
+"All right, Jesse," said Shad with a laugh. "It's me and the new
+forester." He uttered the words with an undeniable accent of contempt.
+
+The armed figures glanced at Peter and disappeared, and Peter and Mr.
+Shad Wells went up the steps of the house to a spacious portico. There
+was not a human being in sight and the heavy wooden blinds to the lower
+floor were tightly shut. Before his guide had even reached the door the
+sound of their footsteps had aroused some one within the house, the door
+was opened the length of its chain and a face appeared at the aperture.
+
+"Who is it?" asked a male voice.
+
+"Shad Wells and Mr. Nichols, the man from New York."
+
+"Wait a minute," was the reply while the door was immediately shut
+again.
+
+Peter glanced around him comparing this strange situation with another
+that he remembered, when a real terror had come, a tangible terror in
+the shape of a countryside gone mad with blood lust. He smiled toward
+the bush where the armed men lay concealed and toward the gate where
+the other armed man was standing. It was all so like a situation out of
+an _opera bouffe_ of Offenbach.
+
+What he felt now in this strange situation was an intense curiosity to
+learn the meaning of it all, to meet the mysterious person around whom
+all these preparations centered. Peter had known fear many times, for
+fear was in the air for weeks along the Russian front, the fear of
+German shells, of poison gas, and of that worst poison of all--Russian
+treachery. But that fear was not like this fear, which was intimate,
+personal but intangible. He marked it in the scrutiny of the man who
+opened the door and of the aged woman who suddenly appeared beside him
+in the dim hallway and led him noiselessly up the stair to a lighted
+room upon the second floor. At the doorway the woman paused.
+
+"Mr. Nichols, Mr. McGuire," she said, and Peter entered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE JOB
+
+
+The room was full of tobacco smoke, through which Peter dimly made out a
+table with an oil lamp, beside which were chairs, a sofa, and beyond, a
+steel safe between the windows. As Peter Nichols entered, a man advanced
+from a window at the side, the shutter of which was slightly ajar. It
+was evident that not content to leave his safety in the hands of those
+he had employed to preserve it, he had been watching too.
+
+He was in his shirt sleeves, a man of medium height, compactly built,
+and well past the half century mark. The distinguishing features of his
+face were a short nose, a heavy thatch of brows, a square jaw which
+showed the need of the offices of a razor and his lips wore a short,
+square mustache somewhat stained by nicotine.
+
+In point of eagerness the manner of his greeting of the newcomer left
+nothing to be desired. Peter's first impression was that Jonathan K.
+McGuire was quite able to look out for himself, which confirmed the
+impression that the inspection to which Peter had been subjected was
+nothing but a joke. But when his employer began speaking rather jerkily,
+Peter noticed that his hands were unsteady and that neither the muscles
+of his face nor of his body were under complete control. Normally, he
+would have seemed much as Sheldon, Senior, had described him--a
+hard-fisted man, a close bargainer who had won his way to his great
+wealth by the sheer force of a strong personality. There was little of
+softness in his face, little that was imaginative. This was not a man
+to be frightened at the Unseen or to see terrors that did not exist.
+Otherwise, to Peter he seemed commonplace to the last degree, of Irish
+extraction probably, the kind of person one meets daily on Broadway or
+on the Strand. In a fur coat he might have been taken for a banker; in
+tweeds, for a small tradesman; or in his shirt as Peter now saw him, the
+wristbands and collar somewhat soiled from perspiration, for a laboring
+man taking his rest after an arduous day. In other words, he was very
+much what his clothes would make of him, betraying his origins in a
+rather strident voice meant perhaps to conceal the true state of his
+mind.
+
+"Glad to see you, Mr. Nichols. Thought you were never comin'," he jerked
+out.
+
+"I walked most of the way from Pickerel River. Something went wrong,
+with the 'Lizzie.'"
+
+"Oh--er--'Lizzie'. The flivver! I couldn't send my own car. I've got
+only one down here and I might need it."
+
+"It doesn't matter in the least--since I'm here."
+
+"Sit down, Mr. Nichols," went on McGuire indicating a chair. "You've
+been well recommended by Mr. Sheldon. I talked to him yesterday over
+long distance. He told you what I wanted?"
+
+"Something. Not much," said Peter with a view to getting all the
+information possible. "You wanted a forester----?"
+
+"Er--er--yes, that's it. A forester." And then he went on
+haltingly--"I've got about twenty thousand acres here--mostly scrub
+oak--pine and spruce. I've sold off a lot to the Government. A mess of
+it has been cut--there's been a lot of waste--and the fire season is
+coming around. That's the big job--the all-the-year job. You've had
+experience?"
+
+"Yes--in Russia. I'm a trained woodsman."
+
+"You're a good all-round man?"
+
+"Exactly what----?" began Peter.
+
+"You know how to look after yourself--to look after other men, to take
+charge of a considerable number of people in my employ?"
+
+"Yes. I'm used to dealing with men."
+
+"It's a big job, Mr. Nichols--a ticklish kind of a job for a
+furriner--one with some--er--unusual features--that may call for--er--a
+lot of tact. And--er--courage."
+
+It seemed to Peter that Jonathan K. McGuire was talking almost at
+random, that the general topic of forestry was less near his heart
+to-night than the one that was uppermost in Peter's mind, the mystery
+that surrounded his employer and the agencies invoked to protect him. It
+seemed as if he were loath to speak of them, as if he were holding Peter
+off at arm's length, so to say, until he had fully made up his mind that
+this and no other man was the one he wanted, for all the while he was
+examining the visitor with burning, beady, gray eyes, as though trying
+to peer into his mind.
+
+"I'm not afraid of a forester's job, no matter how big it is, if I have
+men enough," said Peter, still curious.
+
+"And you're a pretty good man in a pinch, I mean----" he put in jerkily,
+"you're not easy scared--don't lose your nerve."
+
+"I'll take my chances on that," replied Peter calmly. "I'm used to
+commanding men, in emergencies--if that's what you mean."
+
+"Yes. That's what I mean. Er--you're an Englishman, Mr. Sheldon says."
+
+"Er--yes," said Peter, "an Englishman," for this was the truth now more
+than ever before, and then repeated the story he had told in New York
+about his work in Russia. While Peter was talking, McGuire was pacing up
+and down the room with short nervous strides, nodding his head in
+understanding from time to time. When Peter paused he returned to his
+chair.
+
+"You British are a pretty steady lot," said McGuire at last. "I think
+you'll do. I like the way you talk and I like your looks. Younger than
+I'd hoped maybe, but then you're strong--Mr. Sheldon says you're strong,
+Mr. Nichols."
+
+"Oh, yes," said Peter, his curiosity now getting the better of him. "But
+it might be as well, Mr. McGuire, if you let me know just what, that is
+unusual, is to be required of me. I assume that you want me to take
+command of the men policing your grounds--and immediate property?"
+
+"Er--yes. That will have to be put in shape at once--at once." He leaned
+suddenly forward in his chair, his hairy hands clutching at his knees,
+while he blurted out with a kind of relieved tension, "No one must come
+near the house at night. No one, you understand----"
+
+"I understand, sir----" said Peter, waiting patiently for a revelation.
+
+"There'll be no excuse if any one gets near the house without my
+permission," he snarled. And then almost sullenly again--"You
+understand?"
+
+"Perfectly. That should not be difficult to----"
+
+"It may be more difficult than you think," broke in McGuire, springing
+to his feet again, and jerking out his phrases with strange fury.
+
+"Nothing is to be taken for granted. Nothing," he raged. Peter was
+silent for a moment, watching McGuire who had paced the length of the
+room and back.
+
+"I understand, sir," he said at last. "But doesn't it seem to you that
+both I and the man under me could do our work with more intelligence if
+we knew just who or what is to be guarded against?" Mr. McGuire stopped
+beside him as though transfixed by the thought. Then his fingers
+clutched at the back of a chair to which he clung for a moment in
+silence, his brows beetling. And when he spoke all the breath of his
+body seemed concentrated in a hoarse whisper.
+
+"You won't know that. You understand, I give the orders. You obey them.
+I am not a man who answers questions. Don't ask them."
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon. So long as this thing you fear is human----"
+
+"Human! A ghost! Who said I was afraid? Sheldon? Let him think it. This
+is _my_ business. There are many things of value in this house," and he
+glanced towards the safe. "I'm using the right of any man to protect
+what belongs to him."
+
+"I see," said Peter.
+
+The man's tension relaxed as he realized Peter's coolness.
+
+"Call it a fancy if you like, Mr. Nichols----" he said with a shrug. "A
+man of my age may have fancies when he can afford to gratify 'em."
+
+"That's your affair," said Peter easily. "I take it then that the
+systematic policing of the grounds is the first thing I am to consider."
+
+"Exactly. The systematic policing of the grounds--the dividing of your
+men into shifts for day and night work--more at night than in the day.
+Three more men come to-morrow. They will all look to you for orders."
+
+"And who is in charge now?"
+
+"A man named Wells--a native--the foreman from one of the sawmills--but
+he--er--well, Mr. Nichols--I'm not satisfied. That's why I wanted a man
+from outside."
+
+"I understand. And will you give the necessary orders to him?"
+
+"Wells was up here to-day, I told him."
+
+"How many men are on guard here at the house?"
+
+"Ten and with the three coming--that makes thirteen----" McGuire
+halted--"thirteen--but you make the fourteenth," he added.
+
+Peter nodded. "And you wish me to take charge at once?"
+
+"At once. To-night. To-morrow you can look over the ground more
+carefully. You'll sleep in the old playhouse--the log cabin--down by the
+creek. They'll show you. It's connected with this house by 'phone. I'll
+talk to you again to-morrow; you'd better go down and get something to
+eat."
+
+McGuire went to the door and called out "Tillie!"
+
+And as a faint reply was heard, "Get Mr. Nichols some supper."
+
+Peter rose and offered his hand.
+
+"I'll try to justify your faith in me, sir. Much obliged."
+
+"Good-night."
+
+Peter went down the stairs with mingled feelings. If the words of Beth
+Cameron had created in his mind a notion that the mystery surrounding
+Black Rock was supernatural in character, the interview with Jonathan K.
+McGuire had dispelled it. That McGuire was a very much frightened man
+was certain, but it seemed equally certain to Peter that what he feared
+was no ghost or banshee but the imminence of some human attack upon his
+person or possessions. Here was a practical man, who bore in every
+feature of his strongly-marked face the tokens of a successful struggle
+in a hard career, the beginnings of which could not have been any too
+fortunate. A westerner whose broad hands and twisted fingers spoke
+eloquently of manual labor, a man who still possessed to all appearances
+considerable physical strength--a prey to the fear of some night danger
+which was too ominous even to be talked about.
+
+It was the quality of his terror that was disturbing. Peter was well
+acquainted with the physical aspects of fear--that is the fear of
+violence and death. That kind of fear made men restless and nervous, or
+silent and preoccupied; or like liquor it accentuated their weaknesses
+of fiber in sullenness or bravado. But it did not make them furtive. He
+could not believe that it was the mere danger of death or physical
+violence that obsessed his employer. That sort of danger perhaps there
+might be, but the fear that he had seen in McGuire's fanatical gray eyes
+was born of something more than these. Whatever it was that McGuire
+feared, it reached further within--a threat which would destroy not his
+body alone, but something more vital even than that--the very spirit
+that lived within him.
+
+Of his career, Peter knew nothing more than Sheldon, Senior, had told
+him--a successful man who told nothing of his business except to the
+Treasury Department, a silent man, with a passion for making money. What
+could he fear? Whom? What specter out of the past could conjure up the
+visions he had seen dancing between McGuire's eyes and his own?
+
+These questions it seemed were not to be answered and Peter, as he sat
+down at the supper table, put them resolutely from his mind and
+addressed himself to the excellent meal provided by the housekeeper. For
+the present, at least, fortune smiled upon him. The terrors of his
+employer could not long prevail against the healthy appetite of
+six-and-twenty.
+
+But it was not long before Peter discovered that the atmosphere of the
+room upstairs pervaded the dining room, library and halls. There were a
+cook and housemaid he discovered, neither of them visible. The
+housekeeper, if attentive, was silent, and the man who had opened the
+front door, who seemed to be a kind of general factotum, as well as
+personal bodyguard to Mr. McGuire, crept furtively about the house in an
+unquiet manner which would have been disturbing to the digestion of one
+less timorous than Peter.
+
+Before the meal was finished this man came into the room and laid a
+police whistle, a large new revolver and a box of cartridges beside
+Peter's dish of strawberries.
+
+"These are for you, sir," he whispered sepulchrally. "Mr. McGuire asked
+me to give them to you--for to-night."
+
+"Thanks," said Peter, "and you----"
+
+"I'm Stryker, sir, Mr. McGuire's valet."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+Peter's accent of surprise came from his inability to reconcile Stryker
+with the soiled shirt and the three days' growth of beard on the man
+upstairs, which more than ever testified to the disorder of his mental
+condition.
+
+And as Stryker went out and his footsteps were heard no more, the
+housekeeper emerged cautiously from the pantry.
+
+"Is everything all right, Mr. Nichols?" she asked in a stage whisper.
+
+"Right as rain. Delicious! I'm very much obliged to you."
+
+"I mean--er--there ain't anythin' else ye'd like?"
+
+"Nothing, thanks," said Peter, taking up the revolver and breaking it.
+He had cut the cover of the cartridge box and had slipped a cartridge
+into the weapon when he heard the voice of the woman at his ear.
+
+"D'ye think there's any danger, sir?" she whispered, while she nervously
+eyed the weapon.
+
+"I'm sure I don't know. Not to you, I'd say," he muttered, still putting
+the cartridges in the pistol. As an ex-military man, he was taking
+great delight in the perfect mechanism of his new weapon.
+
+"What is it----? I mean, d'ye think----," she stammered, "did Mr.
+McGuire say--just what it is he's afraid of?"
+
+"No," said Peter, "he didn't." And then with a grin, "Do you know?"
+
+"No, sir. I wish t'God I did. Then there'd be somethin' to go by."
+
+"I'm afraid I can't help you, Mrs. ----"
+
+"Tillie Bergen. I've been housekeeper here since the new wing was put
+on----"
+
+"Oh, yes," said Peter, pausing over the last cartridge as the thought
+came to him. "Then you must be Beth Cameron's aunt?"
+
+"Beth?" The woman's sober face wreathed in a lovely smile. "D'ye know
+Beth?"
+
+"Since this afternoon. She showed me the way."
+
+"Oh. Poor Beth."
+
+"Poor!"
+
+"Oh, we're all poor, Mr. Nichols. But Beth she's--different from the
+rest of us somehow."
+
+"Yes, she _is_ different," admitted Peter frankly.
+
+Mrs. Bergen sighed deeply. "Ye don't know how different. And now
+that--all this trouble has come, I can't get home nights to her. And she
+can't come to see me without permission. How long d'ye think it will
+last, sir?"
+
+"I don't know," said Peter, slipping the revolver and cartridges into
+his pockets. And then gallantly, "If I can offer you my services, I'd be
+glad to take you home at night----"
+
+"It's against orders. And I wouldn't dare, Mr. Nichols. As it is I've
+got about as much as I can stand. If it wasn't for the money I wouldn't
+be stayin' in the house another hour."
+
+"Perhaps things won't be so bad after a time. If anything is going to
+happen, it ought to be pretty soon."
+
+She regarded him wistfully as he moved toward the door. "An' ye'll tell
+me, sir, if anything out o' the way happens."
+
+"I hope nothing is going to happen, Mrs. Bergen," said Peter cheerfully.
+
+Stryker appeared mysteriously from the darkness as Peter went out into
+the hall.
+
+"The upstairs girl made up your bed down at the cabin, sir. The
+chauffeur took your bag over. You'll need these matches. If you'll wait,
+sir, I'll call Mr. Wells."
+
+Peter wondered at the man in this most unconventional household, for
+Stryker, with all the prescience of a well-trained servant, had already
+decided that Peter belonged to a class accustomed to being waited on.
+Going to the door he blew one short blast on a police whistle, like
+Peter's, which he brought forth from his pocket.
+
+"That will bring him, sir," he said. "If you'll go out on the portico,
+he'll join you in a moment."
+
+Peter obeyed. The door was closed and fastened behind him and almost
+before he had taken his lungs full of the clean night air (for the house
+had been hot and stuffy), a shadow came slouching across the lawn in the
+moonlight. Peter joined the man at once and they walked around the
+house, while Peter questioned him as to the number of men and their
+disposition about the place. There were six, he found, including Wells,
+with six more to sleep in the stable, which was also used as a
+guardhouse. Peter made the rounds of the sentries. None of them seemed
+to be taking the matter any too seriously and one at least was sound
+asleep beneath some bushes. Peter foresaw difficulties. Under the
+leadership of Shad Wells the strategic points were not covered, and, had
+he wished, he could have found his way, by using the cover of shadow and
+shrubbery, to the portico without being observed. He pointed this out to
+Wells who, from a supercilious attitude, changed to one of defiance.
+
+"You seem to think you know a lot, Mister?" he said. "I'd like to see ye
+try it."
+
+Peter laughed.
+
+"Very well. Take your posts and keep strict watch, but don't move. If I
+don't walk across the lawn from the house in half an hour I'll give you
+ten dollars. In return you can take a shot if you see me."
+
+He thought the men needed the object lesson. Peter was an excellent
+"point." He disappeared into the woods behind him and making his way
+cautiously out, found a road, doubling to the other side of the garage
+along which he went on his hands and knees and crawling from shrub to
+shrub in the shadows reached the portico without detection. Here he
+lighted a fag and quietly strolled down to the spot where he had left
+Shad Wells, to whom he offered a cigarette by way of consolation. Wells
+took it grudgingly. But he took it, which was one point gained.
+
+"Right smart, aren't ye?" said Shad.
+
+"No," said Peter coolly. "Anybody could have done it,--in three ways.
+The other two ways are through the pine grove to the left and from the
+big sycamore by the stream."
+
+"And how do you know all that?"
+
+"I was in the Army," said Peter. "It's a business like anything else."
+
+And he pointed out briefly where the five men should be stationed and
+why, and Shad, somewhat mollified by the cigarette, shrugged and
+agreed.
+
+"We'll do sentry duty in the regular way," went on Peter cheerfully,
+"with a corporal of the guard and a countersign. I'll explain in detail
+to-morrow." And then to Shad, "I'll take command until midnight, when
+you'll go on with the other shift until four. I'll make it clear to the
+other men. The countersign is the word 'Purple.' You'd better go and
+turn in. I'll call you at twelve."
+
+Peter watched the figure of the woodsman go ambling across the lawn in
+the direction of the garage and smiled. He also marked the vertical line
+of light which showed at a window on the second floor where another kept
+watch. The man called Jesse, the one who had been asleep beneath the
+bushes, and who, fully awake, had watched Peter's exhibition of
+scouting, now turned to Peter with a laugh.
+
+"I guess you're right, Mister. S'long's we're paid. But I'd like to know
+just what this 'ere thing is the ol' man's skeered of."
+
+"You know as much as I do. It will probably have two legs, two hands and
+a face and carry a gun. You'd better be sure you're not asleep when it
+comes. But if you care to know what I think, you can be pretty sure that
+it's coming--and before very long."
+
+"To-night?"
+
+"How do I know? Have a cigarette? You cover from the road to the big
+cedar tree; and keep your eyes open--especially in the shadows--and
+don't let anybody get you in the back."
+
+And so making the rounds, instilling in their minds a sense of real
+emergency, Peter gave the men their new sentry posts and made friends.
+He had decided to stay up all night, but at twelve he called Shad Wells
+and went down to look over his cabin which was a quarter of a mile away
+from the house near Cedar Creek (or "Crick" in the vernacular). The key
+was in the cabin door so he unlocked it and went in, and after striking
+a match found a kerosene lamp which he lighted and then looked about
+him.
+
+The building had only one room but it was of large dimensions and
+contained a wooden bed with four posts, evidently some one's heirloom, a
+bureau, washstand, two tables and an easy chair or two. Behind the bed
+was a miscellaneous lot of rubbish, including a crib, a rocking horse, a
+velocipede, beside some smaller toys. Whom had these things belonged to?
+A grandson of McGuire's? And was the daughter of McGuire like her
+father, unlovely, soiled and terror-stricken? His desultory mental
+queries suddenly stopped as he raised his eyes to the far corner of the
+room, for there, covered with an old shawl, he made out the lines of a
+piano. He opened the keyboard and struck a chord. It wasn't so bad--a
+little tuning--he could do it himself....
+
+So this was his new home! He had not yet had the time or the opportunity
+to learn what new difficulties were to face him on the morrow, but the
+personal affairs of his employer had piqued his interest and for the
+present he had done everything possible to insure his safety for the
+night. To-morrow perhaps he would learn something more about the causes
+of this situation. He would have an opportunity too to look over the
+property and make a report as to its possibilities. To a man inured as
+Peter was to disappointments, what he had found was good. He had made up
+his mind to fit himself soldierlike into his new situation and he had to
+admit now that he liked the prospect. As though to compensate for past
+mischief, Fate had provided him with the one employment in the new land
+for which he was best suited by training and inclination. It was the one
+"job" in which, if he were permitted a fair amount of freedom of action
+and initiative, he was sure that he could "make good." The trees he
+could see were not the stately pines of Zukovo, but they were pines, and
+the breeze which floated in to him through the cabin door was laden with
+familiar odors.
+
+The bed looked inviting, but he resolutely turned his back to it and
+unpacked his suitcase, taking off his tailor-made clothing and putting
+on the flannel shirt, corduroy trousers and heavy laced boots, all of
+which he had bought before leaving New York. Then he went to the doorway
+and stood looking out into the night.
+
+The moonbeams had laid a patine of silver upon the floor of the small
+clearing before the door, and played softly among the shadows. So silent
+was the night that minute distant sounds were clearly audible--the
+stream seemed to be tinkling just at his elbow, while much farther away
+there was a low murmur of falling water at the tumbling dam, mingling
+with the sighs of vagrant airs among the crowns of the trees, the rustle
+and creak of dry branches, the whispering of leaf to leaf. Wakeful birds
+deceived by the moon piped softly and were silent. An owl called. And
+then for the briefest moment, except for the stream, utter silence.
+
+Peter strode forth, bathed himself in the moonlight and drank deep of
+the airs of the forest. America! He had chosen! Her youth called to his.
+He wanted to forget everything that had gone before, the horrors through
+which he had passed, both physical and spiritual,--the dying struggles
+of the senile nation, born in intolerance, grown in ignorance and
+stupidity which, with a mad gesture, had cast him forth with a curse. He
+had doffed the empty prerogatives of blood and station and left them in
+the mire and blood. The soul of Russia was dead and he had thought that
+his own had died with hers, but from the dead thing a new soul might
+germinate as it had now germinated in him. He had been born again.
+_Novaya Jezn!_ The New Life! He had found it.
+
+He listened intently as though for its heartbeats, his face turned up
+toward the silent pines. For a long while he stood so and then went
+indoors and sat at the old piano playing softly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+NEW ELEMENTS
+
+
+Some of the men on guard in the middle watch reported that they had
+heard what seemed to be the sounds of music very far away in the woods
+and were disturbed at the trick their ears had played upon them. But
+Peter didn't tell them the truth. If listening for the notes of a piano
+would keep them awake, listen they should. He slept until noon and then
+went to the house for orders.
+
+Morning seemed to make a difference in the point of view. If the moon
+had made the night lovely, the sun brought with it the promise of every
+good thing. The walk through the woods to Black Rock House was a joy,
+very slightly alleviated by the poor condition of the trees under which
+Peter passed. It was primeval forest even here, with valuable trees
+stunted and poor ones vastly overgrown according to nature's law which
+provides for the survival of the fittest. This was the law too, which
+was to be applied to Peter. Would he grow straight and true in this
+foreign soil or gnarled and misshapen like the cedars and the maples
+that he saw? Yes. He would grow and straight ... straight.
+
+Optimism seemed to be the order of the new day. At the house he found
+that his employer had put on a clean shirt and was freshly shaven. The
+windows of the room were opened wide to the sunlight which streamed into
+the room, revealing its darkest corners. McGuire himself seemed to have
+responded to the effulgence of the sun and the balmy air which swept
+across his table. His manner was now calm, his voice more measured.
+
+When Peter came into the room, Mr. McGuire closed the heavy doors of the
+steel safe carefully and turned to greet him.
+
+"Oh, glad to see you, Nichols," he said more cheerfully. "A quiet night,
+I understand."
+
+"Yes," laughed Nichols, "except for the man who got through the guards
+and smoked a cigarette on your portico."
+
+"What!" gasped McGuire.
+
+"Don't be alarmed, sir. It was only myself. I wanted to show Shad Wells
+the defects of his police system."
+
+"Oh! Ah! Ha, ha, yes, of course. Very good. And you weren't shot at?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir--though I'd given them leave to pot me if they could. But I
+think you're adequately protected now."
+
+"Good," said McGuire. "Have a cigar. I'm glad you've come. I wanted to
+talk to you."
+
+And when they had lighted their cigars, "It's about this very guard.
+I--I'm afraid you'll have to keep your men under cover at least in the
+daytime."
+
+"Under cover?"
+
+"Well, you see," went on McGuire in some hesitation, "my daughter (he
+called it darter) Peggy is motoring down from New York to-day. I don't
+want her, but she's coming. I couldn't stop her. She doesn't know
+anything about this--er--this guarding the house. And I don't want her
+to know. She mustn't know. She'd ask questions. I don't want questions
+asked. I'll get her away as soon as I can, but she mustn't be put into
+any danger."
+
+"I see," said Peter examining the ash of his cigar. "You don't want her
+to know anything about the impending attempts upon your life and
+property."
+
+"Yes, that's it," said McGuire impatiently. "I don't want her to find
+out. Er--she couldn't understand. You know women, Nichols. They talk too
+much." He paused "It's--er--necessary that none of her friends in New
+York or mine should know of--er--any danger that threatens me. And of
+course--er--any danger that threatens me would--in a way--threaten her.
+You see?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+"I've put all weapons under cover. I don't want her to see 'em. So when
+she comes--which may be at any moment--nothing must be said about the
+men outside and what they're there for. In the daytime they must be
+given something to do about the place--trimming the lawns, pruning trees
+or weeding the driveway. Pay 'em what they ask, but don't let any of 'em
+go away. You'll explain this to the new men. As for yourself--er--of
+course you're my new superintendent and forester."
+
+McGuire got up and paced the floor slowly looking at Peter out of the
+tail of his eye.
+
+"I like you, Nichols. We'll get along. You've got courage and
+intelligence--and of course anybody can see you're a gentleman. You'll
+keep on taking your meals in the house----"
+
+"If you'd like me to go elsewhere----"
+
+"No. I see no reason why Peggy shouldn't like you. I hope she will. But
+she's very headstrong, has been since a kid. I suppose I humor her a
+bit--who wouldn't? I lost my oldest girl and her boy with the 'flu.' Her
+husband's still in France. And Peggy's got a will of her own, Peg has,"
+he finished in a kind of admiring abstraction. "Got a society bee in her
+bonnet. Wants to go with all the swells. I'm backin' her, Nichols.
+She'll do it too before she's through," he finished proudly.
+
+"I haven't a doubt of it," said Peter soberly, though very much amused
+at his employer's ingenuousness. Here then, was the weak spot in the
+armor of this relentless millionaire--his daughter. The older one and
+her child were dead. That accounted for the toys in the cabin. Peggy
+sounded interesting'--if nothing else, for her vitality.
+
+"I'd better see about this at once, then. If she should come----"
+
+Peter rose and was about to leave the room when there was a sound of an
+automobile horn and the sudden roar of an exhaust outside. He followed
+McGuire to the window and saw a low red runabout containing a girl and a
+male companion emerging from the trees. A man in the road was holding up
+his hands in signal for the machine to stop and had barely time to leap
+aside to avoid being run down. The car roared up to the portico, the
+breathless man, who was Shad Wells, pursuing. Peter was glad that he had
+had the good sense not to shoot. He turned to his employer, prepared for
+either anger or dismay and found that McGuire was merely grinning and
+chuckling softly as though to himself.
+
+"Just like her!" he muttered, "some kid, that!"
+
+Meanwhile Shad Wells, making a bad race of it was only halfway up the
+drive, when at a signal and shout from McGuire, he stopped running,
+stared, spat and returned to his post.
+
+There was a commotion downstairs, the shooting of bolts, the sounds of
+voices and presently the quick patter of feminine footsteps which
+McGuire, now completely oblivious of Peter, went to meet.
+
+"Well, daughter!"
+
+"Hello, Pop!"
+
+Peter caught a glimpse of a face and straggling brown hair, quickly
+engulfed in McGuire's arms.
+
+"What on earth----" began McGuire.
+
+"Thought we'd give you a little touch of high life, Pop. It was so hot
+in town. And the hotel's full of a convention of rough necks. I brought
+Freddy with me and Mildred and Jack are in the other car. We thought the
+rest might do us good."
+
+The voice was nasal and pitched high, as though she were trying to make
+herself audible in a crowd. Peter was ready to revise his estimate that
+her face was pretty, for to him no woman was more beautiful than her own
+voice.
+
+"But you can't stay here, Peg," went on McGuire, "not more than over
+night--with all these people. I'm very busy----"
+
+"H-m. We'll see about that. I never saw the woods look prettier. We came
+by Lakewood and Brown's Mills and--Why who----?"
+
+As she sidled into the room she suddenly espied Peter who was still
+standing by the window.
+
+"Who----? Why--Oh, yes, this is my new superintendent and forester. Meet
+my daughter,--Mr. Nichols."
+
+Peter bowed and expressed pleasure. Miss McGuire swept him with a quick
+glance that took in his flannel shirt, corduroy breeches and rough
+boots, nodded pertly and turned away.
+
+Peter smiled. Like Beth Cameron this girl was very particular in
+choosing her acquaintances.
+
+"I nearly killed a guy in the driveway," she went on, "who was he, Pop?"
+
+"Er--one of the gardeners, I've told them to keep people off the place."
+
+"Well. I'd like to see him keep _me_ off! I suppose he'll be trying to
+hold up Mildred and Jack----"
+
+She walked to the window passing close beside Peter, paying as little
+attention to his presence as if he had been, an article of furniture.
+
+"Can't you get this man to go down," she said indicating Peter, "and
+tell them it's all right?"
+
+"Of course," said Peter politely. "I'll go at once. And I'd like to
+arrange to look over part of the estate with Wells, Mr. McGuire," he
+added.
+
+"All right, Nichols," said the old man with a frown. And then
+significantly--"But remember what I've told you. Make careful
+arrangements before you go."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+Peter went down the stairs, amused at his dismissal. On the veranda he
+found a young man sitting on some suitcases smoking a cigarette. This
+was Freddy, of course. He afterwards learned that his last name was
+Mordaunt, that he was a part of Peggy's ambitions, and that he had been
+invalided home from a camp and discharged from the military service. As
+Freddy turned, Peter bowed politely and passed on. Having catalogued him
+by his clothing, Freddy like Peggy had turned away, smoking his
+cigarette.
+
+Peter thought that some Americans were born with bad manners, some
+achieved bad manners, and others had bad manners thrust upon them.
+Impoliteness was nothing new to him, since he had been in America. It
+was indigenous. Personally, he didn't mind what sort of people he met,
+but he seemed to be aware that a new element had come to Black Rock
+which was to make disquietude for Jonathan K. McGuire and difficulty for
+himself. And yet too there was a modicum of safety, perhaps, in the
+presence of these new arrivals, for it had been clear from his
+employer's demeanor that the terrors of the night had passed with the
+coming of the day.
+
+He commented on this to Shad Wells, who informed him that night was
+always the old man's bad time.
+
+"Seems sort o' like he's skeered o' the dark. 'Tain't nateral. 'Fraid o'
+ghosts, they say," he laughed.
+
+"Well," said Peter, "we've got our orders. And the thing he fears isn't
+a ghost. It's human."
+
+"Sure?"
+
+"Yes. And since he's more afraid after dark he has probably had his
+warning. But we're not to take any chances."
+
+Having given his new orders to Jesse, who was to be in charge during
+their absence, they struck into the woods upon the other side of the
+Creek for the appraisal of a part of the strip known as the "Upper
+Reserve." From an attitude of suspicion and sneering contempt Peter's
+companion had changed to one of indifference. The unfailing good humor
+of the new superintendent had done something to prepare the ground for
+an endurable relation between them. Like Beth Cameron Shad had sneered
+at the word "forester." He was the average lumberman, only interested in
+the cutting down of trees for the market--the commercial aspect of the
+business--heedless of the future, indifferent to the dangers of
+deforestation. Peter tried to explain to him that forestry actually
+means using the forest as the farmer uses his land, cutting out the
+mature and overripe trees and giving the seedlings beneath more light
+that they may furnish the succeeding crop of timber. He knew that the
+man was intelligent enough, and explained as well as he could from such
+statistics as he could recall how soon the natural resources of the
+country would be exhausted under the existing indifference.
+
+"Quite a bit of wood here, Mister--enough for my job," said Shad.
+
+But after a while Peter began to make him understand and showed him what
+trees should be marked for cutting and why. They came to a burned patch
+of at least a hundred acres.
+
+"Is there any organized system for fighting these fires?" Peter asked.
+
+"System! Well, when there's a fire we go and try to put it out----"
+laughed Wells.
+
+"How do the fires start?"
+
+"Campers--hunters mos'ly--in the deer season. Railroads sometimes--at
+the upper end."
+
+"And you keep no watch for smoke?"
+
+"Where would we watch from?"
+
+"Towers. They ought to be built--with telephone connection to
+headquarters."
+
+"D'ye think the old man will stand for that?"
+
+"He ought to. It's insurance."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"It looks to me, Wells," said Peter after a pause, "that a good 'crown'
+fire and a high gale, would turn all this country to cinders--like
+this."
+
+"It's never happened yet."
+
+"It may happen. Then good-by to your jobs--and to Black Rock too
+perhaps."
+
+"I guess Black Rock can stand it, if the old man can."
+
+They walked around the charred clearing and mounted a high sand dune,
+from which they could see over a wide stretch of country. With a high
+wooden platform here the whole of the Upper Reserve could be watched.
+They sat for a while among the sandwort and smoked, while Peter
+described the work in the German forests that he had observed before the
+war. Shad had now reached the point of listening and asking questions as
+the thought was more and more borne into his mind that this new
+superintendent was not merely talking for talk's sake, but because he
+knew more about the woods than any man the native had ever talked with,
+and wanted Shad to know too. For Peter had an answer to all of his
+questions, and Shad, though envious of Peter's grammar--for he had
+reached an age to appreciate it--was secretly scornful of Peter's white
+hands and carefully tied black cravat.
+
+This dune was at the end of the first day's "cruise" and Shad had risen
+preparatory to returning toward Black Rock when they both heard a
+sound,--away off to their right, borne down to them clearly on the
+breeze--the voice of a girl singing.
+
+"Beth," said Shad with a kindling eye. And then carelessly spat, to
+conceal his emotions.
+
+"What on earth can she be doing in here?" asked Peter.
+
+"Only half a mile from the road. It's the short cut from Gaskill's."
+
+"I see," from Peter.
+
+"Do you reckon you can find your way back alone, Nichols?" said Shad,
+spitting again.
+
+Peter grinned. "I reckon I can try," he said.
+
+Shad pointed with his long arm in the general direction of Heaven. "That
+way!" he muttered and went into the scrub oak with indecent haste.
+
+Peter sat looking with undisguised interest at the spot where he had
+disappeared, tracing him for a while through the moving foliage,
+listening to the crackling of the underbrush, as the sounds receded.
+
+It was time to be turning homeward, but the hour was still inviting, the
+breeze balmy, the sun not too warm, so Peter lay back among the grasses
+in the sand smoking a fresh cigarette. Far overhead buzzards were
+wheeling. They recalled those other birds of prey that he had often
+watched, ready to swoop down along the lines of the almost defenseless
+Russians. Here all was so quiet. The world was a very beautiful place if
+men would only leave it so. The voice of the girl was silent now. Shad
+had probably joined her. Somehow, Peter hadn't been able to think of any
+relationship, other than the cousinly one, between Shad Wells and Beth.
+He had only known the girl for half an hour but as Aunt Tillie Bergen
+had said, her niece seemed different from the other natives that Peter
+had met. Her teeth were sound and white, suggesting habits of personal
+cleanliness; her conversation, though careless, showed at the very
+least, a grammar school training. And Shad--well, Shad was nothing but a
+"Piney."
+
+Pity--with a voice like that--she ought to have had opportunities--this
+scornful little Beth. Peter closed his eyes and dozed. He expected to
+have no difficulty in finding his way home, for he had a pocket compass
+and the road could not be far distant. He liked this place. He would
+build a tower here, a hundred-foot tower, of timbers, and here a man
+should be stationed all day--to watch for wisps of smoke during the
+hunting season. Smoke ... Tower ... In a moment he snored gently.
+
+"Halloo!" came a voice in his dream. "Halloo! Halloo!"
+
+Peter started rubbing his eyes, aware of the smoking cigarette in the
+grasses beside him.
+
+Stupid, that! To do the very thing he had been warning Shad Wells
+against. He smeared the smoking stub out in the sand and sat up yawning
+and stretching his arms.
+
+"Halloo!" said the voice in his dream, almost at his ear. "Tryin' to set
+the woods afire?"
+
+The question had the curious dropping intonation at its end. But the
+purport annoyed him.
+
+Nothing that she could have said could have provoked him more! Behind
+her he saw the dark face of Shad Wells break into a grin.
+
+"I fell asleep," said Peter, getting to his feet.
+
+Beth laughed. "Lucky you weren't burnt to death. _Then_ how would the
+trees get along?"
+
+Peter's toe burrowed after the defunct cigarette.
+
+"I know what I'm about," he muttered, aware of further loss of dignity.
+
+"Oh, do you? Then which way were you thinkin' of goin' home?"
+
+Peter glanced around, pointed vaguely, and Beth Cameron laughed.
+
+"I guess you'd land in Egg Harbor, or thereabouts."
+
+Her laugh was infectious and Peter at last echoed it.
+
+"You's better be goin' along with us. Shad asked me to come and get you,
+didn't you, Shad?"
+
+Peter glanced at the woodsman's black scowl and grinned, recalling his
+desertion and precipitate disappearance into the bushes.
+
+"I'm sure I'm very much obliged to you both," said Peter diplomatically.
+"But I think I can find my way in."
+
+"Not if you start for Hammonton or Absecon, you can't. I've known people
+to spend the night in the woods a quarter of a mile from home."
+
+"I shouldn't mind that."
+
+"But Shad would. He'd feel a great responsibility if you didn't turn up
+for the ghost-hunt. Wouldn't you, Shad?"
+
+Shad wagged his head indeterminately, and spat. "Come on," he said
+sullenly, and turned, leading the way out to the northward, followed by
+Beth with an inviting smile. She still wore her denim overalls which
+were much too long for her and her dusty brown boots seemed like a
+child's. Between moments of avoiding roots and branches, Peter watched
+her strong young figure as it followed their leader. Yesterday, he had
+thought her small; to-day she seemed to have increased in stature--so
+uncertain is the masculine judgment upon any aspect of a woman. But his
+notions in regard to her grace and loveliness were only confirmed. There
+was no concealing them under her absurd garments. Her flanks were long
+and lithe, like a boy's, but there was something feminine in the way she
+moved, a combination of ease and strength made manifest, which could
+only come of well-made limbs carefully jointed. Every little while she
+flashed a glance over her shoulder at him, exchanging a word, even
+politely holding back a branch until he caught it, or else when he was
+least expecting it, letting it fly into his face. From time to time Shad
+Wells would turn to look at them and Peter could see that he wasn't as
+happy as he might have been. But Beth was very much enjoying herself.
+
+They had emerged at last into the road and walked toward Black Rock,
+Beth in the center and Peter and Shad on either side.
+
+"I've been thinkin' about what you said yesterday," said Beth to Peter.
+
+"About----?"
+
+"Singin' like an angel in Heaven," she said promptly aware of Shad's
+bridling glance.
+
+"Oh, well," repeated Peter, "you do--you know."
+
+"It was very nice of you--and you a musician."
+
+"Musician!" growled Shad. "He ain't a musician."
+
+"Oh, yes, he is, and he says I've a voice like an angel. _You_ never
+said that, Shad Wells."
+
+"No. Nor I won't," he snapped surlily.
+
+Peter would have been more amused if he hadn't thought that Shad Wells
+was unhappy.
+
+He needed the man's allegiance and he had no wish to make an enemy of
+him.
+
+"Musician!" Shad growled. "Then it was you the men heard last night."
+
+"I found a piano in the cabin. I was trying it," said Peter. Shad said
+nothing in reply but he put every shade of scorn into the way in which
+he spat into the road.
+
+"A piano----!" Beth gasped. "Where? What cabin?"
+
+"The playhouse--where I live," said Peter politely.
+
+"Oh."
+
+There was a silence on the part of both of his companions, awkwardly
+long.
+
+So Peter made an effort to relieve the tension, commenting on the new
+arrivals at Black Rock House.
+
+At the mention of Peggy's name Beth showed fresh excitement.
+
+"Miss McGuire! Here? When----?"
+
+"This morning. Do you know her?"
+
+"No. But I've seen her. I think she's just lovely."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"She wears such beautiful clothes and--and hats and veils."
+
+Peter laughed. "And that's your definition of loveliness."
+
+"Why, yes," she said in wonder. "Last year all the girls were copyin'
+her, puttin' little puffs of hair over their ears--I tried it, but it
+looked funny. Is she going to be here long? Has she got a 'beau' with
+her? She always had. It's a wonder she doesn't run over somebody, the
+way she drives."
+
+"She nearly got me this mornin'," growled Shad.
+
+"I wish she would--if you're going to look like a meat-ax, Shad Wells."
+
+There was no reconciling them now, and when Beth's home was reached, all
+three of them went different ways. What a rogue she was! And poor Shad
+Wells who was to have taken Peter at a gobble, seemed a very poor sort
+of a creature in Beth's hands.
+
+She amused Peter greatly, but she annoyed him a little too, ruffled up
+the shreds of his princely dignity, not yet entirely inured to the
+trials of social regeneration. And Shad's blind adoration was merely a
+vehicle for her amusement. It would have been very much better if she
+hadn't used Peter's compliment as a bait for Shad. Peter had come to
+the point of liking the rough foreman even if he was a new kind of human
+animal from anything in Peter's experience.
+
+And so was Beth. A new kind of animal--something between a harrier and a
+skylark, but wholesome and human too, a denim dryad, the spirit of
+health, joy and beauty, a creature good to look at, in spite of her envy
+of the fashionable Miss Peggy McGuire with her modish hats, cerise veils
+and ear puffs, her red roadsters and her beaux. Poverty sat well upon
+Beth and the frank blue eyes and resolute chin gave notice that whatever
+was to happen to her future she was honorable and unafraid.
+
+But if there was something very winning about her, there was something
+pathetic too. Her beauty was so unconscious of her ridiculous clothing,
+and yet Peter had come to think of it as a part of her, wondering indeed
+what she would look like in feminine apparel, in which he could not
+imagine her, for the other girls of Black Rock had not so far blessed
+his vision. Aunt Tillie Bergen had told him, over his late breakfast, of
+the difficulties that she and Beth had had to keep their little place
+going and how Beth, after being laid off for the summer at the factory,
+had insisted upon working in the Gaskill's vineyard to help out with the
+household. There ought to be something for Beth Cameron, better than
+this--something less difficult--more ennobling.
+
+Thinking of these things Peter made his way back to the cabin. Nothing
+of a disturbing nature had happened around Black Rock House, except the
+arrival of the remainder of McGuire's unwelcome house party, which had
+taken to wandering aimlessly through the woods, much to the disgust of
+Jesse Brown, who, lost in the choice between "dudes" and desperadoes,
+had given up any attempt to follow Peter's careful injunctions in regard
+to McGuire. It was still early and the supper hour was seven, so Peter
+unpacked his small trunk which had arrived in his absence and then,
+carefully shutting door and windows, sat at the piano and played quietly
+at first, a "Reverie" of Tschaikowsky, a "Berceuse" of Cesar Cui, the
+"Valse Triste" of Jean Sibelius and then forgetting himself--launched
+forth into Chopin's C Minor Etude. His fingers were stiff for lack of
+practice and the piano was far from perfect, but in twenty minutes he
+had forgotten the present, lost in memories. He had played this for
+Anastasie Galitzin. He saw the glint of the shaded piano lamp upon her
+golden head, recalled her favorite perfume.... Silver nights upon the
+castle terrace.... Golden walks through the autumn forest....
+
+Suddenly a bell rang loudly at Peter's side, it seemed. Then while he
+wondered, it rang again. Of course--the telephone. He found the
+instrument in the corner and put the receiver to his ear. It was
+McGuire's voice.
+
+"That you, Nichols?" it asked in an agitated staccato.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Well, it's getting dark, what have you done about to-night?"
+
+"Same as last night," said Peter smiling, "only more careful."
+
+"Well, I want things changed," the gruff voice rose. "The whole d--n
+house is open. I can't shut it with these people here. Your men will
+have to move in closer--but keep under cover. Can you arrange it?"
+
+"Yes, I think so."
+
+"I'll want you here--with me--you understand. You were coming to
+supper?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Well--er--I've told my daughter and so--would you mind putting on a
+dress suit----? Er--if you have one--a Tuxedo will do."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Peter. "That's all right."
+
+"Oh--er--thanks. You'll be up soon?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Good-by."
+
+With a grin, Peter hung up the receiver, recalling the soiled,
+perspiring, unquiet figure of his employer last night. But it seemed as
+though McGuire were almost as much in awe of his daughter as of the
+danger that threatened, for, in the McGuire household, Miss Peggy, it
+appeared, was paramount.
+
+Peter's bathroom was Cedar Creek. In his robe, he ran down the dusky
+path for a quick plunge. Then, refreshed and invigorated, he lighted his
+lamp and dressed leisurely. He had come to his cravat, to which he was
+wont to pay more than a casual attention, when he was aware of a feeling
+of discomfort--of unease. In the mirror something moved, a shadow, at
+the corner of the window. He waited a moment, still fingering his
+cravat, and then sure that his eyes had made no mistake, turned quickly
+and, revolver in hand, rushed outside. Just as he did so a man with a
+startled face disappeared around the corner of the cabin. Peter rushed
+after him, shouting and turned the edge just in time to see his shape
+leap into the bushes.
+
+"Who goes there?" shouted Peter crisply. "Halt, or I'll fire."
+
+But the only reply was a furious crashing in the undergrowth. Peter
+fired twice at the sound, then followed in, still calling.
+
+No sound. Under the conditions a chase was hopeless, so Peter paused
+listening. And then after a few moments a more distant crackling advised
+him that his visitor had gotten well away. And so after a while he
+returned to the cabin and with his weapon beside him finished his
+interrupted toilet.
+
+But his brows were in a tangle. The mystery surrounding him seemed
+suddenly to have deepened. For the face that he had seen at the window
+was that of the stranger who had stared at him so curiously--the man of
+the soft hat and dark mustache--who had seemed so startled at seeing him
+in the Pennsylvania Station when he was leaving New York.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE HOUSE OF TERROR
+
+
+Who--what was this stranger who seemed so interested in his whereabouts?
+Peter was sure that he had made no mistake. It was an unusual face,
+swarthy, with high cheek bones, dark eyes, a short nose with prominent
+nostrils. Perhaps it would not have been so firmly impressed on his
+memory except for the curious look of startled recognition that Peter
+had surprised on it at the station in New York. This had puzzled him for
+some moments in the train but had been speedily lost in the interest of
+his journey. The man had followed him to Black Rock. But why? What did
+he want of Peter and why should he skulk around the cabin and risk the
+danger of Peter's bullets? It seemed obvious that he was here for some
+dishonest purpose, but what dishonest purpose could have any interest in
+Peter? If robbery, why hadn't the man chosen the time while Peter was
+away in the woods? Peter grinned to himself. If the man had any private
+sources of information as to Peter's personal assets, he would have
+known that they consisted of a two-dollar watch and a small sum in
+money. If the dishonest purpose were murder or injury, why hadn't he
+attacked Peter while he was bathing, naked and quite defenseless, in the
+creek?
+
+There seemed to be definite answers to all of these questions, but none
+to the fact of the man's presence, to the fact of his look of
+recognition, or to the fact of his wish to be unobserved. Was he a part
+of the same conspiracy which threatened McGuire? Or was this a little
+private conspiracy arranged for Peter alone? And if so, why? So far as
+Peter knew he hadn't an enemy in America, and even if he had made one,
+it was hardly conceivable that any one should go to such lengths to
+approach an issue and then deliberately avoid it.
+
+But there seemed no doubt that something was up and that, later, more
+would be heard from this curious incident. It seemed equally certain
+that had the stranger meant to shoot Peter he could easily have done so
+in perfect safety to himself through the window, while Peter was
+fastening his cravat. Reloading his revolver and slipping it into his
+pocket, Peter locked the cabin carefully, and after listening to the
+sounds of the woods for awhile, made his way up the path to Black Rock
+House.
+
+He had decided to say nothing about the incident which, so far as he
+could see, concerned only himself, and so when the men on guard
+questioned him about the shots that they had heard he told them that he
+had been firing at a mark. This was quite true, even if the mark had
+been invisible. Shad Wells was off duty until midnight so Peter went the
+rounds, calling the men to the guardhouse and telling them of the change
+in the orders. They were to wait until the company upon the portico went
+indoors and then, with Jesse in command, they were to take new stations
+in trees and clumps of bushes which Peter designated much nearer the
+house. The men eyed his dinner jacket with some curiosity and not a
+little awe, and Peter informed them that it was the old man's order and
+that he, Peter, was going to keep watch from inside the house, but that
+a blast from a whistle would fetch him out. He also warned them that it
+was McGuire's wish that none of the visitors should be aware of the
+watchmen and that therefore there should be no false alarms.
+
+Curiously enough Peter found McGuire in a state very nearly bordering
+on calm. He had had a drink. He had not heard the shots Peter had fired
+nor apparently had any of the regular occupants of the house. The
+visitors had possibly disregarded them. From the pantry came a sound
+with which Peter was familiar, for Stryker was shaking the cocktails.
+And when the ladies came downstairs the two men on the portico came in
+and Peter was presented to the others of the party, Miss Delaplane, Mr.
+Gittings and Mr. Mordaunt. The daughter of the house examined Peter's
+clothing and then, having apparently revised her estimate of him, became
+almost cordial, bidding him sit next Miss Delaplane at table.
+
+Mildred Delaplane was tall, handsome, dark and aquiline, and made a foil
+for Peggy's blond prettiness. Peter thought her a step above Peggy in
+the cultural sense, and only learned afterward that as she was not very
+well off, Peggy was using her as a rung in the social ladder. Mordaunt,
+Peter didn't fancy, but Gittings, who was jovial and bald, managed to
+inject some life into the party, which, despite the effect of the
+cocktails, seemed rather weary and listless.
+
+McGuire sat rigidly at the head of the table, forcing smiles and
+glancing uneasily at doors and windows. Peter was worried too, not as to
+himself, but as to any possible connection that there might be between
+the man with the dark mustache and the affairs of Jonathan McGuire.
+Mildred Delaplane, who had traveled in Europe in antebellum days, found
+much that was interesting in Peter's fragmentary reminiscences. She knew
+music too, and in an unguarded moment Peter admitted that he had
+studied. It was difficult to lie to women, he had found.
+
+And so, after dinner, that information having transpired, he was
+immediately led to the piano-stool by his hostess, who was frequently
+biased in her social judgments by Mildred Delaplane. Peter played Cyril
+Scott's "Song from the East," and then, sure of Miss Delaplane's
+interest, an Etude of Scriabine, an old favorite of his which seemed to
+express the mood of the moment.
+
+And all the while he was aware of Jonathan McGuire, seated squarely in
+the middle of the sofa which commanded all the windows and doors, with
+one hand at his pocket, scowling and alert by turns, for, though the
+night had fallen slowly, it was now pitch black outside. Peter knew that
+McGuire was thinking he hadn't hired his superintendent as a musician to
+entertain his daughter's guests, but that he was powerless to interfere.
+Nor did he wish to excite the reprobation of his daughter by going up
+and locking himself in his room. Peggy, having finished her cigarette
+with Freddy on the portico, had come in again and was now leaning over
+the piano, her gaze fixed, like Mildred's, upon Peter's mobile fingers.
+
+"You're really too wonderful a superintendent to be quite true," said
+Peggy when Peter had finished. "But _do_ give us a 'rag.'"
+
+Peter shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't do ragtime."
+
+"Quit your kidding! I want to dance."
+
+"I'm not--er--kidding," said Peter, laughing. "I can't play it at
+all--not at all."
+
+Peggy gave him a look, shrugged and walked to the door.
+
+"Fred-die-e!" she called.
+
+Peter rose from the piano-stool and crossed to McGuire. The man's cigar
+was unsmoked and tiny beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.
+
+"I don't think you need worry, sir," whispered Peter. "The men are all
+around the house, but if you say, I'll go out for another look around."
+
+"No matter. I'll stick it out for a while."
+
+"You're better off here than anywhere, I should say. No one would
+dare----"
+
+Here Freddy at the piano struck up "Mary" and further conversation was
+drowned in commotion. Mildred Delaplane was preempted by Mr. Gittings
+and Peggy came whirling alone toward Peter, arms extended, the passion
+for the dance outweighing other prejudices.
+
+Peter took a turn, but four years of war had done little to improve his
+steps.
+
+"I'm afraid all my dancing is in my fingers," he muttered.
+
+Suddenly, as Freddy Mordaunt paused, Peggy stopped and lowered her arms.
+
+"Good Lord!" she gasped. "What's the matter with Pop?"
+
+McGuire had risen unsteadily and was peering out into the darkness
+through the window opposite him, his face pallid, his lips drawn into a
+thin line. Peggy ran to him and caught him by the arm.
+
+"What is it, Pop? Are you sick?"
+
+"N-no matter. Just a bit upset. If you don't mind, daughter, I think
+I'll be going up."
+
+"Can I do anything?"
+
+"No. Stay here and enjoy yourselves. Just tell Stryker, will you,
+Nichols, and then come up to my room."
+
+Peggy was regarding him anxiously as he made his way to the door and
+intercepted Peter as he went to look for the valet.
+
+"What is it, Mr. Nichols?" she asked. "He may be sick, but it seems to
+me----" she paused, and then, "Did you see his eyes as he looked out of
+the window?"
+
+"Indigestion," said Peter coolly.
+
+"You'll see after him, won't you? And if he wants me, just call over."
+
+"I'm sure he won't want you. A few home remedies----"
+
+And Peter went through the door. Stryker had appeared mysteriously from
+somewhere and had already preceded his master up the stair. When Peter
+reached the landing, McGuire was standing alone in the dark, leaning
+against the wall, his gaze on the lighted bedroom which, the valet was
+carefully examining.
+
+"What is it, sir?" asked Peter coolly. "You thought you saw something?"
+
+"Yes--out there--on the side portico----"
+
+"You must be mistaken--unless it was one of the watchmen----"
+
+"No, no. I saw----"
+
+"What, sir?"
+
+"No matter. Do you think Peggy noticed?"
+
+"Just that you didn't seem quite yourself----"
+
+"But not that I seemed--er----"
+
+"Alarmed? I said you weren't well."
+
+Peter took the frightened man's arm and helped him into his room.
+
+"I'm not, Nichols," he groaned. "I'm not myself."
+
+"I wouldn't worry, sir. I'd say it was physically impossible for any one
+to approach the house without permission. But I'll go down and have
+another look around."
+
+"Do, Nichols. But come back up here. I'll want to talk to you."
+
+So Peter went down. And, evading inquiries in the hallway, made his way
+out through the hall and pantry. Here a surprise awaited him, for as he
+opened the door there was a skurry of light footsteps and in a moment he
+was in the pantry face to face with Beth Cameron, who seemed much
+dismayed at being discovered.
+
+"What on earth are you doing here?" he asked in amazement.
+
+She glanced at his white shirt front and then laughed.
+
+"I came to help Aunt Tillie dish up."
+
+"You!" He didn't know why he should have been so amazed at finding her
+occupying a menial position in this household. She didn't seem to belong
+to the back stairs! And yet there she was in a plain blue gingham dress
+which made her seem much taller, and a large apron, her tawny hair
+casting agreeable shadows around her blue eyes, which he noticed seemed
+much darker by night than by day.
+
+She noticed the inflection of his voice and laughed.
+
+"Why not? I thought Aunt Tillie would need me--and besides I wanted to
+peek a little."
+
+"Ah, I see. You wanted to see Miss Peggy's new frock through the
+keyhole?"
+
+"Yes--and the other one. Aren't they pretty?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"I listened, too. I couldn't help it."
+
+"Eavesdropping!"
+
+She nodded. "Oh, Mr. Nichols, but you do play the piano beautifully!"
+
+"But not like an angel in Heaven," said Peter with a smile.
+
+"Almost--if angels play. You make me forget----" she paused.
+
+"What----?"
+
+"That's there's anything in the world except beauty."
+
+In the drawing-room Freddy, having found himself, had swept into a song
+of the cabarets, to which there was a "close harmony" chorus.
+
+"There's that----," he muttered, jerking a thumb in the direction from
+which he had come.
+
+But she shook her head. "No," she said. "That's different."
+
+"How--different?"
+
+"Wrong--false--un--unworthy----"
+
+As she groped for and found the word he stared at her in astonishment.
+And in her eyes back of the joy that seemed to be always dancing in them
+he saw the shadows of a sober thought.
+
+"But don't you like dance music?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, I do, but it's only for the feet. Your music is for--for _here_."
+And with a quick graceful gesture she clasped her hands upon her breast.
+
+"I'm glad you think so, because that's where it comes from."
+
+At this point Peter remembered his mission, which Beth's appearance had
+driven from his mind.
+
+"I'll play for you sometime," he said.
+
+He went past her and out to the servants' dining-room. As he entered
+with Beth at his heels, Mrs. Bergen, the housekeeper, turned in from the
+open door to the kitchen garden, clinging to the jamb, her lips
+mumbling, as though she were continuing a conversation. But her round
+face, usually the color and texture of a well ripened peach, was the
+color of putty, and seemed suddenly to have grown old and haggard. Her
+eyes through her metal-rimmed spectacles seemed twice their size and
+stared at Peter as though they saw through him and beyond. She faltered
+at the door-jamb and then with an effort reached a chair, into which she
+sank gasping.
+
+Beth was kneeling at her side in a moment, looking up anxiously into her
+startled eyes.
+
+"Why, what is it, Aunt Tillie?" she whispered quickly. "What it is? Tell
+me."
+
+The coincidence was too startling. Could the same Thing that had
+frightened McGuire have frightened the housekeeper too? Peter rushed
+past her and out of the open door. It was dark outside and for a moment
+he could see nothing. Then objects one by one asserted themselves, the
+orderly rows of vegetable plants in the garden, the wood-box by the
+door, the shrubbery at the end of the portico, the blue spruce tree
+opposite, the loom of the dark and noncommittal garage. He knew that one
+of his men was in the trees opposite the side porch and another around
+the corner of the kitchen, in the hedge, but he did not want to raise a
+hue and cry unless it was necessary. What was this Thing that created
+terror at sight? He peered this way and that, aware of an intense
+excitement, in one hand his revolver and in the other his police
+whistle. But he saw no object move, and the silence was absolute. In a
+moment--disappointed--he hurried back to the servants' dining-room.
+
+Mrs. Bergen sat dazed in her chair, while Beth, who had brought her a
+glass of water, was making her drink of it.
+
+"Tell me, what is it?" Beth was insisting.
+
+"Nothing--nothing," murmured the woman.
+
+"But there is----"
+
+"No, dearie----"
+
+"Are you sick?"
+
+"I don't feel right. Maybe--the heat----"
+
+"But your eyes look queer----"
+
+"Do they----?" The housekeeper tried to smile.
+
+"Yes. Like they had seen----"
+
+A little startled as she remembered the mystery of the house, Beth cast
+her glance into the darkness outside the open door.
+
+"You _are_--frightened!" she said.
+
+"No, no----"
+
+"What was it you saw, Mrs. Bergen," asked Peter gently.
+
+He was just at her side and at the sound of his voice she half arose,
+but recognizing Peter she sank back in her chair.
+
+Peter repeated his question, but she shook her head.
+
+"Won't you tell us? What was it you saw? A man----?"
+
+Her eyes sought Beth's and a look of tenderness came into them,
+banishing the vision. But she lied when she answered Peter's question.
+
+"I saw nothin', Mr. Nichols--I think I'll go up----"
+
+She took another swallow of the water and rose. And with her strength
+came a greater obduracy.
+
+"I saw nothin'----" she repeated again, as she saw that he was still
+looking at her. "Nothin' at all."
+
+Peter and Beth exchanged glances and Beth, putting her hand under the
+housekeeper's arm, helped the woman to the back stairs.
+
+Peter stood for a moment in the middle of the kitchen floor, his gaze on
+the door through which the woman had vanished. Aunt Tillie too! She had
+seen some one, some Thing--the same some one or Thing that McGuire had
+seen. But granting that their eyes had not deceived them, granting that
+each had seen Something, what, unless it were supernatural, could have
+frightened McGuire and Aunt Tillie too? Even if the old woman had been
+timid about staying in the house, she had made it clear to Peter that
+she was entirely unaware of the kind of danger that threatened her
+employer. Peter had believed her then. He saw no reason to disbelieve
+her now. She had known as little as Peter about the cause for McGuire's
+alarm. And here he had found her staring with the same unseeing eyes
+into the darkness, with the same symptoms of nervous shock as McGuire
+had shown. What enemy of McGuire's could frighten Aunt Tillie into
+prostration and seal her lips to speech? Why wouldn't she have dared to
+tell Peter what she had seen? What was this secret and how could she
+share it with McGuire when twenty-four hours ago she had been in
+complete ignorance of the mystery? Why wouldn't she talk? Was the
+vision too intimate? Or too horrible?
+
+Peter was imaginative, for he had been steeped from boyhood in the
+superstitions of his people. But the war had taught him that devils had
+legs and carried weapons. He had seen more horrible sights than most men
+of his years, in daylight, at dawn, or silvered with moonlight. He
+thought he had exhausted the possibilities for terror. But he found
+himself grudgingly admitting that he was at the least a little
+nervous--at the most, on the verge of alarm. But he put his whistle in
+his mouth, drew his revolver again and went forth.
+
+First he sought out the man in the spruce tree. It was Andy. He had seen
+no one but the people on the porch and in the windows. It was very dark
+but he took an oath that no one had approached the house from his side.
+
+"You saw no one talking with Mrs. Bergen by the kitchen door?"
+
+"No. I can't see th' kitchen door from here."
+
+Peter verified. A syringa bush was just in line.
+
+"Then you haven't moved?" asked Peter.
+
+"No. I was afraid they'd see me."
+
+"They've seen something----"
+
+"You mean----?"
+
+"I don't know. But look sharp. If anything comes out this way, take a
+shot at it."
+
+"You think there's something----"
+
+"Yes--but don't move. And keep your eyes open!"
+
+Peter went off to the man in the hedge behind the kitchen--Jesse Brown.
+
+"See anything?" asked Peter.
+
+"Nope. Nobody but the chauffeur."
+
+"The chauffeur?"
+
+"He went up to th' house a while back."
+
+"Oh--how long ago?"
+
+"Twenty minutes."
+
+"I see." And then, "You didn't see any one come away from the kitchen
+door?"
+
+"No. He's thar yet, I reckon."
+
+Peter ran out to the garage to verify this statement. By the light of a
+lantern the chauffeur in his rubber boots was washing the two cars.
+
+"Have you been up to the house lately?"
+
+"Why, no," said the man, in surprise.
+
+"You're sure?" asked Peter excitedly.
+
+"Sure----"
+
+"Then come with me. There's something on."
+
+The man dropped his sponge and followed Peter, who had run back quickly
+to the house.
+
+It was now after eleven. From the drawing-room came the distracting
+sounds from the tortured piano, but there was no one on the portico. So
+Peter, with Jesse, Andy and the chauffeur made a careful round of the
+house, examining every bush, every tree, within a circle of a hundred
+yards, exhausting every possibility for concealment. When they reached
+the kitchen door again, Peter rubbed his head and gave it up. A screech
+owl somewhere off in the woods jeered at him. All the men, except Jesse,
+were plainly skeptical. But he sent them back to their posts and, still
+pondering the situation, went into the house.
+
+It was extraordinary how the visitor, whoever he was, could have gotten
+away without having been observed, for though the night was black the
+eyes of the men outside were accustomed to it and the lights from the
+windows sent a glimmer into the obscurity. Of one thing Peter was now
+certain, that the prowler was no ghost or banshee, but a man, and that
+he had gone as mysteriously as he had come.
+
+Peter knew that his employer would be anxious until he returned to him,
+but he hadn't quite decided to tell McGuire of the housekeeper's share
+in the adventure. He had a desire to verify his belief that Mrs. Bergen
+was frightened by the visitor for a reason of her own which had nothing
+to do with Jonathan McGuire. Any woman alarmed by a possible burglar or
+other miscreant would have come running and crying for help. Mrs. Bergen
+had been doggedly silent, as though, rather than utter her thoughts, she
+would have bitten out her tongue. It was curious. She had seemed to be
+talking as though to herself at the door, and then, at the sound of
+footsteps in the kitchen behind her, had turned and fallen limp in the
+nearest chair. The look in her face, as in McGuire's, was that of
+terror, but there was something of bewilderment in both of them too,
+like that of a solitary sniper in the first shock of a shrapnel wound, a
+look of anguish that seemed to have no outlet, save in speech, which was
+denied.
+
+To tell McGuire what had happened in the kitchen meant to alarm him
+further. Peter decided for the present to keep the matter from him,
+giving the housekeeper the opportunity of telling the truth on the
+morrow if she wished.
+
+He crossed the kitchen and servants' dining-room and just at the foot of
+the back stairs met Mrs. Bergen and Beth coming down. So he retraced his
+steps into the kitchen, curious as to the meaning of her reappearance.
+
+At least she had recovered the use of her tongue.
+
+"I couldn't go to bed, just yet, Mr. Nichols," she said in reply to
+Peter's question. "I just couldn't."
+
+Peter gazed at her steadily. This woman held a clew to the mystery. She
+glanced at him uncertainly but she had recovered her self-possession,
+and her replies to his questions, if anything, were more obstinate than
+before.
+
+"I saw nothin', Mr. Nichols--nothin'. I was just a bit upset. I'm all
+right now. An' I want Beth to go home. That's why I came down."
+
+"But, Aunt Tillie, if you're not well, I'm going to stay----"
+
+"No. Ye can't stay here. I want ye to go." And then, turning excitedly
+to Peter, "Can't ye let somebody see her home, Mr. Nichols?"
+
+"Of course," said Peter. "But I don't think she's in any danger."
+
+"No, but she can't stay here. She just can't."
+
+Beth put her arm around the old woman's shoulder.
+
+"I'm not afraid."
+
+Aunt Tillie was already untying Beth's apron.
+
+"I know ye're not, dearie. But ye can't stay here. I don't want ye to. I
+don't want ye to."
+
+"But if you're afraid of something----"
+
+"Who said I was afraid?" she asked, glaring at Peter defiantly. "I'm
+not. I just had a spell--all this excitement an' extra work--an'
+everything."
+
+She lied. Peter knew it, but he saw no object to be gained in keeping
+Beth in Black Rock House, so he went out cautiously and brought the
+chauffeur, to whom he entrusted the safety of the girl. He would have
+felt more comfortable if he could have escorted her himself, but he knew
+that his duty was at the house and that whoever the mysterious person
+was it was not Beth that he wanted.
+
+But what was Mrs. Bergen's reason for wishing to get rid of her?
+
+As Beth went out of the door he whispered in her ear, "Say nothing of
+this--to any one."
+
+She nodded gravely and followed the man who had preceded her.
+
+When the door closed behind Beth and the chauffeur, Peter turned quickly
+and faced the housekeeper.
+
+"Now," he said severely, "tell me the truth."
+
+She stared at him with a falling jaw in a moment of alarm--then closed
+her lips firmly. And, as she refused to reply,
+
+"Do you want me to tell Mr. McGuire that you were talking to a stranger
+at the kitchen door?"
+
+She trembled and sinking in a chair buried her face in her hands.
+
+"I don't want to be unkind, Mrs. Bergen, but there's something here that
+needs explaining. Who was the man you talked to outside the door?"
+
+"I--I can't tell ye," she muttered.
+
+"You must. It's better. I'm your friend and Beth's----"
+
+The woman raised her haggard face to his.
+
+"Beth's friend! Are ye? Then ask me no more."
+
+"But I've got to know. I'm here to protect Mr. McGuire, but I'd like to
+protect you too. Who is this stranger?"
+
+The woman lowered her head and then shook it violently. "No, no. I'll
+not tell."
+
+He frowned down at her head.
+
+"Did you know that to-night McGuire saw the stranger--the man that _you_
+saw--and that he's even more frightened than you?"
+
+The woman raised her head, gazed at him helplessly, then lowered it
+again, but she did not speak. The kitchen was silent, but an obbligato
+to this drama, like the bray of the ass in the overture to "Midsummer
+Night's Dream," came from the drawing-room, where Freddy Mordaunt was
+now singing a sentimental ballad.
+
+"I'm sorry, Mrs. Bergen, but if Mr. McGuire is in danger to-night, I've
+got to know it."
+
+"To-night!" she gasped, as though clutching at a straw. "Not to-night.
+Nothin'll happen to-night. I'm sure of that, Mr. Nichols."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+She threw out her arms in a wide gesture of desperation. "For the love
+o' God, go 'way an' leave me in peace. Don't ye see I ain't fit to talk
+to anybody?" She gasped with a choking throat. "_He_ ain't comin' back
+again--not to-night. I'll swear it on th' Bible, if ye want me to."
+
+Their glances met, hers weary and pleading, and he believed her.
+
+"All right, Mrs. Bergen," he said soothingly. "I'll take your word for
+it, but you'll admit the whole thing is very strange--very startling."
+
+"Yes--strange. God knows it is. But I--I can't tell ye anything."
+
+"But what shall I say to Mr. McGuire--upstairs. I've got to go up--now."
+
+"Say to him----?" she gasped helplessly, all her terrors renewed. "Ye
+can't tell him I was talkin' to anybody." And then more wildly, "Ye
+mustn't. I wasn't. I was talkin' to myself--that's the God's truth, I
+was--when ye come in. It was so strange--an' all. Don't tell him, Mr.
+Nichols," she pleaded at last, with a terrible earnestness, and
+clutching at his hand. "For my sake, for Beth's----"
+
+"What has Beth to do with it?"
+
+"More'n ye think. Oh, God----" she broke off. "What am I sayin'----?
+Beth don't know. She mustn't. He don't know either----"
+
+"Who? McGuire?"
+
+"No--no. Don't ask any more questions, Mr. Nichols," she sobbed. "I
+can't speak. Don't ye see I can't?"
+
+So Peter gave up the inquisition. He had never liked to see a woman cry.
+
+"Oh, all right," he said more cheerfully, "you'd better be getting to
+bed. Perhaps daylight will clear things up."
+
+"And ye won't tell McGuire?" she pleaded.
+
+"I can't promise anything. But I won't if I'm not compelled to."
+
+She gazed at him uncertainly, her weary eyes wavering, but she seemed to
+take some courage from his attitude.
+
+"God bless ye, sir."
+
+"Good-night, Mrs. Bergen."
+
+And then, avoiding the drawing-room, Peter made his way up the stairs
+with a great deal of mental uncertainty to the other room of terror.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+MUSIC
+
+
+Stryker, who kept guard at the door of McGuire's room, opened it
+cautiously in response to Peter's knock. He found McGuire sitting
+rigidly in a rocking-chair at the side of the room, facing the windows,
+a whisky bottle and glass on the table beside him. His face had lost its
+pallor, but in his eyes was the same look of glassy bewilderment.
+
+"Why the H---- couldn't you come sooner?" He whined the question, not
+angrily, but querulously, like a child.
+
+"I was having a look around," replied Peter coolly.
+
+"Oh! And did you find anybody?"
+
+"No."
+
+"H-m! I thought you wouldn't."
+
+Peter hesitated. He meant to conceal the housekeeper's share in the
+night's encounters, but he knew that both Andy and the chauffeur would
+talk, and so,
+
+"There _was_ somebody outside, Mr. McGuire," he said. "You were not
+mistaken, a man prowling in the dark near the kitchen. Andy thought it
+was the chauffeur, who was in the garage washing the cars."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+McGuire started up, battling for his manhood. It seemed to Peter that
+his gasp was almost one of relief at discovering that his eyes had not
+deceived him, that the face he had seen was that of a real person,
+instead of the figment of a disordered mind.
+
+"Ah! Why didn't they shoot him?"
+
+"I've just said, sir, Andy thought it was the chauffeur."
+
+McGuire was pacing the floor furiously.
+
+"He has no business to think. I pay him to act. And you--what did you
+do?"
+
+"Three of us searched the whole place--every tree, every bush--every
+shadow----. The man has gone."
+
+"Gone," sneered the other. "A H---- of a mess you're making of this
+job!"
+
+Peter straightened angrily, but managed to control himself.
+
+"Very well, Mr. McGuire," he said. "Then you'd better get somebody else
+at once."
+
+He had never given notice before but the hackneyed phrase fell crisply
+from his lips. For many reasons, Peter didn't want to go, but he bowed
+and walked quickly across the room. "Good-night," he said.
+
+Before he had reached the door the frightened man came stumbling after
+him and caught him by the arm.
+
+"No, no, Nichols. Come back. D'ye hear? You mustn't be so d---- touchy.
+Come back. You can't go. I didn't mean anything. Come now!"
+
+Peter paused, his hand on the knob, and looked down into the man's
+flabby, empurpled countenance.
+
+"I thought you meant it," he said.
+
+"No. I--I didn't. I--I like you, Nichols--liked you from the very
+first--yesterday. Of course you can't be responsible for all the
+boneheads here."
+
+Peter had "called the bluff." Perhaps the lesson might have a salutary
+effect. And so, as his good humor came back to him, he smiled
+pleasantly.
+
+"You see, Mr. McGuire, you could hardly expect Andy to shoot the
+chauffeur. They're on excellent terms."
+
+McGuire had settled down into a chair near the table, and motioned Peter
+to another one near him.
+
+"Sit down, Nichols. Another glass, Stryker. So." He poured the whisky
+with an assumption of ease and they drank.
+
+"You see, Nichols," he went on as he set his empty glass down, "I know
+what I'm about. There _is_ somebody trying to get at me. It's no
+dream--no hallucination. You know that too, now. I saw him--I would have
+shot him through the window--if it hadn't been for Peggy--and the
+others--but I--I didn't dare--for reasons. She mustn't know----" And
+then eagerly, "She doesn't suspect anything yet, does she, Nichols?"
+
+Peter gestured over his shoulder in the direction of the sounds which
+still came from below.
+
+"No. They're having a good time."
+
+"That's all right. To-morrow they'll be leaving for New York, I hope.
+And then we'll meet this issue squarely. You say the man has gone. Why
+do you think so?"
+
+"Isn't it reasonable to think so? His visit was merely a reconnoissance.
+I think he had probably been lying out in the underbrush all day,
+getting the lay of the land, watching what we were doing--seeing where
+the men were placed. But he must know now that he'll have to try
+something else--that he hasn't a chance of getting to you past these
+guards, if you don't want him to."
+
+"But he nearly succeeded to-night," mumbled McGuire dubiously.
+
+Peter was silent a moment.
+
+"I'm not supposed to question and I won't. But it seems to me, Mr.
+McGuire, that if this visitor's plan were to murder you, to get rid of
+you, he would have shot you down to-night, through the window. From his
+failure to do so, there is one definite conclusion to draw--and that is
+that he wants to see you--to talk with you----"
+
+McGuire fairly threw himself from his chair as he roared,
+
+"I can't see him. I won't. I won't see anybody. I've got the law on my
+side. A man's house is his castle. A fellow prowls around here in the
+dark. He's been seen--if he's shot it's his own lookout. And he _will_
+be shot before he reaches me. You hear me? Your men must shoot--shoot to
+kill. If they fail I'll----"
+
+He shrugged as if at the futility of his own words, which came stumbling
+forth, born half of fear, half of braggadocio.
+
+Peter regarded him soberly. It was difficult to conceive of this man,
+who talked like a madman and a spoiled child, as the silent, stubborn,
+friendless millionaire, as the power in finance that Sheldon, Senior,
+had described him to be. The love of making money had succumbed to a
+more primitive passion which for the time being had mastered him. From
+what had been revealed, it seemed probable that it was not death or
+bodily injury that he feared, for Peter had seen him stand up at the
+window, a fair target for any good marksman, but an interview with this
+nocturnal visitor who seemed bent upon bringing it about. Indeed, the
+childish bravado of his last speech had voiced a wish, but beneath the
+wish Peter had guessed a protest against the inevitable.
+
+Peter acknowledged McGuire's right to seclusion in his own house, but he
+found himself wondering whether death for the intruder as proposed by
+his employer were a justifiable means of preserving it, especially if
+the strange visitor did not himself use violence to gain his ends. And
+so, when McGuire presently poured himself another glass of whisky, and
+drank it, Peter took the liberty of asking the question.
+
+"I am ignorant of your laws in this country, Mr. McGuire, but doesn't it
+seem that short of forcible entry of this house we would hardly be
+justified in shooting the man?"
+
+"I take the responsibility for that."
+
+"I understand. But what I was going to propose was a hunt through the
+woods to-morrow. A description of this man would be helpful. For
+instance, whether he was smoothly shaven or whether he had a
+beard--or--or a mustache?"
+
+McGuire scowled.
+
+"The man has a slight growth of beard--of mustache. But what difference
+does that make? No one has a right here--without my permission."
+
+Peter sipped at his glass. As he had suspected, there were two of them.
+
+"That's true. But even with this, we can move with more intelligence.
+This forest is your property. If we find any person who can't give an
+account of himself, we could take him into custody and turn him over to
+the proper authorities."
+
+"No. No," cried McGuire. "And have him set loose after a trivial
+examination? Little good that would do. This man who is trying to reach
+me----"
+
+McGuire stopped suddenly, glaring at his superintendent with bloodshot
+eyes, and Peter very politely waited for him to go on. But he brought
+his empty glass down on the table with a crash which shattered it.
+
+"He mustn't reach me," he roared. "I won't see him. That's understood.
+He's a man I'd have no more compunction about shooting than----"
+
+McGuire, with a curious suddenness, stopped again. Then rose and resumed
+his habit of pacing the floor. For a moment it had almost seemed as if
+he were on the point of a revelation. But the mood passed. Instead of
+speaking further he threw out his arms in a wide gesture.
+
+"I've said enough," he growled, "more than enough. You know your duty."
+And he gestured toward the door. "Do it!" he finished brusquely.
+
+Peter had already risen, and Stryker unemotionally opened the door for
+him.
+
+"I'll stay on duty all night, Mr. McGuire," he said quietly. "I'd advise
+you to turn in and get some sleep. You need it."
+
+"Yes. Yes, I will. Thanks, Nichols," said McGuire, following him to the
+door and offering a flabby hand. "Don't mind what I've said to-night. I
+think we understand each other. Stryker will see that the house is
+locked when the young people come up. Keep your men to the mark and take
+no chances."
+
+"Good-night."
+
+The remainder of the night, as Mrs. Bergen had predicted, proved
+uneventful, and at daylight Peter went to his cabin and tumbled into
+bed, too tired to think further of McGuire's visitors--or even of the
+man with the black mustache.
+
+The next day he lay abed luxuriously for a while after he had awakened,
+but no amount of quiet thinking availed to clarify the mystery. There
+were two men, one bearded, interested in watching McGuire, another with
+a black mustache, interested in Peter. And so, after wondering again for
+some puzzling moments as to how Mrs. Bergen, the housekeeper, had come
+to be involved in McGuire's fortunes, he gave the problem up.
+
+Foreseeing difficulties over breakfast at the house, he had arranged to
+make his own coffee on a small oil stove which happened to be available,
+and so Peter set the pot on to boil and while he dressed turned over in
+his mind the possibilities of the future. It seemed quite certain that
+the antagonism, whatever its nature, between his employer and the
+prowling stranger must come to an issue of some sort almost at once. The
+intruder, if he were the sort of man who could inspire terror, would
+not remain content merely to prowl fruitlessly about with every danger
+of being shot for his pains, and McGuire could hardly remain long in his
+present situation without a physical or mental collapse.
+
+Why hadn't McGuire taken flight? Why indeed had he come to Black Rock
+House when it seemed that he would have been much safer amongst the
+crowds of the city, where he could fall back upon the protection of the
+police and their courts for immunity from this kind of persecution?
+
+Pieced together, the phrases his employer had let slip suggested the
+thought that he had come to Black Rock to escape publicity in anything
+that might happen. And McGuire's insistence upon the orders that the
+guards should shoot to kill also suggested, rather unpleasantly, the
+thought that McGuire knew who the visitor was and earnestly desired his
+death.
+
+But Mrs. Bergen could have no such wish, for, unlike McGuire, she had
+shown a reticence in her fears, as though her silence had been intended
+to protect rather than to accuse. Beth Cameron, too, was in some way
+unconsciously involved in the adventure. But how? He drank his coffee
+and ate his roll, a prey to a very lively curiosity. Beth interested
+him. And if Aunt Tillie Bergen, her only near relative, showed signs of
+inquietude on the girl's account, the mysterious visitor surely had it
+in his power to make her unhappy. As he washed up the dishes and made
+his bed, Peter decided that he would find Beth to-night when she came
+back from work and ask her some questions about her Aunt Tillie.
+
+Beth Cameron saved him that trouble. He was sitting at the piano,
+awaiting a telephone call to Black Rock House, where he was to have a
+conference with his employer on the forestry situation. He was so deeply
+absorbed in his music that he was unaware of the figure that had stolen
+through the underbrush and was now hidden just outside the door. It was
+Beth. She stood with the fingers of one hand lightly touching the edge
+of the door-jamb, the other hand at her breast, while she listened,
+poised lightly as though for flight. But a playful breeze twitched at
+the hem of her skirt, flicking it out into the patch of sunlight by the
+doorsill, and Peter caught the glint of white from the tail of his eye.
+
+The music ceased suddenly and before Beth could flee into the bushes
+Peter had caught her by the hand.
+
+Now that she was discovered she made no effort to escape him.
+
+"I--I was listening," she gasped.
+
+"Why, Beth," he exclaimed, voicing the name in his thoughts. "How long
+have you been here?"
+
+"I--I don't know. Not long."
+
+"I'm so glad."
+
+She was coloring very prettily.
+
+"You--you told me you--you'd play for me sometime," she said demurely.
+
+"Of course. Won't you come in? It's rather a mess here, but----"
+
+He led her in, glancing at her gingham dress, a little puzzled.
+
+"I thought you'd be farmeretting," he said.
+
+But she shook her head.
+
+"I quit--yesterday."
+
+He didn't ask the reason. He was really enjoying the sight of her. Few
+women are comely in the morning hours, which have a merciless way of
+exaggerating minute imperfections. Beth hadn't any minute imperfections
+except her freckles, which were merely Nature's colorings upon a
+woodland flower. She seemed to fill the cabin with morning fragrance,
+like a bud just brought in from the garden.
+
+"I'm very glad you've come," he said gallantly, leading her over to the
+double window where there was a chintz-covered seat. "I've wanted very
+much to talk to you."
+
+She followed him protestingly.
+
+"But I didn't come to be talked to. I came to listen to you play."
+
+"You always arrive in the midst of music," he laughed. "I played you in,
+without knowing it. That was an Elfentanz----"
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"A dance of the Elves--the fairies." And then, with a laugh, "And the
+little devils."
+
+"The little devils? You mean _me_!"
+
+"Elf--fairy and devil too--but mostly elf."
+
+"I'm not sure I like that--but I _do_ like the music. Please play it
+again."
+
+She was so lovely in her eagerness that he couldn't refuse, his fingers
+straying from the dance by slow transitions into something more quiet,
+the "Romance" of Sibelius, and then after that into a gay little
+_scherzo_, at the end of which he turned suddenly to find her flushed
+and breathless, regarding him in a kind of awe.
+
+"How lovely!" she whispered. "There were no devils in that."
+
+"No, only fairies."
+
+"Angels too--but somethin' else--that quiet piece--like the--the memory
+of a--a--sorrow."
+
+"'Romance,' it's called," he explained gently.
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"The things we dream. The things that ought to be, but aren't."
+
+She took a deep breath. "Yes, that's it. That's what it meant. I felt
+it." And then, as though with a sudden shyness at her self-revelation,
+she glanced about. "What a pretty place! I've never been here before."
+
+"How did you find your way?"
+
+"Oh, I knew where the cabin was. I came through the woods and across the
+log-jam below the pool. Then I heard the music. I didn't think you'd
+mind."
+
+"Mind! Oh, I say. I don't know when I've been so pleased."
+
+"Are you really? You _say_ a lot."
+
+"Didn't I play it?"
+
+That confused her a little.
+
+"Oh!" she said demurely.
+
+"And now, will you talk to me?"
+
+"Yes, of course. But----"
+
+"But what----?"
+
+"I--I'm not sure that I ought to be here."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"It's kind of--unusual."
+
+He laughed. "You wouldn't be you, if you weren't unusual."
+
+She glanced at him uneasily.
+
+"You see, I don't know you very well."
+
+"You're very exclusive in Black Rock!" he laughed.
+
+"I guess we _have_ to be exclusive whether we want to or not," she
+replied.
+
+"Don't you think I'll do?"
+
+"Maybe. I oughtn't to have come, but I just couldn't keep away."
+
+"I'm glad you did. I wanted to see you."
+
+"It wasn't that," she put in hastily. "I had to hear you play again.
+That's what I mean."
+
+"I'll play for you whenever you like."
+
+"Will you? Then play again, now. It makes me feel all queer inside."
+
+Peter laughed. "Do you feel that way when you sing?"
+
+"No. It all comes out of me then."
+
+"Would you mind singing for me, Beth?" he asked after a moment.
+
+"I--I don't think I dare."
+
+He got up and went to the piano.
+
+"What do you sing?"
+
+But she hadn't moved and she didn't reply. So he urged her.
+
+"In the woods when you're coming home----?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know----It just comes out--things I've heard--things I make
+up----"
+
+"What have you heard? I don't know that I can accompany you, but I'll
+try."
+
+She was flushing painfully. He could see that she wanted to sing for
+him--to be a part of this wonderful dream-world in which he belonged,
+and yet she did not dare.
+
+"What have you heard?" he repeated softly, encouraging her by running
+his fingers slowly over the simple chords of a major key.
+
+Suddenly she started up and joined him by the piano.
+
+"That's it--'The long, long trail a-windin'----" and in a moment was
+singing softly. He had heard the air and fell in with her almost at
+once.
+
+    "There's a long, long trail a-winding
+    Into the land of my dreams,
+    Where the nightingale is singing
+    And a bright moon beams----"
+
+Like the good musician that he was, Peter submerged himself, playing
+gently, his gaze on his fingers, while he listened. He had made no
+mistake. The distances across which he had heard her had not flattered.
+Her voice was untrained, of course, but it seemed to Peter that it had
+lost nothing by the neglect, for as she gained confidence, she forgot
+Peter, as he intended that she should, and sang with the complete
+abstraction of a thrush in the deep wood. Like the thrush's note, too,
+Beth's was limpid, clear, and sweet, full of forest sounds--the falling
+brook, the sigh of night winds....
+
+When the song ended he told her so.
+
+"You do say nice things, don't you?" she said joyously.
+
+"Wouldn't you--if it cost you nothing and was the truth? You must have
+your voice trained."
+
+"Must! I might jump over the moon if I had a broomstick."
+
+"It's got to be managed somehow."
+
+"Then you're not disappointed in the way it sounds, close up?"
+
+She stood beside him, leaning against the piano, her face flushed, her
+breath rapid, searching his face eagerly. Peter knew that it was only
+the dormant artist in her seeking the light, but he thrilled warmly at
+her nearness, for she was very lovely. Peter's acquaintance with women
+had been varied, but, curiously enough, each meeting with this girl
+instead of detracting had only added to her charm.
+
+"No. I'm not disappointed in it," he said quite calmly, every impulse in
+him urging a stronger expression. But he owed a duty to himself.
+_Noblesse oblige!_ It was one of the mottoes of his House--(not always
+followed--alas!). With a more experienced woman he would have said what
+was in his mind. He would probably have taken her in his arms and kissed
+her at once, for that was really what he would have liked to do. But
+Beth....
+
+Perhaps something in the coolness of his tone disconcerted her, for she
+turned away from the piano.
+
+"You're very kind," she said quietly.
+
+He had a feeling that she was about to slip away from him, so he got up.
+
+"Won't you sing again, Beth?"
+
+But she shook her head. For some reason the current that had run between
+them was broken. As she moved toward the door, he caught her by the
+hand.
+
+"Don't go yet. I want to talk to you."
+
+"I don't think I ought." And then, with a whimsical smile, "And you
+ought to be out makin' the trees grow."
+
+He laughed. "There's a lot of time for that."
+
+She let him lead her to the divan again and sat, her fingers dovetailed
+around a slender knee.
+
+"I--I'm sorry I made fun of you the other day," she confessed
+immediately.
+
+"I didn't mind in the least."
+
+"But you _did_ seem to know it all," she said. And then smiled in the
+direction of the piano. "Now--I'm comin' to think you do. Even Shad says
+you're a wonder. I--I don't think he likes you, though----" she
+admitted.
+
+"I'm sorry to hear that."
+
+"Don't you care. Shad don't like anybody but himself and
+Goda'mighty--with God trailin' a little."
+
+Peter smiled. Her singing voice may have been impersonal but one could
+hardly think that of her conversation.
+
+"And you, Beth--where do _you_ come in?"
+
+She glanced at him quickly.
+
+"Oh, I----," she said with a laugh, "I just trail along after God."
+
+Her irony meant no irreverence but a vast derogation of Shad Wells.
+Somehow her point of view was very illuminating.
+
+"I'm afraid you make him very unhappy," he ventured.
+
+"That's _his_ lookout," she finished.
+
+Peter was taking a great delight in watching her profile, the blue eyes
+shadowed under the mass of her hair, eyes rather deeply set and
+thoughtful in repose, the straight nose, the rather full underlip ending
+in a precipitous dent above her chin. He liked that chin. There was
+courage there and strength, softened at once by the curve of the throat,
+flowing to where it joined the fine deep breast. Yesterday she had
+seemed like a boy. To-day she was a woman grown, feminine in every
+graceful conformation, on tiptoe at the very verge of life.
+
+But there was no "flapper" here. What she lacked in culture was made up
+in refinement. He had felt that yesterday--the day before. She belonged
+elsewhere. And yet to Peter it would have seemed a pity to have changed
+her in any particular. Her lips were now drawn in a firm line and her
+brows bore a curious frown.
+
+"You don't mind my calling you Beth, do you?"
+
+She flashed a glance at him.
+
+"That's what everybody calls me."
+
+"My name is Peter."
+
+"Yes, I know." And then, "That's funny."
+
+"Funny!"
+
+"You look as if your name ought to be Algernon."
+
+"Why?" he asked, laughing.
+
+"Oh, I don't know. It's the name of a man in a book I read--an
+Englishman. You're English, you said."
+
+"Half English," said Peter.
+
+"What's the other half?"
+
+"Russian." He knew that he ought to be lying to her, but somehow he
+couldn't.
+
+"Russian! I thought Russians all had long hair and carried bombs."
+
+"Some of 'em do. I'm not that kind. The half of me that's English is the
+biggest half, and the safest."
+
+"I'm glad of that. I'd hate to think of you as bein' a Bolshevik."
+
+"H-m. So would I."
+
+"But Russia's where you get your music from, isn't it? The band leader
+at Glassboro is a Russian. He can play every instrument. Did you learn
+music in Russia?"
+
+Beth was now treading dangerous ground and so it was time to turn the
+tables.
+
+"Yes, a little," he said, "but music has no nationality. Or why would I
+find a voice like yours out here?"
+
+"Twenty miles from nowhere," she added scornfully.
+
+"How did you come here, Beth? Would you mind telling me? You weren't
+born here, were you? How did you happen to come to Black Rock?"
+
+"Just bad luck, I guess. Nobody'd ever come to Black Rock just because
+they want to. We just came. That's all."
+
+"Just you and Aunt Tillie? Is your father dead?" he asked.
+
+She closed her eyes a moment and then clasped her knees again.
+
+"I don't like to talk about family matters."
+
+"Oh, I----"
+
+And then, gently, she added,
+
+"I never talk about them to any one."
+
+"Oh, I'm sorry," said Peter, aware of the undercurrent of sadness in her
+voice. "I didn't know that there was anything painful to you----"
+
+"I didn't know it myself, until you played it to me, just now, the piece
+with the sad, low voices, under the melody. It was like somebody dead
+speakin' to me. I can't talk about the things I feel like that."
+
+"Don't then----Forgive me for asking."
+
+He laid his fingers softly over hers. She withdrew her hand quickly, but
+the look that she turned him found his face sober, his dark eyes warm
+with sympathy. And then with a swift inconsequential impulse born of
+Peter's recantation,
+
+"I don't s'pose there's any reason why I shouldn't tell you," she said
+more easily. "Everybody around here knows about me--about us. Aunt
+Tillie and I haven't lived here always. She brought me here when I was a
+child."
+
+She paused again and Peter remained silent, watching her intently. As
+she glanced up at him, something in the expression of his face gave her
+courage to go on.
+
+"Father's dead. His name was Ben Cameron. He came of nice people," she
+faltered. "But he--he was no good. We lived up near New Lisbon. He used
+to get drunk on 'Jersey Lightnin'' and tear loose. He was all right
+between whiles--farmin'--but whisky made him crazy, and then--then he
+would come home and beat us up."
+
+"Horrible!"
+
+"It was. I was too little to know much, but Aunt Tillie's husband came
+at last and there was a terrible fight. Uncle Will was hurt--hurt so
+bad--cut with a knife--that he never was the same again. And my--my
+father went away cursing us all. Then my mother died--Uncle Will
+too--and Aunt Tillie and I came down here to live. That's all. Not much
+to be proud of," she finished ruefully.
+
+Peter was silent. It was a harrowing, sordid story of primitive passion.
+He was very sorry for her.
+
+Beth made an abrupt graceful movement of an arm across her brows, as
+though to wipe out the memory.
+
+"I don't know why I've told you," she said. "I never speak of this to
+any one."
+
+"I'm so sorry."
+
+He meant it. And Beth knew that he did.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE PLACARD
+
+
+The look that she had given him showed her sense of his sympathy. So he
+ventured,
+
+"Did you hear from your father before he died?"
+
+"Aunt Tillie did,--once. Then we got word he'd been killed in a railway
+accident out West. I was glad. A man like that has no right to live."
+
+"You and Aunt Tillie have had a pretty hard time----" he mused.
+
+"Yes. She's an angel--and I love her. Why is it that good people have
+nothin' but trouble? She had an uncle who went bad too--he was younger
+than she was--my great-uncle--Jack Bray--he forged a check--or somethin'
+up in Newark--and went to the penitentiary."
+
+"And is he dead too?"
+
+"No--not at last accounts. He's out--somewhere. When I was little he
+used to come to Aunt Tillie for money--a tall, lantern-jawed man. I saw
+him once three years ago. He was here. Aunt Tillie tried to keep me out
+of the kitchen. But I thought he was up to some funny business and
+stayed. He took a fancy to me. He said he was camera man in the movies.
+He wanted me to go with him--thought I could be as good as Mary
+Pickford. I'm glad I didn't go--from what I know now. He was a bad man.
+Aunt Tillie was scared of him. Poor soul! She gave him all she had--most
+of what was left from the old farm, I guess."
+
+"Do you think----" began Peter, then paused. And as she glanced at him
+inquiringly, "Did you notice that your Aunt Tillie seemed--er--frightened
+last night?" he asked at last.
+
+"I thought so for a while, but she said she was only sick. She never
+lies to me."
+
+"She seemed very much disturbed."
+
+"Her nerve's not what it used to be--especially since Mr. McGuire's
+taken to seein' things----"
+
+"You don't believe then that she could have seen John Bray--that he had
+come back again last night?"
+
+"Why, no," said Beth, turning in surprise. "I never thought of it--and
+yet," she paused, "yes,--it might have been----"
+
+She became more thoughtful but didn't go on. Peter was on the trail of a
+clew to the mystery, but she had already told him so much that further
+questions seemed like personal intrusion. And so,
+
+"I'd like to tell you, Beth," he said, "that I'm your friend and Mrs.
+Bergen's. If anything should turn up to make you unhappy or to make your
+aunt unhappy and I can help you, won't you let me know?"
+
+"Why--do you think anything is goin' to happen?" she asked.
+
+His reply was noncommittal.
+
+"I just wanted you to know you could count on me----" he said soberly.
+"I think you've had trouble enough."
+
+"But I'm not afraid of Jack Bray," she said with a shrug, "even if Aunt
+Tillie is. He can't do anything to me. He can't _make_ me go to New York
+if I don't want to."
+
+She had clenched her brown fists in her excitement and Peter laughed.
+
+"I think I'd be a little sorry for anybody who tried to make you do
+anything you didn't want to do," he said.
+
+She frowned. "Why, if I thought that bandy-legged, lantern-jawed, old
+buzzard was comin' around here frightenin' Aunt Tillie, I'd--I'd----"
+
+"What would you do?"
+
+"Never you mind what I'd do. But I'm not afraid of Jack Bray," she
+finished confidently.
+
+The terrors that had been built up around the house of McGuire, the
+mystery surrounding the awe-inspiring prowler, the night vigils, the
+secrecy--all seemed to fade into a piece of hobbledehoy buffoonery at
+Beth's contemptuous description of her recreant relative. And he smiled
+at her amusedly.
+
+"But what would you say," he asked seriously, "if I told you that last
+night Mr. McGuire saw the same person your Aunt Tillie did, and that he
+was terrified--almost to the verge of collapse?"
+
+Beth had risen, her eyes wide with incredulity.
+
+"Merciful Father! McGuire! Did he have another spell last night? You
+don't mean----?"
+
+"I went up to his room. He was done for. He had seen outside the
+drawing-room window the face of the very man he's been guarding himself
+against."
+
+"I can't believe----," she gasped. "And you think Aunt Tillie----?"
+
+"Your Aunt Tillie talked to a man outside the door of the kitchen. You
+didn't hear her. I did. The same man who had been frightening Mr.
+McGuire."
+
+"Aunt Tillie!" she said in astonishment.
+
+"There's not a doubt of it. McGuire saw him. Andy saw him too,--thought
+he was the chauffeur."
+
+Beth's excitement was growing with the moments.
+
+"Why, Aunt Tillie didn't know anything about what was frightening Mr.
+McGuire--no more'n I did," she gasped.
+
+"She knows now. She wasn't sick last night, Beth. She was just
+bewildered--frightened half out of her wits. I spoke to her after you
+went home. She wouldn't say a word. She was trying to conceal something.
+But there was a man outside and she knows who he is."
+
+"But what could Jack Bray have to do with Mr. McGuire?" she asked in
+bewilderment.
+
+Peter shrugged. "You know as much as I do. I wouldn't have told you this
+if you'd been afraid. But Mrs. Bergen is."
+
+"Well, did you _ever?_"
+
+"No, I never did," replied Peter, smiling.
+
+"It does beat _anything_."
+
+"It does. It's most interesting, but as far as I can see, hardly
+alarming for you, whatever it may be to Mr. McGuire or Mrs. Bergen. If
+the man is only your great-uncle, there ought to be a way to deal with
+him----"
+
+"I've just got to talk to Aunt Tillie," Beth broke in, moving toward the
+door. Peter followed her, taking up his hat.
+
+"I'll go with you," he said.
+
+For a few moments Beth said nothing. She had passed through the stages
+of surprise, anger and bewilderment, and was now still indignant but
+quite self-contained. When he thought of Beth's description of the Ghost
+of Black Rock House, Peter was almost tempted to forget the terrors of
+the redoubtable McGuire. A man of his type hardly lapses into hysteria
+at the mere thought of a "bandy-legged buzzard." And yet McGuire's
+terrors had been so real and were still so real that it was hardly
+conceivable that Bray could have been the cause of them. Indeed it was
+hardly conceivable that the person Beth described could be a source of
+terror to any one. What was the answer?
+
+"Aunt Tillie doesn't know anything about McGuire," Beth said suddenly.
+"She just couldn't know. She tells me everything."
+
+"But of course it's possible that McGuire and this John Bray could have
+met in New York----"
+
+"What would Mr. McGuire be doin' with him?" she said scornfully.
+
+Peter laughed.
+
+"It's what he's doing with McGuire that matters."
+
+"I don't believe it's Bray," said Beth confidently. "I don't believe
+it."
+
+They had reached a spot where the underbrush was thin, and Beth, who had
+been looking past the tree trunks toward the beginnings of the lawns,
+stopped suddenly, her eyes focusing upon some object closer at hand.
+
+"What's that?" she asked, pointing.
+
+Peter followed the direction of her gaze. On a tree in the woods not far
+from the path was a square of cardboard, but Beth's eyes were keener
+than Peter's, and she called his attention to some writing upon it.
+
+They approached curiously. With ironic impudence the message was
+scrawled in red crayon upon the reverse of one of Jonathan McGuire's
+neat trespass signs, and nailed to the tree by an old hasp-knife. Side
+by side, and intensely interested, they read:
+
+      TO MIKE MCGUIRE
+
+      I'VE COME BACK.
+
+      YOU KNOW WHAT I'VE GOT AND I KNOW WHAT YOU'VE GOT.
+      ACT PRONTO. I'LL COME FOR MY ANSWER AT ELEVEN FRIDAY
+      NIGHT--AT THIS TREE.  NO TRICKS. IF THERE'S NO
+      ANSWER--YOU KNOW WHAT I'LL DO.
+
+      HAWK.
+
+"Hawk!" muttered Beth, "who on earth----?"
+
+"Another----," said Peter cryptically.
+
+"You see!" cried Beth triumphantly, "I knew it couldn't be Jack Bray!"
+
+"This chap seems to be rather in earnest, doesn't he? _Pronto!_ That
+means haste."
+
+"But it's only a joke. It must be," cried Beth.
+
+Peter loosened the knife, took the placard down and turned it over,
+examining it critically.
+
+"I wonder." And then, thoughtfully, "No, I don't believe it is. It's
+addressed to McGuire. I'm going to take it to him."
+
+"Mike McGuire," corrected Beth. And then, "But it really does look
+queer."
+
+"It does," assented Peter; "it appears to me as if this message must
+have come from the person McGuire saw last night."
+
+Beth looked bewildered.
+
+"But what has Aunt Tillie got to do with--with Hawk? She never knew
+anybody of that name."
+
+"Probably not. It isn't a real name, of course."
+
+"Then why should it frighten Mr. McGuire?" she asked logically.
+
+Peter shook his head. All the props had fallen from under his theories.
+
+"Whether it's real to McGuire or not is what I want to know. And I'm
+going to find out," he finished.
+
+When they reached a path which cut through the trees toward the creek,
+Beth stopped, and held out her hand.
+
+"I'm not goin' up to the house with you and I don't think I'll see Aunt
+Tillie just now," she said. "Good-by, Mr.----"
+
+"Peter----," he put in.
+
+"Good-by, Mr. Peter."
+
+"Just Peter----" he insisted.
+
+"Good-by, Mr. Just Peter. Thanks for the playin'. Will you let me come
+again?"
+
+"Yes. And I'm going to get you some music----"
+
+"Singin' music?" she gasped.
+
+He nodded.
+
+"And you'll let me know if I can help--Aunt Tillie or you?"
+
+She bobbed her head and was gone.
+
+Peter stood for a while watching the path down which she had
+disappeared, wondering at her abrupt departure, which for the moment
+drove from his mind all thought of McGuire's troubles. It was difficult
+to associate Beth with the idea of prudery or affectation. Her visit
+proved that. She had come to the Cabin because she had wanted to hear
+him play, because she had wanted to sing for him, because too his
+promises had excited her curiosity about him, and inspired a hope of his
+assistance. But the visit had flattered Peter. He wasn't inured to this
+sort of frankness. It was perhaps the greatest single gift of tribute
+and confidence that had ever been paid him--at least by a woman. A visit
+of this sort from a person like Anastasie Galitzin or indeed from almost
+any woman in the world of forms and precedents in which he had lived
+would have been equivalent to unconditional surrender.
+
+The girl had not stopped to question the propriety of her actions. That
+the Cabin was Peter's bedroom, that she had only seen him twice, that he
+might not have understood the headlong impulse that brought her, had
+never occurred to Beth. The self-consciousness of the first few moments
+had been wafted away on the melody of the music he had played, and after
+that he knew they were to be friends. There seemed to be no doubt in
+Peter's mind that she could have thought they would be anything else.
+
+And Peter was sure that he had hardly been able, even if he had wished,
+to conceal his warm admiration for her physical beauty. She had been
+very near him. All he would have had to do was to reach out and take
+her. That he hadn't done so seemed rather curious now. And yet he
+experienced a sort of mild satisfaction that he had resisted so trying a
+temptation. If she hadn't been so sure of him.... Idealism? Perhaps. The
+same sort of idealism that had made Peter believe the people at Zukovo
+were fine enough to make it worth while risking his life for them--that
+had made him think that the people of Russia could emerge above Russia
+herself. He had no illusions as to Zukovo now, but Beth was a child--and
+one is always gentle with children.
+
+He puzzled for another moment over her decision not to be seen coming
+with him from the Cabin. Had this sophistication come as an
+afterthought, born of something that had passed between them? Or was it
+merely a feminine instinct seeking expression? Peter didn't care who
+knew or saw, because he really liked Beth amazingly. She had a gorgeous
+voice. He would have to develop it. He really would.
+
+All the while Peter was turning over in his fingers the placard bearing
+the strange message to "Mike" McGuire from the mysterious "Hawk." He
+read and reread it, each time finding a new meaning in its wording.
+Blackmail? Probably. The "_pronto_" was significant. This message could
+hardly have come from Beth's "bandy-legged buzzard." He knew little of
+movie camera men, but imagined them rather given to the depiction of
+villainies than the accomplishment of them. And a coward who would prey
+upon an old woman and a child could hardly be of the metal to attempt
+such big game as McGuire. The mystery deepened. The buzzard was now a
+hawk. "Hawk," whatever his real name, was the man McGuire had seen last
+night through the window. Was he also the man who had frightened Mrs.
+Bergen? And if so, how and where had she known him without Beth's being
+aware of it? And why should Beth be involved in the danger?
+
+Peter was slowly coming to the belief that there had been two men
+outside the house last night, "Hawk" and John Bray. And yet it seemed
+scarcely possible that the men on guard should not have seen the second
+man and that both men could have gotten away without leaving a trace.
+And where was the man with the black mustache? Was he John Bray?
+Impossible. It was all very perplexing. But here in his hand he held the
+tangible evidence of McGuire's fears. "You know what I've got and I know
+what you've got." The sentence seemed to have a cabalistic
+significance--a pact--a threat which each man held over the other.
+Perhaps it wasn't money only that "Hawk" wanted. Whatever it was, he
+meant to have it, and soon. The answer the man expected was apparently
+something well understood between himself and McGuire, better understood
+perhaps since the day McGuire had seen him in New York and had fled in
+terror to Sheldon, Senior's, office. And if McGuire didn't send the
+desired answer to the tree by Friday night, there would be the very
+devil to pay--if not "Hawk."
+
+Peter was to be the bearer of ill tidings and with them, he knew, all
+prospect of a business discussion would vanish. The situation interested
+him, as all things mysterious must, and he could not forget that he was,
+for the present, part policeman, part detective; but forestry was his
+real job here and every day that passed meant so many fewer days in
+which to build the fire towers. And these he considered to be a prime
+necessity to the security of the estate.
+
+He rolled the placard up and went toward the house. On the lawn he
+passed the young people, intent upon their own pursuits. He was glad
+that none of them noticed him and meeting Stryker, who was hovering
+around the lower hall, he sent his name up to his employer.
+
+"I don't think Mr. McGuire expects you just yet, sir," said the man.
+
+"Nevertheless, tell him I must see him," said Peter. "It's important."
+
+Though it was nearly two o'clock, McGuire was not yet dressed and his
+looks when Peter was admitted to him bespoke a long night of anxiety and
+vigil. Wearing an incongruous flowered dressing gown tied at the waist
+with a silken cord, he turned to the visitor.
+
+"Well," he said rather peevishly.
+
+"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. McGuire, but something has happened that
+I thought----"
+
+"What's happened?" the other man snapped out, eying the roll of
+cardboard in Peter's hand. "What----?" he gasped.
+
+Peter smiled and shrugged coolly.
+
+"It may be only a joke, sir--and I hardly know whether I'm even
+justified in calling it to your attention, but I found this placard
+nailed to a tree near the path to the Cabin."
+
+"Placard!" said McGuire, his sharp glance noting the printing of the
+trespass sign. "Of course--that's the usual warning----"
+
+"It's the other side," said Peter, "that is unusual." And unrolling it
+carefully, he laid it flat on the table beside his employer's breakfast
+tray and then stood back to note the effect of the disclosure.
+
+McGuire stared at the headline, starting violently, and then, as though
+fascinated, read the scrawl through to the end. Peter could not see his
+face, but the back of his neck, the ragged fringe of moist hair around
+his bald spot were eloquent enough. And the hands which held the
+extraordinary document were far from steady. The gay flowers of the
+dressing gown mocked the pitiable figure it concealed, which seemed
+suddenly to sag into its chair. Peter waited. For a long while the
+dressing gown was dumb and then as though its occupant were slowly
+awakening to the thought that something was required of him it stirred
+and turned slowly in the chair.
+
+"You--you've read this?" asked McGuire weakly.
+
+"Yes, sir. It was there to read. It was merely stuck on a tree with this
+hasp-knife," and Peter produced the implement and handed it to McGuire.
+
+McGuire took the knife--twisting it slowly over in his fingers. "A
+hasp-knife," he repeated dully.
+
+"I thought it best to bring them to you," said Peter, "especially on
+account of----"
+
+"Yes, yes. Of course." He was staring at the red crayon scrawl and as he
+said nothing more Peter turned toward the door, where Stryker stood on
+guard.
+
+"If there's nothing else just now, I'll----"
+
+"Wait!" uttered the old man, and Peter paused. And then, "Did any one
+else see this--this paper?"
+
+"Yes--Mrs. Bergen's niece--she saw it first."
+
+"My housekeeper's niece. Any one else?"
+
+"I don't know. I hardly think so. It seemed quite freshly written."
+
+"Ah----" muttered McGuire. He was now regarding Peter intently.
+"Where--where is the tree on which you found it?"
+
+"A maple--just in the wood--at the foot of the lawn."
+
+"Ah!" He stumbled to the window, the placard still clutched in his
+hands, and peered at the woods as though seeking to pick out the single
+tree marked for his exacerbation. Then jerked himself around and faced
+the bearer of these tidings, glaring at him as though he were the author
+of them.
+
+"G---- d---- you all!" he swore in a stifled tone.
+
+"I beg pardon," said Peter with sharp politeness.
+
+McGuire glanced at Peter and fell heavily into the nearest armchair. "It
+can't--be done," he muttered, half to himself, and then another oath. He
+was showing his early breeding now.
+
+"I might 'a' known----," he said aloud, staring at the paper.
+
+"Then it isn't a joke?" asked Peter, risking the question.
+
+"Joke!" roared McGuire. And then more quietly, "A joke? I don't want it
+talked about," he muttered with a senile smile. And then, "You say a
+woman read it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"She must be kept quiet. I can't have all the neighborhood into my
+affairs."
+
+"I think that can be managed. I'll speak to her. In the meanwhile if
+there's anything I can do----"
+
+McGuire looked up at Peter and their glances met. McGuire's glance
+wavered and then came back to Peter's face. What he found there seemed
+to satisfy him for he turned to Stryker, who had been listening
+intently.
+
+"You may go, Stryker," he commanded. "Shut the door, but stay within
+call."
+
+The valet's face showed surprise and some disappointment, but he merely
+bowed his head and obeyed.
+
+"I suppose you're--you're curious about this message, Nichols--coming in
+such a way," said McGuire, after a pause.
+
+"To tell the truth, I am, sir," replied Peter. "We've done all we could
+to protect you. This 'Hawk' must be the devil himself."
+
+"He is," repeated McGuire. "Hell's breed. The thing can't go on. I've
+got to put a stop to it--and to him."
+
+"He speaks of coming again Friday night----"
+
+"Yes--yes--Friday." And then, his fingers trembling along the placard,
+"I've got to do what he wants--this time--just this time----"
+
+McGuire was gasping out the phrases as though each of them was wrenched
+from his throat. And then, with an effort at self-control,
+
+"Sit down, Nichols," he muttered. "Since you've seen this, I--I'll have
+to tell you more. I--I think--I'll need you--to help me."
+
+Peter obeyed, flattered by his employer's manner and curious as to the
+imminent revelations.
+
+"I may say that--this--this 'Hawk' is a--an enemy of mine, Nichols--a
+bitter enemy--unscrupulous--a man better dead than alive. I--I wish to
+God you'd shot him last night."
+
+"Sorry, sir," said Peter cheerfully.
+
+"I--I've got to do what he wants--this time. I can't have this sort of
+thing goin' on--with everybody in Black Rock reading these damn things.
+You're sure my daughter Peggy knows nothing?"
+
+"I'd be pretty sure of that----"
+
+"But she might--any time--if he puts up more placards. I've got to stop
+that, Nichols. This thing mustn't go any further."
+
+"I think you may trust me."
+
+"Yes. I think I can. I've _got_ to trust you now, whether I want to or
+no. The man who wrote this scrawl is the man I came down here to get
+away from." Peter waited while McGuire paused. "You may think it's very
+strange. It is strange. I knew this man--called 'Hawk,' many years ago.
+I--I thought he was dead, but he's come back."
+
+McGuire paused again, the placard in his hands, reading the line which
+so clearly announced that fact.
+
+"He speaks of something I've got--something he's got, Nichols. It's a
+paper--a--er--a partnership paper we drew up years ago--out West and
+signed. That paper is of great value to me. As long as he holds it
+I----," McGuire halted to wipe the sweat from his pallid brow. "He holds
+it as a--well--not exactly as a threat--but as a kind of menace to my
+happiness and Peggy's."
+
+"I understand, sir," put in Peter quietly. "Blackmail, in short."
+
+"Exactly--er--blackmail. He wanted five thousand dollars--in New York. I
+refused him--there's no end to blackmail once you yield--and I came down
+here--but he followed me. But I've got to get that paper away from him."
+
+"If you were sure he had it with him----"
+
+"That's just it. He's too smart for that. He's got it hidden somewhere.
+I've got to get this money for him--from New York--I haven't got it in
+the house--before Friday night----"
+
+"But blackmail----!"
+
+"I've got to, Nichols--this time. I've got to."
+
+"I wouldn't, sir," said Peter stoutly.
+
+"But you don't know everything. I've only told you part," said McGuire,
+almost whining. "This is no ordinary case--no ordinary blackmail. I've
+got to be quick. I'm going to get the money--I'm going to get you to go
+to New York and get it."
+
+"Me!"
+
+"Yes. Yes. This is Wednesday. I can't take any chances of not having it
+here Friday. Peggy is going back this afternoon. I'll get her to drive
+you up. I'll 'phone Sheldon to expect you--he'll give you the money and
+you can come back to-morrow."
+
+"But to-night----"
+
+"He knows the danger of trying to reach me. That's why he wrote this. I
+won't be bothered to-night. I'll shut the house tight and put some of
+the men inside. If he comes, we'll shoot."
+
+"But Friday----Do you mean, sir, that you'll go out to him with five
+thousand dollars and risk----"
+
+"No, I won't. _You_ will," said McGuire, watching Peter's face craftily.
+
+"Oh, I see," replied Peter, aware that he was being drawn more deeply
+into the plot than he had wished. "You want me to meet him."
+
+McGuire noted Peter's dubious tone and at once got up and laid his hands
+upon his shoulders.
+
+"You'll do this for me, won't you, Nichols? I don't want to see this
+man. I can't explain. There wouldn't be any danger. He hasn't anything
+against you. Why should he have? I haven't any one else that I can
+trust--but Stryker. And Stryker--well--I'd have to tell Stryker. _You_
+know already. Don't say you refuse. It's--it's a proof of my confidence.
+You're just the man I want here. I'll make it worth your while to stay
+with me--well worth your while."
+
+Peter was conscious of a feeling partly of pity, partly of contempt, for
+the cringing creature pawing at his shoulders. Peter had never liked to
+be pawed. It had always rubbed him the wrong way. But McGuire's need was
+great and pity won.
+
+"Oh, I'll do it if you like," he said, turning aside and releasing
+himself from the clinging fingers, "provided I assume no
+responsibility----"
+
+"That's it. No responsibility," said McGuire, in a tone of relief.
+"You'll just take that money out--then come away----"
+
+"And get nothing in return?" asked Peter in surprise. "No paper--no
+receipt----?"
+
+"No--just this once, Nichols. It will keep him quiet for a month or so.
+In the meanwhile----" The old man paused, a crafty look in his eyes,
+"In the meanwhile we'll have time to devise a way to meet this
+situation."
+
+"Meaning--precisely what?" asked Peter keenly.
+
+McGuire scowled at him and then turned away toward the window.
+
+"That needn't be your affair."
+
+"It won't be," said Peter quickly. "I'd like you to remember that I came
+here as a forester and superintendent. I agreed also to guard your house
+and yourself from intrusion, but if it comes to the point of----"
+
+"There, there, Nichols," croaked McGuire, "don't fly off the handle.
+We'll just cross this bridge first. I--I won't ask you to do anything
+a--a gentleman shouldn't."
+
+"Oh, well, sir," said Peter finally, "that's fair enough."
+
+McGuire came over and faced Peter, his watery eyes seeking Peter's.
+
+"You'll swear, Nichols, to say nothing of this to any one?"
+
+"Yes. I'll keep silent."
+
+"Nothing to Sheldon?"
+
+"No."
+
+"And you'll see this--this niece of the housekeeper's?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The man gave a gasp of relief and sank into his chair.
+
+"Now go, Nichols--and shift your clothes. Peggy's going about four. Come
+back here and I'll give you a letter and a check."
+
+Peter nodded and reached the door. As he opened it, Stryker straightened
+and bowed uncomfortably. But Peter knew that he had been listening at
+the keyhole.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+SHAD IS UNPLEASANT
+
+
+Peter returned from New York on Thursday night, having accomplished his
+curious mission. He had first intercepted Beth on her way to the kitchen
+and sworn her to secrecy, advising her to say nothing to Mrs. Bergen
+about the events of the previous night. And she had agreed to respect
+his wishes. On the way to New York he had sat in the rumble of the low
+red runabout, Miss Peggy McGuire at the wheel, driving the fashionable
+Freddy. Miss McGuire after having yielded, the night before, to the
+musical predilections of Miss Delaplane, had apparently reconsidered
+Peter's social status and had waved him to the seat in the rear with a
+mere gesture and without apologies. And Peter, biting back a grin and
+touching his hat, had obeyed. The familiarities tolerable in such a
+wilderness as Black Rock could not of course be considered in the halls
+of the fashionable hotel where Miss Peggy lived in New York, and where
+by dint of great care and exclusiveness she had caught a hold of the
+fringe of society. But Peter sat up very straight, trying not to hear
+what was said in front. If he could only have worn his Colonel's uniform
+and decorations, or his Grand Ducal coronet, and have folded his arms,
+the irony would have been perfection.
+
+He had gone to Sheldon, Senior, in the morning and in return for
+McGuire's check had been given cash in the shape of ten virginal five
+hundred dollar bills. This money had been put into an envelope and was
+now folded carefully in Peter's inside pocket. Sheldon, Senior, to be
+sure, had asked questions, but with a good grace Peter had evaded him.
+Dick Sheldon was out of town, so Peter put in the remaining period
+before his train-time in a music store where he spent all the money that
+remained of his salary, on books, a few for the piano but most of them
+for Beth. Peter had wasted, as he had thought, two perfectly good years
+in trying to learn to sing. But those two years were not going to be
+wasted now--for Beth was to be his mouthpiece. He knew the beginnings of
+a training--how to give her the advantage of the instruction he had
+received from one of the best teachers in Milan. He was lucky enough to
+find books on the Italian method of voice production and on the way back
+to McGuire's, armed with these, he stopped off at the Bergen house in
+Black Rock village and returned Beth's call.
+
+There he found Shad Wells, in his shirt-sleeves, smoking a pipe in the
+portico, and looking like a thundercloud. In response to Peter's query,
+he moved his right shoulder half an inch in the direction of the door,
+and then spat in the geranium bed. So Peter knocked at the door, softly
+at first, then loudly, when Beth emerged, her sleeves rolled to her
+shoulders and her arms covered with soapsuds.
+
+"Why, Shad," she said witheringly, after she had greeted Peter, "you
+might have let me know! Come in, Mr. Nichols. Excuse my appearance.
+Wash-day," she explained, as he followed her into the dark interior.
+
+"I can't stop," said the visitor, "I just came to bring these books----"
+
+"For _me_!" she exclaimed, hurriedly wiping her arms on her apron.
+
+"I got them in New York----"
+
+She pulled up the shade at the side, letting in the sunlight, an act
+permissible in the parlors of Black Rock only on state occasions, for
+the sunlight (as every one knew) was not kind to plush-covered
+furniture.
+
+"For _me_!" Beth repeated softly. "I didn't think you meant it."
+
+"_Tone production--Exercises_," explained Peter, "and here's one on _The
+Lives of the Great Composers_. I thought you might be interested in
+reading it."
+
+"Oh, yes. I am--I will be. Thank you ever so much----"
+
+"Of course you can't do much by yourself just yet--not without a
+piano--to get the pitch--the key--but I've brought a tuning fork
+and----"
+
+"But I've got the harmonium----," Beth broke in excitedly. "It's a
+little out of tune, but----"
+
+"The harmonium!" asked the bewildered Peter. "What's that?"
+
+Beth proudly indicated a piece of furniture made of curly walnut which
+stood in the corner of the room. There were several books on the top of
+it--_Gospel Tunes_--_Moody and Sankey_, a Methodist Episcopal hymn book,
+and a glass case containing wax flowers.
+
+"We play it Sundays----," said Beth, "but it ought to help----"
+
+"You play----!" he said in surprise.
+
+"Aunt Tillie and I--oh, just hymns----." She sat, while Peter watched,
+began pumping vigorously with her feet and presently the instrument
+emitted a doleful sound. "It has notes anyhow," said Beth with a laugh.
+
+"Splendid!" said Peter. "And when I've told you what to do you can
+practice here. You'll come soon?"
+
+She nodded. "When?"
+
+"To-morrow--sometime?" And then, "What's the matter with Wells?" he
+asked.
+
+She frowned. "He just asked me to marry him. It's the twenty-seventh
+time."
+
+"Oh----"
+
+"I can't be botherin' with Shad--not on wash-day--or any other day," she
+added as though in an afterthought.
+
+Peter laughed. He was quite sure that nobody would ever make her do
+anything she didn't want to do.
+
+"He knows I was at the Cabin yesterday," she said in a low voice. "He
+was watchin'."
+
+Peter was silent a moment, glancing at the books he had just brought
+her.
+
+"Of course if he has any claim on you, perhaps----," he began, when she
+broke in.
+
+"Claim! He hasn't," she gasped. "I'll do as I please. And he'd better
+quit pesterin' me or I'll----"
+
+"What?"
+
+She laughed.
+
+"I'll put him through the clothes-wringer."
+
+Peter grinned. "He almost looks as though you'd done that already."
+
+And as she followed him to the door, "I thought I ought to tell you
+about Shad. When he gets ugly--he's ugly an' no mistake."
+
+"Do you still think he'll--er--swallow me at one gobble?" he asked.
+
+She stared at him a moment and then laughed with a full throat. "I hope
+he don't--at least not 'til I've had my singin' lessons."
+
+"I think I can promise you that," said Peter.
+
+She followed him out to the porch, where they looked about for Shad. He
+had disappeared. And in the "Lizzie," which had been panting by the side
+of the road, Peter was conducted by the soiled young man at the wheel to
+Black Rock House.
+
+Nothing unusual had happened in his absence, nor had any other message
+or warning been posted, for Stryker, released for this duty, had
+searched all the morning and found nothing. "Hawk" was waiting, biding
+his hour.
+
+Curiously enough, an astonishing calm seemed to have fallen over the
+person of Jonathan K. McGuire. When Peter arrived he found his employer
+seated on the portico in a wicker chair, smoking his after-supper cigar.
+True, the day guards were posted near by and Stryker hovered as was his
+wont, but the change in his employer's demeanor was so apparent that
+Peter wondered how such a stolid-looking creature could ever have lost
+his self-control. It was difficult to understand this metamorphosis
+unless it could be that, having come to a decision and aware of the
+prospect of immunity, if only a temporary one, McGuire had settled down
+to make the best of a bad job and await with stoicism whatever the
+future was to bring. This was Peter's first impression, nothing else
+suggesting itself, but when he followed the old man up to his room and
+gave him the money he had brought he noted the deeply etched lines at
+nostril and jaw and felt rather than saw the meaning of them--that
+Jonathan McGuire was in the grip of some deep and sinister resolution.
+There was a quality of desperation in his calmness, a studied
+indifference to the dangers which the night before last had seemed so
+appalling.
+
+He put the money in the safe, carefully locked the combination and then
+turned into the room again.
+
+"Thanks, Nichols," he said. "You'd better have some supper and get to
+bed to-night. I don't think you'll be needed." And then, as Peter's look
+showed his surprise, "I know my man better than you do. To-morrow night
+we shall see."
+
+He closed his lips into a thin line, shot out his jaw and lowered his
+brows unpleasantly. Courage of a sort had come back to him, the courage
+of the animal at bay, which fights against the inevitable.
+
+To Peter the time seemed propitious to state the need for the
+observation towers and he explained in detail his projects. But McGuire
+listened and when Peter had finished speaking merely shook his head.
+
+"What you say is quite true. The towers must be built. I've thought so
+for a long time. In a few days we will speak of that again--_after
+to-morrow night_," he finished significantly.
+
+"As you please," said Peter, "but every day lost now may----"
+
+"We'll gain these days later," he broke in abruptly. "I want you to stay
+around here now."
+
+On Friday morning he insisted on having Peter show him the tree where
+the placard had been discovered, and Peter, having taken lunch with him,
+led him down to the big sugar maple, off the path to the cabin. Peter
+saw that he scanned the woods narrowly and walked with a hand in his
+waist-band, which Peter knew held an Army Colt revolver, but the whine
+was gone from his voice, the trembling from his hands. He walked around
+the maple with Peter, regarding it with a sort of morbid abstraction and
+then himself led the way to the path and to the house. Why he wanted to
+look at the tree was more than Peter could understand, for it was Peter,
+and not he, who was to keep this costly assignation.
+
+"You understand, Nichols," he said when they reached the portico,
+"you've agreed to go--to-night--at eleven."
+
+"I wish you'd let me meet him--without the money."
+
+"No--no. I've made up my mind----," gasped McGuire with a touch of his
+old alarm, "there can't be any change in the plan--no change at all."
+
+"Oh, very well," said Peter, "it's not my money I'm giving away."
+
+"It won't matter, Nichols. I--I've got a lot more----"
+
+"But the principle----" protested Peter.
+
+"To H---- with the principle," growled the old man.
+
+Peter turned and went back to the Cabin, somewhat disgusted with his
+whole undertaking. Already he had been here for five days and, except
+for two walks through the woods for purposes of investigation, nothing
+that he had come to do had been accomplished. He had not yet even
+visited the sawmills which were down on the corduroy road five miles
+away. So far as he could see, for the present he was merely McGuire's
+handy man, a kind of upper servant and messenger, whose duties could
+have been performed as capably by Stryker or Shad Wells, or even Jesse
+Brown. The forest called him. It needed him. From what he had heard he
+knew that down by the sawmills they were daily cutting the wrong trees.
+He had already sent some instructions to the foreman there, but he could
+not be sure that his orders had been obeyed. He knew that he ought to
+spend the day there, making friends with the men and explaining the
+reasons for the change in orders, but as long as McGuire wanted him
+within telephone range, there was nothing to do but to obey.
+
+He reached the Cabin, threw off his coat, and had hardly settled down at
+the table to finish his drawing, a plan of the observation towers, when
+Beth appeared. He rose and greeted her. Her face was flushed, for she
+had been running.
+
+"Has Shad been here?" she asked breathlessly.
+
+"No."
+
+"Oh!" she gasped. "I was afraid he'd get here before me. I took the
+short cut through the woods."
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+"He said he--he was going to break you to bits----"
+
+"To bits! Me? Why?"
+
+"Because he--he says I oughtn't to come here----"
+
+"Oh, I see," he muttered, and then, with a grin, "and what do _you_
+think about it, Beth?"
+
+"I'll do what I please," she said. "So long as I think it's all right.
+What business has he got to stop me!"
+
+Peter laughed. "Don't let's bother then. Did you bring your books?"
+
+She hadn't brought them. She had come in such a hurry.
+
+"But aren't you afraid--when he comes?" she asked.
+
+"I don't know," said Peter. "Do you think I ought to be?"
+
+"Well, Shad's--he's what they call a Hellion around here."
+
+"What's a--er--Hellion?"
+
+"A--a scrapper."
+
+"Oh, a fighting man?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Peter sat down at the piano and struck loudly some strident discords in
+the bass. "Like this!" he laughed. "Isn't it ugly, Beth--that's what
+fighting is--I had it day and night for years. If Shad had been in the
+war he wouldn't ever want to fight again."
+
+"Were you in the war?" asked Beth in amazement.
+
+"Of course. Where would I have been?" And before she could reply he had
+swept into the rumbling bass of the "Revolutionary Etude." She sank into
+a chair and sat silent, listening, at first watching the door, and then
+as the soul of the artist within her awoke she forgot everything but the
+music.
+
+There was a long silence at the end when Peter paused, and then he heard
+her voice, tense, suppressed.
+
+"I could see it--you made me see it!" she gasped, almost in a whisper.
+"War--revolution--the people--angry--mumbling--crowding, pushing ... a
+crowd with guns and sticks howling at a gate ... and then a man trying
+to speak to them--appealing----"
+
+Peter turned quickly at the words and faced her. Her eyes were like
+stars, her soul rapt in the vision his music had painted. Peter had
+lived that scene again and again, but how could Beth know unless he had
+made her see it? There was something strange--uncanny--in Beth's vision
+of the great drama of Peter's life. And yet she had seen. Even now her
+spirit was afar.
+
+"And what happened to the man who was appealing to them?" he asked
+soberly.
+
+She closed her eyes, then opened them toward him, shaking her head.
+"I--I don't know--it's all gone now."
+
+"But you saw what I played. That is what happened."
+
+"What do you mean?" She questioned, startled in her turn.
+
+Peter shrugged himself into the present moment. "Nothing. It's
+just--revolution. War. War is like that, Beth," he went on quietly after
+a moment. "Like the motif in the bass--there is no end--the threat of it
+never stops--day or night. Only hell could be like it."
+
+Beth slowly came out of her dream.
+
+"You fought?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+Another silence. "I--I think I understand now why you're not afraid."
+
+"But I _am_ afraid, Beth," he said with a smile. "I was always afraid in
+the war. Because Death is always waiting just around the corner. Nobody
+who has been in the war wants ever to fight again."
+
+He turned to the piano. "They all want happiness, Beth. Peace. This!" he
+finished, and his roving fingers played softly the Tschaikowsky
+"Reverie."
+
+When he had finished he turned to her, smiling.
+
+"What vision do you see in that, Beth?"
+
+She started as though from a dream. "Oh, happiness--and sadness, too."
+
+"Yes," said Peter soberly. "No one knows what it is to be happy unless
+one has been sad."
+
+"That's true, isn't it?" she muttered, looking at him in wonder. "I
+never knew what unhappiness was for--but I guess that's it."
+
+He caught the minor note in her voice and smiled.
+
+"Come now," he said, "we'll have our first lesson."
+
+"Without the books?"
+
+"Yes. We'll try breathing."
+
+"Breathing?"
+
+"Yes--from the diaphragm."
+
+And as she looked bewildered, "From the stomach--not from the
+chest--breathe deeply and say 'Ah.'"
+
+She obeyed him and did it naturally, as though she had never breathed in
+any other way.
+
+"Fine," he cried and touched a note on the piano. "Now sing it. Throw it
+forward. Softly first, then louder----"
+
+It was while she was carrying out this instruction that a shadow
+appeared on the doorsill, followed in a moment by the figure of Shad
+Wells. Beth's "Ah" ceased suddenly. The visitor stood outside, his hands
+on his hips, in silent rage.
+
+Peter merely glanced at him over his shoulder.
+
+"How are you, Wells?" he said politely. "Won't you come in? We've having
+a singing lesson."
+
+Shad did not move or speak as Peter went on, "Take the chair by the
+door, old man. The cigarettes are on the table. Now, Beth----"
+
+But Beth remained as she was, uneasily regarding the intruder, for she
+knew that Shad was there for no good purpose. Peter caught her look and
+turned toward the door, deliberately ignoring the man's threatening
+demeanor.
+
+"We won't be long," he began coolly, "not over half an hour----"
+
+"No, I know ye won't," growled Shad. And then to the girl, "Beth, come
+out o' there!"
+
+If Shad's appearance had caused Beth any uncertainty, she found her
+spirit now, for her eyes flashed and her mouth closed in a hard line.
+
+"Who are you to say where I come or go?" she said evenly.
+
+But Shad stood his ground.
+
+"If you don't know enough to know what's what I'm here to show you."
+
+"Oh, I say----," said Peter coolly.
+
+"You can say what you like, Mister. And I've got somethin' to say to you
+when this lady goes."
+
+"Oh,----" and then quietly to Beth, "Perhaps you'd better go. Bring the
+books to-morrow--at the same time."
+
+But Beth hadn't moved, and only looked at Peter appealingly. So Peter
+spoke.
+
+"This man is impolite, not to say disagreeable to you. Has he any right
+to speak to you like this?"
+
+"No," said Beth uneasily, "but I don't want any trouble."
+
+Peter walked to the door and faced Shad outside.
+
+"There won't be any trouble unless Wells makes it." And then, as if a
+new thought had come to him, he said more cheerfully, "Perhaps he
+doesn't quite understand----"
+
+"Oh, I understand, all right. Are you goin', Beth?"
+
+She glanced at Peter, who nodded toward the path, and she came between
+them.
+
+"Go on back, Shad," she said.
+
+"No."
+
+"Do you mean it? If you do I'm through with you. You understand?"
+
+Peter took the girl by the arm and led her gently away.
+
+"Just wait a minute, Wells," he flung over his shoulder at the man,
+"I'll be back in a second."
+
+The careless tone rather bewildered the woodsman, who had expected to
+find either fear or anger. The forester-piano-player showed
+neither--only careless ease and a coolness which could only be because
+he didn't know what was coming to him.
+
+"D--n him! I'll fix him!" muttered Shad, quivering with rage. But Peter
+having fortified himself with a cigarette was now returning. Wells
+advanced into an open space where there was plenty of room to swing his
+elbows and waited.
+
+"Now, Wells," said Peter alertly, "you wanted to see me?"
+
+"Yes, I did, ye stuck-up piano-playin', psalm-singin' ---- ---- ----
+----." And suiting the action to the word leaped for Peter, both fists
+flying.
+
+The rugged and uncultured often mistake politeness for effeminacy,
+sensibility for weakness. Shad was a rough and tumble artist of a high
+proficiency, and he had a reputation for strength and combativeness. He
+was going to make short work of this job.
+
+But Peter had learned his boxing with his cricket. Also he had practiced
+the _Savate_ and was familiar with _jiu jitsu_--but he didn't need
+either of them.
+
+Wells rushed twice but Peter was not where he rushed. The only damage he
+had done was to tear out the sleeve of Peter's shirt.
+
+"Stand up an' fight like a man," growled Shad.
+
+"There's no hurry," said Peter, calmly studying Shad's methods.
+
+"Oh, _ain't_ there!"
+
+This bull-like rush Peter stopped with a neat uppercut, straightening
+Shad's head which came up with a disfigured nose and before he could
+throw down his guard, Peter landed hard on his midriff. Shad winced but
+shot out a blow which grazed Peter's cheek. Then Peter countered on
+Shad's injured nose. Shad's eyes were now regarding Peter in
+astonishment. But in a moment only one of them was, for Peter closed the
+other.
+
+"We'd better stop now," gasped Peter, "and talk this over."
+
+"No, you ---- ---- ----," roared Shad, for he suspected that somewhere
+in the bushes Beth was watching.
+
+Peter lost what remained of his shirt in the next rush and sprained a
+thumb. It didn't do to fight Shad "rough and tumble." But he got away at
+last and stood his man off, avoiding the blind rushes and landing almost
+at will.
+
+"Had enough?" he asked again, as politely as ever.
+
+"No," gulped the other.
+
+So Peter sprang in and struck with all the force of his uninjured hand
+on the woodsman's jaw, and then Shad went down and lay quiet. It had
+been ridiculously easy from the first and Peter felt some pity for Shad
+and not a little contempt for himself. But he took the precaution of
+bending over the man and extracting the revolver that he found in Shad's
+hip pocket.
+
+As he straightened and turned he saw Beth standing in the path regarding
+him.
+
+"Beth!" he exclaimed with a glance at Shad. "You saw?"
+
+"Yes." She covered her face with her hands. "It was horrible."
+
+"I tried to avoid it," he protested.
+
+"Yes, I know. It was his own fault. Is he badly hurt?"
+
+"No, I think not. But you'd better go."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"It will only make matters worse if he sees you."
+
+She understood, turned and vanished obediently.
+
+Then Peter went to the house, got a basin and, fetching some water from
+the creek, played the Samaritan. In a while Shad gasped painfully and
+sat up, looking at the victor.
+
+"Sorry," said Peter, "but you _would_ have it."
+
+Shad blinked his uninjured eye and rose, feeling at his hip.
+
+"I took your revolver," said Peter calmly.
+
+"Give it here."
+
+"A chap with a bad temper has no business carrying one," said Peter
+sternly.
+
+"Oh----." The man managed to get to his feet.
+
+"I'm sorry, Shad," said Peter again, and held out his hand. "Let's be
+friends."
+
+Shad looked at the hand sullenly for a moment. "I'll fix _you_, Mister.
+I'll fix you yet," he muttered, then turned and walked away.
+
+If Peter had made one friend he had also made an enemy.
+
+The incident with Shad Wells was unfortunate, but Peter didn't see how
+it could have been avoided. He was thankful nevertheless for his English
+schooling, which had saved him from a defeat at the hands of a
+"roughneck" which could have been, under the circumstances, nothing less
+than ignominious. For if Shad Wells had succeeded in vanquishing him,
+all Peter's authority, all his influence with the rest of the men in
+McGuire's employ would have gone forever, for Shad Wells was not the
+kind of man upon whom such a victory would have lightly sat. If he had
+thrashed Peter, Shad and not Peter would have been the boss of Black
+Rock and Peter's position would have been intolerable.
+
+As Peter laved his broken knuckles and bruised cheek, he wondered if,
+after all, the affair hadn't been for the best. True, he had made an
+enemy of Shad, but then according to the girl, Shad had already been his
+enemy. Peter abhorred fighting, as he had told Beth, but, whatever the
+consequences, he was sure that the air had cleared amazingly. He was
+aware too that the fact that he had been the champion of Beth's
+independence definitely stood forth. Whatever the wisdom or the
+propriety, according to the standards of Black Rock society, of Beth's
+visits to the Cabin, for the purpose of a musical education or for any
+other purposes, Peter was aware that he had set the seal of his approval
+upon them, marked, that any who read might run, upon the visage of Mr.
+Wells. Peter was still sorry for Shad, but still more sorry for Beth,
+whose name might be lightly used for her share in the adventure.
+
+He made up his mind to say nothing of what had happened, and he felt
+reasonably certain that Shad Wells would reach a similar decision. He
+was not at all certain that Beth wouldn't tell everybody what had
+happened for he was aware by this time that Beth was the custodian of
+her own destinies and that she would not need the oracles of Black Rock
+village as censors of her behavior.
+
+But when he went up to the house for supper he made his way over the
+log-jam below the pool and so to the village, stopping for a moment at
+the Bergen house, where Beth was sitting on the porch reading _The Lives
+of the Great Composers_. She was so absorbed that she did not see him
+until he stood at the little swing gate, hat in hand.
+
+She greeted him quietly, glancing up at his bruised cheek.
+
+"I'm so sorry," she said, "that it was on my account."
+
+"I'm not--now that I've done the 'gobbling,'" he said with a grin. And
+then, "Where's Shad?"
+
+"I haven't seen him. I guess he's gone in his hole and pulled it in
+after him."
+
+Peter smiled. "I just stopped by to say that perhaps you'd better say
+nothing. It would only humiliate him."
+
+"I wasn't goin' to--but it served him right----"
+
+"And if you think people will talk about your coming to the Cabin, I
+thought perhaps I ought to give you your lessons here."
+
+"Here!" she said, and he didn't miss the note of disappointment in her
+tone.
+
+"If your cousin Shad disapproves, perhaps there are others."
+
+She was silent for a moment and then she looked up at him shyly.
+
+"If it's just the same to you--I--I'd rather come to the Cabin," she
+said quietly. "It's like--like a different world--with your playin' an'
+all----" And then scornfully, "What do I care what they think!"
+
+"Of course--I'm delighted. I thought I ought to consult you, that's all.
+And you'll come to-morrow?"
+
+"Yes--of course."
+
+He said nothing about the meeting that was to take place that night with
+the mysterious "Hawk" at the maple tree. He meant to find out, if
+possible, how Beth could be concerned (if she was concerned) in the
+fortunes of the mysterious gentleman of the placard, but until he
+learned something definite he thought it wiser not to take Beth further
+into his confidence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+"HAWK"
+
+
+Three months ago it would have been difficult for His Highness, Grand
+Duke Peter Nicholaevitch, to imagine himself in his present situation as
+sponsor for Beth Cameron. He had been no saint. Saintly attributes were
+not usually to be found in young men of his class, and Peter's training
+had been in the larger school of the world as represented in the
+Continental capitals. He had tasted life under the tutelage of a father
+who believed that women, bad as well as good, were a necessary part of a
+gentleman's education, and Peter had learned many things.... Had it not
+been for his music and his English love of fair play, he would have
+stood an excellent chance of going to the devil along the precipitous
+road that had led the Grand Duke Nicholas Petrovitch there.
+
+But Peter had discovered that he had a mind, the needs of which were
+more urgent than those of his love of pleasure. Many women he had known,
+Parisian, Viennese, Russian--and one, Vera Davydov, a musician, had
+enchained him until he had discovered that it was her violin and not her
+soul that had sung to him ... Anastasie Galitzin ... a dancer in Moscow
+... and then--the War.
+
+In that terrible alembic the spiritual ingredients which made Peter's
+soul had been stirred until only the essential remained. But that
+essence was the real Peter--a wholesome young man steeped in idealism
+slightly tinged with humor. It was idealism that had made him attempt
+the impossible, humor that had permitted him to survive his failure, for
+no tragedy except death itself can defy a sense of humor if it's
+whimsical enough. There was something about the irony of his position in
+Black Rock which interested him even more than the drama that lay hidden
+with McGuire's Nemesis in the pine woods. And he couldn't deny the fact
+that this rustic, this primitive Beth Cameron was as fine a little lady
+as one might meet anywhere in the wide world. She had amused him at
+first with originality, charmed him with simplicity, amazed him later
+with talent and now had disarmed him with trust in his integrity. If at
+any moment the idea had entered Peter's head that here was a wild-flower
+waiting to be gathered and worn in his hat, she had quickly disabused
+his mind of that chimera. Curious. He found it as difficult to conceive
+of making free with Beth as with the person of the Metropolitan of
+Moscow, or with that of the President of the Pennsylvania Railroad. She
+had her dignity. It was undeniable. He imagined the surprise in her
+large blue eyes and the torrent of ridicule of which her tongue could be
+capable. He had felt the sting of its humor at their first meeting. He
+had no wish to test it again.
+
+And now, after a few days of acquaintanceship, he found himself Beth's
+champion, the victor over the "Hellion" triplet, and the guardian of her
+good repute. He found, strangely enough, the responsibility
+strengthening his good resolves toward Beth and adding another tie to
+those of sympathy and admiration. The situation, while not altogether of
+his making, was not without its attractions. He had given Beth her
+chance to withdraw from the arrangement and she had persisted in the
+plan to come to the Cabin. Very well. It was his cabin. She should come
+and he would teach her to sing. But he knew that Peter Nichols was
+throwing temptation in the way of Peter Nicholaevitch.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+McGuire was quiet that night and while they smoked Peter talked at
+length on the needs of the estate as he saw them. Peter went down to the
+Cabin and brought up his maps and his plans for the fire towers. McGuire
+nodded or assented in monosyllables, but Peter was sure that he heard
+little and saw less, for at intervals he glanced at the clock, or at his
+watch, and Peter knew that his obsession had returned. Outside,
+somewhere in the woods, "Hawk" was approaching to keep his tryst and
+McGuire could think of nothing else. This preoccupation was marked by a
+frowning thatch of brow and a sullen glare at vacancy which gave no
+evidence of the fears that had inspired him, but indicated a mind made
+up in desperation to carry out his plans, through Peter, whatever
+happened later. Only the present concerned him. But underneath his
+outward appearance of calm, Peter was aware of an intense alertness, for
+from time to time his eyes glowed suddenly and the muscles worked in his
+cheeks as he clamped his jaws shut and held them so.
+
+As the clock struck ten McGuire got to his feet and walked to the safe,
+which he opened carefully and took out the money that Peter had brought.
+Then he went to a closet and took out an electric torch which he tested
+and then put upon the table.
+
+"You're armed, Nichols?" he asked.
+
+Peter nodded. "But of course there's no reason why your mysterious
+visitor should take a pot at me," he said. And then, curiously, "Do you
+think so, Mr. McGuire?"
+
+"Oh, no," said the other quickly. "You have no interest in this affair.
+You're my messenger, that's all. But I want you to follow my
+instructions carefully. I've trusted you this far and I've got to go the
+whole way. This man will say something. You will try to remember word
+for word what he says to you, and you're to repeat that message to me."
+
+"That shouldn't be difficult."
+
+McGuire was holding the money in his hand and went on in an abstraction
+as though weighing words.
+
+"I want you to go at once to the maple tree. I want you to go now so
+that you will be there when this man arrives. You will stand waiting for
+him and when he comes you will throw the light into his face, so that
+you can see him when you talk to him, and so that he can count this
+money and see that the amount is correct. I do not want you to go too
+close to him nor to permit him to go too close to you--you are merely to
+hand him this package and throw the light while he counts the money.
+Then you are to say to him these words, 'Don't forget the blood on the
+knife, Hawk Kennedy.'"
+
+"'Don't forget the blood on the knife, Hawk Kennedy,'" murmured Peter in
+amazement. And then, "But suppose he wants to tell me a lot of things
+you don't want me to know----"
+
+"I'll have to risk that," put in McGuire grimly. "I want you to watch
+him carefully, Nichols. Are you pretty quick on the draw?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean, can you draw your gun and shoot quickly--surely? If you can't,
+you'd better have your gun in your pocket, keep him covered and at the
+first sign, shoot through your coat."
+
+Peter took out his revolver and examined it quizzically. "I thought you
+said, Mr. McGuire," he put in coolly, "that I was not to be required to
+do anything a gentleman couldn't do."
+
+"Exactly," said the old man jerkily.
+
+"I shouldn't say that shooting a defenseless man answers that
+requirement."
+
+McGuire threw up his hands wildly.
+
+"There you go--up in the air again. I didn't say you were to shoot him,
+did I?" he whined. "I'm just warning you to be on the lookout in case he
+attacks you. That--that's all."
+
+"Why should he attack me?"
+
+"He shouldn't, but he might be angry because I didn't come myself."
+
+"I see. Perhaps you'd better go, sir. Then you can do your killing
+yourself."
+
+McGuire fell back against the table, to which he clung, his face gray
+with apprehension, for he saw that Peter had guessed what he hoped.
+
+"You want this man killed," Peter went on. "It's been obvious to me from
+the first night I came here. Well, I'm not going to be the one to do
+it."
+
+McGuire's glance fell to the rug as he stammered hoarsely, "I--I never
+asked you to do it. Y-you must be dreaming. I--I'm merely making plans
+to assure your safety. I don't want you hurt, Nichols. That's all.
+You're not going to back out now?" he pleaded.
+
+"Murder is a little out of my line----"
+
+"You're not going to fail me----?" McGuire's face was ghastly. "You
+_can't_," he whispered hoarsely. "You can't let me down now. _I_ can't
+see this man. I can't tell Stryker all you know. You're the only one.
+You promised, Nichols. You promised to go."
+
+"Yes. And I'll keep my word--but I'll do it in my own way. I'm not
+afraid of any enemy of yours. Why should I be? But I'm not going to
+shoot him. If that's understood give me the money and I'll be off."
+
+"Yes--yes. That's all right, Nichols. You're a good fellow--and honest.
+I'll make it worth your while to stay with me here." He took up the
+money and handed it to Peter, who counted it carefully and then put it
+in an inside pocket. "I don't see why you think I wanted you to kill
+Hawk Kennedy," McGuire went on, whining. "A man's got a right to protect
+himself, hasn't he? And you've got a right to protect _yourself_, if he
+tries to start anything."
+
+"Have you any reason to believe that he might?"
+
+"No. I can't say I have."
+
+"All right. I'll take a chance. But I want it understood that I'm not
+responsible if anything goes wrong."
+
+"That's understood."
+
+Peter made his way downstairs, and out of the front door to the portico.
+Stryker, curiously enough, was nowhere to be seen. Peter went out across
+the dim lawn into the starlight. Jesse Brown challenged him by the big
+tree and Peter stopped for a moment to talk with him, explaining that he
+would be returning to the house later.
+
+"The old man seems to be comin' to life, Mister," said Jesse.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Not so skeered-like. He was out here when you went to the Cabin for
+them plans----"
+
+"Out here?" said Peter in amazement.
+
+Andy nodded. "He seemed more natural-like,--asked what the countersign
+was and said mebbe we'd all be goin' back to the mills after a night or
+so."
+
+"Oh, did he? That's good. You're pretty tired of this night work?"
+
+"Not so long as it pays good. But what did he mean by changin' the
+guards?"
+
+"He didn't say anything to me about it," said Peter, concealing his
+surprise.
+
+"Oh, didn't he? Well, he took Andy off the privet hedge and sent him
+down to the clump of pines near the road."
+
+"I see," said Peter. "Why?"
+
+"You've got me, Mister. If there's trouble to-night, there ain't no one
+at the back of the house at all. We're one man short."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Shad Wells. He ain't showed up."
+
+"Ah, I see," muttered Peter. And then, as he lighted a cigarette, "Oh,
+well, we'll get along somehow. But look sharp, just the same."
+
+Peter went down the lawn thoughtfully. From the first he hadn't been any
+too pleased with this mission. Though Peter was aware that in the realm
+of big business it masqueraded under other names, blackmail, at the
+best, was a dirty thing. At the worst--and McGuire's affair with the
+insistent Hawk seemed to fall into this classification,--it was both
+sinister and contemptible. To be concerned in these dark doings even as
+an emissary was hardly in accordance with Peter's notion of his job, and
+he had acceded to McGuire's request without thinking of possible
+consequences, more out of pity for his employer in his plight than for
+any other reason. But he remembered that it usually required a guilty
+conscience to make blackmail possible and that the man who paid always
+paid because of something discreditable which he wished to conceal.
+
+McGuire's explanations had been thin and Peter knew that the real reason
+for the old man's trepidations was something other than the ones he had
+given. He had come to Black Rock from New York to avoid any possible
+publicity that might result from the visits of his persecutor and was
+now paying this sum of money for a respite, an immunity which at the
+best could only be temporary. It was all wrong and Peter was sorry to
+have a hand in it, but he couldn't deny that the interest with which he
+had first approached Black Rock House had now culminated in a curiosity
+which was almost an obsession. Here, close at hand, was the solution of
+the mystery, and whether or not he learned anything as to the facts
+which had brought McGuire's discomfiture, he would at least see and talk
+with the awe-inspiring Hawk who had been the cause of them. Besides,
+there was Mrs. Bergen's share in the adventure which indicated that
+Beth's happiness, too, was in some way involved. For Peter, having had
+time to weigh Beth's remarks with the housekeeper's, had come to the
+conclusion that there had been but one man near the house that night.
+The man who had talked with Mrs. Bergen at the kitchen door was not John
+Bray the camera-man, or the man with the dark mustache, but Hawk Kennedy
+himself.
+
+Peter entered the path to the Cabin, and explored it carefully,
+searching the woods on either side and then, cutting into the scrub oak
+at the point where he and Beth had first seen the placard, made his way
+to the maple tree. There was no one there. A glance at his watch under
+the glare of the pocket torch showed that he was early for the tryst, so
+he walked around the maple, flashing his light into the undergrowth and
+at last sat down, leaning against the trunk of the tree, lighted another
+cigarette and waited.
+
+Under the depending branches of the heavy foliage it was very dark, and
+he could get only the smallest glimpses of the starlit sky. At one point
+toward Black Rock House beyond the boles of the trees he could see short
+stretches of the distant lawn and, in the distance, a light which he
+thought must be that of McGuire's bedroom, for to-night, Peter had
+noticed, the shutters had been left open. It was very quiet too. Peter
+listened for the sounds of approaching footsteps among the dry leaves,
+but heard only the creak of branches overhead, the slight stir of the
+breeze in the leaves and the whistle of a locomotive many miles away, on
+the railroad between Philadelphia and Atlantic City.
+
+The sound carried his mind beyond the pine-belt out into the great world
+from which he had come, and he thought of many things that might have
+been instead of this that was--the seething yeast that was Russia, the
+tearing down of the idols of centuries and the worship of new gods that
+were no gods at all--not even those of brass or gold--only
+visions--will-o'-the-wisps.... The madness had shown itself here too.
+Would the fabric of which the American Ideal was made be strong enough
+to hold together against the World's new madness? He believed in
+American institutions. Imperfect though they were, fallible as the human
+wills which controlled them, they were as near Liberty, Equality,
+Fraternity as one might yet hope to attain in a form of government this
+side of the millennium.
+
+Peter started up suddenly, for he was sure that he had heard something
+moving in the underbrush. But after listening intently and hearing
+nothing more he thought that his ears had deceived him. He flashed his
+lantern here and there as a guide to Hawk Kennedy but there was no
+sound. Complete silence had fallen again over the woods. If McGuire's
+mysterious enemy was approaching he was doing it with the skill of an
+Indian scout. And it occurred to Peter at this moment that Hawk Kennedy
+too might have his reasons for wishing to be sure that he was to be
+fairly dealt with. The placard had indicated the possibility of
+chicanery on the part of McGuire. "No tricks," Hawk had written. He
+would make sure that Peter was alone before he showed himself. So Peter
+flashed his lamp around again, glanced at his watch, which showed that
+the hour of the appointment had passed, then lighted a third cigarette
+and sank down on the roots of the tree to wait.
+
+There was no other sound. The breeze which had been fitful at best had
+died and complete silence had fallen. Peter wasn't in the least alarmed.
+Why should he be? He had come to do this stranger a favor and no one
+else except McGuire could know of the large sum of money in his
+possession. The trees were his friends. Peter's thoughts turned back
+again, as they always did when his mind was at the mercy of his
+imagination. What was the use of it all? Honor, righteousness, pride,
+straight living, the ambition to do, to achieve something real by his
+own efforts--to what end? He knew that he could have been living snugly
+in London now, married to the Princess Galitzin, drifting with the
+current in luxury and ease down the years, enjoying those things----
+
+Heigho! Peter sat up and shrugged the vision off. He must not be
+thinking back. It wouldn't do. The new life was here. _Novaya Jezn._
+Like the seedling from the twisted oak, he was going to grow straight
+and true--to be himself, the son of his mother, who had died with a
+prayer on her lips that Peter might not be what his father had been.
+Thus far, he had obeyed her. He had grown straight, true to the memory
+of that prayer.
+
+Yes, life was good. He tossed away his cigarette, ground it into the
+ground with his heel, then lay back against the tree, drinking in great
+drafts of the clean night air. The forest was so quiet that he could
+hear the distant tinkle of Cedar Creek down beyond the Cabin. The time
+was now well after eleven. What if Hawk Kennedy failed to appear? And
+how long must----?
+
+A tiny sound close at hand, clear, distinct. Peter took a chance and
+called out,
+
+"Is that you, Hawk Kennedy?"
+
+Silence and then a repetition of the sound a little louder now and from
+directly overhead. Peter rose, peering upward in amazement.
+
+"Yes, I'm here," said a low voice among the leaves above him.
+
+And presently a foot appeared, followed by legs and a body, emerging
+from the gloom above. Peter threw the light of his torch up into the
+tree.
+
+"Hey! Cut that," commanded a voice sharply.
+
+And Peter obeyed. In a moment a shape swung down and stood beside him.
+After the glare of the torch Peter couldn't make out the face under the
+brim of the cap, but he could see that it wore a mustache and short
+growth of beard. In size, the stranger was quite as tall as Peter.
+
+Hawk Kennedy stood for a moment listening intently and Peter was so
+astonished at the extraordinary mode of his entrance on the scene that
+he did not speak.
+
+"You're from McGuire?" asked the man shortly.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Why didn't he come himself?"
+
+The voice was gruff, purposely so, Peter thought, but there was
+something about it vaguely reminiscent.
+
+"Answer me. Why didn't he come?"
+
+Peter laughed.
+
+"He didn't tell me why. Any more than you'd tell me why you've been up
+this tree."
+
+"I'm takin' no chances this trip. I've been watchin'--listenin'," said
+the other grimly. "Well, what's the answer? And who--who the devil are
+you?"
+
+The bearded visage was thrust closer to Peter's as though in
+uncertainty, but accustomed as both men now were to the darkness,
+neither could make out the face of the other.
+
+"I'm McGuire's superintendent. He sent me here to meet you--to bring you
+something----"
+
+"Ah--he comes across. Good. Where is it?"
+
+"In my pocket," said Peter coolly, "but he told me to tell you first not
+to forget the blood on the knife, Hawk Kennedy."
+
+The man recoiled a step.
+
+"The blood on the knife," he muttered. And then, "McGuire asked you to
+say that?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Anything else?"
+
+"No. That's all."
+
+Another silence and then he demand in a rough tone,
+
+"Well, give me the money!"
+
+Impolite beggar! What was there about this shadow that suggested to
+Peter the thought that this whole incident had happened before? That
+this man belonged to another life that Peter had lived? Peter shrugged
+off the illusion, fumbled in his pocket and produced the envelope
+containing the bills.
+
+"You'd better count it," said Peter, as the envelope changed hands.
+
+"It's not 'phoney'----?" asked Hawk's voice suspiciously.
+
+"Phoney?"
+
+"Fake money----?"
+
+"No. I got it in New York myself yesterday."
+
+"Oh----." There was a silence in which the shade stood uncertainly
+fingering the package, peering into the bushes around him and listening
+intently. And then, abruptly,
+
+"I want to see the color of it. Switch on your light."
+
+Peter obeyed. "You'd better," he said.
+
+In the glow of lamp Hawk Kennedy bent forward, his face hidden by his
+cap brim, fingering the bills, and Peter saw for the first time that his
+left hand held an automatic which covered Peter now, as it had covered
+him from the first moment of the interview.
+
+"Five hundreds--eh," growled Kennedy. "They're real enough, all right.
+One--two--three--four----"
+
+A roar from the darkness and a bullet crashed into the tree behind
+them.... Another shot! Peter's startled finger relaxed on the button of
+the torch and they were in darkness. A flash from the trees to the
+right, the bullet missing Peter by inches.
+
+"A trick! By ----!" said Hawk's voice in a fury, "but I'll get _you_ for
+this."
+
+Peter was too quick for him. In the darkness he jumped aside, striking
+Kennedy with his torch, and then closed with the man, whose shot went
+wild. They struggled for a moment, each fighting for the possession of
+the weapon, McGuire's money ground under their feet, but Peter was the
+younger and the stronger and when he twisted Hawk's wrist the man
+suddenly relaxed and fell, Peter on his chest.
+
+The reason for this collapse was apparent when Peter's hand touched the
+moisture on Kennedy's shoulder.
+
+"Damn you!" Hawk was muttering, as he struggled vainly.
+
+Events had followed so rapidly that Peter hadn't had time to think of
+anything but his own danger. He had acted with the instinct of
+self-preservation, which was almost quicker than his thought, but as he
+knew now what had happened he realized that he, too, had been tricked by
+McGuire and that the murderous volley directed at Hawk Kennedy had come
+perilously near doing for himself. With the calm which followed the
+issue of his struggle with Kennedy, came a dull rage at McGuire for
+placing him in such danger, which only showed his employer's desperate
+resolve and his indifference to Peter's fate. For Hawk Kennedy had been
+within his rights in supposing Peter to be concerned in the trick and
+only the miracle of the expiring torch which had blinded the intruder
+had saved Peter from the fate intended for Hawk. Peter understood now
+the meaning of McGuire's explicit instructions and the meaning of the
+changing of the guards. The old man had hoped to kill his enemy with one
+shot and save himself the recurrence of his terror. What had become of
+him now? There was no sound among the bushes or any sign of him. He had
+slipped away like the poltroon that he was, leaving Peter to his fate.
+
+"Damn you!" Hawk muttered again. "What did _you_ want to come meddling
+for!"
+
+The man couldn't be dangerously hurt if he possessed the power of
+invective and so, having possessed himself of Hawk's automatic, Peter
+got off his chest and fumbled around for the electric torch.
+
+"It won't do you any good to lie there cursing me. Get up, if you're
+able to."
+
+"Got me in the shoulder," muttered the man.
+
+"And he might have gotten _me_," said Peter, "which would have been
+worse."
+
+"You mean--you didn't--_know_," groaned Hawk, getting up into a sitting
+posture.
+
+"No. I didn't," replied Peter.
+
+He had found the torch now and was flashing it around on the ground
+while he picked up the scattered money.
+
+"I'll fix him for this," groaned the stranger.
+
+Peter glanced at him.
+
+"His men will be down here in a moment. You'd better be getting up."
+
+"I'm not afraid. They can't do anything to _me_. They'd better leave me
+alone. McGuire don't want me to talk. But I'll squeal if they bother
+me." Peter was aware that the man was watching him as he picked up the
+bills and heard him ask haltingly, "What are you--going to do--with that
+money?"
+
+"My orders were to give it to you. Don't you want it?"
+
+Peter turned and for the first time flashed the lamp full in the injured
+man's face. Even then Peter didn't recognize him, but he saw Hawk
+Kennedy's eyes open wide as he stared at Peter.
+
+"Who----?" gasped the man. And then, "_You_ here! '_Cre nom!_ It's Pete,
+the waiter!"
+
+Peter started back in astonishment.
+
+"Jim Coast!" he said.
+
+Hawk Kennedy chuckled and scrambled to his feet, halfway between a laugh
+and a groan.
+
+"Well, I'm damned!"
+
+Peter was still staring at him, the recovered bills loose in his hand.
+Jim Coast thrust out an arm for them.
+
+"The money," he demanded. "The money, Pete."
+
+Without a word Peter handed it to him. It was none of his. Coast counted
+the bills, the blood dripping from his fingers and soiling them, but he
+wiped them off with a dirty handkerchief and put them away into his
+pocket. Blood money, Peter thought, and rightly named.
+
+"And now, _mon gars_, if it's all the same to you, I'd like you to take
+me to some place where we can tie up this hole in my shoulder."
+
+This was like Coast's impudence. He had regained his composure again
+and, in spite of the pain he was suffering, had become his proper self,
+the same Jim Coast who had bunked with Peter on the _Bermudian_, full of
+smirking assertiveness and sinister suggestion. Peter was too full of
+astonishment to make any comment, for it was difficult to reconcile the
+thought of Jim Coast with Hawk Kennedy, and yet there he was, the terror
+of Black Rock House revealed.
+
+"Well, Pete," he growled, "goin' to be starin' at me all night?"
+
+"You'd better be off," said Peter briefly.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"They'll be here in a minute. You've got your money."
+
+"Let 'em come. They'll have to take me to McGuire----"
+
+"Or the lock-up at Egg Harbor----"
+
+"All right. I'll go. But when I open my mouth to speak, McGuire will
+wish that Hell would open for him." And then, "See here, Pete, do you
+know anything of what's between me and McGuire?"
+
+"No--except that he fears you."
+
+"Very well. If you're workin' for him you'll steer these guys away from
+me. I mean it. Now think quick."
+
+Peter did. Angry as he was at McGuire, he knew that Jim Coast meant what
+he said and that he would make trouble. Also Peter's curiosity knew no
+subsidence.
+
+"You go to my cabin. It's hidden in the woods down this path at the
+right----"
+
+"That's where you live, is it?"
+
+"Yes. You'll find water there and a towel on the washstand. I'll be
+there to help you when I sheer these men off."
+
+Coast walked a few steps and then turned quickly.
+
+"No funny business, Pete."
+
+"No. You can clear out if you like. I don't care. I only thought if you
+were badly hurt----"
+
+"Oh, all right. Thanks."
+
+Peter watched the dim silhouette merge into the shadows and disappear.
+Then flashed his light here and there that the men who must be
+approaching now might be guided to him. In a moment they were crashing
+through the undergrowth, Jesse and Andy in the lead.
+
+"What's the shootin'?" queried Jesse Brown breathlessly.
+
+"A man in the woods. I'm looking for him," said Peter. "He got away."
+
+"Well, don't it beat Hell----"
+
+"But it may be a plan to get you men away from the house," said Peter as
+the thought came to him. "Did you see McGuire?"
+
+"McGuire! No. What----?"
+
+"All right. You'd better hurry back. See if he's all right. I'll get
+along----"
+
+"Not if you go flashin' _that_ thing. I could a got ye with my rifle as
+easy as----"
+
+"Well, never mind. Get back to the house. I'll poke around here for a
+while. Hurry!"
+
+In some bewilderment they obeyed him and Peter turned his footstep
+toward the Cabin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+ANCIENT HISTORY
+
+
+Peter wasn't at all certain that he had done the right thing. One event
+had followed another with such startling rapidity that there hadn't been
+time to deliberate. Jim Coast was wounded, how badly Peter didn't know,
+but the obvious duty was to give him first aid and sanctuary until Peter
+could get a little clearer light on Coast's possibilities for evil. None
+of this was Peter's business. He had done what McGuire had asked him to
+do and had nearly gotten killed for his pains. Two fights already and he
+had come to Black Rock to find peace!
+
+In his anger at McGuire's trick he was now indifferent as to what would
+happen to the old man. There was no doubt that Jim Coast held all the
+cards and, unless he died, would continue to hold them. It was evident
+that McGuire, having failed in accomplishing the murder, had placed
+himself in a worse position than before, for Coast was not one to relax
+or to forgive, and if he had gotten his five thousand dollars so easily
+as this, he would be disposed to make McGuire pay more heavily now.
+Peter knew nothing of the merits of the controversy, but it seemed
+obvious that the two principals in the affair were both tarred with the
+same stick. _Arcades Ambo_. He was beginning to believe that Coast was
+the more agreeable villain of the two. At least he had made no bones
+about the fact of his villainy.
+
+Peter found Coast stripped to the waist, sitting in a chair by the
+table, bathing his wounded shoulder. But the hemorrhage had stopped and
+Peter saw that the bullet had merely grazed the deltoid, leaving a clean
+wound, which could be successfully treated by first aid devices. So he
+found his guest a drink of whisky, which put a new heart into him, then
+tore up a clean linen shirt, strips from which he soaked in iodine and
+bandaged over the arm and shoulder.
+
+Meanwhile Coast was talking.
+
+"Well, _mon vieux_, it's a little world, ain't it? To think I'd find
+_you_, my old bunkie, Pete, the waiter, out here in the wilds, passin'
+the buck for Mike McGuire! Looks like the hand o' Fate, doesn't it?
+Superintendent, eh? Some job! Twenty thousand acres--if he's got an
+inch. An' me thinkin' all the while you'd be slingin' dishes in a New
+York chop house!"
+
+"I studied forestry in Germany once," said Peter with a smile, as he
+wound the bandage.
+
+"Right y'are! Mebbe you told me. I don't know. Mebbe there's a lot o'
+things you _didn't_ tell me. Mebbe there's a lot of things I didn't tell
+_you_. But I ought to 'a' known a globe trotter like you never would 'a'
+stayed a waiter. A waiter! _Nom de Dieu!_ Remember that (sanguine)
+steward on the _Bermudian_? Oily, fat little beef-eater with the gold
+teeth? Tried to make us 'divy' on the tips? But we beat him to it, Pete,
+when we took French leave. H-m! I'm done with waitin' now, Pete. So are
+you, I reckon. Gentleman of leisure, _I_ am!"
+
+"There you are," said Peter as he finished the bandage, "but you'll have
+to get this wound dressed somewhere to-morrow."
+
+"Right you are. A hospital in Philly will do the trick. And McGuire pays
+the bill."
+
+Jim Coast got up and moved his arm cautiously.
+
+"Mighty nice of you, Pete. That's fine. I'll make him pay through the
+nose for this." And then turning his head and eyeing Peter narrowly,
+"You say McGuire told you nothin'!"
+
+"Nothing. It's none of my affair."
+
+The ex-waiter laughed. "He knows his business. Quiet as death, ain't he?
+He's got a right to be. And scared. He's got a right to be scared too.
+I'll scare him worse before I'm through with him."
+
+He broke off with a laugh and then, "Funny to find you guardin' _him_
+against _me_. House all locked--men with guns all over the place. He
+wanted one of those guys to kill me, didn't he? But I'm too slick for
+him. No locked doors can keep out what's scarin' Mike McGuire----"
+
+He broke off suddenly and held up his empty glass. "Another drink of the
+whisky, _mon gars_, and I'm yer friend for life."
+
+Peter was still curious, so he obeyed and after cleaning up the mess
+they had made he sank into a chair, studying the worn features of his
+old companion. He had taken the precaution to pull in the heavy shutter
+of the window which had been opened and to lock the door. Peter did not
+relish the idea of a murder committed in this cabin.
+
+"Not apt to come now, are they, Pete? Well, let 'em," he answered
+himself with a shrug. "But they won't if McGuire has his way. Murder is
+the only thing that will suit McGuire's book. He can't do that--not with
+witnesses around. Ain't he the slick one, though? I was watchin' for
+just what happened. That's why I stayed in the tree so long--listenin'.
+He must of slipped in like a snake. How he did it I don't know. I'm a
+worse snake than he is but I always rattle before I strike."
+
+He laughed again dryly.
+
+"I've got _him_ rattled all O. K. Mebbe he'd of shot straighter if he
+hadn't been. He used to could--dead shot. But I reckon his talents are
+runnin' different _now_. Millions he has they say, _mon vieux_,
+millions. And I'll get my share of 'em."
+
+Jim Coast smoked for a moment in contented silence.
+
+"See here, Pete. I like you. Always did. Straight as a string--you are.
+You've done me a good turn to-night. You might of put me out--killed me
+when you had me down----"
+
+"I'm no murderer, Jim."
+
+"Right. Nor I ain't either. I don't want to hurt a hair of McGuire's
+head. Every one of 'em is precious as refined gold. I want him to
+live--to keep on livin' and makin' more money because the more money
+he's got the more I'll get--see."
+
+"Blackmail," said Peter shortly.
+
+Coast glanced at him, shrugged and laughed.
+
+"Call it that if you like. It's a dirty word, but I'll stand for it,
+seein' it's you. Blackmail! What's a waiter's tip but blackmail for good
+service? What's a lawyer's fee from a corporation but money paid by men
+to keep them out of the jail? What's a breach of promise case?
+Blackmail--legal blackmail. I'm doin' nothin' less an' nothin' more than
+a million other men--but I'm not workin' with a lawyer. I'll turn the
+trick alone. What would you say if I told you that half of every dollar
+McGuire has got is mine--a full half--to say nothin' of payment for the
+years I was wanderin' an' grubbin' over the face of the earth, while he
+was livin' easy. Oh! You're surprised. You'd better be. For that's the
+God's truth, _mon ami_."
+
+"You mean--he--he----" Peter's credulity was strained and he failed to
+finish his query.
+
+"Oh, you don't believe? Well, you needn't. But there's no blackmail when
+you only take what belongs to you. The money--the money that made his
+millions was as much mine as his. I'm going to have my share with
+compound interest for fifteen years--and perhaps a bit more."
+
+"You surprise me. But it seems that if there's any justice in your
+claim, you could establish it legally."
+
+Jim Coast laughed again.
+
+"There's a quicker--a safer way than that. I'm takin' it." He filled his
+glass again and went on, leaning far over the table toward Peter.
+"_Voyons_, Pete. When we came ashore, I made you an offer to play my
+game. You turned me down. It's not too late to change your mind. The old
+man trusts you or he wouldn't of sent you out with that money. I may
+need some help with this business and you're fixed just right to lend me
+a hand. Throw in with me, do what I want, and I'll see that you're fixed
+for life."
+
+Peter shook his head slowly from side to side.
+
+"No, Jim. He pays me well. I'm no traitor."
+
+"H-m. Traitor!" he sneered. "_He_ wasn't overparticular about _you_. He
+might of killed you or _I_ might of, if you hadn't been too damn quick
+for me. What do you think Mike McGuire cares about _you_?" he laughed
+bitterly.
+
+"Nothing. But that makes no difference. I----"
+
+A loud jangle of a bell from the corner and Jim Coast sprang to his
+feet.
+
+"The telephone," explained Peter, indicating the instrument. "That's
+McGuire now." He rose and moved toward it, but Coast caught him by the
+arm.
+
+"Worried, eh?" he said with a grin. "Wants to know what's happened! All
+right. Tell him--tell the----." And then, as Peter released himself,
+"Wait a minute. Tell him you've got me here," laughed Coast, "a
+prisoner. Tell him I'm talking. Ask for instructions. He'll tell you
+what to do with me, damn quick," he sneered.
+
+Peter waited a moment, thinking, while the bell tinkled again, and then
+took down the receiver. He was in no mood to listen to McGuire.
+
+"Hello--Yes, this is Nichols.... All right, yes. Shot at from the
+dark--while paying the money. You hit Hawk Kennedy in the shoulder....
+Yes, _you_. I'm no fool, McGuire.... He's here--at the Cabin. I've just
+fixed his shoulder----. All right----. What shall I do with him----?
+Yes--Yes, he's talking.... Let him go----! Hello! Let him go, you say?
+Yes----"
+
+"Let me get to him----," growled Coast, pushing close to the
+transmitter. "Hello--Mike McGuire--hello----"
+
+"He's gone," said Peter.
+
+"'Let him go,'" sneered Coast. "You'd bet he'd let me go." Then he
+looked at Peter and laughed. "He's scared all right--beat it like a
+cottontail. Seems a shame to take the money, Pete--a real shame."
+
+He laughed uproariously, then sauntered easily over to the table, took
+another of Peter's cigarettes and sank into the easy chair again. Peter
+eyed him in silence. He was an unwelcome guest but he hadn't yet
+gratified Peter's curiosity.
+
+"Well, what are you going to do?" asked Peter.
+
+"Me?" Coast inhaled Peter's cigarette luxuriously, and smiled. "I'm
+goin' West, _pronto_--to get my facts straight--all at the expense of
+the party of the first part. I might stop off at the Grand Canon first
+for the view. I need a rest, Pete. I ain't as young as I was--or I
+mightn't of let you put me out so easy to-night. I'm glad of that,
+though. Wouldn't like to of done you hurt----"
+
+"And then----?" asked Peter steadily.
+
+"Then? Oh, I'll beat it down to Bisbee and ask a few questions. I just
+want to hook up a few things I _don't_ know with the things I _do_ know.
+I'll travel light but comfortable. Five thousand dollars makes a heap of
+difference in your point of view--and other people's. I'll be an
+eastern millionaire lookin' for investments. And what I won't know about
+Jonathan K. McGuire, alias Mike McGuire--won't be worth knowin'." He
+broke off and his glance caught the interested expression on the face of
+his host.
+
+"H-m. Curious, ain't you, Pete?"
+
+"Yes," said Peter frankly. "I am. Of course it's none of my business,
+but----"
+
+"But you'd like to know, just the same. I get you." He flicked off the
+ash of his cigarette and picked up his whisky glass. "Well----," he went
+on, "I don't see why I shouldn't tell you--some of it--that is. It won't
+do any harm for you to know the kind of skunk you're workin' for.
+There's some of it that nobody on God's earth will ever know but me and
+Mike McGuire--unless he slips up on one of his payments, and then
+everybody's goin' to know. _Everybody_--but his daughter first of all."
+
+Coast was silent a long moment while he drained the whisky and slowly
+set the glass down upon the table. The shadows upon his face were
+unpleasant, darkened perceptibly as they marked the years his thoughts
+followed, and the lines at his lips and nostrils became more deeply
+etched in bitterness and ugly resolve.
+
+"It was down in the San Luis valley I first met up with Mike McGuire. He
+was born in Ireland, of poor but honest parents, as the books tell us.
+He changed his name to 'Jonathan K.' when he made his first 'stake.'
+That meant he was comin' up in the world--see? Me and Mike worked
+together up in Colorado, punchin' cattle, harvestin', ranchin'
+generally. We were 'buddies,' _mon gars_, like you an' me, eatin',
+sleepin' together as thick as thieves. He had a family somewhere, same
+as me--the wife had a little money but her old man made him quit--some
+trouble. After awhile we got tired of workin' for wages, grub staked,
+and beat it for the mountains. That was back in nineteen one or two, I
+reckon. We found a vein up above Wagon Wheel Gap. It looked good and we
+staked out claims and worked it, hardly stoppin' to eat or sleep." Coast
+stopped with a gasp and a shrug. "Well, the long an' short of that, _mon
+vieux_, was a year of hard work with only a thousand or so apiece to
+show for it. It was only a pocket. Hell!" He broke off in disgust and
+spat into the fireplace. "Don't talk to me about your gold mines. There
+ain't any such animal. Well, Mike saved his. I spent mine. Faro. You
+know--an' women. Then I got hurt. I was as good as dead--but I pulled
+through. I ain't easy to kill. When I came around, I 'chored' for a
+while, doin' odd jobs where I could get 'em and got a little money
+together and went to Pueblo. When I struck town I got pretty drunk and
+busted a faro bank. I never _did_ have any luck when I was sober."
+
+"Yes, you've told me about that," said Peter.
+
+"So I did--on the _Bermudian_. Well, it was at Pueblo I met up with Mike
+McGuire, and we beat it down into Arizona where the copper was. Bisbee
+was only a row of wooden shacks, but we got some backin', bought an
+outfit and went out prospectin' along the Mexican border. And what with
+'greasers' and thievin' redskins it was some job in those days. But we
+made friends all right enough and found out some of the things we wanted
+to know.
+
+"Now, Pete, if I was to tell you all that went on in that long trail
+into the Gila Desert and what happened when we got what we went for,
+you'd know as much as I do. You'd know enough to hold up Mike McGuire
+yourself if you'd a mind to. This is where the real story stops. What
+happened in between is my secret and Mike McGuire's. We found the mine
+we were lookin' for.... That's sure----How we got it you'll never know.
+But we got it. And here's where the real story begins again. We were
+miles out in the Gila Desert and if ever there's a Hell on earth, it's
+there. Sand, rocks, rocks and sand and the sun. It was Hell with the
+cover off and no mistake! No water within a hundred miles.
+
+"Now, this is where the fine Eyetalian hand of Mike McGuire shows
+itself. We were rich. Any fool with half an eye could see that. The
+place was lousy--fairly lousy! It was ours----," Coast's brow darkened
+and his eyes glittered strangely as a darting demon of the past got
+behind them. "Yes--_ours_. _Sacre bleu!_ Any man who went through what
+we did deserved it, by G----! We were rich. There was plenty enough for
+two, but McGuire didn't think so. And here's what he does to me. In the
+middle of the night while I'm asleep he sneaks away as neat as you
+please, with the horses and the pack-mules and the water, leavin' me
+alone with all the money in the world, and a devourin' thirst, more than
+a hundred miles from nowhere."
+
+"Murder," muttered Peter.
+
+Coast nodded. "You bet you. Murder. Nothin' less. Oh, he knew what _he_
+was about all right. And I saw it quick. Death! That's what it meant.
+Slow but sure. Hadn't I seen the bones bleaching all along the trail? He
+left me there to die. He thought I would die. _Dios!_ That thirst!"
+Coast reached for the pitcher and splashed rather than poured a glass of
+water which he gulped down avidly. "There was nothin' for it but to try
+afoot for Tucson, which was due east. Every hour I waited would of made
+me an hour nearer to bein' a mummy. So I set out through the hot sand,
+the sun burnin' through me, slowly parchin' my blood. My tongue swelled.
+I must of gone in circles. Days passed--nights when I lay gaspin' on my
+back, like a fish out of water, tryin' to suck moisture out of dry
+air.... Then the red sun again--up over the edge of that furnace,
+mockin' at me. I was as good as dead and I knew it. Only the mummy of
+me, parched black, stumbled on, fallin', strugglin' up again, fallin' at
+last, bitin' at the sand like a mad dog...."
+
+"Horrible," muttered Peter.
+
+"It was. I reckon I died--the soul of me, or what was left of it. I came
+to life under the starlight, with a couple of 'greasers' droppin' water
+on my tongue. They brought me around, but I was out of my head for a
+week. I couldn't talk the lingo anyhow. I just went with 'em like a
+child. There wasn't anything else to do. Lucky they didn't kill me. I
+guess I wasn't worth killin'. We went South. They were makin' for
+Hermosillo. Revolutionists. They took all my money--about three hundred
+dollars. But it was worth it. They'd saved my life. But I couldn't go
+back now, even if I wanted to. I had no money, nor any way of gettin'
+any."
+
+Jim Coast leaned forward, glowering at the rag carpet.
+
+"But I--I didn't want to go back just then. The fear of God was in me.
+I'd looked into Hell."
+
+He laughed bitterly.
+
+"Then I joined the 'greasers' against Diaz. I've told you about that.
+And the 'Rurales' cleaned us up all right. A girl saved my life. Instead
+of shootin' me against a mud wall, they put me to work on a railroad. I
+was there three years. I escaped at last and reached the coast, where I
+shipped for South America. It was the only way out, but all the while I
+was thinkin' of Mike McGuire and the copper mine. You know the rest,
+Pete--the Argentine deal that might of made me rich an' how it fell
+through. Don't it beat Hell how the world bites the under dog!"
+
+"But why didn't you go back to America and fight your claim with
+McGuire?" asked Peter, aware of the sinister, missing passage in the
+story.
+
+Coast shot a sharp glance at his questioner.
+
+"There were two reasons--one of which you won't know. The other was that
+I couldn't. I was on the beach an' not too popular. The only ships out
+of Buenos Aires were for London. That was the easiest way back to
+America anyhow. So I shipped as a cattle hand. And there you are. I
+lived easy in London. That's me. Easy come easy go. There it was I wrote
+a man I knew out in Bisbee--the feller that helped stake us--and he
+answered me that McGuire was dead, and that the mine was a flivver--too
+far away to work. You see he must of showed the letter to McGuire, and
+McGuire told him what to write. That threw me off the track. I forgot
+him and went to France...."
+
+Coast paused while he filled his glass again.
+
+"It wasn't until I reached New York that I found out McGuire was alive.
+It was just a chance while I was plannin' another deal. I took it. I
+hunted around the brokers' offices where they sell copper stocks. It
+didn't take me long to find that my mine was the 'Tarantula.' McGuire
+had developed it with capital from Denver, built a narrow gauge in. Then
+after a while had sold out his share for more than half a million
+clear."
+
+Peter was studying Coast keenly, thinking hard. But the story held with
+what he already knew of the man's history.
+
+"That's when Mike McGuire tacked the 'Jonathan K.' onto his name," Coast
+went on. "And that money's mine, the good half of it. Figure it out for
+yourself. Say five hundred thou, eight per cent, fifteen years--I
+reckon I could worry along on that even if he wouldn't do better--which
+he will.
+
+"Well, Pete--to shorten up--I found McGuire was here--in New York--and I
+laid for him. I watched for a while and then one day I got my nerve up
+and tackled him on the street. You ought to of seen his face when I told
+him who I was and what I'd come for. We were in the crowd at Broadway
+and Wall, people all about us. He started the 'high and mighty' stuff
+for a minute until I crumpled him up with a few facts. I thought he was
+goin' to have a stroke for a minute, when I made my brace for the five
+thou--then he turned tail and ran into the crowd pale as death. I lost
+him then. But it didn't matter. I'd find him again. I knew where his
+office was--and his hotel. It was dead easy. But he beat it down here.
+It took me awhile to pick up the trail. But here I am, Pete--here I
+am--safe in harbor at last."
+
+Coast took the bills out of his pocket and slowly counted them again.
+
+"And when you come back from the West, what will you do?" asked Peter.
+
+"Oh, now you're talkin', Pete. I'm goin' to settle down and live
+respectable. I like this country around here. I came from Jersey, you
+know, in the first place. I might build a nice place--keep a few horses
+and automobiles and enjoy my old age--run over to gay Paree once a
+year--down to Monte Carlo in the season. Oh, I'd know how to _live_ now.
+You bet you. I've seen 'em do it--those swells. They won't have anything
+on me. I'll live like a prince----"
+
+"On blackmail----," said Peter.
+
+"See here, Pete----!"
+
+"I meant it." Peter had risen and faced Coast coolly. "Blackmail! You
+can't tell me that if you had any legal claim on McGuire you couldn't
+prove it."
+
+"I mightn't be able to----," he shrugged.
+
+"What is McGuire frightened about? Not about what he owes you. He could
+pay that ten times over. It's something else--something that happened
+out there at the mine that you dare not tell----"
+
+"That I _won't_ tell," laughed Coast disagreeably.
+
+"That you _dare_ not tell--that McGuire dares not tell. Something that
+has to do with his strange message about the blood on the knife, and
+your placard about what you've got holding over him----"
+
+"Right you are," sneered the other.
+
+"It's dirty money, I tell you--bloody money. I know it. And I know who
+you are, Jim Coast."
+
+Coast started up and thrust the roll deep into his trousers pocket.
+
+"You don't know anything," he growled.
+
+Peter got up too. His mind had followed Coast's extraordinary story, and
+so far as it had gone, believed it to be true. Peter wanted to know what
+had happened out there at the mine in the desert, but more than that he
+wanted to know how the destinies of this man affected Beth. And so the
+thought that had been growing in his mind now found quick utterance.
+
+"I know this--that you've come back to frighten McGuire, but you've also
+come back to bring misery and shame to others who've lived long in peace
+and happiness without you----"
+
+"What----?" said Coast incredulously.
+
+"I know who you are. You're Ben Cameron," said Peter distinctly.
+
+The effect of this statement upon Jim Coast was extraordinary. He
+started back abruptly, overturning a chair, and fell rather than leaned
+against the bedpost--his eyes staring from a ghastly face.
+
+"What--what did--you say?" he gasped chokingly.
+
+"You're Ben Cameron," said Peter again.
+
+Coast put the fingers of one hand to his throat and straightened slowly,
+still staring at Peter. Then uneasily, haltingly, he made a sound in his
+throat that grew into a dry laugh----
+
+"Me--B-Ben Cameron! That's damn good. Me--Ben Cameron! Say, Pete,
+whatever put _that_ into your head?"
+
+"The way you frightened the old woman at the kitchen door."
+
+"Oh!" Coast straightened in relief. "I get you. You've been talkin' to
+_her_."
+
+"Yes. What did you say to her?"
+
+"I--I just gave her a message for McGuire. I reckon she gave it to him."
+
+"A message?"
+
+"Oh, you needn't say you don't know, Pete. It didn't fetch him. So I put
+up the placard."
+
+Peter was now more bewildered than Coast. "Do you deny that you're Ben
+Cameron?" he asked.
+
+Coast pulled himself together and took up his coat.
+
+"Deny it? Sure! I'm not--not him--not Ben Cameron--not Ben Cameron.
+Don't I know who I am?" he shouted. Then he broke off with a violent
+gesture and took up his cap. "Enough of your damn questions, I say. I've
+told you what I've told you. You can believe it or not, as you choose.
+I'm Jim Coast to you or Hawk Kennedy, if you like, but don't you go
+throwin' any more of your dirty jokes my way. Understand?"
+
+Peter couldn't understand but he had had enough of the man. So he
+pointed toward the door.
+
+"Go," he ordered. "I've had enough of you--get out!"
+
+Coast walked a few paces toward the door, then paused and turned and
+held out his hand.
+
+"Oh, Hell, Pete. Don't let's you and me quarrel. You gave me a start
+back there. I'm sorry. Of course, you knew. You been good to me
+to-night. I'm obliged. I need you in my business. More'n ever."
+
+"No," said Peter.
+
+"Oh, very well. Suit yourself," said Coast with a shrug. "There's plenty
+of time. I'll be back in a month or six weeks. Think it over. I've made
+you a nice offer--real money--to help me a bit. Take it or leave it, as
+you please. I'll get along without you, but I'd rather have you with me
+than against me."
+
+"I'm neither," said Peter. "I want nothing to do with it."
+
+Coast shrugged. "I'm sorry. Well, so long. I've got a horse back in the
+dunes. I'll take the milk train from Hammonton to Philadelphia. You
+won't tell, Pete?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Good-night."
+
+Peter didn't even reply. And when the man had gone he opened the door
+and windows to let in the night air. The room had been defiled by the
+man's very presence. Ben Cameron? Beth's father? The thing seemed
+impossible, but every fact in Peter's knowledge pointed toward it. And
+yet what the meaning of Jim Coast's strange actions at the mention of
+his name? And what were the facts that Jim Coast _didn't_ tell? What had
+happened at the mine that was too terrible even to speak about? What was
+the bond between these two men, which held the successful one in terror,
+and the other in silence? Something unspeakably vile. A hideous pact----
+
+The telephone bell jangled again. Peter rose and went to it. But he was
+in no humor to talk to McGuire.
+
+"Hello," he growled. "Yes--he's gone. I let him go. You told me to....
+Yes, he talked--a long while.... No. He won't be back for a month....
+We'll talk that over later.... No. Not to-night. I'm going to bed....
+No. Not until to-morrow. I've had about enough of this.... All right.
+Good-night."
+
+And Peter hung up the receiver, undressed and went to bed.
+
+It had been rather a full day for Peter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+CONFESSION
+
+
+In spite of his perplexities, Peter slept soundly and was only awakened
+by the jangling of the telephone bell. But Peter wanted to do a little
+thinking before he saw McGuire, and he wanted to ask the housekeeper a
+few questions, so he told McGuire that he would see him before ten
+o'clock. The curious part of the telephone conversation was that McGuire
+made no mention of the shooting. "H-m," said Peter to himself as he hung
+up, "going to ignore that trifling incident altogether, is he? Well,
+we'll see about that. It doesn't pay to be too clever, old cock." His
+pity for McGuire was no more. At the present moment Peter felt nothing
+for him except an abiding contempt which could hardly be modified by any
+subsequent revelations.
+
+Peter ran down to the creek in his bath robe and took a quick plunge,
+then returned, shaved and dressed while his coffee boiled, thinking with
+a fresh mind over the events and problems of the night before. Curiously
+enough, he found that he considered them more and more in their relation
+to Beth. Perhaps it was his fear for her happiness that laid stress on
+the probability that Jim Coast was Ben Cameron, Beth's father. How
+otherwise could Mrs. Bergen's terror be accounted for? And yet why had
+Coast been so perturbed at the mere mention of Ben Cameron's name? That
+was really strange. For a moment the man had stared at Peter as though
+he were seeing a ghost. If he _were_ Ben Cameron, why shouldn't he have
+acknowledged the fact? Here was the weak point in the armor of mystery.
+Peter had to admit that even while Coast was telling his story and the
+conviction was growing in Peter's mind that this was Beth's father, the
+very thought of Beth herself seemed to make the relationship grotesque.
+This Jim Coast, this picturesque blackguard who had told tales on the
+_Bermudian_ that had brought a flush of shame even to Peter's
+cheeks--this degenerate, this scheming blackmailer--thief, perhaps
+murderer, too, the father of Beth! Incredible! The merest contact with
+such a man must defile, defame her. And yet if this were the fact, Coast
+would have a father's right to claim her, to drag her down, a prey to
+his vile tongue and drunken humors as she had once been when a child.
+Her Aunt Tillie feared this. And Aunt Tillie did not know as Peter now
+did of the existence of the vile secret that sealed Coast's lips and
+held McGuire's soul in bondage.
+
+Instead of going directly up the lawn to the house Peter went along the
+edge of the woods to the garage and then up the path, as Coast must have
+done a few nights before. The housekeeper was in the pantry and there
+Peter sought her out. He noted the startled look in her eyes at the
+moment he entered the room and then the line of resolution into which
+her mouth was immediately drawn. So Peter chose a roundabout way of
+coming to his subject.
+
+"I wanted to talk to you about Beth, Mrs. Bergen," he began cheerfully.
+She offered him a chair but Peter leaned against the windowsill looking
+out into the gray morning. He told her what he had discovered about her
+niece's voice, that he himself had been educated in music and that he
+thought every opportunity should be given Beth to have her voice
+trained.
+
+He saw that Mrs. Bergen was disarmed for the moment as to the real
+purpose of his visit and he went on to tell her just what had happened
+at the Cabin with Shad Wells the day before, and asking her, as Beth's
+only guardian, for permission to carry out his plan to teach her all
+that he knew, after which he hoped it would be possible for her to go to
+New York for more advanced training.
+
+Mrs. Bergen listened in wonder, gasping at the tale of Shad Wells's
+undoing, which Peter asked her to keep in confidence. From Mrs. Bergen's
+comments he saw that she took little stock in Shad, who had been
+bothering Beth for two years or more, and that her own love for the girl
+amounted to a blind adoration which could see no fault in anything that
+she might do. It was clear that she was delighted with the opportunities
+Peter offered, for she had always known that Beth sang "prettier than
+anybody in the world." As to going to the Cabin for the lessons, that
+was nobody's business but Beth's. She was twenty-two--and able to look
+out for herself.
+
+"I'm an old woman, Mr. Nichols," she concluded timidly, "an' I've seen a
+lot of trouble, one kind or another, but I ain't often mistaken in my
+judgments. I know Beth. She ain't nobody's fool. And if she likes you,
+you ought to be glad of it. If she's willin' to come to your cabin, I'm
+willin' that she should go there--no matter who don't like it or why.
+She can look after herself--aye, better than I can look after her." She
+sighed. And then with some access of spirit, "You're different from most
+of the folks around here, but I don't see nothin' wrong with you. If you
+say you want to help Beth, I'm willin' to believe you. But if I thought
+you meant her any harm----"
+
+She broke off and stared at him with her mild eyes under brows meant to
+be severe.
+
+"I hope you don't want to think that, Mrs. Bergen," said Peter gently.
+
+"No. I don't want to. Beth don't take up with every Tom, Dick and Harry.
+And if she likes you, I reckon she knows what's she's about."
+
+"I want to help her to make something of herself," said Peter calmly.
+"And I know I can. Beth is a very unusual girl."
+
+"Don't you suppose I know that? She always was. She ain't the same as
+the rest of us down here. She always wanted to learn. Even now when
+she's through school, she's always readin'--always."
+
+"That's it. She ought to complete her education. That's what I mean. I
+want to help her to be a great singer. I can do it if you'll let me."
+
+"Where's the money comin' from?" sighed Mrs. Bergen.
+
+"No need to bother about that, yet. I can give her a beginning, if you
+approve. After that----" Peter paused a moment and then, "We'll see," he
+finished.
+
+He was somewhat amazed at the length to which his subconscious thought
+was carrying him, for his spoken words could infer nothing less than his
+undertaking at his own expense the completion of the girl's education.
+The housekeeper's exclamation quickly brought him to a recognition of
+his meaning.
+
+"You mean--that _you_----!" she halted and looked at him over her
+glasses in wonder.
+
+"Yes," he said blandly, aware of an irrevocable step. "I do, Mrs.
+Bergen."
+
+"My land!" she exclaimed. And then again as though in echo, "My land!"
+
+"That's one of the reasons why I've come here to you to-day," he went on
+quickly. "I want to help Beth and I want to help _you_. I know that
+everything isn't going right for you at Black Rock House. I've been
+drawn more deeply into--into McGuire's affairs than I expected to be and
+I've learned a great many things that aren't any business of mine. And
+one of the things I've learned is that your peace of mind and Beth's
+happiness are threatened by the things that are happening around you."
+
+The housekeeper had risen and stood leaning against the dresser,
+immediately on her guard.
+
+"Mrs. Bergen," he went on firmly, "there's no use of trying to evade
+this issue--because it's here! I know more than you think I do. I'm
+trying to get at the root of this mystery because of Beth. You told me
+the other night that Beth's happiness was involved when that stranger
+came to the kitchen porch----"
+
+"No, no," gasped the woman. "Don't ask me. I'll tell you nothin'."
+
+"You saw this man--outside the kitchen door in the dark," he insisted.
+"You talked with him----"
+
+"No--no. Don't ask me, Mr. Nichols."
+
+"Won't you tell me what he said? I saw him last night--talked with him
+for an hour----"
+
+"_You_--talked--with him!" she gasped in alarm. And then, haltingly,
+"What did he say to you? What did he do? Is he coming back?"
+
+She was becoming more disturbed and nervous, so Peter brought a chair
+and made her sit in it.
+
+"No. He's not coming back--not for a month or more," he replied
+reassuringly. "But if I'm to help you, I've got to know something more
+about him, and for Beth's sake you've got to help me." And then quietly,
+"Mrs. Bergen, was this man who came to the kitchen door, Ben Cameron,
+Beth's father?"
+
+"My God!" said the housekeeper faintly, putting her face in her hands.
+
+"Won't you tell me just what happened?" Peter asked.
+
+"I--I'm scared, Mr. Nichols," she groaned. "The whole thing has been too
+much for me--knowin' how scared Mr. McGuire is too. I can't understand,
+I can't even--think--no more."
+
+"Let me do your thinking for you. Tell me what happened the other night,
+Mrs. Bergen."
+
+The woman raised a pallid face, her colorless eyes blinking up at him
+beseechingly.
+
+"Tell me," he whispered. "It can do no possible harm."
+
+She glanced pitifully at him once more and then haltingly told her
+story.
+
+"I--I was sittin' in the kitchen there, the night of the supper
+party--by the door--restin' and tryin' to get cool--when--when a knock
+come on the door-jamb outside. It sounded queer--the door bein'
+open--an' my nerves bein' shook sorter with the goin's on here. But I
+went to the door an' leaned out. There was a man standin' in the
+shadow----"
+
+Mrs. Bergen paused in a renewed difficulty of breathing.
+
+"And then----?" Peter urged.
+
+"He--he leaned forward toward me an' spoke rough-like. 'You're the cook,
+ain't you?' he says. I was that scared I--I couldn't say nothin'. An' he
+went on. 'You tell McGuire to meet me at the end of the lawn to-morrow
+night.'"
+
+"And what did you say?"
+
+"Nothin'. I couldn't."
+
+"What else did he tell you?"
+
+Mrs. Bergen bent her head but went on with an effort.
+
+"He says, 'Tell McGuire Ben--Ben Cameron's come back.'"
+
+"I see. And you were more frightened than ever?"
+
+"Yes. More frightened--terrible. I didn't know what to do. I mumbled
+somethin'. Then you an' Beth come in----"
+
+"And _was_ it Ben Cameron that you saw?"
+
+The poor creature raised her gaze to Peter's again.
+
+"B-Ben Cameron? Who else could it 'a' been? An' I thought he was dead,
+Mr. Nichols--years ago."
+
+"You didn't recognize him, then?"
+
+"I--I don't know. It was all so sudden--like seein' a corpse--speakin'
+that name."
+
+"He wore a short beard?"
+
+"Yes. But Ben Cameron was smooth shaved."
+
+"Did Ben Cameron have any distinguishing mark--anything you could
+remember him by?"
+
+"Yes. Ben Cameron's little finger of his left hand was missin'----. But
+of course, Mr. Nichols, I couldn't see nothin' in the dark."
+
+"No, of course," said Peter with a gasp of relief. "But his voice----?"
+
+"It was gruff--hoarse--whisperin'-like."
+
+"Was the Ben Cameron you knew, your brother-in-law--was he tall?"
+
+She hesitated, her brows puckering.
+
+"That's what bothered me some. Beth's father wasn't over tall----"
+
+"I see," Peter broke in eagerly, "and this man was tall--about my
+size--with a hook nose--black eyes and----"
+
+"Oh, I--I couldn't see his face," she muttered helplessly. "The night
+was too dark."
+
+"But you wouldn't swear it was Ben Cameron?"
+
+She looked up at him in a new bewilderment. "But who else could it 'a'
+been--sayin' that name--givin' that message?"
+
+Peter rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
+
+"Queer, isn't it? I don't wonder that you were alarmed--especially for
+Beth, knowing the kind of man he was."
+
+"It's terrible, Mr. Nichols. A man like Ben Cameron never gets made
+over. He's bad clear through. If you only knew----" Mrs. Bergen's pale
+eyes seemed to be looking back into the past. "He means no good to
+Beth--that's what frightens me. He could take her away from me. She's
+his daughter----"
+
+"Well--don't worry," said Peter at last. "We'll find a way to protect
+you." And then, "Of course you didn't take that message to McGuire?" he
+asked.
+
+"Why, no--Mr. Nichols. I couldn't. I'd 'a' died first. But what does it
+all mean? _Him_ bein' scared of Ben Cameron, too. I can't make it
+out--though I've thought and thought until I couldn't think no more."
+
+She was on the point of tears now, so Peter soothed her gently.
+
+"Leave this to me, Mrs. Bergen." And then, "You haven't said anything of
+this to any one?"
+
+"Not a soul--I--I was hopin' it might 'a' been just a dream."
+
+Peter was silent for a moment, gazing out of the window and thinking
+deeply.
+
+"No. It wasn't a dream," he said quietly at last. "You saw a man by the
+kitchen door, and he gave you the message about Ben Cameron, _but the
+man you saw wasn't Ben Cameron_, Mrs. Bergen, because, unless I'm very
+much mistaken, Ben Cameron is dead----"
+
+"How do you----?"
+
+"He didn't die when you thought he did, Mrs. Bergen--but later. I can't
+tell you how. It's only a guess. But I'm beginning to see a light in
+this affair--and I'm going to follow it until I find the truth. Good-by.
+Don't worry."
+
+And Peter, with a last pat on the woman's shoulder and an encouraging
+smile, went out of the door and into the house.
+
+Eagerly Peter's imagination was trying to fill the gap in Jim Coast's
+story, and his mind, now intent upon the solution of the mystery, groped
+before him up the stair. And what it saw was the burning Gila Desert ...
+the mine among the rocks--"lousy" with outcroppings of ore ... "Mike"
+McGuire and "Hawk" Kennedy, devious in their ways, partners in a vile
+conspiracy....
+
+But Peter's demeanor was careless when Stryker admitted him to McGuire's
+room and his greeting in reply to McGuire's was casual enough to put his
+employer off his guard. After a moment's hesitation McGuire sent the
+valet out and went himself and closed and locked the door. Peter refused
+his cigar, lighting one of his own cigarettes, and sank into the chair
+his host indicated. After the first words Peter knew that his surmise
+had been correct and that his employer meant to deny all share in the
+shooting of the night before.
+
+"Well," began the old man, with a glance at the door, "what did he say?"
+
+Peter shook his head judicially. He had already decided on the direction
+which this conversation must take.
+
+"No. It won't do, Mr. McGuire," he said calmly.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Merely that before we talk of what Hawk Kennedy said to me, we'll
+discuss your reasons for unnecessarily putting my life in danger----"
+
+"This shooting you've spoken of----"
+
+"This attempted _murder_!"
+
+"You're dreaming."
+
+Peter laughed at him. "You'll be telling me in a moment that you didn't
+hear the shots." And then, leaning forward so that he stared deep into
+his employer's eyes, "See here, Mr. McGuire, I'm not to be trifled with.
+I know too much of your affairs--more than you think I do----"
+
+"He talked----?" McGuire's poise was slipping from him.
+
+"One moment, if you please. I want this thing perfectly understood. Your
+arrangements were cleverly made--changing the guards--your instructions
+to me--the flashlight and all the rest. You didn't want to kill me if
+you could help it. I'm obliged for this consideration. You forgot that
+your hand isn't as steady now as it was when you were a dead shot out in
+Arizona--Ah! I see that you already understand what I mean."
+
+McGuire had started forward in his chair, his face livid.
+
+"You know----?"
+
+"Yes. More than I wanted to know--more than I would ever have known if
+you'd played fair with me. You cared nothing for my life. You shot,
+twice, missed killing your man and then when the light went out, sneaked
+away like the coward that you are----"
+
+"D----n you," croaked McGuire feebly, falling back in his chair.
+
+"Leaving me to the mercies of your ancient enemy in the dark--who
+thought _me_ your accomplice. You can hardly blame him under the
+circumstances. But I got the best of him--luckily for me, and disarmed
+him. If you had remained a few moments longer you might have taken part
+in our very interesting conversation. Do you still deny all this?"
+
+McGuire, stifled with his fear and fury, was incapable of a reply.
+
+"Very good. So long as we understand each other thus far, perhaps you
+will permit me to go on. As you know, I came to you in good faith. I
+wanted to help you in any way that a gentleman could do. Last night you
+tricked me, and put my life in danger. If you had killed Kennedy
+everything would have been all right for _you_. And I would have been
+accused of the killing. If _I_ had been killed no harm would have been
+done at all. That was your idea. It was a clever little scheme. Pity it
+didn't work out."
+
+McGuire's faltering courage was coming back.
+
+"Go on!" he muttered desperately.
+
+"Thanks," said Peter, "I will. One shot of yours scraped Kennedy's
+shoulder. He was bleeding badly, so I took him to the Cabin and fixed
+him up. He was rather grateful. He ought to have been. I gave him a
+drink too--several drinks. You said he wouldn't talk, but he did."
+
+"You _made_ him talk, d----n you," McGuire broke in hoarsely.
+
+"No. He volunteered to talk. I may say, he insisted upon it. You see, I
+happened to have the gentleman's acquaintance----"
+
+"You----!"
+
+"We met on the steamer coming over when we were escaping from Russia.
+His name was Jim Coast then. He was a waiter in the dining saloon. So
+was I. Funny, isn't it?"
+
+To McGuire it seemed far from that, for at this revelation his jaw
+dropped and he stared at Peter as though the entire affair were beyond
+his comprehension.
+
+"You knew him! A waiter, _you_!"
+
+"Yes. Misfortune makes strange bedfellows. It was either that or
+starvation. I preferred to wait."
+
+"For--for the love of God--go on," growled McGuire. His hands were
+clutching the chair arm and there was madness in his shifting eyes, so
+Peter watched him keenly.
+
+"I will. He told me how you and he had worked together out in Colorado,
+up in the San Luis valley, of the gold prospect near Wagon Wheel Gap, of
+its failure--how you met again in Pueblo and then went down into the
+copper country--Bisbee, Arizona."
+
+Peter had no pity now. He saw McGuire straighten again in his chair, his
+gaze shifting past Peter from left to right like a trapped animal. His
+fingers groped along the chair arms, along the table edge, trembling,
+eager but uncertain. But the sound of Peter's narrative seemed to
+fascinate--to hypnotize him.
+
+"Go on----!" he whispered hoarsely. "Go on!"
+
+"You got an outfit and went out into the Gila Desert," continued Peter,
+painting his picture leisurely, deliberately. "It was horrible--the
+heat, the sand, the rocks--but you weren't going to fail this time.
+There was going to be something at the end of this terrible pilgrimage
+to repay you for all that you suffered, you and Hawk Kennedy. There was
+no water, but what you carried on your pack-mules--no water within a
+hundred miles, nothing but sand and rocks and the heat. No chance at all
+for a man, alone without a horse, in that desert. You saw the bones of
+men and animals bleaching along the trail. That was the death that
+awaited any man----"
+
+"You lie!"
+
+Peter sprang for the tortured man as McGuire's fingers closed on
+something in the open drawer of the table, but Peter twisted the weapon
+quickly out of his hand and threw it in the corner of the room.
+
+"You fool," he whispered quickly as he pinioned McGuire in his chair,
+"do you want to add another murder to what's on your conscience?"
+
+But McGuire had already ceased to resist him. Peter hadn't been too
+gentle with him. The man had collapsed. A glance at his face showed his
+condition. So Peter poured out a glass of whisky and water which he
+poured between his employer's gaping lips. Then he waited, watching the
+old man. He seemed really old now to Peter, a hundred at least, for his
+sagging facial muscles seemed to reveal the lines of every event in his
+life--an old man, though scarcely sixty, yet broken and helpless. He
+came around slowly, his heavy gaze slowly seeking Peter's.
+
+"What--what are you going to do?" he managed at last.
+
+"Nothing. I'm no blackmailer." And then, playing his high card, "I've
+heard what Hawk said about Ben Cameron," said Peter. "Now tell me the
+truth."
+
+At the sound of the name McGuire started and then his eyes closed for a
+moment.
+
+"You know--everything," he muttered.
+
+"Yes, _his_ side," Peter lied. "What's yours?"
+
+McGuire managed to haul himself upright in his chair, staring up at
+Peter with bloodshot eyes.
+
+"He's lied to you, if he said I done it----," he gasped, relapsing into
+the vernacular of an earlier day. "It was Hawk. He stabbed him in the
+back. I never touched him. I never had a thing to do with the killin'. I
+swear it----"
+
+Peter's lips set in a thin line.
+
+"So Hawk Kennedy killed Ben Cameron!" he said.
+
+"He did. I swear to God----"
+
+"And then _you_ cleared out with all the water, leaving Hawk to die.
+_That_ was murder--cold-blooded murder----"
+
+"My God, don't, Nichols!" the old man moaned. "If you only knew----"
+
+"Well, then--tell me the truth."
+
+Their glances met. Peter's was compelling. He had, when he chose, an air
+of command. And there was something else in Peter's look, inflexible as
+it was, that gave McGuire courage, an unalterable honesty which had been
+so far tried and not found wanting.
+
+"You know--already," he stammered.
+
+"Tell me your story," said Peter bluntly.
+
+There was a long moment of hesitation, and then,
+
+"Get me a drink, Nichols. I'll trust you. I've never told it to a living
+man. I'll tell--I'll tell it all. It may not be as bad as you think."
+
+He drank the liquor at a gulp and set the glass down on the table beside
+him.
+
+"This--this thing has been hanging over me for fifteen years,
+Nichols--fifteen years. It's weighted me down, made an old man of me
+before my time. Maybe it will help me to tell somebody. It's made me
+hard--silent, busy with my own affairs, bitter against every man who
+could hold his head up. I knew it was going to come some day. I knew it.
+You can't pull anything like that and get away with it forever. I'd made
+the money for my kids--I never had any fun spending it in my life. I'm a
+lonely man, Nichols. I always was. No happiness except when I came back
+to my daughters--to Peggy and my poor Marjorie...."
+
+McGuire was silent for a moment and Peter, not taking his gaze from his
+face, patiently waited. McGuire glanced at him just once and then went
+on, slipping back from time to time into the speech of a bygone day.
+
+"I never knew what his first name was. He was always just 'Hawk' to us
+boys on the range. Hawk Kennedy was a bad lot. I knew it up there in the
+San Luis valley but I wasn't no angel from Heaven myself. And he had a
+way with him. We got on all right together. But when the gold mine up at
+the Gap petered out he quit me--got beaten up in a fight about a woman.
+I didn't see him for some years, when he showed up in Pueblo, where I
+was workin' in a smelter. He was all for goin' South into the copper
+country. He had some money--busted a faro bank he said, and talked big
+about the fortune he was goin' to make. Ah, he could talk, when he had
+something on his mind.... I had some money saved up too and so I quit my
+job and went with him down to Bisbee, Arizona. I wish to God I never
+had. I'd gotten pretty well straightened out up in Pueblo, sendin' money
+East to the wife and all----. But I wanted to be rich. I was forty-five
+and I had to hurry. But I could do it yet. Maybe this was my chance.
+That's the way I thought. That's why I happened to listen to Hawk
+Kennedy and his tales of the copper country.
+
+"Well, we got an outfit in Bisbee and set out along the Mexican border.
+We had a tip that let us out into the desert. It was just a tip, that's
+all. But it was worth following up. It was about this man Ben Cameron.
+He'd come into town all alone, get supplies and then go out again next
+day. He let slip something over the drink one night. That was the tip we
+were followin' up. We struck his trail all right--askin' questions of
+greasers and Indians. We knew he'd found somethin' good or he wouldn't
+have been so quiet about it.
+
+"I swear to God, I had no idea of harmin' him. I wanted to find what Ben
+Cameron had found, stake out near him and get what I could. Maybe Hawk
+Kennedy had a different idea even then. I don't know. He never said what
+he was thinkin' about.
+
+"We found Ben Cameron. Perched up in a hill of rocks, he was, livin' in
+the hole he'd dug where he'd staked his claim. But we knew he hadn't
+taken out any papers. He never thought anybody'd find him out there in
+that Hell-hole. It was Hell all right. Even now whenever I think of what
+Hell must be I think of what that gulch looked like. Just rocks and
+alkali dust and heat.
+
+"It all comes back to me. Every little thing that was said and
+done--every word. Ben Cameron saw us first--and when we came up, he was
+sittin' on a rock, his rifle acrost his knees, a hairy man, thin,
+burnt-out, black as a greaser. Hawk Kennedy passed the time of day, but
+Ben Cameron only cursed at him and waved us off. 'Get the Hell out of
+here,' he says--ugly. But we only laughed at him--for didn't we both see
+the kind of an egg Ben Cameron was settin' on?
+
+"'Don't be pokin' jokes at the Gila Desert, my little man,' say Hawk,
+polite as you please. 'It's Hell that's here and here it will remain.'
+And then we said we were short of water--which we were not--and had he
+any to spare? But he waved us on with his rifle, never sayin' a word. So
+we moved down the gulch a quarter of a mile and went into camp. There
+was ore here, too, but nothin' like what Ben Cameron had.
+
+"Hawk was quiet that night--creepin' about among the rocks, but he
+didn't say what was on his mind. In the mornin' he started off to talk
+to Ben Cameron an' I went with him. The man was still sittin' on his
+rock, with the rifle over his knees--been there all night, I reckon. But
+he let us come to hailin' distance.
+
+"'Nice claim you got there, pardner,' says Hawk.
+
+"'Is it?' says he.
+
+"'Ain't you afraid of rubbin' some o' that verdigris off onto your
+pants,' says Hawk.
+
+"'They're my pants,' says Cameron. 'You ain't here for any good. Get
+out!' And he brings his rifle to his hip. We saw he was scared all
+right, maybe not so much at what we'd do to him as at sharin' what he'd
+found.
+
+"'The Gila Desert ain't _all_ yours, is it, pardner? Or maybe you got a
+mortgage on the earth!' says Hawk, very polite. 'You ain't got no
+objection to our stakin' alongside of you, have you? Come along, now.
+Let's be neighbors. We see what you've got. That's all right. We'll take
+your leavin's. We've got a right to them.'
+
+"And so after a while of palaverin' with him, he lets us come up and
+look over his claim. It didn't take any eye at all to see what he'd got.
+He wasn't much of a man--Ben Cameron--weak-eyed, rum-dum--poor too. You
+could see that by his outfit--worse off than we were. Hawk told him we
+had a lot of friends with money--big money in the East. Maybe we could
+work it to run a railroad out to tap the whole ridge. That kind of got
+him and we found he had no friends in this part of the country--so we
+sat down to grub together, Ben Cameron, like me, unsuspectin' of what
+was to happen.
+
+"My God, Nichols, I can see it all like it had happened yesterday. Hawk
+Kennedy stood up as though to look around and then before I knew what he
+was about had struck Ben Cameron in the back with his knife.
+
+"It was all over in a minute. Ben Cameron reached for his gun but before
+his hand got to it he toppled over sideways and lay quiet.
+
+"I started up to my feet but Hawk had me covered and I knew from what
+had happened that he'd shoot, too.
+
+"'Don't make a fuss,' he says. 'Give me your gun.' I knew he had me to
+rights and I did what he said. 'Now,' he says, 'it's yours and mine.'"
+
+McGuire made a motion toward the glass. Peter filled it for him and he
+drank.
+
+"And then--what happened?" asked Peter quietly.
+
+"Hawk Kennedy had me dead to rights. There was only one thing to do--to
+make believe I was 'with him.' We buried Ben Cameron, then went down and
+brought our outfit up, Hawk watchin' me all the while. He'd taken my gun
+and Ben Cameron's and unloaded them and carried all the ammunition about
+him. But I didn't know what I was in for. That night he made me sit down
+while he drew up a paper, torn from an old note book of Ben Cameron's--a
+partnership agreement, a contract."
+
+McGuire broke off suddenly and got up, moving nervously to the safe,
+from one of the drawers of which he took a blue linen envelope and
+brought forth a paper which he handed to Peter.
+
+"That's the hellish thing, Nichols," he said hoarsely. "That's why I'm
+afraid of Hawk Kennedy. A lie that he forced me to sign! And there's
+another paper like this in his possession. Read it, Nichols."
+
+Peter took the paper in his fingers and looked at it curiously. It was
+soiled and worn, broken at the edges, written over in lead pencil, but
+still perfectly legible.
+
+      AGREEMENT BETWEEN HAWK KENNEDY AND MIKE McGUIRE
+
+      Us two found Ben Cameron on his copper claim in Madre Gulch.
+      We killed him. Both of us had a hand in it. This mine is
+      Hawk Kennedy's and Mike McGuire's and we are pardners in the
+      same until death us do part, so help us God.
+
+      (Signed) MIKE MCGUIRE.
+               HAWK KENNEDY.
+
+
+"He wanted it on me----" McGuire gasped. "You see? To keep me quiet."
+
+"I understand," said Peter. "This is 'what you've got and what I've got'
+referred to in the placard."
+
+"Yes," said McGuire. "A partnership agreement and a confession--of
+something I didn't do."
+
+Peter's eyes were searching him through and through.
+
+"You swear it?"
+
+McGuire held up his right hand and met Peter's gaze without flinching.
+
+"Before God, I do."
+
+Peter was silent for a moment, thinking.
+
+"And then, you left Hawk Kennedy there to die," he said slowly, watching
+the man.
+
+McGuire sank into his chair with a sigh, the perspiration now beaded on
+his pale forehead.
+
+"I didn't know what to do, I tell you," he almost whispered. "He had
+me. I was unarmed. I'd 'a' killed him if I'd had a gun. But I waited a
+few days after we buried Cameron--makin' believe I was satisfied with
+everything and he believed me, and at last he fell asleep tired with
+keepin' watch on me. He was all in. I bored holes in Ben Cameron's
+barrels, lettin' the water out down the rocks, then took the three
+horses and the mules with all the water that was left and got away
+before he woke up.
+
+"It was a terrible thing to do, Nichols--call it murder if you like. But
+it served him right. It was comin' to him--and I got away with it. At
+first when I reached water I had a thought of goin' back--to save him
+before he died--to get that paper I couldn't get that was inside his
+shirt."
+
+McGuire leaned forward, his face in his hands for a moment, trying to
+finish.
+
+"But I didn't go back, Nichols. I didn't go back. That's the crime I'm
+payin' for now--not the other--not the murder of Ben Cameron--I didn't
+do that--the murder of Hawk Kennedy--who has come back."
+
+"What happened then?"
+
+"I turned Ben Cameron's horse and burros loose where there was water and
+grass and went on to Bisbee. I told them my buddy had died of a fever. I
+thought he had by now. They didn't ask any questions. I was safe. The
+rest was easy. I filed a claim, found some real money and told what I'd
+found. I waited a month, then went back to Madre Gulch with Bill Munroe,
+the fellow that helped stake us. There was no one there. We searched the
+rocks and plains for miles around for signs of Hawk Kennedy's body, for
+we knew he couldn't have got far in that heat without water. But we
+found nothin'. Hawk Kennedy had disappeared."
+
+"Then," said Peter, "you built a railroad in and sold out for half a
+million dollars----?"
+
+McGuire looked up, mystified.
+
+"Or thereabouts," he muttered. "But Hawk Kennedy was alive. I found that
+out later when he wrote from London. We steered him off the track. But I
+knew he'd come back some day with that paper I'd signed. That's what's
+been hangin' over me. An' now it's fallen. I've told you the truth. I
+had to. You believe me, don't you?" he asked appealingly.
+
+Peter had watched him keenly. There seemed little doubt that what he
+told was the truth. There was no flaw in the tale.
+
+"Yes," he said after a pause. "I believe you've told me the truth. But
+you can hardly blame Hawk Kennedy, murderer though he is, for hating you
+and wanting what he thinks is his."
+
+"No. That's true."
+
+"And you can't blame me for being angry at the trick you played me----"
+
+"I was desperate. I've been desperate since I saw him in New York.
+Sometimes I've been a bit queer, I reckon--thinkin' about Peggy hearin'
+this. I wanted to kill him. It was a good chance last night. Nobody
+would have blamed me, after his being around the place. It was an easy
+shot--but my hand wasn't steady----"
+
+"Pity you didn't know that before you put me in danger."
+
+"I'm sorry, Nichols--sorry. I'll do anything you like. What do you want
+me to do?"
+
+Instead of replying at once Peter took out a cigarette and lighted it
+carefully. And then,
+
+"You've never taken the trouble to make any inquiries as to the
+whereabouts of the family of Ben Cameron?" he asked.
+
+The old man shook his head.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I was afraid to ask."
+
+"I see. Don't you think it's about time you did? It's _his_ money that
+made your fortune."
+
+"He was no good. Nobody knew him. So far as I ever heard, nobody ever
+asked about him."
+
+"Nevertheless he must have had some friends somewhere."
+
+"Maybe. I don't know. I'm willing to help them if I can, providing this
+thing can be kept quiet." And then, pleadingly, "You're not going to
+talk--to use it against me, Nichols?"
+
+Peter's pity for McGuire had come back. The man's terror, his
+desperation of the past weeks had burned him out, worn him to a shell.
+
+"No, I'm not going to talk. Hawk Kennedy didn't dare tell what you've
+told me. That's why I believe you."
+
+"And you'll stay on here and help me?"
+
+"Yes----We'll see how we can balk Hawk Kennedy."
+
+"I'll pay him fifty thousand--a hundred thousand--for that
+agreement----"
+
+"Not a dollar. I've got a better use for your money than that."
+
+McGuire thought Peter referred to the necessary improvements of the
+estate. But Peter had another idea in mind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE CHASE
+
+
+Peter had discovered the means of providing for Beth's musical
+education. Upon inquiry he had found that McGuire hardly knew Beth
+except as a dependent relative of Mrs. Bergen, who came in sometimes to
+help her aunt with the cleaning--usually before McGuire came down from
+New York. Their little home was not on his visiting list.
+
+He delayed telling McGuire. There was plenty of time and there was no
+doubt of his employer's doing the right thing by the daughter of the
+murdered man. Meanwhile, having completed his plans for the estate, he
+had suggested that McGuire go off for a trip somewhere to rest and
+recover his poise. Peter had promised his allegiance to McGuire when
+Hawk Kennedy returned, but he knew that he would have to fight fire with
+fire. For Hawk had proved himself both skillful and dangerous, and would
+struggle desperately to get what he thought was his own. It was his last
+chance to make a big stake--to be independent for the rest of his life.
+He was tasting luxury now and wouldn't give up without a fight to the
+death. Something must be thought of--some plan to outwit him, to
+circumvent the schemes which would come out of his visit of
+investigation to the copper country.
+
+Peter had said nothing to Beth or to Mrs. Cameron of what he had
+discovered. He was under no oath of secrecy to the old man, but he
+realized that while Hawk Kennedy held the "confession" McGuire was in a
+predicament which would only be made more difficult if the facts got
+abroad. And so Peter had gone about his work silently, aware that the
+burden of McGuire's troubles had been suddenly shifted to his own
+shoulders. He spent most of his days at the lumber camp and now had
+every detail of the business at his fingers' ends. Timbers had been
+hauled to the appointed sites and under his direction the fire towers
+were now half way to completion.
+
+He had found Shad Wells down at the mills, morose, sullen and disposed
+to question his authority, but McGuire had visited the bunk-house one
+night before he went away, and it was soon discovered that Peter and no
+other was the boss of the job. Peter for reasons of his own retained
+Shad, much to that gentleman's surprise, as foreman of the lumbering
+gang, but Peter wasn't at all satisfied with conditions as he had found
+them at the lumber camp and mills and, as he discovered later, the
+continuance of Shad in the foreman's job was a mistake. If Peter had
+hoped by this act of conciliation to heal Shad's wounds and bring about
+a spirit of useful cooeperation with the man, he soon found that the very
+reverse of this had been accomplished. The lumbermen were an
+unregenerate lot, some of them "pineys," a few Italians, but most of
+them the refuse of the factories and shipyards, spoiled by the fatal
+"cost plus" contracts of war time. All of these facts Peter learned
+slowly, aware of an undercurrent moving against him and yet entirely
+dependent upon this labor--which was the best, indeed the only labor, to
+be had. He made some improvements in the bunk-house for their comfort,
+increased the supply of food and posted notices that all complaints of
+whatever nature would be promptly investigated. But day after day new
+stories came to him of shirking, of dissatisfaction and continued
+trouble-making.
+
+This labor trouble was no new thing at Black Rock, and had existed
+practically since the beginning of the work on the lumber contract six
+months before Peter had been employed. But it was not long before Peter
+discovered through Jesse Brown, whose confidence he had gained, that
+there were agitators in the camp, undoubtedly receiving their
+inspiration and pay from sources inimical to all capital in the abstract
+and to all order and decency at Black Rock in the concrete, who were
+fomenting the unrest and dissatisfaction among the men. In order to
+investigate the difficulties personally Peter went down to the camp and
+lived there for a time, bunking with the men and listening to their
+stories, winning some of them to his side and tracing as far as he could
+the troubles to their sources, two men named Flynn and Jacobi. He
+discharged these two men and sent them out of the camp over Wells's
+protest. But even then he had a sense of failure. The trouble was deeper
+than was manifest upon the surface. No mere raise in wages would clear
+it away. It was born of the world's sickness, with which the men from
+the cities had been inoculated.
+
+One night while he sat in the bunk-house smoking a pipe and talking with
+Jesse Brown, Shad Wells suddenly appeared in the doorway, framed against
+the darkness. Shad's gaze and Peter's met--then Peter's glance turned to
+Shad's companion. As this man saw Peter he turned his head and went down
+the length of the bunk-house. Peter got up at once, followed him and
+faced him. The man now wore a dark beard, but there was no mistake. It
+was the fellow of the black mustache--the stranger whom Peter had seen
+in the Pennsylvania Station in New York, the same man he had caught
+prowling some weeks ago around his cabin in the darkness.
+
+Peter stared at him for a moment but the man would not meet his gaze.
+
+"Who are you?" asked Peter at last. And then, as he made no reply,
+"What were you doing prowling around my cabin up by the creek?"
+
+The stranger shook his head from side to side.
+
+"No understan'," he muttered.
+
+At this point, Shad Wells, who had followed with Jesse Brown, came in
+between them.
+
+"That's right, Nichols," he growled. "No understan'--He's a 'guinea.'"
+To Wells all men were "guineas" who didn't speak his own language.
+
+"Italian? Are you? French? Spanish? Slovak?"
+
+Each time the man shook his head. And then, with an inspiration, Peter
+shot at him a quick phrase in Russian. But the man gave no sign of
+comprehension.
+
+"Who put this man on?" asked Peter, turning to Wells.
+
+"I did," said the native sullenly.
+
+"Why?" said Peter, growing warmer. "Didn't I tell you that in future I
+would hire all the men myself?"
+
+"We're short-handed, since you fired two of the best axmen we got----"
+
+"You disobeyed orders----"
+
+"_Orders_--Hell!"
+
+"All right. We'll see who's running this camp, you or me. To-morrow
+morning Jesse Brown starts as foreman here. Understand?"
+
+Shad's eyes shot fire, then smoldered and went out as he turned with a
+sneering laugh and walked away.
+
+"As for you," said Peter to the stranger, who stood uncertainly, "you go
+to the office in the morning and get your envelope." Then repeated the
+sentence in Russian. "If you don't understand--find somebody who does."
+
+That the stranger had understood Peter's demeanor if not his language
+was evident, for in the morning he had vanished.
+
+After that clearing of the air things went somewhat better at the camp.
+Jesse Brown, though not aggressive, was steady and honest and had a
+certain weight with the Jerseymen. As to the others, there was doubt as
+to whether anything would have satisfied them. For the present, at
+least, it was a question of getting on as well as possible with the
+means at hand. There was a limit to Peter's weekly pay roll and other
+men were not to be had. Besides, Peter had promised McGuire to keep the
+sawmills busy. He knew that when he had come to Black Rock the work on
+the lumber contract had already fallen behind the schedule, and that
+only by the greatest perseverance could he make up the time already
+lost.
+
+As he rode back to his cabin on the afternoon after his encounter with
+Shad Wells and the stranger with the black mustache, he found himself
+quite satisfied with regard to his summary dismissal of them both. On
+Beth's account he had hesitated to depose Shad. He knew that before he
+had come to Black Rock they had been friends as well as distant
+relatives, and Beth in her frequent meetings with Peter had expressed
+the hope that Shad would "come around." Peter had given him every
+chance, even while he had known that the Jerseyman was working against
+both McGuire's and Peter's interests. Flynn and Jacobi, the men Peter
+had sent away, were radicals and agitators. Flynn had a police record
+that did not bear close inspection, and Jacobi was an anarchist out and
+out. Before Peter had come to Black Rock they had abused Shad's
+credulity and after the fight at the Cabin, he had been their willing
+tool in interrupting the completion of the contract. For of course Shad
+had hoped that if Peter couldn't get the lumber out when promised,
+McGuire would put the blame on the new superintendent and let him go.
+That was Shad's idea. If he had ever been decent enough to warrant
+Beth's friendship, his jealousy had warped his judgment. Peter was no
+longer sorry for Shad Wells. He had brought all his troubles on
+himself.
+
+As to the stranger with the black mustache, that was a more serious
+matter. Every circumstance--the recognition in New York, the skill with
+which the man had traced him to Black Rock, the craft with which he had
+watched Peter and his success in finally getting into the camp and
+gaining Shad's confidence, made a certainty in Peter's mind that the
+stranger had some object in remaining near Peter and keeping him under
+observation. And what other object than a political one? The trail he
+had followed had begun with the look of recognition in the Pennsylvania
+Station in New York. And where could that look of recognition have
+sprung from unless he had identified Peter Nichols as the Grand Duke
+Peter Nicholaevitch? It seemed incredible, but there could be no other
+explanation. The man had seen him somewhere--perhaps in Russia--perhaps
+in Paris or London, or perhaps had only identified him by his portraits
+which had been published frequently in the Continental magazines and
+newspapers. But that he had really identified him there could not be the
+slightest doubt and Peter's hope that he would have been able to lose
+his identity in the continent of America and become merged into a
+different civilization where he could work out the personal problem of
+existence in his own time, by his own efforts and in his own way, seemed
+destined to failure.
+
+If the stranger knew that Peter was in New Jersey there was no doubt
+that there were others who knew it also, those who employed him--those
+in whose interests he was working. Who? The same madmen who had done
+Nicholas to death and had killed one by one the misguided Empress, Olga,
+Tania, the poor little Czarevitch and the rest.... Did they consider
+him, Peter Nichols, lumber-jack extraordinary, as a possible future
+claimant to the throne of Russia? Peter smiled grimly. They were
+"straining at a gnat while swallowing the camel." And if they feared
+him, why didn't they strike? The stranger had already had ample
+opportunity to murder him if he had been so disposed, could still do it
+during Peter's daily rides back and forth from the Cabin to the camp and
+to the Upper Reserve.
+
+All of these thoughts percolated slowly, as a result of the sudden
+inspiration at the bunk-house which had liberated a new train of ideas,
+beginning with the identification of the Russian characteristics of the
+new lumberman, which were more clearly defined under the beard and
+workman's shirt than under the rather modish gray slouch hat and
+American clothing in which Peter had seen him earlier. And Peter had
+merely let the man go. He had no proof of the fellow's purposes, and if
+he had even discovered exactly what those purposes were, there was no
+recourse for Peter but to ask for the protection of Washington, and this
+he had no desire to do.
+
+If the man suspected from the quickly spoken Russian sentence that Peter
+now guessed his mission, he had given no sign of it. But that meant
+nothing. The fellow was clever. He was doubtless awaiting instructions.
+And unless Peter took his case to the Department of Justice he could
+neither expect any protection nor hope for any security other than his
+own alertness.
+
+At the Cabin Beth was waiting for him. These hours of music and Beth
+were now as much a part of Peter's day as his breakfast or his dinner.
+And he had only failed her when the pressure of his responsibilities was
+too great to permit of his return to the Cabin. The hour most convenient
+for him was that at the close of the day, and though weary or
+discouraged, Peter always came to the end of this agreeable hour rested
+and refreshed, and with a sense of something definitely achieved. For
+whatever the days brought forth of trouble and disappointment, down at
+the logging camp or the mills, here was Beth waiting for him, full of
+enthusiasm and self-confidence, a tangible evidence of success.
+
+The diligence with which she applied his instructions, the ease with
+which she advanced from one step to another, showed her endowed with an
+intelligence even beyond his early expectations. She was singing simple
+ballads now, English and French, and already evinced a sense of
+interpretation which showed the dormant artist. He tried at first, of
+course, to eliminate all striving for effect, content to gain the purity
+of tone for which he was striving, but she soared beyond him sometimes,
+her soul defying limitations, liberated into an empyrean of song. If
+anything, she advanced too rapidly, and Peter's greatest task was to
+restrain her optimism and self-confidence by imposing the drudgery of
+fundamental principles. And when he found that she was practicing too
+long, he set her limits of half-hour periods beyond which she must not
+go. But she was young and strong and only once had he noted the
+slightest symptom of wear and tear on her vocal chords, when he had
+closed the piano and prohibited the home work for forty-eight hours.
+
+As to their personal relations, Peter had already noticed a difference
+in his own conduct toward Beth, and in hers toward him,--a shade of
+restraint in Beth's conversation when not on the topic of music, which
+contrasted rather strangely with the candor of their first meetings.
+Peter couldn't help smiling at his memories, for now Beth seemed to be
+upon her good behavior, repaying him for her earlier contempt with a
+kind of awe at his attainments. He caught her sometimes in unguarded
+moments looking at him curiously, as though in wonder at a mystery which
+could not be explained. And to tell the truth, Peter wondered a little,
+too, at his complete absorption in the task he had set himself. He tried
+to believe that it was only the music that impelled him, only the joy of
+an accomplished musician in the discovery of a budding artist, but he
+knew that it was something more than these. For reducing the theorem to
+different terms, he was obliged to confess that if the girl had been any
+one but Beth, no matter how promising her voice, he must have been bored
+to extinction. No. He had to admit that it was Beth that interested him,
+Beth the primitive, Beth the mettlesome, Beth the demure. For if now
+demure she was never dull. The peculiarity of their situation--of their
+own choosing--lent a spice to the relationship which made each of them
+aware that the other was young and desirable--and that the world was
+very far away.
+
+However far Beth's thoughts may have carried her in the contemplation of
+the personal pulchritude of her music master (somewhat enhanced by the
+extirpation of the Hellion triplet in her own behalf) it was Peter
+Nicholaevitch who made the task of Peter Nichols difficult. It was the
+Grand Duke Peter who wanted to take this peasant woman in his arms and
+teach her what other peasant girls had been taught by Grand Dukes since
+the beginning of the autocratic system of which he had been a part--but
+it was Peter Nichols who restrained him. Peter Nicholaevitch feared
+nothing, knew no restraint, lived only for the hour--for the moment.
+Peter Nichols was a coward--or a gentleman--he was not quite certain
+which.
+
+When Peter entered the Cabin on the evening after the appointment of
+Jesse Brown as foreman at the lumber camp, Beth could not help noticing
+the clouds of worry that hung over Peter's brows.
+
+"You're tired," she said. "Is anything wrong at the camp?"
+
+But he only shook his head and sat down at the piano. And when she
+questioned him again he evaded her and went on with the lesson. Music
+always rested him, and the sound of her voice soothed. It was the
+"Elegie" of Massenet that he had given her, foolishly perhaps, a
+difficult thing at so early a stage, because of its purity and
+simplicity, and he had made her learn the words of the French--like a
+parrot--written them out phonetically, because the French words were
+beautiful and the English, as written, abominable. And now she sang it
+to him softly, as he had taught her, again and again, while he corrected
+her phrasing, suggesting subtle meanings in his accompaniment which she
+was not slow to comprehend.
+
+"I didn't know that music could mean so much," she sighed as she sank
+into a chair with a sense of failure, when the lesson was ended. "I
+always thought that music just meant happiness. But it means sorrow
+too."
+
+"Not to those who hear you sing, Beth," said Peter with a smile, as he
+lighted and smoked a corncob pipe, a new vice he had discovered at the
+camp. Already the clouds were gone from his forehead.
+
+"No! Do you really think that, Mr. Nichols?" she asked joyously.
+
+She had never been persuaded to call him by his Christian name, though
+Peter would have liked it. The "Mr." was the tribute of pupil to master,
+born also of a subtler instinct of which Peter was aware.
+
+"Yes," he replied generously, "you'll sing that very well in time----"
+
+"When I've suffered?" she asked quickly.
+
+He glanced up from the music in his hand, surprised at her intuition.
+
+"I don't like to tell you so----"
+
+"But I think I understand. Nobody can sing what she doesn't feel--what
+she hasn't felt. Oh, I know," she broke off suddenly. "I can sing songs
+of the woods--the water--the pretty things like you've been givin' me.
+But the deep things--sorrow, pain, regret--like this--I'm not 'up' to
+them."
+
+Peter sat beside her, puffing contentedly.
+
+"Don't worry," he muttered. "Your voice will ripen."
+
+"And will I ripen too?"
+
+He laughed. "I don't want you ever to be any different from what you
+are."
+
+She was thoughtful a moment, for Peter had always taken pains to be
+sparing in personalities which had nothing to do with her voice.
+
+"But I don't want always to be what I am," she protested, "just growin'
+close to the ground like a pumpkin or a squash."
+
+He laughed. "You might do worse."
+
+"But not much. Oh, I know. You're teachin' me to think--and to feel--so
+that I can make other people do the same--the way you've done to me. But
+it don't make me any too happy to think of bein' a--a squash again."
+
+"Perhaps you won't have to be," said Peter quietly.
+
+"And the factory--I've got to make some money next winter. I can't use
+any of Aunt Tillie's savin's. But when I know what I _might_ be doin',
+it's not any too easy to think of goin' back _there_!"
+
+"Perhaps you won't have to go," said Peter again.
+
+Her eyes glanced at him quickly, looked away, then returned to his face
+curiously.
+
+"I don't just understand what you mean."
+
+"I mean," said Peter, "that we'll try to find the means to keep you out
+of the glass factory--to keep on with the music."
+
+"But how----? I can't be dependent on----" She paused with a glance at
+him. And then quickly, with her characteristic frankness that always
+probed straight to her point, "You mean that _you_ will pay my way?"
+
+"Merely that I'm going to find the money--somehow."
+
+But she shook her head violently. "Oh, no, I couldn't let you do that,
+Mr. Nichols. I couldn't think of it."
+
+"But you've got to go on, Beth. I've made up my mind to that. You'll go
+pretty fast. It won't be long before you'll know all that I can teach
+you. And then I'm going to put you under the best teacher of this method
+in New York. In a year or so you'll be earning your own way----"
+
+"But I can't let you do this for me. You're doin' too much as it is--too
+much that I can't pay back."
+
+"We won't talk of money. You've given me a lot of enjoyment. That's my
+pay."
+
+"But this other--this studyin' in New York. No, I couldn't let you do
+that. I couldn't--I can't take a cent from you or from any man--woman
+either, for that matter. I'll find some way--workin' nights. But I'm not
+goin' back," she added almost fiercely between her teeth, "not to the
+way I was before. I won't. I can't."
+
+"Good. That's the way great careers are made. I don't intend that you
+shall. I'm going to make a great singer of you, Beth."
+
+She colored with joy.
+
+"Are you, Mr. Nichols? Are you? Oh, I want to make good--indeed I do--to
+learn French and Italian----" And then, with a sharp sigh, "O Lord, if
+wishes were horses----!" She was silent again, regarding him wistfully.
+"Don't think I'm not grateful. I'm afraid you might. I _am_ grateful.
+But--sometimes I wonder what you're doin' it all for, Mr. Nichols. And
+whether----"
+
+As she paused again Peter finished for her.
+
+"Whether it wouldn't have been better if I hadn't let you just
+remain--er," he grinned, "a peach, let's say? Well, I'll tell you,
+Beth," he went on, laying his pipe aside, "I came here, without a
+friend, to a strange job in a strange country. I found you. Or rather
+_you_ found _me_--lost like a babe in the woods. You made fun of me.
+Nobody had ever done that before in my life, but I rather liked it. I
+liked your voice too. You were worth helping, you see. And then along
+came Shad. I couldn't have him ordering you about, you know--not the way
+he did it--if he hadn't any claim on you. So you see, I had a sense of
+responsibility for you after that----About you, too----," he added, as
+though thinking aloud.
+
+His words trailed off into silence while Beth waited for him to explain
+about his sense of responsibility. She wasn't altogether accustomed to
+have anybody responsible for her. But as he didn't go on, she spoke.
+
+"You mean that you--that I--that Shad forced me on you?"
+
+"Bless your heart, child--no."
+
+"Then what _did_ you mean?" she insisted.
+
+Peter thought he had a definite idea in his mind about what he felt as
+to their relationship. It was altruistic he knew, gentle he was sure,
+educational he was positive. But half sleepily he spoke, unaware that
+what he said might sound differently to one of Beth's independent mind.
+
+"I mean," he said, "that I wanted to look after you--that I wanted our
+friendship to be what it has proved to be--without the flaw of
+sentiment. I wouldn't spoil a single hour by any thought of yours or
+mine that led us away from the music."
+
+And then, while her brain worked rapidly over this calm negation of his,
+"But you can't be unaware, Beth, that you're very lovely."
+
+Now "sentiment" is a word over which woman has a monopoly. It is her
+property. She understands its many uses as no mere man can ever hope to
+do. The man who tosses it carelessly into the midst of a delicate
+situation is courting trouble. Beth perked up her head like a startled
+fawn. What did he mean? All that was feminine in her was up in arms, nor
+did she lay them down in surrender at his last phrase, spoken with such
+an unflattering air of commonplace.
+
+Suddenly she startled Peter with a rippling laugh which made him sit up
+blinking at her. "Are you apologizin' for not makin' love to me?" she
+questioned impertinently. "Say--that's funny." And she went off into
+another disconcerting peal of laughter.
+
+But it wasn't funny for Peter, who was now made aware that she had
+turned his mind inside out upon the table between them, so to speak,
+that she might throw dust in the wheels. And so he only gasped and
+stared at her--startlingly convinced that in matters of sentiment the
+cleverest man is no match for even the dullest woman and Beth could
+hardly be considered in this category. At the challenge of his half
+expressed thought the demureness and sobriety of the lesson hour had
+fallen from her like a doffed cloak.
+
+Peter protested blandly.
+
+"You don't understand what----"
+
+But she broke in swiftly. "Maybe you were afraid I might be fallin' in
+love with _you_," she twitted him, and burst into laughter again.
+
+"I--I had no such expectation," said Peter, stiffening, sure that his
+dignity was a poor thing.
+
+"Or maybe----," she went on joyfully, "maybe you were afraid _you_ might
+be fallin' in love with _me_." And then as she rose and gathered up her
+music, tantalizingly, "What _did_ you mean, Mr. Nichols?"
+
+He saw that he was losing ground with every word she uttered, but his
+sense of humor conquered.
+
+"You little pixie!" he cried, dashing for her, with a laugh. "Where have
+you hidden this streak of impudence all these weeks?" But she eluded
+him nimbly, running around the table and out of the door before he could
+catch up with her.
+
+He halted at the doorsill and called to her. She emerged cautiously from
+behind a bush and made a face at him.
+
+"Beth! Come back!" he entreated. "I've got something to say to you."
+
+"What?" she asked, temporizing.
+
+"I want to talk to you--seriously."
+
+"Good Lord--seriously! You're not goin' to--to take the risk of--of
+havin' me 'vamp' you, are you?"
+
+"Yes. I'll risk that," he grinned.
+
+But she only broke off a leaf and nibbled at it contemplatively. "Maybe
+_I_ won't risk it. 'I don't want to spoil a single hour,'" she repeated,
+mocking his dignity, 'by any thought of yours or mine that would lead us
+away from the music.' Maybe _I'm_ in danger." And then, "You know
+_you're_ not so bad lookin' yourself, Mr. Nichols!"
+
+"Stop teasing, Beth."
+
+"I won't."
+
+"I'll make you." He moved a step toward her.
+
+"Maybe I hadn't better come any more," she said quizzically.
+
+"Beth!"
+
+"Suppose I _was_ learnin' to love you a little," she went on ironically,
+"with you scared I might be--and not knowin' how to get out of it.
+Wouldn't that be terrible! For me, I mean. 'She loved and lost, in seven
+reels.'"
+
+She was treading on precarious ground, and she must have seen her danger
+in Peter's face, for as he came toward her she turned and ran down the
+path, laughing at him. Peter followed in full stride but she ran like a
+deer and by the time he had reached the creek she was already halfway
+over the log-jam below the pool. Her laugh still derided him and now,
+eager to punish her, he leaped after her. But so intent he was on
+keeping her in sight upon the farther bank that his foot slipped on a
+tree trunk and he went into the water. A gay peal of laughter echoed in
+his ears. And he caught a last glimpse of her light frock as it vanished
+into the underbrush. But he scrambled up the bank after her and darted
+along the path--lost her in the dusk, and then deep in the woods at one
+side saw her flitting from tree to tree away from him. But Peter's blood
+was now warm with the chase--and it was the blood of Peter Nicholaevitch
+too. Forgotten were the studious hours of patience and toil. Here was a
+girl who challenged his asceticism--a beautiful young female animal who
+dared to mock at his self-restraint. She thought that she could get
+away. But he gained on her. She had stopped laughing at him now.
+
+"Beth! You little devil!" he cried breathlessly, as he caught her. "You
+little devil, I'll teach you to laugh at me."
+
+"Let me go----"
+
+"No----"
+
+He held her in his arms while she struggled vainly to release herself.
+Her flushed face was now a little frightened and her large blue eyes
+stared in dismay at what she saw in his face.
+
+"Let me go?" she whispered. "I didn't mean it----"
+
+But he only held her closer while she struggled, as he kissed her--on
+the brows, the chin, the cheeks, and as she relaxed in sheer
+weakness--full on the lips--again--again.
+
+"Do you think I haven't been trying to keep my hands off you all these
+weeks?" he whispered. "Do you think I haven't wanted you--to teach you
+what women were meant for? It's for this, Beth--and this. Do you think
+I haven't seen how lovely you are? Do you think I'm a saint--an
+anchorite? Well, I'm not. I'll make you love me--love me----"
+
+Something in the reckless tones of his voice--in his very words aroused
+her to new struggles. "Oh, let me go," she gasped. "I don't love you. I
+won't. Let me go."
+
+"You shall!"
+
+"No. Let me loose or I--I'll despise you----"
+
+"Beth!"
+
+"I mean it. Let me go."
+
+If a moment ago when she was relaxed in his arms he had thought that he
+had won her, he had no such notion now, for with a final effort of her
+strong young arms, she thrust away from him and stood panting and
+disordered, staring at him as though at one she had never seen before.
+
+"Oh--how I hate you!"
+
+"Beth!"
+
+"I mean it. You--you----," she turned away from him, staring at the torn
+music on the ground as at a symbol of her disillusionment. Peter saw her
+look, felt the meaning of it, tried to recall the words he had said to
+her and failed--but sure that they were a true reflection of what had
+been in his heart. He had wanted her--then--nothing else had
+mattered--not duty or his set resolve....
+
+"You mocked at me, Beth," he muttered. "I couldn't stand that----"
+
+"And is _this_ the way you punish me? Ah, if you'd only--if you'd
+only----"
+
+And then with another glance at the torn music, she leaned against the
+trunk of a tree, sobbing violently.
+
+"Beth----" he whispered, gently, "don't----"
+
+"Go away. Oh, go. Go!"
+
+"I can't. I won't. What did you want me to say to you? That I love you?
+I do, Beth--I do," he whispered. It was Peter Nichols, not Peter
+Nicholaevitch, who was whispering now.
+
+"Was this what your teachin' meant?" she flashed at him bitterly. "Was
+this what you meant when you wanted to pay my way in New York? Oh, how
+you shame me! Go! Go away from me, please."
+
+"Please don't," he whispered. "You don't understand. I never meant that.
+I--I love you, Beth. I can't bear to see you cry."
+
+She made a valiant effort to control her heaving shoulders. And then,
+
+"Oh, you--you've spoiled it all. S-spoiled it all, and it was so
+beautiful."
+
+Had he? Her words sobered him. No, that couldn't be. He cursed his
+momentary madness, struggling for words to comfort her, but he had known
+that she had seen the look in his eyes, felt the roughness of his
+embrace. Love? The love that she had sung to him was not of these. He
+wanted now to touch her again--gently, to lift up her flushed face, wet
+like a flower with the fresh dew of her tears, and tell her what love
+was. But he didn't dare--he couldn't, after what he had said to her. And
+still she wept over her broken toys--the music--the singing--for they
+had mattered the most. Very childlike she seemed, very tender and
+pathetic.
+
+"Beth," he said at last, touching her fingers gently. "Nothing is
+changed, Beth. It can't be changed, dear. We've got to go on. It means
+so much to--to us both."
+
+But she paid no attention to the touch of his fingers and turned away,
+leaving the music at her feet, an act in itself significant.
+
+"Let me go home. Please. Alone. I--I've got to think."
+
+She did not look at him, but Peter obeyed her. There was nothing else
+to do. There was something in the clear depths of her eyes that had
+daunted him. And he had meant her harm. Had he? He didn't know. He
+passed his hand slowly across his eyes and then stood watching her until
+she had disappeared among the trees. When she had gone he picked up the
+torn music. It was Massenet's "Elegie."
+
+    O doux printemps d'autrefois....
+    Tout est fletrie.
+
+The lines of the torn pieces came together. Spring withered! The joyous
+songs of birds--silenced! Beth's song? He smiled. No, that couldn't be.
+He folded the music up and strode off slowly, muttering to himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+TWO LETTERS
+
+
+Peter passed a troublous evening and night--a night of self-revelations.
+Never that he could remember had he so deeply felt the sting of
+conscience. He, the Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch, in love with this
+little rustic? Impossible! It was the real Peter, tired of the sham and
+make-believe of self-restraint and virtue, who had merely kissed a
+country girl. He was no anchorite, no saint. Why had he tied himself to
+such a duty from a motive of silly sentimentalism?
+
+He winced at the word. Was it that? Sentimentalism. He had shown her the
+best side of him--shown it persistently, rather proud of his capacity
+for self-control, which had ridden even with his temptations. Why should
+it matter so much to him what this girl thought of him? What had he said
+to her? Nothing much that he hadn't said to other women. It was the fact
+that he had said it to Beth that made the difference. The things one
+might say to other women meant something different to Beth--the things
+one might do.... He had been a fool and lost his head, handled her
+roughly, spoken to her wildly, words only intended for gentle moods,
+softer purposes. Shrewd little Beth, whose wide, blue eyes had seen
+right down into the depths of his heart. He had been clumsy, if nothing
+else, and he had always thought that clumsiness was inexcusable. He had
+a guilty sense that while Beth was still the little lady to her finger
+tips, born to a natural nobility, he, the Grand Duke Peter, had been the
+boor, the vulgar proletarian. The look in her eyes had shamed him as
+the look in his own eyes had shamed her. She had known what his wooing
+meant, and it hadn't been what she wanted. The mention of love on lips
+that kissed as his had done was blasphemy.
+
+Yes. He cared what she thought of him--and he vainly cast about for a
+way in which to justify himself. To make matters worse Beth still
+believed that this was the payment he exacted for what he had done for
+her, what he had proposed to do for her, that he measured her favors in
+terms of value received. What else could she think but that? Every hour
+of his devotion to her music defamed her.
+
+The situation was intolerable. In the morning he went seeking her at her
+home. The house was open. No one in Black Rock village locked doors by
+day or night. Beth was not there. A neighbor said that she had gone
+early alone into the woods and Peter understood. If she hadn't cared for
+him she wouldn't have needed to go to the woods to be alone. Of course
+she didn't appear at the Cabin the next day, and Peter searched for
+her--fruitlessly. She weighed on his conscience, like a sin unshrived.
+He had to find her to explain the unexplainable, to tell her what her
+confidence had meant to him, to recant his blasphemy of her idols in
+gentleness and repentance.
+
+As he failed to find her, he wrote her a note, asking her forgiveness,
+and stuck it in the mirror of the old hat-rack in the hall. Many women
+in Europe and elsewhere, ladies of the great world that Beth had only
+dreamed about, would have given their ears (since ear puffs were in
+fashion) to receive such a note from Peter. It was a beautiful note
+besides--manly, gentle, breathing contrition and self-reproach. Beth
+merely ignored it. Whatever she thought of it and of Peter she wanted
+to deliberate a longer while.
+
+And so another music lesson hour passed while Peter sat alone in the
+Cabin waiting. That night two letters were brought to him. The
+superscription of one was scrawled in a boyish hand. The other was
+scented, dainty, of pale lavender, and bore a familiar handwriting and a
+familiar coronet. In amazement he opened this first. It was from the
+Princess Galitzin, written in the polyglot of French, English and
+Russian which she affected.
+
+      "CHERE PIERRE," it ran,--in the English, somewhat
+      as follows: "You will no doubt be surprised at hearing from
+      me in far-off America and amazed at the phenomenon of your
+      discovered address at the outlandish place you've chosen for
+      your domicile. It's very simple. In America you have been
+      watched by agents of the so-called government of our
+      wretched country. We know this here in London, because one
+      of _our_ agents is also a part of their secret organization.
+      He came upon the report of your doings and knowing that
+      father was interested, detailed the information to us.
+
+      "So far as I can learn at the present writing you are in no
+      immediate danger of death, but we do not know here in London
+      how soon the word may be sent forth to 'remove' persons of
+      your importance in the cosmic scheme. It seems that your
+      desire to remain completely in hiding is looked upon with
+      suspicion in Russia as evidence of a possible intention on
+      your part to come to light at the beginnings of a Bourbon
+      movement and proclaim yourself as the leader of a Royalist
+      party. Your uncles and cousins have chosen the line of least
+      resistance in yielding to the inevitable, living in
+      Switzerland, and other spots where their identities are well
+      known.
+
+      "I pray, my well remembered and _bel ami_, that the cause of
+      Holy Russia is still and ever present in your heart of
+      hearts and that the thing these devils incarnate fear may
+      one day come to pass. But I pray you to be discreet and
+      watchful, if necessary changing your place of abode to one
+      in which you will enjoy greater security from your enemies.
+      There is at last one heart in London that ever beats fondly
+      in memory of the dear dead days at Galitzin and Zukovo.
+
+      "_Helas!_ London is dead sea fruit. People are very kind to
+      us. We have everything that the law allows us, but life
+      seems to have lost its charm. I have never quite forgiven
+      you, _mon Pierre_, for your desertion of us at
+      Constantinople, though doubtless your reasons for preserving
+      your incognito were of the best. But it has saddened me to
+      think that you did not deem me worthy of a closer
+      confidence. You are doubtless very much alone and
+      unhappy--also in danger not only from your political
+      enemies, but also from the American natives in the far away
+      woods in which you have been given occupation. I trust, such
+      as it is, that you have taken adequate measures to protect
+      yourself. I know little of America, but I have a longing to
+      go to that splendid country, rugged in its primitive
+      simplicity, in spite of inconveniences of travel and the
+      mass of uncultured beings with whom one must come into
+      contact. Do you think it would be possible for a spoiled
+      creature like me to find a boudoir with a bath--that is, in
+      the provinces, outside of New York?
+
+      "It is terrible that you can have no music in your life! I
+      too miss your music, _Pietro mio_, as I miss you. Perhaps
+      one day soon you will see me. I am restless and bored to
+      extinction, with these ramrods of Englishmen who squeeze my
+      rings into my fingers. But if I come I will be discreet
+      toward Peter Nichols. That was a clever invention of yours.
+      It really sounds--quite--American.
+
+      "_Garde toi bien, entendez vous? Tout de suite je viendrai.
+      Au revoir._
+
+      "ANASTASIE."
+
+Peter read the letter through twice, amused, astounded and dismayed by
+turns. His surmise in regard to the stranger with the black mustache had
+been correct then. The man was a spy of the Russian Soviets. And so
+instead of having been born immaculate into a new life, as he had
+hoped--a man without a past, and only a future to be accounted for--he
+was only the Grand Duke Peter after all. And Anastasie! Why the devil
+did she want to come nosing about in America, reminding him of all the
+things that he wanted to forget? The odor of her sachet annoyed him. A
+bath and boudoir! He realized now that she had always annoyed him with
+her pretty silly little affectations and her tawdry smatterings of the
+things that were worth while. He owed her nothing. He had made love to
+her, of course, because that was what a woman of her type expected from
+men of his. But there had been no damage done on either side, for he had
+not believed that she had ever really cared. And now distance, it
+seemed, had made her heart grow fonder, distance and the romantic
+circumstances of his exile.
+
+It was kind of her, of course, to let him know of his danger, but only
+human after all. She could have done no less, having the information.
+And now she was coming to offer him the charity of her wealth, to tempt
+him with ease, luxury and London. He would have none of them.
+
+He picked up the other letter with even more curiosity until he read the
+postmark, and then his interest became intense, for he knew that it was
+from Jim Coast--Hawk Kennedy. The letter bore the heading, "Antlers
+Hotel, Colorado Springs."
+
+      "DEAR PETE," he read, through the bad spelling,
+      "Here I am back at the 'Springs,' at the 'Antlers,' after a
+      nice trip down Bisbee way, and out along the 'J. and A.' to
+      the mine. It's there all right and they're workin' it yet to
+      beat the cards with half a mountain still to be tapped. I
+      ain't going into particulars--not in a letter, except to
+      tell you that I got what I went for--names, dates and
+      amounts--also met the gents our friend sold out to--nice
+      people. Oh, I'm 'A1' with that outfit, old dear. I'm just
+      writing this to show you I'm on the job and that if you've
+      got an eye to business you'd better consider my proposition.
+      I'll make it worth your while. You can help all right. You
+      did me a good turn that night. I'll give you yours if you'll
+      stand in proper and make McG. do what's right. It ain't what
+      you said it was--it's justice all around. That's all I'm
+      asking--what's right and proper.
+
+      "I ain't coming back just yet, not for a month, maybe. I'm
+      living easy and there's a lady here that suits my fancy. So
+      just drop me a line at the above address, letting me know
+      everything's O. K. Remember I'm no piker and I'll fix you up
+      good.
+
+      "Your friend,
+
+      "JIM."
+
+Peter clenched the paper in his fist and threw it on the floor, frowning
+angrily at the thought of the man's audacity. But after a while he
+picked the crumpled note up and straightened it out upon the table,
+carefully rereading it. Its very touch seemed to soil his fingers, but
+he studied it for a long while, and then folded it up and put it in his
+pocket. It was a very careful game that Peter would have to play with
+Hawk Kennedy, a game that he had no liking for. But if he expected to
+succeed in protecting McGuire, he would have to outwit Jim Coast--or
+Hawk Kennedy, as he now thought of him--by playing a game just a little
+deeper than his own.
+
+Of course he now had the advantage of knowing the whole of McGuire's
+side of the story, while Kennedy did not believe the old man would have
+dared to tell. And to hold these cards successfully it would be
+necessary to continue in Kennedy's mind the belief that Peter did not
+share McGuire's confidences. It would also be necessary for Peter to
+cast in his lot, apparently, with Kennedy against McGuire. It was a
+dirty business at best, but he meant to carry it through if he could,
+and get the signed agreement from the blackmailer.
+
+Peter seemed to remember an old wallet that Jim Coast had always
+carried. He had seen it after Coast had taken slips of paper from it and
+showed them to Peter,--newspaper clippings, notes from inamorata and the
+like--but of course, never the paper now in question. And if he had
+carried it all these years, where was it now? In the vault of some bank
+or trust company probably, and this would make Peter's task difficult,
+if not impossible.
+
+Peter got up and paced the floor, thinking deeply of all these things in
+their relation to Beth. And then at last he went out into the night, his
+footsteps impelled toward the village. After all, the thoughts uppermost
+in his mind were of Beth herself. Whatever the cost to his pride, he
+would have to make his peace with her. He knew that now. Why otherwise
+did his restless feet lead him out into the pasture back of the little
+post office toward the rear of Mrs. Bergen's house? Yet there he found
+himself presently, smoking his corncob pipe for comfort, and staring at
+the solitary light in Tillie Bergen's parlor, which proclaimed its
+occupant. Mrs. Bergen's house stood at a little distance from its
+nearest neighbor, and Peter stole slowly through the orchard at the rear
+toward the open window. It was then that he heard the music for the
+first time, the "harmonium" wailing softly, while sweet and clear above
+the accompaniment (worked out painstakingly but lovingly by the girl
+herself) came Beth's voice singing the "Elegie."
+
+Peter came closer until he was just at the edge of the shadow outside
+the window. He knew that her back would be turned to him and so he
+peered around the shutter at her unconscious back. She sang the song
+through until the end and then after a pause sang it again. Peter had no
+ear now for the phrasing, for faults in technique, or inaccuracies in
+enunciation. What he heard was the soul of the singer calling. All that
+he had taught her in the hours in the Cabin was in her voice--and
+something more that she had learned elsewhere.... Her voice was
+richer--deeper, a child's voice no longer, and he knew that she was
+singing of his mad moment in the woods, which had brought the end of all
+things that had mattered in her life. It was no girl who sang now, but a
+woman who had learned the meaning of the song, the plaint of birds once
+joyous, of woodland flowers once gay--at the memory of a spring that was
+no more. He had told her that she would sing that song well some day
+when she learned what it meant. She would never sing it again as she had
+sung it to-night. All the dross that Peter had worn in the world was
+stripped from him in that moment, all that was petty and ignoble in his
+heart driven forth and he stood with bowed head, in shame for what he
+had been, and in gentleness for this dear creature whose idols he had
+cast down.
+
+At the end of the second verse, her fingers slipped from the keys and
+fell to her sides while she bowed her head and sat for a moment
+immovable. And then her shoulders moved slightly and a tiny smothered
+sound came from her throat. Suddenly her head bent and she fell forward
+on her arms upon the muted keys.
+
+Noiselessly he passed over the low windowsill and before she even knew
+that he was there, fell to his knees beside her.
+
+"Beth," he whispered. "Don't--child--don't!"
+
+She straightened, startled and incredulous at the sight of him, and
+tried to move away, but he caught one of her hands and with bent head
+gently laid his lips upon it.
+
+"Don't, Beth--please. I can't bear to see you cry----"
+
+"I--I'm _not_ crying," she stammered helplessly, while she winked back
+her tears, "I--I've just--just got the--the--stomachache."
+
+She tried to laugh--failing dismally in a sob.
+
+"Oh, Beth--don't----" he whispered.
+
+"I--I can't help it--if I--I've got a--a pain," she evaded him.
+
+"But I can," he murmured. "It's in your heart, Beth. I'm sorry for
+everything. Forgive me."
+
+"There's nothing to forgive."
+
+"Please!"
+
+"There's nothing to forgive," she repeated dully. But she had controlled
+her voice now and her fingers in his were struggling for release.
+
+"I was a brute, Beth. I'd give everything to have those moments back. I
+wouldn't hurt you for the world. See--how changed I am----"
+
+She released her fingers and turned slightly away.
+
+"I--I'm changed too, Mr. Nichols," she murmured.
+
+"No. You mustn't be, Beth. And I've got to have you back. You've got to
+come back to me, Beth."
+
+"Things can't be the same now."
+
+"Yes--just the same----"
+
+"No. Something's gone."
+
+"But if something else has taken its place----"
+
+"Nothing can----"
+
+"Something greater----"
+
+"I don't care for the sample you showed me," she returned quietly.
+
+"I was crazy, Beth. I lost my head. It won't happen again."
+
+"No. I know it won't----"
+
+"You don't understand. It couldn't. I've made a fool of myself. Isn't it
+enough for me to admit that?"
+
+"I knew it all the time." She was cruel, and from her cruelty he guessed
+the measure of her pride.
+
+"I've done all I can to atone. I want you to know that I love you. I do,
+Beth. I love you----"
+
+There was a note in his voice different from that she had heard the
+other day. His head was bent and he did not hear the little gasp or see
+the startled look in her eyes, which she controlled before he raised his
+head. With great deliberateness she answered him.
+
+"Maybe you and I--have a different idea of what love ought to be," she
+said. But he saw that her reproof was milder.
+
+"I know," he insisted. "You've sung it to me----"
+
+"No--not to you--not love," she said, startled. And then, "You had no
+right to be listenin'." And then, with a glance at Aunt Tillie's clock,
+"You have no right to be here now. It's late."
+
+"But I can't go until you understand what I want to do for you. You say
+that I can't know what love is. It asks nothing and only gives. I swear
+I wanted to give without thought of a return--until you laughed at me.
+And then--I wanted to punish you because you wouldn't understand----"
+
+"Yes. You punished me----"
+
+"Forgive me. You shouldn't have laughed at me, Beth. If you knew
+everything, you'd understand that I'm doing it all without a hope of
+payment,--just because I've got to."
+
+Her eyes grew larger. "What do you mean?"
+
+"I can't tell you now--but something has happened that will make a great
+difference to you."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Forgive me. Come to-morrow and perhaps I'll tell you. We've already
+wasted two days."
+
+"I'm not so sure they've been wasted," said Beth quietly.
+
+"I don't care if you'll only come. Will you, Beth? To-morrow?"
+
+She nodded gravely at last.
+
+"Perhaps," she said. And then, gently, "Good-night, Mr. Nichols."
+
+So Peter kissed her fingers as though she had been his Czarina and went
+out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+SUPERMAN
+
+
+Of course Beth Cameron knew nothing of Russia's grand dukes. The only
+Duke that she had ever met was in the pages of the novel she had read in
+which the hero was named Algernon. That Duke was of the English variety,
+proud, crusty, and aged and had only made an unpleasant impression upon
+her because she had liked Algernon, who had fallen in love with the
+daughter of the Duke, and the Duke had been very horrid to him in
+consequence or by reason of that mishap. When she had said to Peter that
+he reminded her of Algernon she had meant it, and that was really very
+nice of her, because she thought Algernon all that a self-respecting
+hero should be. It was true that Peter, though mostly an Englishman,
+didn't play polo and ride to hounds or swagger around a club and order
+people about, because he was too poor and was obliged to work for his
+living.
+
+But he did remind her of Algernon somehow. He had a way with him, as
+though if there _had_ been butlers and valets at Black Rock he _could_
+have swaggered and ordered them around if he'd had a mind to. He was
+good looking too. She had noted that even from the very first when she
+had found him lugging his suitcase down on the road from Pickerel River.
+Then too he did say things to her, nicer things than any fellow had ever
+known how to say to her before, and he was much more polite than she had
+ever believed it possible for any one, to be without seeming queer. But
+when, eavesdropping at McGuire's, she had heard Peter play the piano,
+she felt herself conducted into a new world which had nothing at all to
+do with glass factories and vineyards. Even the sartorial splendor of
+Miss Peggy McGuire paled into insignificance beside the new visions
+which the music of Peter Nichols had invoked. He hadn't just lied to
+her. He _was_ a musician. He _could_ play. She had never heard anybody
+bring from a piano sounds like these. And he had said he wanted her to
+sing for him.
+
+Beth had sung always--just as she had always breathed--but she had never
+heard any good music except on a talking machine at the boarding house
+at Glassboro--an old record of Madame Melba's that they played
+sometimes. But even that song from an opera ("Lay Boheem" they called
+it), mutilated as it was, had shown her that there was something more
+wonderful than the popular melodies that the other people liked. Beth's
+taste for good music, like her taste for nice people, was instinctive.
+And she had found that in her walk of life the one was about as
+difficult to find as the other. She had had her awakenings and her
+disillusionments, with women as well as men, but had emerged from her
+experiences of two winters in a factory town with her chin high and her
+heart pure--something of an achievement for one as pretty as Beth.
+
+All in all, she had liked Shad Wells better than any of the men she had
+met. He was rough, but she had discovered that good manners didn't
+always mean good hearts or clean minds.
+
+It was this discovery that had made her look askance at Peter Nichols
+when she had first met him on the road, for he was politer than anybody
+she had ever met. If her philosophy was to be consistent this new
+superintendent would need watching. But his music disarmed her and
+captured her imagination. And then came the incident of the jealous
+Shad and the extraordinary outcome of Mr. Nichols's championship of her
+rights. She had witnessed that fight from the shelter of the bushes. It
+had been dreadful but glorious. Peter's chivalry appealed to her--also
+his strength. From that moment he was superman.
+
+Then had followed the long wonderful weeks of music at the Cabin, in
+which she had learned the beginnings of culture and training. Her
+music-master opened new and beautiful vistas for her, told her of the
+great musicians and singers that the world had known, described the
+opera houses of Europe, the brilliant audiences, the splendid ballets,
+the great orchestras, and promised her that if she worked hard, she
+might one day become a part of all this. She had learned to believe him
+now, for she saw that as time went on he was more exacting with her
+work, more sparing in his praise of her, and she had worked hard--in
+despair at times, but with a slowly growing confidence in her star of
+destiny.
+
+And all the while she was wondering why Peter Nichols was doing this for
+her and what the outcome of it all was to be. He spoke little of the
+future except to hint vaguely at lessons elsewhere when he had taught
+her all that he knew. The present it seemed was sufficient for them
+both. His moods of soberness, of joy, of enthusiasm, were all catching
+and she followed him blindly, aware of this great new element in her
+life which was to make the old life difficult, if not impossible. He
+treated her always with respect, not even touching her arms or waist in
+passing--an accepted familiarity of men by girls of her social class.
+Beth understood that it was a consideration due to a delicate situation,
+the same consideration which had impelled her always to call him Mr.
+Nichols.
+
+And yet it was this very consideration of Peter's that vexed her. It
+wasn't an air of superiority, for she couldn't have stood that. It was
+just discretion, maybe, or something else, she couldn't decide what. But
+Beth didn't want to be put in a glass case like the wax flowers at home.
+Her voice was a mere mechanical instrument, as he had taken pains so
+often to tell her, but he seemed to be making the mistake of thinking
+_her_ a mechanical instrument too. She wasn't. She was very much alive,
+tingling with vitality, very human under her demure aspect during the
+singing lessons, and it had bothered her that Peter shouldn't know it.
+His ignorance, his indifference affronted her. Didn't he see what she
+looked like? Didn't he see that she might be worth making love to ...
+just a little, a very little ... once in a while?
+
+The clouds had broken suddenly, almost without warning, when he had
+talked like a professor--about sentiment--apologized--that was what he
+had done--_apologized_ for not making love to her! Oh!
+
+And then things had happened swiftly--incredible, unbelievable things.
+The lightning had flashed and it had shown an ugly Mr. Nichols--a
+different Mr. Nichols from anything that she could have imagined of him.
+The things he had said to her ... his kisses ... shameful things! A
+hundred times she had brushed them off like the vision of him from her
+mind. And still they returned, warm and pulsing to her lips. And still
+the vision of him returned--remained. He _had_ been so nice to her
+before....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now Beth sat in the big chair opposite Peter in the Cabin by the log
+fire (for the evenings were getting cool) while he finished telling her
+about the death of Ben Cameron, of the murder and of Jonathan K.
+McGuire's share in the whole terrible affair. It was with some
+misgivings, even after swearing her to secrecy, that he told her what he
+had learned through Kennedy and McGuire. And she had listened,
+wide-eyed. Her father of course was only the shadow of a memory to her,
+the evil shade in a half-forgotten dream, and therefore it was not grief
+that she could feel, not even sorrow for one who in life had been so
+vile, even if his miserable death had been so tragic--only horror and
+dismay at the thought of the perpetrator of the infamy. And not until
+Peter had come to the end of the story did she realize what this
+revelation meant, that the very foundation of McGuire's great fortune
+was laid upon property which belonged to her.
+
+"Out of all this evil must come some good, Beth," he finished soberly.
+"That copper mine was yours. McGuire took it and he is going to pay you
+what he owes."
+
+Beth had already exhausted all the expletives of horror and amazement,
+and now for a moment this last information staggered her and she stared
+at him unbelieving.
+
+"Pay me? I can't believe----"
+
+"It was your property by every law of God and man, and I mean that you
+shall have it." He paused and smiled softly. "You see, Beth, you won't
+need to depend on me now for your training."
+
+"Oh--then this was what you meant----"
+
+"What I meant when I said that you should owe me nothing--that I----"
+
+"But I _will_ owe you--everything. I shall still owe you everything."
+And then, wonderingly, "And just to think of my livin' here all this
+time so near the man--and not knowin' about----" Her words trailed off
+into silent astonishment.
+
+"Yes. And to think of his making his fortune on money that belonged to
+you! Millions. And he's going to pay you what he got out of the
+Tarantula mine--every dollar with interest to date."
+
+"But how can you make him do that?" she cried eagerly. "What proof have
+you got?"
+
+He smiled grimly into the fire as he poked a fallen log into the blaze.
+
+"Blackmail is an ugly word, Beth. But it shouldn't be blackmail, if
+silence is the price of getting what really belongs to you. McGuire is
+using your money--and he must give it to you. It's your money--not his.
+If he won't give it to you of his own free will, he will give it against
+his will."
+
+"But how can you make him do that?" asked Beth timidly.
+
+"By saving him from Hawk Kennedy. That's my price--and yours."
+
+"But how can you?"
+
+"I don't know. I've got to fight Kennedy with his own weapons--outwit
+him. And I've thought out a plan----"
+
+"But he's dangerous. You mustn't take any further risks with a man like
+that for me."
+
+Peter only smiled.
+
+"It will amuse me, Beth. And besides----" He bent forward to tend the
+fire, his face immediately grave again. "Besides--I think I owe you
+that, now."
+
+She understood what he meant and thrilled gently. Her joy had come back
+to her with a rush. All through the music lesson and through the recital
+of the tale of mystery she had hung breathlessly on his words and
+watched the changing expression on his features as he talked into the
+fire. This was _her_ Mr. Nichols who was speaking now, her friend and
+mentor, who wanted her to understand that this was his way of atonement.
+But she ignored his last remark, to Beth the most important of the
+entire conversation.
+
+"How--how much will the--the money amount to?" she asked timidly.
+
+Peter laughed.
+
+"Figure it out for yourself. Half a million--six per cent--fifteen
+years----"
+
+"Half a million dollars----!"
+
+"A million--or more!"
+
+"A million! God-a-mercy!"
+
+Peter recognized one of Aunt Tillie's expressions, Beth's vocabulary
+being inadequate to the situation.
+
+"But you haven't got it yet," he said.
+
+"And I daren't think of gettin' it. I won't think of it. I'd get my
+brain so full of things I wanted it would just naturally _bust_. Oh
+lordy!"
+
+Peter laughed.
+
+"You do want a lot of things, don't you?"
+
+"Of course. A silk waist, a satin skirt, some silk stockings--but most
+of all, a real sure enough piano," she gasped. And then, as though in
+reproach of her selfishness, "And I could pay off the mortgage on Aunt
+Tillie's farm back in the clearing!"
+
+"How much is that?"
+
+"Three thousand dollars. I've already paid off three hundred."
+
+"There ought to be enough for that," said Peter soberly.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Nichols. I hope you don't think I'm an awful fool talkin' this
+way."
+
+"Not unless you think _I_ am."
+
+"But it _is_ nice to dream of things sometimes."
+
+"Yes. I do that too. What do you dream of, Beth?"
+
+"Oh, of bein' a great singer, mostly--standin' on a stage with people
+lookin' up and clappin' their hands at me."
+
+"What else?"
+
+"Oh," she laughed gayly, "I used to dream of marryin' a prince--all
+girls do. But there ain't any princes now to marry."
+
+"No, that's true," he assented. "The old world hasn't any use for
+princes now." And then, "But why did you want to marry a prince?" he
+asked.
+
+"Oh, I don't know. It's just fairy tales. Haven't you ever lived in a
+fairy tale and loved a princess?"
+
+"Yes, I've lived in a fairy tale, but I've never loved a princess."
+
+"I guess if everybody knew," said Beth with conviction, "the princes in
+Europe are a pretty bad lot."
+
+"Yes," said Peter slowly, "I guess they are."
+
+She paused a moment, looking into the fire. And then, "Were you ever
+acquainted with any princes in Europe, Mr. Nichols?"
+
+Peter smiled. "Yes, Beth. I did know one prince rather
+intimately--rather too intimately."
+
+"Oh. You didn't like him?"
+
+"No, not much. He was an awful rotter. The worst of it was that he had
+good instincts and when he went wrong, he went wrong in spite of 'em.
+You see--he was temperamental."
+
+"What's temperamental?"
+
+"Having the devil and God in you both at the same time," muttered Peter
+after a moment.
+
+"I know," she said. "Satan and God, with God just sittin' back a little
+to see how far Satan will go."
+
+He smiled at her. "You don't mean that you have temptations too, Beth?"
+
+She ignored his question, her face sober, and went back to her subject.
+
+"I guess your prince wasn't any better or any worse than a lot of other
+people. Maybe he didn't give God a chance?"
+
+"No. Maybe not," said Peter.
+
+"It seems to me he must have been kind of human, somehow," Beth
+commented reflectively. "What's become of him now?" she asked, then.
+
+"Oh, he's out of it," replied Peter.
+
+"Dead?"
+
+"Yes. His country has chucked all the nobility out on the dust heap."
+
+"Russia?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Did they kill him?"
+
+"They tried to, but couldn't."
+
+"Where is he now?"
+
+"A wanderer on the face of the earth."
+
+"I'm so sorry. It must be terrible to have to eat pork and beans when
+your stomach's only used to chocolate sundaes."
+
+Peter grinned.
+
+"Some of 'em were glad enough to get off with stomachs to put beans and
+pork into. Oh, you needn't waste your pity, Beth."
+
+"I don't. I read the papers. I guess they got what they deserved. The
+workin' people in the world ain't any too keen on buyin' any more
+diamond tiaras for loafers. I reckon it was about time for a new deal
+all around without the face cards."
+
+"Perhaps, Beth. But there's always the ten spot to take the deuce."
+
+"I hadn't thought of that," said Beth reflectively. "People aren't
+really equal--are they? Some apples _are_ better than others. I guess,"
+she sighed, "that the real trouble with the world is because there ain't
+enough friendship in it."
+
+Peter was silent for a moment.
+
+"Yes, that's true," he said, "not enough friendship--not enough love.
+And it's all on account of money, Beth. There wouldn't have been any
+European war if some people hadn't wanted property that belonged to
+somebody else."
+
+"I hope wanting this money won't make me hate anybody or make anybody
+hate me. I don't want to make Mr. McGuire unhappy or Miss McGuire----"
+
+"You needn't worry," said Peter dryly. "You see, it's your money."
+
+Beth gave a deep sigh.
+
+"I can't help it. I _would_ like to have a sport coat and a _cerise_
+veil like Peggy wears."
+
+"You shall have 'em. What else?"
+
+"Some pretty patent leather shoes with rhinestone buckles----"
+
+"Yes----"
+
+"And a black velvet hat and nice _lingerie_----" (Beth pronounced it
+lingery).
+
+"Of course. And the piano----"
+
+"Oh, yes. A piano and books--lots of books."
+
+"And a red automobile?"
+
+"Oh, I wouldn't dare wish for that."
+
+"Why not? It's just as easy to wish for an automobile as a piano."
+
+"Yes, I suppose so." She became immediately grave again. "But I can't
+seem to believe it all. I'm afraid."
+
+"Of what?"
+
+"Of Hawk Kennedy. I feel that he's going to make trouble for us all, Mr.
+Nichols. I'm afraid. I always seem to feel things before they happen.
+Any man who could do what he did--murder!"
+
+"There will be some way to get around him."
+
+"But it's dangerous. I don't feel I've got the right to let you do this
+for me."
+
+"Oh, yes, you have. I'd do it anyhow. It's only justice."
+
+"But suppose he--suppose----"
+
+"What----?"
+
+"He might kill you, too."
+
+Peter laughed. "Not a chance. You see, I wasn't born to die a violent
+death. If I had been, I'd have been dead months ago."
+
+"Oh--the war, you mean?" she asked soberly.
+
+"Yes--the war. Everything is tame after that. I'm not afraid of Hawk
+Kennedy."
+
+"But there's danger just the same."
+
+"I hope not. I won't cross that bridge until I come to it."
+
+Beth was silent for a long moment and then with a glance at the clock on
+the mantel slowly gathered her music, aware of his voice close at her
+ear.
+
+"And if I do this, Beth,--if I get what belongs to you, will you believe
+that I have no motive but friendship for you, that I care for you enough
+to want you to forgive me for what has happened?"
+
+He had caught her fingers in his own but she did not try to release
+them.
+
+"Oh, don't speak of that--_please_! I want to forget you--that day."
+
+"Can't you forget it more easily by remembering me as I am now, Beth?
+See. I want you as much now as I did then--just as much, but I cannot
+have you until you give yourself to me."
+
+What did he mean? She wasn't sure of him. If marriage was what he meant,
+why didn't he say so? Marriage. It was such an easy word to say. Her
+fingers struggled in his.
+
+"Please, Mr. Nichols," she gasped.
+
+"You mean that you won't--that you don't care enough----?"
+
+"I--I'm not sure of you----"
+
+"I love you, Beth----"
+
+"You _say_ so----"
+
+"I do--better than anything in the world."
+
+"Enough to--enough to...?"
+
+She was weakening fast. She felt her danger in the trembling of her
+fingers in his. Why didn't he finish her question for her? Marriage. It
+was such a little word. And yet he evaded it and she saw that he meant
+to evade it.
+
+"Enough to have you almost in my arms and yet hardly to touch
+you--enough to have your lips within reach of mine and yet not to take
+them. Isn't that what you wanted, Beth? Gentleness, tenderness----"
+
+She flung away from him desperately.
+
+"No--no. I want nothing--nothing. Please! You don't want to understand."
+And then with an effort she found her poise. "Things must be as they
+are. Nothing else. It's getting late, I must go."
+
+"Beth--Not yet. Just a minute----"
+
+"No."
+
+But she did not go and only stood still, trembling with irresolution. He
+knew what she wanted him to say. There could be no middle ground for
+Beth. She must be all to him or nothing. Marriage. It was the Grand Duke
+Peter Nicholaevitch who had evaded this very moment while Peter Nichols
+had urged him to it. And it was Peter Nichols who knew that any words
+spoken of marriage to Beth Cameron would be irrevocable, the Grand Duke
+Peter (an opportunist) who urged him to utter them, careless of
+consequences. And there stood Beth adorable in her perplexity, conjuring
+both of him to speak.
+
+It was Peter Nichols who met the challenge, oblivious of all counsels of
+pride, culture, vainglory and hypocrisy. This was his mate, a sweeter
+lady than any he had ever known.
+
+"Beth," he whispered. "I love you. Nothing in the world makes any
+difference to me but your happiness."
+
+He came to her and caught her in his arms, while she still struggled
+away from him. "I want you. It doesn't matter who I am or who you are. I
+want you to----"
+
+Beth suddenly sprung away from him, staring at a figure which stood in
+the doorway as a strident, highly pitched voice cut in sharply on
+Peter's confession.
+
+"Oh, excuse _me_! I didn't mean to intrude."
+
+It was Miss Peggy McGuire in her _cerise_ veil and her sport suit, with
+hard eyes somewhat scandalized by what she had seen, for Peter was
+standing awkwardly, his arms empty of their prize, who had started back
+in dismay and now stood with difficulty recovering her self-possession.
+As neither of them spoke Miss McGuire went on cuttingly, as she glanced
+curiously around the Cabin.
+
+"So this is where you live? I seem to have spoiled your party. And may I
+ask who----" and her eyes traveled scornfully over Beth's figure,
+beginning at her shoes and ending at her flushed face--"I think I've
+seen you before----"
+
+"Miss McGuire," said Peter quietly, "This is Miss Cameron----"
+
+"Oh, yes--the kitchen maid."
+
+"Miss Beth Cameron," insisted Peter frigidly, "who has just done me the
+honor of promising to marry me."
+
+"Oh! I see----"
+
+Beth stared from one to the other, aware of the meaning of the visitor's
+manner and of Peter's reply.
+
+"That is not true," she said very quietly, her deep voice vibrant with
+emotion. "I come here often. Mr. Nichols is teaching me music. I am very
+proud of his friendship. But I did not promise to marry him."
+
+Peggy McGuire turned on her heel.
+
+"Well, it's almost time you did," she said insultingly.
+
+Peter, now pale and cold with fury, reached the door before her and
+stood blocking the passageway. "Miss McGuire, I'll trouble you to be
+more careful in addressing my guests," he said icily.
+
+"Let me pass----"
+
+"In a moment."
+
+"You'd dare----?"
+
+"I would like you to understand that this cabin is mine--while I am in
+Black Rock. Any guest here comes at my invitation and honors me by
+accepting my hospitality. But I reserve the privilege of saying who
+shall come and who shall not. I hope I make myself clear----" And Peter
+bowed low and then moved aside, indicating the door. "Good-night," he
+finished.
+
+Miss Peggy McGuire glared at him, red as a young turkey cock, her
+finishing school training just saving her from a tirade. "Oh, you! We'll
+see about this----" and dashed past him out of the door and disappeared
+into the darkness.
+
+Peter followed her with his angry gaze, struggling for his self-control,
+and at last turned into the room toward Beth, who now stood a smiling
+image turned into stone.
+
+"Why did you deny what I said, Beth?" he pleaded.
+
+"It wasn't the truth. I never promised to marry you. You never asked me
+to."
+
+"I _would_ have asked you. I ask you now. I _was_ asking you when that
+little fool came in----"
+
+"Maybe you were. Maybe you weren't. Maybe I'm a little hard of hearin'.
+But I'm not goin' to make _that_ an excuse for my bein' here----"
+
+"I don't understand----"
+
+"It's just that I came here because I wanted to come and because you
+wanted me. People have been talkin'. Let them talk. Let _her_ talk----"
+
+"She will. You can be pretty sure of that."
+
+Peter was pacing up and down the room, his hands behind him. "If she'd
+been a man----" he was muttering. "If she'd only been a man."
+
+Beth watched him a moment, still smiling.
+
+"Oh, I got what she meant--she was just tryin' to insult me."
+
+She laughed. "Seems as if she'd kind of succeeded. I suppose I ought to
+have scratched her face for her. I think I would have--if she'd just
+stayed a minute longer. Funny too, because I always used to think she
+was so sweet."
+
+Peter threw his arms wildly into the air and exploded.
+
+"Sweet! Sweet! _That_ girl! Yes, if vinegar is. She'll tear your
+reputation to shreds."
+
+Beth had stopped smiling now and leaned against the wall, her chin
+lowered.
+
+"I reckon it serves me right. I hadn't any business to be comin'
+here--not at night, anyway."
+
+"Oh, Beth," he pleaded, catching her hands. "Why couldn't you have let
+things be?"
+
+She struggled a little. And then, "Let _her_ think I was _engaged_ to
+you when I wasn't?" she gasped.
+
+"But we are, Beth, dear. Say we are, won't you?"
+
+"Not when we're not."
+
+"Beth----!"
+
+"You should have spoken sooner, if you'd really meant it. Oh, I know
+what it is. I've always known there's a difference between us."
+
+"No--not unless you make it."
+
+"Yes. It was there before I was born. You were brought up in a different
+kind of life in a different way of thinkin' from mine----"
+
+"What has that got to do with it?"
+
+"Everything. It's not my fault. And maybe I'm a little too proud. But
+I'm straight----"
+
+"Don't, Beth----" He put his arm around her but she disengaged herself
+gently.
+
+"No, let me finish. Maybe you wanted me. I guess you did. But not that
+much--not enough to speak out--and you were too straight to lie to me.
+I'm thankful for that----"
+
+"But I _have_ spoken, Beth," he insisted, taking her by the elbows and
+holding her so that he could look into her eyes. "I've asked you to--to
+be my wife. I ask you now. Is that clear?"
+
+Her eyes evaded him and she laughed uneasily.
+
+"Yes, it's clear--and--and your reason for it----"
+
+"I love you----"
+
+"A little, maybe. But I'll marry no man just to save my face--and his."
+
+But he caught her close to him, finding a new joy in his momentous
+decision. She struggled still, but he would not be denied.
+
+"Yes, you will," he whispered. "You've got to marry me whether you want
+to or not. You're compromised."
+
+"I don't care."
+
+"Oh, yes, you do. And you love me, Beth."
+
+"I don't love you----"
+
+"You do. And I'm going to marry you whether you want it or not."
+
+"Oh, _are_ you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"When?"
+
+"Soon."
+
+He kissed her. She didn't resist him. Resistance was useless. He had
+won.
+
+"Beth, dear," he went on. "I couldn't lie to you. I'm glad you knew
+that. And I couldn't hurt you. I think I've always loved you--from the
+first."
+
+"I too--I too," she whispered. "I couldn't help it."
+
+"I think I knew that too----"
+
+"No, no. You couldn't----"
+
+"Yes. It was meant to be. You've given a new meaning to life, torn from
+its very roots a whole rotten philosophy. Oh, you don't know what I
+mean--except that nobility is in the mind, beauty in the heart. Nothing
+else matters."
+
+"No. It doesn't," she sighed. "You see, I--I do believe in you."
+
+"Thank God! But you know nothing of me--nothing of my past----"
+
+"I don't care what your past has been or who you are. You're good enough
+for me. I'm satisfied----"
+
+He laughed joyously at the terms of her acquiescence.
+
+"Don't you want to know what I've been--who I am----?"
+
+"No. It wouldn't make any difference--not now."
+
+"I'll tell you some day."
+
+"I'll take a chance on that. I'm not afraid."
+
+"And whatever I am--you'll marry me?"
+
+"Yes. Whatever--you--are----"
+
+While he smiled down at her she straightened in his arms and gently
+released herself, glancing guiltily at the clock.
+
+"I--I must be going now," she whispered.
+
+And so through the quiet forest they went to Black Rock village, hand in
+hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+IDENTIFICATION
+
+
+The sudden and unexpected arrival of Miss Peggy McGuire upon the scene
+had been annoying. That young person was, as Peter knew, a soulless
+little snob and materialist with a mind which would not be slow to put
+the worst possible construction upon the situation. Of course as matters
+stood at the close of that extraordinary evening of self-revelations, it
+did not matter a great deal what Peggy McGuire thought or said or did,
+for nothing could hurt Beth now. The Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch had
+capitulated and Peter Nichols gloried in his victory over inherited
+tradition. He had no regrets and he had made his choice, for Beth was
+what he wanted. She completed him. She was effulgent,--even in homespun.
+A little tinsel more or less could make no difference in Beth. Those of
+his own class who would not accept her might go hang for all he cared.
+
+Still Peter had rather that almost any one but Peggy should have come
+upon the scene, and Beth's frankness had given her a handle for a
+scandal, if she chose to make one. Beth cared nothing, he knew, for her
+soul was greater than his, but Peter's anger still smoldered at the
+words that had been used to Beth.
+
+He did not fear complications with McGuire, nor did he court them, but
+he knew how this daughter had been brought up, spoiled and pampered to
+the very limits of McGuire's indulgence and fortune, and he couldn't
+help holding her up in comparison with Beth, much to Peggy's detriment.
+For Beth was a lady to her finger tips, born to a natural gentility that
+put to confusion the mannerisms of the "smart" finishing school which
+had not succeeded in concealing the strain of a plebeian origin, and
+Beth's dropped g's and her quaint inversions and locutions were
+infinitely more pleasing to Peter than Miss Peggy's slang and
+self-assurance, which reflected the modernity of the fashionable hotel
+tea-room.
+
+Fortunately, Jonathan K. McGuire, who had returned from the seashore the
+night before, was not disposed to take his daughter's animadversions too
+seriously and when Peter announced his engagement to the niece of his
+housekeeper he made no comment further than to offer his
+congratulations. He did not even know her name and when McGuire was told
+that it was Beth Cameron, Peter did not miss his slight start of
+inquiry. But of course, having only owned his acres of woodland for half
+a dozen years, he knew little as to the origins of the inhabitants of
+Black Rock and as Peter said nothing at that moment he asked no
+questions and only listened to the forester's account of the progress of
+the work and of the difficulties experienced in attempting to complete
+the timber-contract. There was no way of improving the labor situation
+and a visit to the camp proved to him that Peter had done all that could
+be expected with the poor material at hand. On the way back they stopped
+at the Cabin and Peter showed him the letter from Hawk Kennedy. And
+there for a while they sat discussing plans to outwit the enemy and draw
+his sting.
+
+It was going to be no easy task and could only be accomplished by
+Peter's apparent compliance with Kennedy's wishes in throwing in his lot
+with Hawk and simulating an enmity for his employer. McGuire nodded his
+head and listened soberly. The rest at the seashore had done him good
+and he was disposed to meet the situation with courage, reflecting
+Peter's own attitude of confidence and optimism, admitting that his
+confession to Peter had lifted a weight from his shoulders and given him
+the spirit to meet the issue, whatever it might be.
+
+"You see," he said at last, "if the worst comes I'm in a pretty bad
+hole. But it was the shock of meeting Hawk after all these years that
+took the courage out of me at first. I wasn't quite right in my head for
+a while. I'd have killed him gladly and gotten away with it perhaps--but
+I'm glad now that things turned out the way they did. I've got no blood
+on my hands--that's one thing--whatever I signed. I've been thinking a
+good deal since I've been away. If I signed that fake confession Hawk
+Kennedy signed it too. He won't dare to produce it except as a last
+resort in desperation, to drag me down with him if he fails. We can
+string him along for a while before he does that and if he falls for
+your game we may be able to get the paper away from him. You've thought
+of something, Nichols?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, of several things," said Peter slowly. "I'm going to try diplomacy
+first. If that doesn't work, then something else more drastic."
+
+McGuire rose at last and took up his hat.
+
+"I don't know how to thank you for what you've done, Nichols," he said
+awkwardly. "Of course if--if money will repay you for this sort of
+service, you can count on my doing what you think is right."
+
+Peter rose and walked to the window, looking out.
+
+"I was coming to that, Mr. McGuire," he said gravely.
+
+McGuire paused and laid his hat down again.
+
+"Before you went away," Peter went on, turning slowly toward his
+employer, "you told me that you had never made any effort to discover
+the whereabouts of any of the relatives of Ben Cameron. But I inferred
+from what you said that if you _did_ find them, you'd be willing to do
+your duty. That's true, isn't it?"
+
+McGuire examined him soberly but agreed.
+
+"Yes, that's true. But why do you bring this question up now?"
+
+"I'll explain in a moment. Mr. McGuire, you are said to be a very rich
+man, how rich I don't know, but I think you'll be willing to admit to
+me, knowing what I do of your history, that without the 'Tarantula' mine
+and the large sum it brought you you would never have succeeded in
+getting to your present position in the world of finance."
+
+"I'll admit that. But I don't see----"
+
+"You will in a minute, sir----"
+
+"Go on."
+
+"If I have been correctly informed, you sold out your copper holdings in
+Madre Gulch for something like half a million dollars----" Peter paused
+for McGuire's comment. He made none. But he had sunk into his chair
+again and was listening intently.
+
+"The interest on half a million dollars, even at six per cent, if
+compounded, would in fifteen years amount with the principal to a
+considerable sum."
+
+"Ah, I see what you're getting at----"
+
+"You will admit that what I say is true?"
+
+"Yes----"
+
+"You'll admit also, if you're reasonable, that the money which founded
+your great fortune was as a matter of fact not yours but Ben
+Cameron's----?"
+
+"But why speak of him now?" muttered the old man.
+
+"Do you admit this?"
+
+McGuire frowned and then growled, "How can I help admitting it, since
+you know the facts? But I don't see----"
+
+"Well then, admitting that the 'Tarantula' mine was Ben Cameron's and
+not yours or Hawk Kennedy's, it seems clear that if any of Ben Cameron's
+heirs should turn up unexpectedly, they might claim at least a share of
+what should have been their own."
+
+McGuire had started forward in his chair, his gaze on Peter's face, as
+the truth was suddenly borne in upon him.
+
+"You mean, Nichols, that----." He paused and gasped as Peter nodded.
+
+"I mean that Ben Cameron's only child, a daughter, lives here at Black
+Rock--the niece of your housekeeper--Mrs. Bergen----"
+
+"Miss Cameron--My God!" McGuire fell back in his chair, staring at
+Peter, incapable of further speech.
+
+"Beth Cameron," said Peter gently, "the lady who has done me the honor
+of promising to become my wife----"
+
+"But how do you know?" gasped McGuire. "There must be some mistake. Are
+you sure you----" He broke off and then a sly smile curled at the
+corners of his lips. "You know, Nichols, Cameron is not an unusual name.
+It's quite possible that you're--er--mistaken."
+
+"No. I'm quite sure there's no mistake. I think the facts can be
+proved--that is, of course, if you're willing to help to establish this
+claim and to admit it when established. Otherwise I intend to establish
+it without your assistance--as an act of justice and of--er--retribution."
+
+McGuire watched his superintendent's face for a while before replying.
+And then, briefly, "What are the facts on which you base this
+extraordinary statement?" he asked.
+
+"I'll present those facts when the time comes, Mr. McGuire," said Peter
+at a venture. "I don't think it will be a difficult matter to identify
+the murdered man. He wrote home once or twice. He can be traced
+successfully. But what I would like to know first is what your
+disposition toward his daughter will be when the proper proofs are
+presented."
+
+"_If_ they're presented," said McGuire.
+
+"Will you answer me?"
+
+"It would seem time enough to answer then. I'll do the right thing."
+
+"Meaning what?"
+
+"Money enough to satisfy her."
+
+"That won't do. She must have what is hers by right. Her price is one
+million dollars," said Peter quietly.
+
+McGuire started up. "You're dreaming," he gasped.
+
+"It's her money."
+
+"But I developed that mine."
+
+"It was her mine that you developed."
+
+McGuire stopped by the window and turned.
+
+"And if I refuse----?"
+
+"I don't think you will----"
+
+The two men stared at each other, but Peter had the whip hand--or
+McGuire thought he had, which was quite sufficient.
+
+"Will you help me to perform this act of justice?" Peter went on calmly.
+"It's the only thing to do, Mr. McGuire. Can't you see that?"
+
+McGuire paced the floor heavily a few times before replying. And then,
+
+"I've got to think this thing over, Nichols. It's all so very sudden--a
+million dollars. My God! man, you talk of a million as if it grew on the
+trees." He stopped abruptly before the fireplace and turned to Peter.
+"And where does Hawk Kennedy come in on this?"
+
+"Beth Cameron's claim comes before his--or yours," said Peter quietly.
+"Whatever happens to either of you--it's not her fault."
+
+Peter hadn't intended a threat. He was simply stating the principal
+thought of his mind. But it broke McGuire's front. He leaned upon the
+armchair and then fell heavily into it, his head buried in his hands.
+
+"I'll do--whatever you say," he groaned at last, "but you've got to get
+me out of this, Nichols. I've got to have that paper."
+
+Peter poured out a drink of the whisky and silently handed it to his
+employer.
+
+"Come, Mr. McGuire," he said cheerfully, "we'll do what we can. There'll
+be a way to outwit Hawk Kennedy."
+
+"I hope to God there is," muttered McGuire helplessly.
+
+"I'll make a bargain with you."
+
+"What?" asked McGuire helplessly.
+
+"If I get the confession from Kennedy, you give Beth Cameron the money I
+ask for."
+
+"No publicity?"
+
+"None. I give you my word on it."
+
+"Well," muttered the old man, "I guess it's coming to her. I'll see." He
+paused helplessly. "A million dollars! That's a big sum to get together.
+A big price--but not too big to clear this load off my conscience."
+
+"Good. I'm glad you see it in this way."
+
+The old man turned shrewdly. "But I've got to have the proofs----"
+
+"Very well. If you're honest in your intentions you'll help me confirm
+the evidence."
+
+"Yes," said the other slowly. "I'll do what I can."
+
+"Then perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me what Ben Cameron looked
+like----"
+
+"I've told you as near as I can remember," muttered McGuire.
+
+"Had the murdered man, for instance, lost the little finger of his left
+hand?" asked Peter, coolly concealing the anxiety which lay behind his
+question.
+
+But he had his reward, for McGuire shot a quick glance at him, his
+heavy jowl sagging. And as he didn't reply, Peter urged him
+triumphantly.
+
+"You promised to help. Will you answer me truthfully? It will save
+asking a lot of questions."
+
+At last McGuire threw up his hands.
+
+"Yes," he muttered, "that was Ben Cameron. One of his little fingers was
+missing all right enough."
+
+"Thanks," said Peter, with an air of closing the interview. "If you want
+this proof that the murdered man was Beth's father, ask Mrs. Bergen."
+
+There was a silence. Peter had won. McGuire gathered up his hat with the
+mien of a broken man and moved toward the door.
+
+"All right, Nichols. I guess there's no doubt of it. I'll admit the
+proof's strong enough. It can be further verified, I suppose, but I'd
+rather no questions were asked. You do your part and I--I'll do mine."
+
+"Very good, sir. You can count on me. If that fake agreement is still in
+existence, I'll get it for you. If it has been destroyed----"
+
+"I'll have to have proof of that----"
+
+"Won't you leave that in my hands?"
+
+McGuire nodded, shook Peter's hand and wandered out up the path in the
+direction of Black Rock House.
+
+From the first, Peter had had no doubt that the murdered man was Beth's
+father, but he had to admit under McGuire's questioning that there might
+still be a difficulty in tracing the vagrant from the meager history of
+his peregrinations that Mrs. Bergen had been able to provide. McGuire's
+attitude in regard to the absent little finger had been really
+admirable. Peter was thankful for that little finger, and for McGuire's
+honesty. There was no doubt in his mind now--if any had existed--who Ben
+Cameron's murderer was. The affair was simplified amazingly. With Beth's
+claim recognized, Peter could now enter heart and soul into the
+interesting business of beating Hawk Kennedy at his own game. He would
+win--he must win, for the pitiful millionaire and for Beth.
+
+And so, jubilantly, he made his way to Black Rock village to fill a very
+agreeable engagement that he had, to take supper (cooked and served by
+her own hands) with Miss Beth Cameron. He found that Beth had tried to
+prevail upon Aunt Tillie to be present but that the arrival of the
+McGuire family at Black Rock House had definitely prevented the
+appearance of their chaperon. Peter's appetite, however, suffered little
+diminution upon that account and he learned that singing was not Beth's
+only accomplishment. The rolls, as light as feathers and steaming hot,
+were eloquent of her skill, the chicken was broiled to a turn, the
+creamed potatoes delicious, and the apple pie of puff-paste provoked
+memories of the Paris Ritz. Aunt Tillie's best tablecloth and family
+silver--old, by the looks of it--had been brought into requisition and a
+bunch of goldenrod and purple asters graced the centerpiece. And above
+it all presided Beth, her face aflame from the cookstove, gracious and
+more than lovable in her pride and self-consciousness.
+
+When the supper was finished, Peter helped her to clear away the things
+and insisted on being allowed to help wash the dishes. But to this Beth
+demurred for they were of Aunt Tillie's blue colonial china set and not
+to be trusted to impious hands. But she let Peter sit in the kitchen and
+watch her (which was quite satisfactory) and even spared him a kiss or
+two at propitious intervals.
+
+Then when all things had been set to rights they went into the little
+parlor and sat on the worn Victorian plush-covered sofa. There was much
+to talk about, matters of grave importance that concerned themselves
+alone, explanations to be made, hopes to be expressed, and Beth's affair
+with McGuire to be discussed in all its phases. Peter told her nothing
+of his rank or station in life, saving that revelation for a later
+moment. Was not the present all-sufficient? And hadn't Beth told him and
+didn't she tell him again now that she believed in him and that "no
+matter what" she loved him and was his, for ever after, Amen. She didn't
+care who he was, you see.
+
+And when the important business of affirming those vows was concluded
+again and again, the scarcely less important business of Beth's future
+was talked over with a calmness which did much credit to Beth's control
+of the situation. Peter brought out Hawk Kennedy's letter and they read
+it together, and talked about it, Peter explaining his intention to
+acquiesce in Hawk's plan. Then Peter told of his conversation with
+McGuire and of the proof of Ben Cameron's identity which the old man had
+honestly admitted.
+
+"It looks very much, Beth," said Peter at last, with a smile, "as though
+you were going to be a very wealthy young woman."
+
+"Oh, Peter," she sighed (the elimination of formal appellations had been
+accomplished during the earlier stages of the repast), "Oh, Peter, I
+hope it isn't going to bring us unhappiness."
+
+"Unhappiness! Why, Beth!"
+
+"Oh, I don't know. It seems to me that people with a lot of money always
+look unhappy wantin' _to want_ somethin'."
+
+He laughed.
+
+"The secret of successful wanting is only to want the things you can
+get."
+
+"That's just the trouble. With a million dollars I'll get so much more
+than I want. And what then----?"
+
+"You'll have to start all over again."
+
+"No," she said quietly. "I won't. If wantin' things she can't buy makes
+a girl _hard_, like Peggy McGuire, I think I'd rather be poor."
+
+Peter grew grave again.
+
+"Nothing could ever make you like Peggy McGuire," he said.
+
+"I might be--if I ever get into the habit of thinkin' I was somethin'
+that I wasn't."
+
+"You'll never be a snob, Beth, no matter how much money you have."
+
+"I hope not," she said with a laugh. "My nose turns up enough already."
+And then, wistfully, "But I always _did_ want a _cerise_ veil."
+
+"I've no doubt you'll get it, a _cerise_ veil--mauve, green and blue
+ones too. I'll be having to keep an eye on you when you go to the city."
+
+She eyed him gravely and then, "I don't like to hear you talk like
+that."
+
+But he kept to his topic for the mere delight of hearing her replies.
+
+"But then you might see somebody you liked better than me."
+
+She smiled at him gently. "If I'd 'a' thought that I wouldn't 'a' picked
+you out in the first place."
+
+"Then you did pick me out. When?"
+
+"H-m. Wouldn't you like to know!"
+
+"Yes. At the Cabin?"
+
+"No----"
+
+"At McGuire's----?"
+
+"No-o. Before that----"
+
+"When----"
+
+She blushed very prettily and laughed.
+
+"Down Pickerel River road."
+
+"Did you, Beth?"
+
+"Yes. I liked your looks. You _do_ smile like you meant it, Peter. I
+said to myself that anybody that could bow from the middle like you was
+good enough for me."
+
+"Now you're making fun of me."
+
+"Oh, no. I'm not. You see, dear, you've really lived up to that bow!"
+
+"I hope," said Peter gently, "I hope I always will."
+
+"I'm not worryin'. And I'm glad I knew you loved me before you knew
+about the money."
+
+"You did know, then----"
+
+"Yes. What bothered me was your findin' it so hard to tell me so."
+
+Peter was more awkward and self-conscious at that moment than he could
+ever remember having been in his life. Her frankness shamed him--made it
+seem difficult for him ever to tell her the real reasons for his
+hesitation. What chance would the exercise of inherited tradition have
+in the judgment of this girl who dealt instinctively and intimately with
+the qualities of the mind and heart, and only with them?
+
+"I--I was not good enough for you," he muttered.
+
+She put her fingers over his lips. And when he kissed them--took them
+away and gave him her lips.
+
+"I'll hear no more of _that_, Peter Nichols," she whispered. "You're
+good enough for me----"
+
+Altogether, it may be said that the evening was a success at every angle
+from which Peter chose to view it. And he made his way back to the Cabin
+through the deep forest along the path that Beth had worn, the path to
+his heart past all the fictitious barriers that custom had built about
+him. The meddlesome world was not. Here was the _novaya jezn_ that his
+people had craved and shouted for. He had found it. New
+life--happiness--with a mate ... his woman--soon to be his wife--whether
+Beth Nichols or the Grand Duchess Elizabeth...? There was no title of
+nobility that could make Beth's heart more noble, no pride of lineage
+that could give her a higher place than that which she already held in
+his heart.
+
+His blood surging, he ran along the log at the crossing and up the path
+to the Cabin, where a surprise awaited him. For he found the lamp
+lighted, and, seated complacently in Peter's easy chair, stockinged feet
+toward the blaze of a fresh log, a bottle at his elbow, was Hawk
+Kennedy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+PETER BECOMES A CONSPIRATOR
+
+
+Peter entered and stood by the door, startled from his rhapsody by the
+appearance of the intruder, who had made himself quite at home,
+regardless of the fact that the final words of their last meeting had
+given no promise of a friendship which would make his air of easy
+familiarity acceptable to Peter, whose first impulse moved him to anger,
+fortunately controlled as he quickly remembered how much hung upon the
+assumption of an amicable relationship with McGuire's arch enemy. Peter
+hadn't replied to Hawk's letter which had indicated that some weeks
+might elapse before Black Rock received another of his visitations. The
+speculations in Peter's mind as to the change in his visitor's plans and
+the possible causes for them may have been marked in his face, for Hawk
+grinned at him amiably and rose and offered his hand with an air of
+assurance.
+
+"Wondering why I dropped in on you so unexpected-like? Let's say that I
+got tired of staring at the lonely grandeur of Pike's Peak, _mon gars_,
+or that the lady who gave me the pleasure of her society skipped for
+Denver with a younger man, or that the high altitude played
+Billy-be-damned with my nerves, and you'll have excuse enough. But the
+fact is, Pete, I _was_ a bit nervous at being so long away from the
+center of financial operations, and thought I'd better come right on and
+talk to you."
+
+"I got your letter," said Peter calmly, "I hadn't answered it yet----"
+
+"I thought it better to come for my answer."
+
+"I've been thinking it over----"
+
+"Good. It will be worth thinkin' over. You'll bless the day Jim Coast
+ran athwart your course."
+
+"You seem to be taking a good deal for granted."
+
+"I do. I always do. Until the present opportunity it was about the only
+thing I got a chance to take. You wouldn't of done me a good turn that
+night, if you hadn't been O.K. Will you have a drink of your own? It's
+good stuff--ten years in the wood, I see by the label, and I'm glad to
+get it, for whisky is scarcer than hen's teeth between this and the
+Rockies."
+
+As Peter nodded he poured out the drinks and settled down in Peter's
+chair with the air of one very much at home.
+
+"Well, Pete, what's yer answer to be?" he said at last. "You weren't any
+too polite when I left here. But I didn't think you'd turn me down
+altogether. And you're straight. I know that. I've been countin' on your
+sense of justice. How would _you_ like to be treated the way _I_ was
+treated by Mike McGuire?"
+
+"I wouldn't like it."
+
+"You just bet you wouldn't. You wouldn't stand for it, _you_ wouldn't.
+I've got justice on my side and I've got the law--if I choose to use
+it--but I'd rather win this case as man to man--without its getting into
+the newspapers. That wouldn't matter much to a poor man like me, but it
+would make a heap of difference to a man who stands where McGuire does."
+
+"That's true."
+
+"Yes. And he knows it. He hasn't got a leg to stand on." Kennedy paused
+and looked Peter over coolly. Peter had been studying the situation
+critically, playing his game with some care, willing to placate his
+visitor and yet taking pains not to be too eager to gain his
+confidence. So he carefully lighted his cigarette while he debated his
+course of action.
+
+"What makes you think that I'm in a different mood now from when you
+left here?"
+
+"Haven't I told you? Because I believe that you know that right's right
+and wrong's wrong."
+
+"But I told you that I didn't want to have anything to do with the
+case."
+
+"True for you. But you will when I've finished talking to you."
+
+"Will I?"
+
+"You will if you're not a fool, which you ain't. I always said you had
+somethin' between your ears besides ivory. You don't like to stay poor
+any more than anybody else. You don't have to. A good half of McGuire's
+money is mine. If it hadn't been for me helpin' to smell that copper out
+he'd of been out there grub-stakin' yet an' that's a fact. But I'm not
+goin' to be too hard on him. I'm no hog. I'm goin' to let him down easy.
+What's a million more or less to him? It might pinch him a little here
+and there sellin' out securities he had a fancy for, but in a year or so
+he'd have it all back and more, the way he works. Oh, I know. I've found
+out a bit since I've been away. And he'll come across all right, when he
+hears what I've got to say to him."
+
+"Why don't you go to him direct?" asked Peter.
+
+"And have him barricadin' the house and shootin' promiscuous at me from
+the windows? Not on your life. I know what I'm about. This thing has got
+to be done quiet. There's no use stirring up a dirty scandal to hurt his
+reputation for honest dealin' in New York. Even as it is, the story has
+got around about the mystery of Black Rock. No use makin' talk. That's
+why I want you. You stand ace high with the old man. He'll listen to you
+and we'll work the game all right and proper."
+
+"But suppose he won't listen to me."
+
+"Then we'll put the screws on."
+
+"What screws?"
+
+Hawk Kennedy closed one eye and squinted the other at Peter quizzically.
+
+"I'll tell you that all in good time. But first I've got to know how you
+stand in the matter."
+
+Peter judicially examined the ash of his cigarette. "He ought to do the
+right thing," he said slowly.
+
+"He will--never you fear. But can I count on _you_, Pete?"
+
+"What do you want me to do?" asked Peter after a moment.
+
+"Oh, now we're talkin'. But wait a minute. We won't go so fast. Are you
+with me sure enough--hope I may die--cross my heart?"
+
+"If you'll make it worth my while," said Peter cautiously.
+
+"A hundred thousand. How's that?"
+
+"It sounds all right. But I can't see what I can do that you couldn't do
+yourself."
+
+"Don't you? Well, you don't know all this story. There's some of it you
+haven't heard. Maybe it's that will convince you you're makin' no
+mistake----"
+
+"Well--I'm listening."
+
+A shrewd look came into Kennedy's face--a narrowing of the eyelids, a
+drawing of the muscles at the mouth, as he searched Peter's face with a
+sharp glance.
+
+"If you play me false, Pete, I'll have your heart's blood," he said.
+
+Peter only laughed at him.
+
+"I'm not easily scared. Save the melodrama for McGuire. If you can do
+without me--go ahead. Play your hand alone. Don't tell me anything. I
+don't want to know."
+
+The bluff worked, for Kennedy relaxed at once.
+
+"Oh, you're a cool hand. I reckon you think I need you or I wouldn't be
+here. Well, that's so. I do need you. And I'm goin' to tell you the
+truth--even if it gives away my hand."
+
+"Suit yourself," said Peter, indifferently.
+
+He watched his old "bunkie" pour out another drink of the whisky, and a
+definite plan of action took shape in his mind. If he could only get
+Kennedy drunk enough.... The whisky bottle was almost empty--so Peter
+got up, went to his cupboard and brought forth another one.
+
+"Good old Pete!" said Hawk. "Seems like July the first didn't make much
+difference to you."
+
+"A present from Mr. McGuire," Peter explained.
+
+"Well, here's to his fat bank account. May it soon be ours." And he
+drank copiously. Peter filled his own glass but when the opportunity
+offered poured most of it into the slop-bowl just behind him.
+
+"I'm goin' to tell you, Pete, about me and McGuire--about how we got
+that mine. It ain't a pretty story. I told you some of it but not the
+real part--nobody but Mike McGuire and I know that--and he wouldn't tell
+if it was the last thing he said on earth."
+
+"Oh," said Peter, "something crooked, eh?"
+
+Kennedy laid his bony fingers along Peter's arm while his voice sank to
+an impressive whisper.
+
+"Crooked as Hell, Pete--crooked as Hell. You wouldn't think Mike McGuire
+was a murderer--would you?"
+
+"A murderer----!"
+
+Kennedy nodded. "We took that mine--stole it from the poor guy who had
+staked out his claim. Mike killed him----"
+
+"You don't mean----?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Killed him--stuck him in the ribs with a knife when he
+wasn't lookin'. What do you think of that?"
+
+"McGuire--a murderer----!"
+
+"Sure. Nice sort of a boss you've got! And he could swing for it if I
+didn't hold my tongue."
+
+"This is serious----"
+
+"You bet it is--if he don't come across. Now I guess you know why he was
+so cut up when I showed up around here. I've got it on him all right."
+
+"Can you prove it?"
+
+Kennedy rubbed his chin for a moment.
+
+"I could but I don't want to. You see--Pete----" He paused again and
+blinked pensively at his glass. "Well, you see--in a manner of
+speakin'--he's got it on me too."
+
+And Peter listened while his villainous companion related the well known
+tale of the terrible compact between the two men in which both of them
+had agreed in writing to share the guilt of the crime, carefully
+omitting to state the compulsion as used upon McGuire. Hawk Kennedy
+lied. If Peter had ever needed any further proof of the honesty of his
+employer he read it in the shifting eye and uncertain verbiage of his
+guest, whose tongue now wagged loosely while he talked of the two
+papers, one of which was in McGuire's possession, the other in his own.
+Hawk was no pleasant companion for an evening's entertainment. From the
+interesting adventurer of the _Bermudian_, Jim Coast had been slowly
+changing under Peter's eyes into a personality more formidable and
+sinister. And the drink seemed to be bringing into importance
+potentialities for evil at which Peter had only guessed. That he meant
+to fight to the last ditch for the money was clear, and if the worst
+came would even confess, dragging McGuire down among the ruins of both
+their lives. In his drunken condition it would have been ridiculously
+easy for Peter to have overpowered him, but he was not sure to what end
+that would lead.
+
+"You say there were two papers," said Peter. "Where are they?"
+
+"McGuire's got his--here at Black Rock," muttered Hawk.
+
+"How do you know that?" asked Peter with interest.
+
+"Where would he keep it?" sneered Hawk. "In his business papers for
+'zecutors to look over?"
+
+"And where's yours?" asked Peter.
+
+He hoped for some motion of Kennedy's fingers to betray its whereabouts,
+but the man only poured out another drink and leered at Peter
+unpleasantly.
+
+"That'sh _my_ business," he said with a sneer.
+
+"Oh. Is it? I thought I was to have a hand in this."
+
+Kennedy grinned.
+
+"Y'are. Your job is t' get other paper from McGuire's safe. And then
+we'll have fortune in--hic--nutshell."
+
+The man wasn't as drunk as he seemed. Peter shrugged.
+
+"I see. I've got to turn burglar to join your little criminal society.
+Suppose I refuse?"
+
+"Y' won't. Why, Pete, it ought to be easiest job in world. A few dropsh
+in glass when you're talkin' business and he'd never know it happened.
+Then we 'beat it,' y'understand, 'n' write lettersh--nice lettersh. One
+of 'em to that swell daughter of his. That would do the business,
+_pronto_."
+
+"Yes, it might," admitted Peter ruminatively.
+
+"Sure it will--but we'll give him chance. Are y' on?" he asked.
+
+Peter was silent for a moment. And then,
+
+"I don't see why you want that paper of McGuire's," he said. "They're
+exactly alike, you say--both incriminating. And if you've got your paper
+handy----"
+
+Peter paused but Kennedy was in the act of swallowing another glass of
+whisky and he didn't stop to answer the half-formulated query. He gave a
+gasp of satisfaction and then shrugged.
+
+"No use, Pete," he said huskily. "I said I had paper and I _have_ paper
+handy, but I've got to have McGuire's paper too. I ain't got money and
+spotless rep'tation like Mike McGuire but I don't want paper like that
+floatin' roun' universh with _my_ name signed to it."
+
+"I don't blame you," said Peter dryly.
+
+Hawk Kennedy was talking thickly now and spilled the whisky in trying to
+pour out a new glassful.
+
+"Goo' whisky this--goo' ole whisky, Pete. Goo' ole Peter. Say, you'll
+get pater, Peep--I mean Peter pape--Oh H---- Paper. _You_ know."
+
+"I'll have to think about it, Jim."
+
+"Can't think when yer drunk, Pete," he muttered with an expiring grin.
+"To-morr'. 'Nother drink an' then we'll go sleep. Don't mind my sleepin'
+here, Pete. Nice plache shleep. Goo' old shleep...."
+
+Peter paused in the act of pouring out another drink for him and then at
+a sound from Kennedy set the bottle down again. The man suddenly
+sprawled sideways in the chair, his head back, snoring heavily. Peter
+watched him for a moment, sure that he couldn't be shamming and then
+looked around the disordered room. Hawk's overcoat and hat lay on the
+bed. On tiptoe Peter got up and examined them carefully, watching the
+man in the chair intently the while. Hawk stirred but did not awaken.
+Peter searched the overcoat inch by inch. There was nothing in the
+pockets, but a tin of tobacco and a Philadelphia newspaper. So Peter
+restored the articles and then hung the hat and coat on the nails behind
+the door. Hawk Kennedy did not move. He was dead drunk.
+
+The repulsive task of searching the recumbent figure now lay before him.
+But the game had been worth the candle. If the fateful confession was
+anywhere in Hawk's clothing Peter meant to find it and yet even now he
+hesitated. He put the whisky bottle away, cleared up the mess and then
+bodily picked his visitor up and carried him to the bed. Hawk muttered
+something in his sleep but fell prone and immediately was snoring
+stertorously. Then Peter went through his pockets methodically, removing
+an automatic pistol from his trousers, and examining all his papers
+carefully by the light of the lamp-a hotel bill receipted, some letters
+in a woman's hand, a few newspaper clippings bearing on the copper
+market, a pocketbook containing bills of large denomination, some soiled
+business cards of representatives of commercial houses, a notebook
+containing addresses and small accounts, a pass book of a Philadelphia
+bank, the address of which Peter noted. And that was all. Exhausting
+every resource Peter went over the lining of his coat and vest, inch by
+inch, even examined his underwear and his shoes and stockings. From the
+skin out, Hawk Kennedy had now no secrets from Peter. The incriminating
+confession was not on Hawk Kennedy's clothing.
+
+At last Peter gave up the search and went out into the air, and lighted
+his corncob pipe, puzzled at his failure. And yet, was it a failure
+after all? Hawk had eluded every attempt to discuss his copy of the
+confession. He had it "handy," he had said. A safe deposit box at the
+Philadelphia bank of which Peter had made record would be handy, but
+somehow Peter thought the chances were much against Kennedy's having put
+it there. Men of his type usually carry everything they possess about
+their persons. Peter remembered the ragged wallet of the _Bermudian_.
+What if after all these years of hardship the paper had been worn so
+that it was entirely illegible, or indeed that in Kennedy's many
+wanderings it had been lost? Either of these theories was plausible, but
+none provoked a decision. So after awhile Peter went indoors and opening
+all the windows and doors to cleanse the air, sat in the big chair and
+bundling himself in a blanket fell asleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+FACE TO FACE
+
+
+We are told, alas, that at the highest moment of our expectations the
+gods conspire to our undoing, and therefore that it is wise to take our
+joys a little sadly, that we may not fall too far. But Beth, being
+wholesome of mind and body and an optimist by choice, was not disposed
+to question the completeness of her contentment or look for any dangers
+which might threaten its continuance. And so when Peter went home
+through the forest, she took her kerosene lamp to her room, there to
+smile at her joyous countenance in the mirror and to assure herself that
+never since the beginning of the world had there been a girl more glad
+that she had been born. All the clouds that had hung about her since
+that evening in the woods had been miraculously rolled away and she knew
+again as she had known before that Peter Nichols was the one man in all
+the world for her.
+
+Their evening together was a wonderful thing to contemplate, and she lay
+in bed, her eyes wide open, staring toward the window, beyond which in a
+dark mass against the starlit sky she could see the familiar pines,
+through which was the path to Peter's cabin. The stars twinkled jovially
+with assurance that the night could not be long and that beyond the
+night were to-morrows still more wonderful than to-day. And praying
+gently that all might be well with them both, she fell asleep, not even
+to dream.
+
+Early morning found her brisk at her work around the house, cleansing
+and polishing, finishing to her satisfaction the tasks which Peter's
+impatience had forbidden the night before. All of Aunt Tillie's blue
+china set was carefully restored to its shelves, the napery folded away,
+the shiny pots hung upon their hooks and the kitchen carefully mopped.
+Then, with a towel wrapped about her head (for such was the custom of
+the country), she attacked the dining-room and parlor with broom and
+dust-cloth, singing _arpeggios_ to remind herself that everything was
+right with the world.
+
+It was upon the plush-covered sofa where she and Peter had sat the night
+before that Beth's orderly eye espied a square of paper just upon the
+point of disappearing in the crease between the seat and back of Aunt
+Tillie's most cherished article of furniture and of course she pounced
+upon it with the intention of destroying it at the cookstove. But when
+she drew it forth, she found that it was an envelope, heliotrope in
+color, that it bore Peter's name in a feminine handwriting, and that it
+had a strange delicate odor with which Beth was unfamiliar. She held it
+in her hand and looked at the writing, then turned it over and over, now
+holding it more gingerly by the tip ends of her fingers. Then she
+sniffed at it again. It was a queer perfume--strange--like violet mixed
+with some kind of spice.
+
+She put her broom aside and walked to the window, her brow puckered, and
+scrutinized the postmark. "London!" Of course--London was in England
+where Peter had once lived. And Peter had drawn the letter from his
+pocket last night with some other papers when he had shown her the
+communication from "Hawk" Kennedy. It was lucky that she had found it,
+for it might have slipped down behind the plush covering, and so have
+been definitely lost. Of course Peter had friends in London and of
+course they should wish to write to him, but for the first time it
+seemed curious to Beth that in all their conversations Peter had never
+volunteered any information as to the life that he had lived before he
+had come to Black Rock. She remembered now that she had told him that
+whatever his past had been and whoever he was, he was good enough for
+her. But the heliotrope envelope with the feminine handwriting and the
+strange odor immediately suggested queries along lines of investigation
+which had never before entered her thoughts. Who was the lady of the
+delicate script and the strange perfume? What was her relationship to
+Peter? And upon what topic was she writing to him?
+
+Beth slipped the note about a quarter of an inch out of its envelope
+until she could just see a line of the writing and then quickly thrust
+it in again, put the envelope on the mantel above the "parlor heater"
+and resolutely went on with her sweeping. From time to time she stopped
+her work and looked at it just to be sure that it was still there and at
+last took it up in her fingers again, a prey to a more lively curiosity
+than any she had ever known. She put the envelope down again and turning
+her back to it went into the kitchen. Of course Peter would tell her who
+this lady was if she asked him. And there was no doubt at all that it
+_was_ a lady who had written the letter, some one familiar with a
+delicate mode of existence and given to refinements which had been
+denied to Beth. It was this delicacy and refinement, this flowing
+inscription written with such careless ease and grace which challenged
+Beth's rusticity. She would have liked to ask Peter about the lady at
+once. But Peter would not be at the Cabin at this early hour of the
+morning, nor would Beth be able to see him until late this
+afternoon--perhaps not until to-night. Meanwhile, the note upon the
+mantel was burning its way into her consciousness. It was endued with a
+personality feminine, insidious and persuasive. No ladies of London
+affecting heliotrope envelopes had any business writing scented notes to
+Peter now. He was Beth's particular property....
+
+When she went up to the second floor of the cottage a few minutes later
+she took the heliotrope letter with her and put it on her bureau,
+propped against the pincushion, while she went on with her work. And
+then, all her duties for the morning finished, she sat down in her
+rocking chair by the window, the envelope in her idle fingers, a victim
+of temptation. She looked out at the pine woods, her gaze afar, her
+guilty fingers slipping the letter out of its covering an inch, two
+inches. And then Beth opened Peter's heliotrope note and read it. At
+least, she read as much of it as she could understand,--the parts that
+were written in English--with growing amazement and incertitude. A good
+deal of the English part even was Greek to her, but she could understand
+enough to know that a mystery of some sort hung about the letter and
+about Peter, that he was apparently a person of some importance to the
+heliotrope lady who addressed him in affectionate terms and with the
+utmost freedom. Beth had learned in the French ballads which Peter had
+taught her that _ami_ meant friend and that _bel_ meant beautiful. And
+as the whole of the paragraph containing those words was written in
+English, Beth had little difficulty in understanding it. What had Peter
+to do with the cause of Holy Russia? And what was this danger to him
+from hidden enemies, which could make necessary this discretion and
+watchfulness in Black Rock? And the last sentence of all danced before
+Beth's eyes as though it had been written in letters of fire. "There is
+at least one heart in London that ever beats fondly in memory of the
+dear dead days at Galitzin and Zukovo."
+
+What right had the heliotrope lady's heart to beat fondly in memory of
+dear dead days with Peter Nichols at Galitzin or Zukovo or anywhere
+else? Who was she? Was she young? Was she beautiful? And what right had
+Peter given her to address him in terms of such affection? Anastasie!
+
+And now for the first time in her life, though to all outward appearance
+calm, Beth felt the pangs of jealousy. This letter, most of it in the
+queer-looking script (probably Russian) that she could not even read, in
+its strange references in English to things beyond her knowledge, seemed
+suddenly to erect a barrier between her and Peter that could never be
+passed, or even to indicate a barrier between them that had always
+existed without her knowledge. And if all of the parts of the letter
+that she could not understand contained sentiments like the English part
+that she _could_ understand, it was a very terrible letter indeed and
+indicated that this heliotrope woman (she was no longer "lady" now) had
+claims upon Peter's heart which came long before Beth's. And if this
+Anastasie--other women too....
+
+Beth read the letter again and then slipped it back into its envelope,
+while she gazed out of the window at the pines, a frown at her brows and
+two tiny lines curving downward at the corners of her lips. She was very
+unhappy. But she was angry too--angry at the heliotrope woman, angry at
+Peter and angrier still at herself. In that moment she forgot that she
+had taken Peter Nichols without reference to what he was or had been.
+She had told him that only the future mattered and now she knew that the
+past was beginning to matter very much indeed.
+
+After a while she got up, and took the heliotrope letter to the bureau
+where she wrote upon the envelope rather viciously with a soft lead
+pencil, "You left _this_ last night. You'd better go back to Anastasie."
+Then she slipped the letter into her waist and with an air of decision
+went down the stairs (the ominous parentheses still around her mouth),
+and made her way with rapid footsteps toward the path through the forest
+which led toward Peter's cabin.
+
+Beth was primitive, highly honorable by instinct if not by precept, but
+a creature of impulse, very much in love, who read by intuition the
+intrusion of what seemed a very real danger to her happiness. If her
+conscience warned her that she was transgressing the rules of polite
+procedure, something stronger than a sense of propriety urged her on to
+read, something stronger than mere curiosity--the impulse of
+self-preservation, the impulse to preserve that which was stronger even
+than self--the love of Peter Nichols.
+
+The scrawl that she had written upon the envelope was eloquent of her
+point of view, at once a taunt, a renunciation and a confession. "You
+left _this_ last night. You'd better go back to Anastasie!"
+
+It was the intention of carrying the letter to Peter's cabin and there
+leaving it in a conspicuous position that now led her rapidly down the
+path through the woods. Gone were the tender memories of the night
+before. If this woman had had claims upon Peter Nichols's heart at the
+two places with the Russian names, she had the same claims upon them
+now. Beth's love and her pride waged a battle within her as she
+approached the Cabin. She remembered that Peter had told her last night
+that he would have a long day at the lumber camp, but as she crossed the
+log-jam she found herself hoping that by some chance she would find
+Peter still at home, where, with a fine dignity (which she mentally
+rehearsed) she would demand explanation, and listening, grant
+forgiveness. Or else ... she didn't like to think of the alternative.
+
+But instead of Peter, at the Cabin door in the early morning sunlight
+she found a strange man, sitting in a chair in the portico, smoking one
+of Peter's cigarettes, and apparently much at home. The appearance of
+the stranger was for a moment disconcerting, but Beth approached the
+familiar doorway, her head high, the heliotrope letter burning her
+fingers. She had intended to walk in at the door of the Cabin, place the
+letter in a conspicuous position where Peter could not fail to see it,
+and then return to her home and haughtily await Peter's arrival. But the
+presence of this man, a stranger in Black Rock, making free of Peter's
+habitation, evidently with Peter's knowledge and consent, made her pause
+in a moment of uncertainty.
+
+At her approach the man in the chair had risen and she saw that he was
+tall--almost as tall as Peter, that he had a hooked nose and displayed a
+set of irregular teeth when he smiled--which he did, not unpleasantly.
+There was something about him which repelled her yet fascinated at the
+same time.
+
+"Mr. Nichols has gone out?" Beth asked, for something to say.
+
+"Yes, Miss," said the stranger, blinking at her with his bleary eyes.
+"Mr. Nichols is down at the lumber camp--won't be back until night, I
+reckon. Anythin' I can do for ye?"
+
+"No, I----?" Beth hesitated. "I just wanted to see him--to leave
+somethin' for him."
+
+"I guess he'll be right sorry to miss you. Who shall I say called?"
+
+"Oh, it doesn't matter," said Beth, turning away. But she was now aware
+of a strange curiosity as to this person who sat with such an air of
+well-being in Peter's chair and spoke with such an air of
+proprietorship. The insistence of her own personal affair with Peter had
+driven from her mind all thoughts of the other matters suggested in the
+letter, of the possible dangers to Peter even here in Black Rock and
+the mysterious references to Holy Russia. This man who stood in Peter's
+portico, whoever he was, was not a Russian, she could see that at a
+glance and read it in his accents, but she was equally certain from his
+general character that he could be no friend of Peter's and that his
+business here was not of Peter's choosing.
+
+"If ye'd like to wait a while----"
+
+He offered her the chair, but Beth did not accept it.
+
+"Ye don't happen to be Miss Peggy McGuire, do ye?" asked the stranger
+curiously.
+
+"No," replied the girl. "My name is Beth Cameron."
+
+"Beth----?"
+
+"Cameron," she finished firmly.
+
+"Oh----"
+
+The stranger seemed to be examining her with a glowing interest, but his
+look was clouded.
+
+Beth had decided that until Peter came explaining she had no further
+possible interest either in him or his affairs, but in spite of this she
+found her lips suddenly asking,
+
+"Are you a friend of Mr. Nichols's?"
+
+The man in the portico grinned somberly.
+
+"Yes. I guess I am--an old friend--before he came to America."
+
+"Oh!" said Beth quietly. "You've known him a long time then?"
+
+"Ye might say so. We were buddies together."
+
+"Then you knew him in--in London?"
+
+The man grinned. "Can't say I did. Not in London. Why do you ask?"
+
+"Oh, I just wanted to know."
+
+The gaze of the stranger upon her was disquieting. His eyes seemed to be
+smoldering like embers just ready to blaze. She knew that she ought to
+be returning and yet she didn't want to go leaving her object
+unaccomplished, the dignity of her plan having already been greatly
+disturbed. And so she hesitated, curiosity at war with discretion.
+
+"Would you mind telling me your name?" she asked timidly.
+
+The man shrugged a shoulder and glanced away from her. "I reckon my name
+wouldn't mean much to you."
+
+"Oh--I'm sorry. Perhaps I shouldn't have asked?"
+
+The stranger put his hands into his coat pockets and stared down at Beth
+with a strange intrusive kind of smile.
+
+"You and Pete seem kind of thick, don't ye?" he muttered.
+
+"Pete!"
+
+"Pete Nichols. That's his name, ain't it? Kind of thick, I'd say. I
+can't blame him though----"
+
+"You're mistaken," said Beth with dignity, "there's nothin' between
+Peter Nichols and me." And turning heel, Beth took a step away.
+
+"There! Put my foot in it, didn't I? I'm sorry. Don't go yet. I want to
+ask ye something."
+
+Beth paused and found that the stranger had come out from the portico
+and still stood beside her. And as her look inquired fearlessly,
+
+"It's about your name, Miss," he muttered, and then with an effort spoke
+the word savagely, as though it had been wrenched from him by an effort
+of will, "Cameron----? Your name's Cameron?"
+
+"Yes," said Beth, in some inquietude.
+
+"Common name in some parts--Cameron--not so common in others--not in
+Jersey anyway----"
+
+"I didn't know----"
+
+"Is yer father livin'?" he snapped.
+
+"No--dead. Many years ago. Out West."
+
+"Tsch!" he breathed, the air whistling between his teeth, "Out West, ye
+say--out West?"
+
+He stood in front of Beth now, his arms akimbo, his head bent forward
+under the stress of some excitement. Beth drew away from him, but he
+came forward after her, his gaze still seeking hers.
+
+"Yes--out West," said Beth haltingly.
+
+"Where?" he gasped.
+
+"I don't know----"
+
+"Was his name--was his name--Ben Cameron?" He shot the question at her
+with a strange fury, catching meanwhile at her arm.
+
+"Let me go----," she commanded. "You're hurtin' me."
+
+"Was it----?"
+
+"Yes. Let me go."
+
+The stranger's grip on her arm suddenly relaxed and while she watched
+his face in curiosity the glow in his eyes suddenly flickered out, his
+gaze shifting from side to side as he seemed to shrink away from her.
+From timidity at his roughness she found new courage in her curiosity at
+his strange behavior. What had this stranger to do with Ben Cameron?
+
+"What did you want to know for?" she asked him.
+
+But his bent brows were frowning at the path at his feet. He tried to
+laugh--and the sound of the dry cackle had little mirth in it.
+
+"No matter. I--I thought it might be. I guess ye'd better go--I guess
+ye'd better." And with that he sank heavily in Peter's chair again.
+
+But Beth still stood and stared at him, aware of the sudden change in
+his attitude toward her. What did it all mean? What were Peter's
+relations with this creature who behaved so strangely at the mention of
+her name? Why did he speak of Ben Cameron? Who was he? Who----?
+
+The feeling of which she had at first been conscious, at the man's evil
+leering smile which repelled her suddenly culminated in a pang of
+intuition. This man ... It must be ... Hawk Kennedy--the man who ... She
+stared at him with a new horror in the growing pallor of her face and
+Hawk Kennedy saw the look. It was as though some devilish psychological
+contrivance had suddenly hooked their two consciousnesses to the same
+thought. Both saw the same picture--the sand, the rocks, the blazing sun
+and a dead man lying with a knife in his back.... And Beth continued
+staring as though in a kind of horrible fascination. And when her lips
+moved she spoke as though impelled by a force beyond her own volition.
+
+"You--you're Hawk Kennedy," she said tensely, "the man who killed my
+father."
+
+"It's a lie," he gasped, springing to his feet. "Who told you that?"
+
+"I--I guessed it----"
+
+"Who told ye about Hawk Kennedy? Who told ye about him?"
+
+"No one----"
+
+"Ye didn't dream it. Ye can't dream a name," he said tensely. "Pete told
+ye--he lied to ye."
+
+"He didn't."
+
+But he had caught her by the wrist again and dragged her into the Cabin.
+She was thoroughly frightened now--too frightened even to cry out--too
+terrified at the sudden revelation of this man who for some days had
+been a kind of evil spirit in the background of her happiness. He was
+not like what she had thought he was, but he embodied an idea that was
+sinister and terrible. And while she wondered what he was going to do
+next, he pushed her into the armchair, locked the door and put the key
+into his pocket.
+
+"Now we can talk," he muttered grimly. "No chance of bein'
+disturbed--Pete ain't due for hours yet. So he's been tellin' _you_ lies
+about me. Has he? Sayin' _I_ done it. By G--, I'm beginnin' to see...."
+
+He leered at her horribly, and Beth seemed frozen into her chair. The
+courage that had been hers a moment ago when he had shrunk away from her
+had fled before the fury of his questions and the violence of his touch.
+She was intimidated for the first time in her life and yet she tried to
+meet his eyes, which burned wildly, shifting from side to side like
+those of a caged beast. In her terror she could not tell what dauntless
+instinct had urged her unless it was Ben Cameron's soul in agony that
+had cried out through her lips. And now she had not only betrayed
+Peter--but herself....
+
+"I'm beginnin' to see. You and Pete--playin' both ends against the
+middle, with McGuire comin' down somethin' very handsome for a weddin'
+present and leavin' me out in the cold. Very pretty! But it ain't goin'
+to work out just that way--not that way at all."
+
+All of this he muttered in a wildly casual kind of a way, at no one in
+particular, as his gaze flitted from one object in the room to another,
+always passing over Beth almost impersonally. But in a moment she saw
+his gaze concentrate upon her with sudden eagerness.
+
+"He told ye I done it, did he? Well, I didn't," he cried in a strident
+voice. "I didn't do it. It was McGuire and I'll prove it, all right.
+McGuire. Pete can't fix _that_ on me--even if he wanted to. But he told
+_you_ or ye wouldn't of spoke like ye did. I guess maybe ye wouldn't of
+said so much if Pete had been here. But ye let the cat slip out of the
+bag all right. You and Pete--and maybe McGuire's with ye too--all
+against me. Is that so?... Can't yer speak, girl? Must ye sit there
+just starin' at me with yer big eyes? What are ye lookin' at? Are ye
+dumb?"
+
+"No, I'm not dumb," gasped Beth, struggling for her courage, aware all
+the while of the physical threat in the man's very presence.
+
+"Speak then. Tell me the truth. Pete said it was your money McGuire
+took--your money McGuire's got to make good to ye? Ain't that the
+truth?"
+
+"I won't answer."
+
+"Oh, yes, ye will. You'll answer all right. I'm not goin' to trifle.
+What did ye come here to see Pete about? What's that letter ye came to
+give him? Give it to me!"
+
+Beth clutched the heliotrope note to her bosom but Hawk Kennedy caught
+at her hands and tried to tear it away from her. It needed only this new
+act of physical violence to give Beth the courage of despair. She sprang
+to her feet eluding him but he caught her before she reached the window.
+She struck at him with her fists but he tore the letter away from her
+and hurled her toward the bed over which she fell breathless. There was
+no use trying to fight this man.... There was a cruelty in his touch
+which spoke of nameless things.... And so she lay motionless, nursing
+her injured wrists, trying desperately to think what she must do.
+
+Meanwhile, watching her keenly from the tail of his eye, Hawk Kennedy
+was reading the heliotrope letter, spelling out the English word by
+word. Fascinated, Beth saw the frown of curiosity deepen to interest and
+then to puzzled absorption.
+
+"Interestin'--very," she heard him mutter at last, as he glanced toward
+the bed. "Holy Russia. H----! What's this mean, girl? Who _is_ Peter
+Nichols? Answer me."
+
+"I--I don't know," she said.
+
+"Yes, ye do. Where did ye get this letter?"
+
+"He left it at--at my house last night."
+
+"Oh! _Your_ house! Where?"
+
+"In the village."
+
+"I see. An' this scrawl on the envelope--you wrote it----"
+
+Beth couldn't reply. He was dragging her through the very depths of
+humiliation.
+
+At her silence his lips curved in ugly amusement.
+
+"Anastasie!" he muttered. "Some queen that--with her purple paper an'
+all. And ye don't know who she is? Or who Pete is? Answer me!"
+
+"I--I don't know," she whispered. "I--I don't, really."
+
+"H-m! Well, he ain't what he's seemed to be, that's sure. He ain't what
+he's seemed to be to you and he ain't what he's seemed to be to me. But
+whoever he is he can't put anything over on _me_. We'll see about this."
+
+Beth straightened and sat up, watching him pace the floor in deep
+thought. There might be a chance that she could escape by the window.
+But when she started up he ordered her back roughly and she soon saw
+that this was impossible.
+
+At last he stopped walking up and down and stared at her, his eyes
+narrowed to mere slits, his brows drawn ominously together. It seemed
+that he had reached a decision.
+
+"You behave yourself an' do what I tell ye an' ye won't be hurt," he
+growled.
+
+"Wh-what are you goin' to do?" she gasped.
+
+"Nothin' much. Ye're just goin' with me--that's all."
+
+"W-where?"
+
+"That's my business. Oh, ye needn't be scared of any love makin'. I'm
+not on that lay this trip."
+
+He went to the drawer of Peter's bureau and took out some
+handkerchiefs.
+
+"But ye'd better be scared if ye don't do what I tell ye. Here. Stand
+up!"
+
+Beth shrank away from, him, but he caught her by the wrists and held
+her.
+
+"Ye're not to make a noise, d'ye hear? I can't take the chance."
+
+And while she still struggled desperately, he fastened her wrists
+together behind her. Then he thrust one of Peter's handkerchiefs in her
+mouth and securely gagged her. He wasn't any too gentle with her but
+even in her terror she found herself thanking God that it was only
+abduction that he planned.
+
+Hawk Kennedy went to the window and peered out up the path, then he
+opened the door and looked around. After a moment he came in quickly.
+
+"Come," he muttered, "it's time we were off."
+
+He caught her by the arm and helped her to her feet, pushing her out of
+the door and into the underbrush at the corner of the cabin. Her feet
+lagged, her knees were weak, but the grasp on her shoulder warned her of
+cruelties she had not dreamed of and so she stumbled on--on into the
+depths of the forest, Hawk Kennedy's hard hand urging her on to greater
+speed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+YAKIMOV REVEALS HIMSELF
+
+
+It was with some misgivings that Peter left his cabin, leaving Hawk
+Kennedy there to sleep off the effects of his potations, but the
+situation at the lumber camp was so hazardous that his presence was
+urgently required. Hawk had awakened early, very early, and very
+thirsty, but Peter had told him that there was no more whisky and
+threatened to throw over the whole affair if he didn't sober up and
+behave himself. And so, having exacted a promise from Hawk Kennedy to
+leave the Cabin when he had had his sleep out, Peter had gotten the
+"flivver" from McGuire's garage (as was his custom) and driven rapidly
+down toward the camp.
+
+He had almost reached the conclusion that the copy of the partnership
+agreement which Hawk had held as a threat over McGuire had ceased to
+exist--that it had been lost, effaced or destroyed. But he wanted to be
+more certain of this before he came out into the open, showed his hand
+and McGuire's and defied the blackmailer to do his worst. He felt pretty
+sure now from his own knowledge of the man that, desperate though he was
+in his intention to gain a fortune by this expedient, he was absolutely
+powerless to do evil without the signature of McGuire. The question as
+to whether or not he would make a disagreeable publicity of the whole
+affair was important to McGuire and had to be avoided if possible, for
+Peter had given his promise to bring the affair to a quiet conclusion.
+
+Until he could have a further talk with McGuire, he meant to lead Hawk
+Kennedy on to further confidences and with this end in view and with the
+further purpose of getting him away from the Cabin, had promised to meet
+him late that afternoon at a fork of the road to the lumber camp, the
+other prong of which led to a settlement of several shanties where Hawk
+had managed to get a lodging on the previous night and on several other
+occasions. In his talk with the ex-waiter he learned that on his
+previous visits the man had made a careful survey of the property and
+knew his way about almost as well as Peter did. It appeared that he also
+knew something of Peter's problems at the lumber camp and the
+difficulties the superintendent had already encountered in getting his
+sawed lumber to the railroad and in completing his fire-towers. Indeed,
+these difficulties seemed only to have begun again, and it was with
+great regret that Peter was obliged to forego the opportunity of seeing
+Beth that day, perhaps even that evening. But he had told her nothing of
+his troubles the night before, not wishing to cloud a day so fair for
+them both.
+
+The facts were these: Flynn and Jacobi, the men he had dismissed, had
+appeared again at the camp in his absence, bent on fomenting trouble,
+and Shad Wells, already inflamed against the superintendent, had fallen
+an easy prey to their machinations. Accidents were always happening at
+the sawmills, accidents to machinery and implements culminating at last
+in the blowing out of a tube of one of the boilers. It was this
+misfortune that had held the work up for several days until a spare
+boiler could be installed. Peter tried to find out how these accidents
+had happened, but each line of investigation led up a blind alley. Jesse
+Brown, his foreman, seemed to be loyal, but he was easy-going and weak.
+With many of his own friends among the workers both at the camp and
+mills he tried to hold his job by carrying water on both shoulders and
+the consequences were inevitable. He moved along the line of least
+resistance and the trouble grew. Peter saw his weakness and would have
+picked another man to supersede him, but there was no other available.
+The truth was that though the men's wages were high for the kind of work
+that they were doing, the discontent that they had brought with them was
+in the air. The evening papers brought word of trouble in every
+direction, the threatened railroad and steel strikes and the prospect of
+a coalless winter when the miners went out as they threatened to do on
+the first of November.
+
+At first Peter had thought that individually many of the men liked him.
+He had done what he could for their comfort and paid them the highest
+price justifiable, but gradually he found that his influence was being
+undermined and that the good-natured lagging which Peter had at first
+tried to tolerate had turned to loafing on the job, and finally to overt
+acts of rebellion. More men had been sent away and others with even less
+conscience had taken their places. Some of them had enunciated
+Bolshevist doctrines as wild as any of Flynn's or Jacobi's. Jonathan K.
+McGuire stood as a type which represented the hierarchy of wealth and
+was therefore their hereditary enemy. Peter in a quiet talk at the
+bunk-house one night had told them that once Jonathan K. McGuire had
+been as poor, if not poorer, than any one of them. But even as he spoke
+he had felt that his words had made no impression. It was what McGuire
+was _now_ that mattered, they told him. All this land, all this lumber,
+was the people's, and they'd get it too in time. With great earnestness,
+born of a personal experience of which they could not dream, Peter
+pointed out to them what had happened and was now happening in Russia
+and painted a harrowing picture of helplessness and starvation, but they
+smoked their pipes in silence and answered him not at all. They were
+not to be reasoned with. If the Soviet came to America they were willing
+to try it. They would try anything once.
+
+But Shad Wells was "canny" and Peter had never succeeded in tracing any
+of the accidents or any of the dissensions directly to his door. Without
+evidence against him Peter did not think it wise to send him out of
+camp, for many of the men were friendly to Shad and his dismissal was
+sure to mean an upheaval of sorts. Peter knew that Shad hated him for
+what had happened at the Cabin but that in his heart he feared to come
+out into the open where a repetition of his undoing in public might
+destroy his influence forever. So to Peter's face he was sullenly
+obedient, taking care to give the appearance of carrying out his orders,
+while as soon as Peter's back was turned he laughed, loafed and
+encouraged others to do the same.
+
+And for the last week Peter had not liked the looks of things. At the
+lumber camp the work was almost at a standstill, and the sawmills were
+silent. Jesse Brown had told him that Flynn and Jacobi had been at the
+bunk-house and that the men had voted him down when the foreman had
+tried to send them away. It was clear that some radical step would have
+to be taken at once to restore discipline or Peter's authority and
+usefulness as superintendent would be only a matter of hours.
+
+It was of all of these things that Peter thought as he bumped his way in
+the "flivver" over the corduroy road through the swampy land which led
+to the lower reserve, and as he neared the scene of these material
+difficulties all thought of Hawk Kennedy passed from his mind. There was
+the other danger too that had been one of the many subjects of the
+letter of Anastasie Galitzin, for Peter had no doubt now that the
+foreigner with the dark mustache who had followed him down from New
+York and who some weeks ago had been sent out of the camp was no other
+than the agent of the Soviets, who had forwarded to London the
+information as to his whereabouts. Peter had not seen this man since the
+day of his dismissal, but he suspected that he was in the plot with
+Flynn, Jacobi and perhaps Shad Wells to make mischief in the lumber
+camp.
+
+The opportunity that Peter sought to bring matters to a focus was not
+long in coming, for when he reached the sawmills, which had resumed
+desultory operations, he found Flynn and Jacobi, the "Reds," calmly
+seated in the office, smoking and talking with Shad Wells. Peter had
+left his "flivver" up the road and his sudden entrance was a surprise.
+The men got up sullenly and would have slouched out of the door but
+Peter closed it, put his back to it, and faced them. He was cold with
+anger and held himself in with difficulty, but he had taken their
+measure and meant to bring on a crisis, which would settle their status
+and his own, once and for all time.
+
+"What are you doing here?" he began shortly, eying Flynn.
+
+The Irishman stuck his hands into his pockets and shrugged impudently.
+
+"That's my business," he muttered.
+
+"H-m. You two men were discharged because you were incompetent, because
+you were getting money you didn't earn and because you were trying to
+persuade others to be as worthless and useless as yourselves. You were
+ordered off the property----"
+
+"Ye can't keep us off----"
+
+"I'll come to that in a moment. What I want to say to you now is this,"
+said Peter, planting his barbs with the coolness of a matador baiting
+his bull. "Some men go wrong because they've been badly advised, some
+because they can't think straight, others because they'd rather go
+wrong than right. Some of you 'Reds' believe in what you preach, that
+the world can be made over and all the money and the land divided up in
+a new deal. You two don't. You don't believe in anything except getting
+a living without working for it--and trying to make honest men do the
+same. You, Jacobi, are only a fool--a cowardly fool at that--who hides
+behind the coat-tails of a man stronger than you----"
+
+"Look-a here, Mister----"
+
+"Yes, Flynn's your master, but he isn't mine. And he isn't the master of
+any man on this job while I'm superintendent----"
+
+"We'll see about that," said Flynn with a chuckle.
+
+"Yes, we will. Very soon. _Now_, as a matter of fact----"
+
+"How?"
+
+"By proving which is the better man--you or me----"
+
+"Oh, it's a fight ye mean?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+The Irishman leered at him cunningly.
+
+"I'm too old a bird to be caught wit' that stuff--puttin' you wit' the
+right on yer side. We're afther sheddin' no blood here, Misther Nichols.
+We're on this job for peace an' justice fer all."
+
+"Then you're afraid to fight?"
+
+"No. But I'm not a-goin' to----"
+
+"Not if I tell you you're a sneak, a liar and a coward----"
+
+Flynn's jaw worked and his glance passed from Jacobi to Wells.
+
+"I'll make ye eat them names backwards one day, Misther Nichols--but not
+now--I'm here for a bigger cause. Stand away from the door."
+
+"In a moment. But first let me tell you this, and Shad Wells too.
+You're going out of this door and out of this camp,--all three of you.
+And if any one of you shows himself inside the limits of this property
+he'll have to take the consequences."
+
+"Meanin' what?" asked Wells.
+
+"Meaning _me_," said Peter, "and after me, the law. Now go."
+
+He stood aside and swung the door open with one hand, but he didn't take
+his eyes from them.
+
+They laughed in his face, but they obeyed him, filing out into the open,
+and strolled away.
+
+Peter had hoped to coax a fight out of Flynn, thinking that the Irish
+blood in him couldn't resist his taunts and challenge. But Flynn had
+been too clever for him. A defeat for Flynn meant loss of prestige, a
+victory possible prosecution. Either way he had nothing to gain. Perhaps
+he was just a coward like Jacobi or a beaten bully like Shad. Whatever
+he was Flynn seemed very sure of himself and Peter, though apparently
+master of the situation for the present, was conscious of a sense of
+defeat. He knew as Flynn did that no matter what forces he called to his
+aid, it was practically impossible to keep trespassers off a property of
+this size, and that, after all, the success of his logging operations
+remained with the men themselves.
+
+But he breathed more freely now that he had made his decision with
+regard to Shad Wells. He spent a large part of the morning going over
+the mills, getting the men together and giving them a little talk, then
+went up to the camp in search of Jesse Brown. The news of his encounter
+with Shad and the "Reds" had preceded him and he saw that trouble was
+brewing. Jesse Brown wagged his head in a deprecating way and tried to
+side-step the entire situation. But Peter had reached a point where he
+was tired of equivocation.
+
+"I say, Jesse," he said at last, "you've let things get into a pretty
+bad mess down here."
+
+"I'm a peaceable man, Mr. Nichols," said Jesse. "I've tried to steer
+this camp along easy-like, 'til this bit of woods is cleared up and here
+you go stirrin' up a hornet's nest about our ears."
+
+Peter frowned. "You know as well as I do that the men are doing just as
+they please. At the rate they're going they wouldn't have this section
+finished by Christmas. I'm paying them for work they don't do and you
+know it. I put you in here to see that McGuire gets what he's paying
+for. You haven't done it."
+
+"I've done the best I could," muttered Jesse.
+
+"That isn't the best I want. You knew Flynn and Jacobi were back in camp
+yesterday. Why didn't you tell me so?"
+
+"I can't do nothin'. They've got friends here."
+
+"And haven't you got friends here too? I sent those men out of camp. If
+they're here again I'll find the power to arrest them."
+
+"I'd advise you not to try that."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"They're stronger than you think."
+
+"I'll take my chances on that. But I want to know where you stand. Are
+you with me or against me?"
+
+"Well," said Jesse, rubbing his head dubiously, "I'll do what I can."
+
+"All right. We'll make a fresh start. Round up all hands. I'm going to
+talk to them at dinner time."
+
+Jesse glanced at him, shrugged and went out and Peter went into the
+office where he spent the intervening time going over the books. It was
+there that one of the clerks, a man named Brierly, brought forth from
+the drawer of his desk a small pamphlet which he had picked up yesterday
+in the bunk-house. Peter opened and read it. It was a copy of the new
+manifest of the Union of Russian Workers and though written in English,
+gave every mark of origin in the Lenin-Trotzky regime and was cleverly
+written in catch phrases meant to trap the ignorant. It proposed to
+destroy the churches and erect in their stead places of amusement for
+the working people. He read at random. "Beyond the blood-covered
+barricades, beyond all terrors of civil war, there already shines for us
+the magnificent, beautiful form of man, without a God, without a master,
+and full of authority." Fine doctrine this! The pamphlet derided the law
+and the state, and urged the complete destruction of private ownership.
+It predicted the coming of the revolution in a few weeks, naming the
+day, of a general strike of all industries which would paralyze all the
+functions of commerce. It was Bolshevik in ideal, Bolshevik in
+inspiration and it opened Peter's eyes as to the venality of the
+gentleman with the black mustache. Brierly also told him that whisky had
+been smuggled into the camp the night before and that a fire in the
+woods had luckily been put out before it had become menacing. Brierly
+was a discharged soldier who had learned something of the value of
+obedience and made no effort to conceal his anxiety and his sympathies.
+He voiced the opinion that either Flynn or Jacobi had brought in the
+liquor. Peter frowned. Jesse Brown had said nothing of this. The
+inference was obvious.
+
+At the dinner-shed, Peter was to be made aware immediately of the
+difficulty of the task that confronted him, for dour looks met him on
+all sides. There were a few men who sat near him whom he thought he
+might count on at a venture, but they were very few and their positions
+difficult. Some of the men still showed the effects of their drink and
+hurled epithets about the room, obviously meant for Peter's ear, but he
+sat through the meal patiently and then got to his feet and demanded
+their attention.
+
+As he began he was interrupted by hoots and cat-calls but he waited
+calmly for silence and seeing that they couldn't ruffle him by
+buffoonery they desisted after a moment.
+
+"Men, I'm not going to take much of your time," he said. "A short while
+ago I came down here and talked to you. Some of you seemed to be
+friendly toward me and those are the men I want to talk to now. The
+others don't matter."
+
+"Oh, don't they?" came a gruff voice from a crowd near the door. And
+another, "We'll see about that."
+
+Peter tried to find the speakers with his gaze for a moment and then
+went on imperturbably. "I'm going to talk to you in plain English,
+because some things have happened in this camp that are going to make
+trouble for everybody, trouble for me, trouble for McGuire, but more
+trouble for you."
+
+"That's what we're lookin' for--trouble----," cried the same voice, and
+Peter now identified it as Flynn's, for the agitator had come back and
+stolen in unawares.
+
+"Ah, it's you, Flynn," said Peter easily. "You've come back." And then
+to the crowd, "I don't think Flynn is likely to be disappointed if he's
+looking for trouble," he said dryly. "Trouble is one of the few things
+in this world a man can find if he looks for it."
+
+"Aye, mon, an' without lookin' for it," laughed a broad-chested Scot at
+Peter's table.
+
+"That's right. I met Flynn a while ago over in the office. I made him an
+offer. I said I'd fight him fair just man to man, for our opinions. He
+refused. I also told him he was a coward, a sneak and a liar. But he
+wouldn't fight--because he's what I said he was."
+
+"I'll show ye, Misther----," shouted Flynn, "but I ain't ready yet."
+
+"You'll be ready when this meeting is over. And one of us is going out
+of this camp feet first."
+
+"We'll see about that."
+
+"One of us will. And I think I'll do the seeing."
+
+A laugh went up around Peter, drowned immediately by a chorus of jeers
+from the rear of the room.
+
+But Peter managed to be heard again.
+
+"Well, _I_ didn't come on this job looking for trouble," he went on
+coolly. "I wanted to help you chaps in any way I could." ("The Hell you
+did.") "Yes, I did what I could for your comfort. I raised your wages
+and I didn't ask more than an honest day's work from any one of you.
+Some of you have stuck to your jobs like men, in spite of the talk
+you've heard all about you, and I thank you. You others," he cried,
+toward the rear of the room, "I've tried to meet in a friendly spirit
+where I could, but some of you don't want friendship----" ("Not with
+you, we don't.") "Nor with any one else----" Peter shouted back
+defiantly. "You don't know what friendship means, or you wouldn't try to
+make discontent and trouble for everybody, when you're all getting a
+good wage and good living conditions." ("That ain't enough!")
+
+Peter calmly disregarded the interruptions and went on. "Perhaps you
+fellows think I don't know what socialism means. I do. To the true
+socialist, socialism is nothing else but Christianity. It's just
+friendship, that's all. He believes in helping the needy and the weak.
+He believes in defending his own life and happiness and the happiness of
+others." ("That's true--that's right.") "And he believes that the world
+can be led and guided by a great brotherhood of humanity seeking just
+laws and equality for all men." (Conflicting cries of "That's not
+enough!" and "Let him speak!") "But I know what anarchy means too,
+because less than six months ago I was in Russia and I saw the hellish
+thing at work. I saw men turn and kill their neighbors because the
+neighbors had more than they had; I saw a whole people starving, women
+with children at the breast, men raging, ready to fly at one another's
+throats from hunger, from anger, from fear of what was coming next. That
+is what anarchy means."
+
+"What you say is a lie," came a clear voice in English, with a slight
+accent. A man had risen at the rear of the room and stood facing Peter.
+He was not very tall and he was not in working clothes, but Peter
+recognized him at once as the man with the dark mustache, the mysterious
+stranger who had followed him to Black Rock. Peter set his jaw and
+shrugged. He was aware now of all the forces with which he had to deal.
+
+"What does anarchy mean, then?" he asked coolly.
+
+"You know what it means," said the man, pointing an accusing finger at
+Peter. "It means only the end of all autocracy whether of money or of
+power, the destruction of class distinction and making the working
+classes the masters of all general wealth which they alone produce and
+to which they alone are entitled."
+
+A roar of approval went up from the rear of the room and cries of, "Go
+it, Bolsche," and "Give him Hell, Yakimov."
+
+Peter waited until some order was restored, but he knew now that this
+type of man was more to be feared than Flynn or any other professional
+agitator of the I. W. W. When they had first come face to face, this
+Russian had feigned ignorance of English, but now his clearly enunciated
+phrases, though unpolished, indicated a perfect command of the language,
+and of his subject. That he should choose this time to come out into the
+open showed that he was more sure of himself and of his audience than
+Peter liked. And Peter had no humor to match phrases with him. Whatever
+his own beliefs since he had come to America, one fact stood clear: That
+he was employed to get this work done and that Yakimov, Flynn and others
+were trying to prevent it. It was to be no contest of philosophies but
+of personalities and Peter met the issue without hesitation.
+
+"You are a communist then and not a socialist," said Peter, "one who
+believes in everybody sharing alike whether he works for it or not--or
+an anarchist who believes in the destruction of everything. You're an
+agent of the Union of Russian Workers, aren't you?"
+
+"And what if I am----?"
+
+"Oh, nothing, except that you have no place in a nation like the United
+States, which was founded and dedicated to an ideal, higher than any you
+can ever know----"
+
+"An ideal--with money as its God----"
+
+"And what's your God, Yakimov?"
+
+"Liberty----"
+
+"License! You want to inflame--pillage--destroy--And what then?"
+
+"You shall see----"
+
+"What I saw in Russia--no wages for any one, no harvests, factories
+idle, blood--starvation--if that's what you like, why did you leave
+there, Yakimov?"
+
+The man stood tense for a second and then spoke with a clearness heard
+in every corner of the room.
+
+"I came for another reason than yours. I came to spread the gospel of
+labor triumphant. _You_ came because----" Here the Russian leaned
+forward, shaking his fist, his eyes suddenly inflamed and hissing his
+words in a fury. "_You_ came because you believed in serfs and human
+slavery--because your own land spewed you out from a sick stomach,
+because you were one of the rotting sores in its inside--that had made
+Russia the dying nation that she was; because it was time that your
+country and my country cleansed herself from such as you. That's why
+you came. And we'll let these men judge which of us they want to lead
+them here."
+
+The nature of the attack was so unexpected that Peter was taken for a
+moment off his guard. A dead silence had fallen upon the room as the
+auditors realized that a game was being played here that was not on the
+cards. Peter felt the myriads of eyes staring at him, and beyond them
+had a vision of a prostrate figure in the corner of a courtyard, the
+blood reddening his blouse under the falling knout. They were all
+Michael Kuprins, these foreigners who stared at him, all the grievances
+born of centuries of oppression. And as Peter did not speak at once,
+Yakimov pursued his advantage.
+
+"I did not come here to tell who this man is," he shouted, "this man who
+tells you what liberty is. But you ought to know. It's your right. You
+know why Russia rose and threw off the yoke of bondage of centuries. It
+was because this man before you who calls himself Peter Nichols and
+others like him bound the people to work for him by terrible laws, taxed
+them, starved them, beat them, killed them, that he and others like him
+might buy jewels for their mistresses and live in luxury and ease, on
+the sweat of the labor of the people. And he asks me why I came to
+America! It was for a moment such as this that I was sent here to find
+him out that I might meet him face to face and confront him with his
+crimes--and those of his father--against humanity."
+
+Yakimov paused suddenly in his furious tirade for lack of breath and in
+the deathly silence of the room, there was a sudden stir as a rich
+brogue queried anxiously of nobody in particular:
+
+"Who in Hell _is_ he, then?"
+
+"I'll tell you who he is," the Russian went on, getting his breath.
+"He's one of the last of a race of tyrants and oppressors, the worst
+the world has ever known--in Russia the downtrodden. He fled to America
+to hide until the storm had blown over, hoping to return and take his
+place again at the head of a new government of the Democrats and the
+Bourgeoisie--the Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch!"
+
+The uproar that filled the room for a moment made speech impossible. But
+every eye was turned on Peter now, some in incredulity, some in
+malevolence, and some in awe. He saw that it was now useless to deny his
+identity even if he had wished to do so, and so he stood squarely on his
+feet, staring at Yakimov, who still leaned forward menacingly, shrieking
+above the tumult, finally making himself heard.
+
+"And this is the man who dares to talk to you about a brotherhood of
+humanity, just laws and equality among men! This tyrant and son of
+tyrants, this representative of a political system that you and men like
+you have overthrown for all time. Is this the man you'll take your
+orders from? Or from the Union of Russian Workers which hates and kills
+all oppressors who stand in the way of the rights and liberties of the
+workers of the world!"
+
+A roar of negation went up from the rear of the room, and an ominous
+murmur spread from man to man. Only those grouped around Peter, some
+Americans, the Scot, Brierly, the ex-soldier, Jesse Brown, and one or
+two of the Italians remained silent, but whether in awe of Peter or of
+his position could not be determined. But Peter still stood, his hands
+in his pockets, firm of jaw and unruffled. It has been said that Peter
+had a commanding air when he chose and when he slowly raised a hand for
+silence the uncouth "Reds" at the rear of the room obeyed him, the
+menacing growl sinking to a mere murmur. But he waited until perfect
+silence was restored. And then quietly,
+
+"What this man has said is true," he announced calmly. "I _am_ Peter
+Nicholaevitch. I came to America as you have come--to make my way. What
+does it matter who my fathers were? I am not responsible for what my
+fathers did before me. I am only responsible for what I am--myself. If
+this man in whom you put your trust would speak the truth, he would tell
+you that I tried to bring peace and brotherhood into the part of Russia
+where I lived----"
+
+"He lies----"
+
+"I speak the truth. There people knew that I was their friend. They came
+to me for advice. I helped them----"
+
+"Then why did they burn down your castle?" broke in Yakimov
+triumphantly.
+
+"Because people such as you from the Soviet came among honest and
+peaceful men, trying to make them as mad as you--I came from Russia to
+find new life, work, peace and happiness. I came to build. You came to
+destroy. And I intend to build and you shall not destroy. If the madness
+of Russia comes to Black Rock it will be because mad dogs come foaming
+at the mouth and making others mad----"
+
+A savage cry went up and a glass came hurtling at Peter's head, but it
+missed him and crashed against the wall behind him. That crash of glass
+liberated the pent-up forces in the hearts of these men, for in a moment
+the place was in a furious uproar, the men aligning themselves in two
+camps, that of Peter and his friends much the smaller.
+
+Peter retreated a pace or two as a shot was fired from a revolver, but
+the Scot and Brierly and two of the Americans joined him and met the
+first onslaught bravely. The handful of men was forced back against the
+wall by sheer weight of numbers, but they struck out manfully with their
+fists, with chairs, and with their feet, with any object that came to
+hand, and men went down with bleeding heads. Peter was armed but he did
+not wish to kill any one--his idea being to make a successful retreat to
+the office, where the telephone would put him in touch with May's
+Landing and reinforcements. Yakimov stood at the edge of the crowd,
+waving a revolver, when a well-aimed missile from the hand of the Scot
+sent him sprawling to the floor among the benches.
+
+Peter and his crowd had fought their way to the door, when Flynn and
+Jacobi who had led a group of men by the other door, fell on them from
+the rear. Between the two groups their position was hopeless but Peter
+fought his way out into the open, dodging a blow from Jacobi and using
+the terrible _savate_ in Flynn's stomach, just as Shad Wells rushed at
+him from one side. Peter saw the blow coming from a broken axhandle--but
+he had no time to avoid it. Instinctively he ducked his head and threw
+up his left arm, but the bludgeon descended and Peter fell, remembering
+nothing more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+THE RUSSIAN PAYS
+
+
+When Peter came back to consciousness, he found himself lying in the
+shelter of the underbrush alone. And while he attempted to gather his
+scattered wits together a figure came creeping through the bushes toward
+him. It was Brierly, the clerk, carrying a hatful of water which he had
+procured from the neighboring rivulet. Brierly had a lump on his
+forehead about the size of a silver dollar, and his disheveled
+appearance gave evidence of an active part in the melee.
+
+"What's happened?" asked Peter slowly, starting up as memory came back
+to him.
+
+But Brierly didn't answer at once.
+
+"Here, drink this. I don't think you're badly hurt----"
+
+"No. Just dazed a bit," muttered Peter, and let Brierly minister to him
+for a moment.
+
+"You see, there were too many for us," Brierly explained. "We made a
+pretty good fight of it at that, but they buried us by sheer weight of
+numbers. Yours isn't the only bruised head, though. Yakimov got his
+early in the game--and Jacobi. And gee! but that was a 'beaut' you
+handed Flynn--right in the solar plexus with your heel. The
+_savate_--wasn't it? I saw a Frenchy pull that in a dive in Bordeaux. I
+reckon Flynn won't be doin' much agitatin' for a while--except in his
+stommick."
+
+"How did I get here?" asked Peter.
+
+"I hauled you into the bush as soon as I got a chance--in the
+confusion--and gradually, got you back in here. But I think they're
+lookin' for us, so we'd better get a move on soon as you're fit enough."
+
+"Where's Jesse?"
+
+"Beat it, I reckon. Haven't seen him."
+
+"I see." And then, "Brierly, I'm obliged to you. I'll try to make it up
+to you for this."
+
+"You needn't bother. I'm for you. You can't let a lot of roughnecks put
+it over on you like this."
+
+"No--I can't--I can't," muttered Peter.
+
+"I wish we had a bunch of the boys I was with over in France down here.
+There's a few up in May's Landing who'd clean this lot up in no time."
+
+"I wish we had them." Peter straightened with some difficulty and rose
+to a sitting posture as the thought came to him. "I've got to get to the
+'phone, Brierly."
+
+"No. I wouldn't advise that--not here. Those roughnecks are between us
+and the office--in the office too, I reckon, by this time. It wouldn't
+be safe. Who were you goin' to 'phone to?"
+
+"May's Landing--the Sheriff. I'm going to see this thing through."
+
+"Righto! And I'm with you to a fare-ye-well. But it's got to be managed
+different. They'll beat you to death if you show up now. It was Yakimov
+that shot at you. He's after you. You were armed. It's a wonder you
+didn't shoot him down." And then, with some hesitation, "Say, Mr.
+Nichols. You ain't really the Grand Duke Peter, are you?"
+
+Peter smiled. "What's left of him--I am. This man Yakimov is an agent of
+Trotzky."
+
+Brierly whistled softly between his teeth. "I reckon _they_ want to get
+you, don't they?"
+
+Peter nodded. "But they won't--not yet."
+
+They held a brief council of war and in a moment on hands and knees
+were making their way through the underbrush in the general direction of
+Black Rock. Behind them they heard rough laughter and an occasional
+outburst of song which proclaimed that new supplies of whisky had been
+unearthed and that the anarchy which Yakimov so much desired now
+prevailed. After a while, Peter managed to get to his feet and moved on
+at a greater speed. He had only been stunned by Shad's blow--a part of
+the force of which he had caught on his arm. The arm was still numb and
+his head thumped, but as he went on in the cool air his brain cleared
+and he found it possible to plan with some definiteness. Brierly knew
+the sheriff at May's Landing. There was nothing his friends would rather
+do than to be sworn in as deputies for a job like this. He had thought
+it a wonder that Peter hadn't called the Sheriff in before.
+
+"I thought I could manage the situation alone, Brierly," said Peter
+quietly, "but it's got the best of me."
+
+The way was long to Black Rock--at least eight miles by the way they
+took--and it was almost six o'clock when, they reached McGuire's. They
+knew that with the "flivver" in the possession of the outlaws it was
+quite possible that some of the ringleaders of the disturbance might
+have preceded them, and so they kept under cover until near the house,
+when they quickly emerged from the bushes and made their way to the
+kitchen door, entering without knocking.
+
+An unpleasant surprise awaited them here, for in the kitchen, securely
+gagged and bound to a chair, they found McGuire's valet, Stryker.
+
+It took only a moment to release the man and to get the gag out of his
+mouth, when he began sputtering and pointing toward the door into the
+house.
+
+"Hawk--Hawk Kennedy!" the amazed Peter made out.
+
+And after staring at the man in a moment of bewilderment, Peter drew
+out his revolver and dashed through the house, keyed up at once to new
+adventure, the eager Brierly at his heels. They went up the stairs and
+to the door of McGuire's own room, where they stood for a moment aghast
+at the disorder and havoc before them.
+
+Papers and books were scattered everywhere upon the floor, chairs were
+overturned, and the door of the safe was ajar. At first he saw no one,
+but when Peter entered the room he heard a sound from the corner beyond
+the table, a sound halfway between a gasp and a groan, and there he
+found his employer, Jonathan K. McGuire, doubled up on the floor, bound
+and trussed like his valet and quite as helpless. It was evident that
+the long awaited terror had come to Black Rock.
+
+But if he was dismayed and frightened it seemed that McGuire was
+uninjured and when he was released he was lifted to his feet and a
+chair, into which he sank speechless for a moment of rehabilitation.
+There was no need to question him as to what had happened in this room,
+for the evidences of Hawk's visit and its purpose were all too evident.
+Without a word to McGuire, Peter found the telephone in the hall, called
+for May's Landing, then turning the instrument over to Brierly, with
+instructions as to what he was to do, returned to McGuire's room and
+closed the door behind him.
+
+"Well, sir," he said briefly. "I see he's come."
+
+"My God, yes," gasped McGuire. "And you know what he came for--he got
+it, Nichols. He got it."
+
+"That proves that he _had_ lost the duplicate," said Peter quietly. "How
+did it all happen?"
+
+The old man drew a trembling hand across his brow.
+
+"He took me off my guard--all of us. I don't know. It only happened half
+an hour ago. Where's Stryker?"
+
+"He was tied to a chair in the kitchen. We let him loose. He's outside
+somewhere."
+
+"And Mrs. Bergen and Sarah?"
+
+"I don't know, sir."
+
+Peter went to the door and called Stryker and that bewildered person
+appeared at the foot of the steps with Mrs. Bergen and Sarah who had
+been locked in the cellar. Peter called them up and they all began
+screaming their tale at once. But at last Peter got at the facts. Hawk
+Kennedy had come suddenly into the kitchen where the two women were and,
+brandishing a revolver, commanding silence, threatening death if they
+made a sound. He had surprised the valet in the lower hall and had
+marched him back into the kitchen, where he had bound him to a chair
+with a clothes-line and then gagged him.
+
+McGuire waved the trio out of the room when their story was told, and
+signaled to Peter to close the door again, when he took up his
+interrupted tale.
+
+"I was at the window, looking out, Nichols. I didn't expect him for a
+couple of weeks anyway. I'd just about gotten my nerve back. But he got
+the drop on me, Nichols. How he ever got into the room without my
+hearin' him! I must have been in a trance. His shoes were off. The first
+thing I know is a voice close at my ear and a gun in my ribs. I turned
+quick--but my gun was in the table drawer. His face was close to mine
+and I knew he meant business. If I'd 'a' moved he'd 'a' killed me. So I
+put my hands up. There wasn't anything else to do. I thought I'd play
+for time but he caught my glance toward the door and only laughed.
+
+"'There ain't anybody comin', Mike,' he says. 'It's just you an' me.' I
+asked him what he wanted and he grinned. 'You know,' he says. And with
+his left hand he brought out a rope he had stuffed in his pocket. 'I'll
+fix _you_ first. Then we'll talk,' he says. He was cool like he always
+was. He caught a slip noose around my wrists before I knew it, twisted
+the rope around me and threw me over on the floor. I tell you that man
+is the devil himself."
+
+"What then?"
+
+"He made me give up the keys to the drawers in the safe--it was open
+just like it is now. I wouldn't speak at first but he kicked me and then
+put the gun at my head. I still hoped some one would come. I gave in at
+last. He found it. My God!" The old man aroused himself with an effort
+and rose to his feet. "But we've got to catch him--just you and I. He
+can't have gone far. We've got the right to shoot him now--to shoot on
+sight----"
+
+"Yes--yes. I'm getting the Sheriff at May's Landing now----"
+
+"The Sheriff!" The Irishman's small eyes stared and then became alive in
+sudden comprehension. "Not the Sheriff, Nichols. I won't have him."
+
+"You've got to--at once." And then rapidly Peter gave an account of what
+had happened at the logging camp. But it seemed to have no effect upon
+McGuire, who listened with glassy eyes. He was obsessed with the
+other--the graver danger.
+
+"We'll keep this thing quiet if you like--the real meaning of this
+visit, and we've got to pick up his trail. But we can't let those men at
+the camp have the run of the place. They'll be looting this house next."
+And then, as McGuire seemed to agree, Peter went to the door and found
+Brierly still on the 'phone. He was talking to the Sheriff and had told
+the whole story. The Sheriff had already heard something about the Black
+Rock camp trouble and would be ready to move in an hour.
+
+"Tell him to move fast and to come to McGuire's first," said Peter. "And
+you'll be here to show him the way."
+
+Brierly nodded and finished the message, while Peter returned to
+McGuire.
+
+"What else did Kennedy say?" Peter asked him.
+
+"He asked a lot of questions--about you and Beth Cameron--about the
+money--about what I'd promised you. He's the very devil, I tell you. He
+knows everything. He said he'd 'get' you and that he'd 'get' Beth
+Cameron."
+
+Peter caught McGuire fiercely by the shoulder. "What did you say? Are
+you sure?"
+
+With all of his other troubles Peter had forgotten Beth and now thought
+guiltily of the possible danger to which she might have been subjected.
+
+How could Hawk have found out about Beth Cameron?
+
+"What I told you," muttered McGuire wearily, "he said he'd 'get'
+her----"
+
+Sick with anxiety, Peter flung away from his protesting employer and
+made for the door, rushing past the astonished Brierly in the hall, down
+the stairs and out at a run over the bridge and through the village to
+the Bergen house. The door was open and he rushed in, calling Beth's
+name. There was no response. Now desperate and fearing the worst, he ran
+from room to room, downstairs and up. There were signs of her--a towel
+on a chair, a broom leaning against a door upstairs, the neatly made
+beds, the orderly kitchen, giving evidence of the morning cleaning, but
+no supper cooking on the stove, the fire of which had burned to cinders.
+She had not been here for a long while--since early morning possibly.
+But where had she gone--where? Hawk Kennedy would hardly have dared to
+come here--to the village--hardly have succeeded in enticing her away
+from this house, surrounded by neighbors--still less have succeeded in
+carrying her off without their knowledge. He rushed out into the road
+and questioned. No one seemed to have seen her. The eagerness and
+suppressed anxiety of Peter's manner quickly drew a crowd which felt the
+contagion of his excitement. A man joined the group. Yes. He had seen
+Beth in the morning early. She was hurrying down the path which led into
+the pines. He had not seen her since.
+
+Peter glanced at him just once more to be sure that he was speaking the
+truth and then, without a thought as to the impression he had created in
+the minds of the villagers, set off running through the path toward his
+cabin.
+
+Fool that he had been! To leave Beth unguarded--unwarned even--with Hawk
+within a quarter of a mile of her. Why had he not seen the hand of fate
+in Beth's presence here at Black Rock near McGuire, the man who had
+wronged her father--the hand of fate, which with unerring definiteness
+was guiding the principals in this sordid tragedy together from the ends
+of the earth for a reckoning? And what was this reckoning to be? McGuire
+had already fallen a victim to the man's devilish skill and audacity.
+And Beth----? What match was she for a clever desperate rogue who balked
+at nothing? How had he learned of Beth's existence and how, knowing of
+it, had he managed to beguile her away from the village? Peter was
+beginning to believe with McGuire that Hawk Kennedy was indeed in league
+with the devil.
+
+Peter was not now aware of any pain or even of bodily fatigue, for there
+was no room in his mind for any thought of self. Scarcely conscious of
+his new exertions, he ran across the log-jam below the pool and up the
+path to the Cabin. What he expected to find there he did not know, but
+it seemed clear that Beth had come this way in the morning and if not to
+the Cabin, where else? Hawk had been here when she had come into the
+woodland path. That was enough. As he reached the turn in the path, he
+saw that the door of the Cabin was open and when he rushed in, prepared
+for anything, he saw that the room was unoccupied. He stood aghast for a
+moment, trying to adjust his mind to take in logically the evidence he
+found there--the overturned chair, the blankets dragging on the floor
+by the bed, the broken water pitcher, the opened bureau drawers, the
+torn bits of linen--parts of his own handkerchiefs--upon the floor--all
+visible signs' of a commotion, perhaps of a struggle, that had taken
+place. And then under the table he espied a square of heliotrope paper.
+He picked it up quickly and took it to the light of the window. It was
+the envelope of the letter he had received from Anastasie Galitzin. And
+what was this----? A scrawl in Beth's hand, "You left _this_ last night.
+You'd better go back to Anastasie."
+
+Bewildered for a moment, Peter stared at the forceful characters of the
+handwriting, written hurriedly in a scrawl of lead pencil, and then the
+probable sequence of events came to him with a rush. She had opened the
+note of Anastasie Galitzin and read it. What had it said? He had
+forgotten details. But there were phrases that might have been
+misconstrued. And Beth----. He could see her now coming up the path, her
+head high, seeking explanations--and meeting Hawk!
+
+But where was the letter itself? He searched for it without success.
+Hawk! The answer to all of his questions was in the personality of the
+man as Peter knew him. The bits of torn linen and Beth's own
+handkerchief, which he found in the corner of the bed against the wall,
+crumpled into a ball and still moist with her tears, were mute but
+eloquent evidences of her suffering and torture in the presence of this
+man who had not been too delicate in the means by which he had
+accomplished her subjugation.
+
+Peter raged up and down the floor of the Cabin like a caged animal. What
+must he do--which way turn? That Hawk had gagged and bound her was
+obvious. But what then? He rushed outside and examined the shrubbery
+around the Cabin. There was nothing to indicate the direction in which
+he had taken her--and the forest at his very elbow stretched for miles
+in all directions, a hiding place that had served other guilty ones
+before Hawk--the New Jersey pines that he had learned to love, now
+wrapped in a conspiracy of silence. It would be dusk very soon. A search
+of the pine barrens at night would be hopeless. Besides, Hawk had had
+the whole of the morning and most of the afternoon in which to carry out
+his purpose.... What was that purpose? Where had he taken Beth? Where
+had he left her when he had returned to Black Rock House to rob McGuire?
+Or had he...? Impossible! Even Hawk wouldn't have dared.... Peter
+clenched his fists in agony and rage at the terrible thoughts that came
+swarming into his brain, driving out all reason.
+
+His Highness had suffered greatly the last few years of his life, the
+physical pain of wounds received in battle, the mental pain of falling
+hopes, of fallen pride, of disillusionment, but he could not remember
+any pain that had seemed to matter like the anguish of the present
+moment. The other sufferings were those of the Grand Duke Peter
+Nicholaevitch, material sufferings born of his high estate. But this
+present suffering was primitive. It wrenched at the very fibers of the
+heart, for the love that he had found was a finer thing than had ever
+happened in his life, a love which asked nothing and only craved the joy
+of giving. And this woman--this mate that he had chosen out of all the
+women that he had known in the world...!
+
+Hawk Kennedy would have fared badly if Peter could have had him within
+arm's reach at that moment. But after a time, as Peter went into the
+Cabin, he grew calmer, and pacing the floor for a while, began to think
+more lucidly. Less than an hour ago Hawk Kennedy had been at Black Rock
+House giving Jonathan McGuire and Stryker their unpleasant half-hour. He
+wouldn't have dared to return and accomplish what he had done after a
+deed so terrible as that which had entered Peter's thoughts. He was
+still a human being and Beth.... He couldn't have killed Beth out of
+hand. The thought was monstrous--even of Hawk.
+
+He had taken her somewhere--to one of his hiding-places in the woods,
+and proposed keeping her, the legal heir of Ben Cameron, for ransom, as
+a part of his plot to win his share of the McGuire fortune. He had
+stolen the telltale agreement too and now held all the cards--all of
+them.
+
+Peter paused standing by the window seat, looking out at the leaves
+falling in the rising wind, his mind already resolved on a plan. He was
+about to turn toward the telephone, when he noted a commotion in the
+bushes opposite his window. A flash of fire almost at the same moment, a
+crash of broken glass, and the hair on his head twitched violently.
+
+Instinctively Peter dropped to the floor.
+
+Close shooting! His scalp stung uncomfortably--but aside from that he
+knew that he was not hurt. A fraction of an inch lower----
+
+Hawk----! His first impulse had been to rush to the door--but the events
+of the day had taught him caution and so he crouched, drawing his
+revolver. Too much depended upon his existence at the present moment to
+take a chance in the open with a hidden enemy--especially if that enemy
+were Hawk Kennedy. He listened intently. No sound. Then the breaking of
+a twig and the sibilance of whispering voices--two of them--perhaps
+more. And still Peter did not move. His quick thinking had done him a
+service. It was clear that the men outside had decided that the shot had
+taken effect.
+
+And now, instead of creeping to the doorway, Peter settled back upon the
+floor again, prostrate, but in such a position that his eyes and his
+revolver commanded the entrance to the Cabin. He waited. It was a
+nerve-racking business but the thought of all that depended upon his
+safety steadied him into a preternatural calm like that which falls at
+the presence of death. Death was imminent here for some one. It lurked
+just outside. It lurked in the finger that Peter held against the
+trigger. And Peter meant that the adventure should end at the doorway.
+
+Presently he heard a gentle shuffling of feet outside and the whisper
+again, this time quite distinctly, "You got him, I reckon."
+
+Whose voice was that? Not Hawk Kennedy's ... Peter lowered his head to
+his arm and closed his eyes, watching the door-jamb through his
+eyelashes, his revolver hidden but its muzzle in line. A bulky shadow on
+the step, a foot and then a head cautiously protruded--that of Shad
+Wells, followed immediately by another, swathed in a bandage which only
+partially concealed the dark eyes and beard of Yakimov the Russian. It
+took considerable exercise of will on Peter's part to remain quiescent
+with the stare of those four eyes upon him, especially when he noted the
+weapon in the fingers of the Russian. But he waited until the two men
+got into the room.
+
+"There he is. You got him, Yakimov," said Shad with a laugh.
+
+"Perhaps----" Peter heard, "but I'll make sure of it----"
+
+Yakimov's pistol rose slowly, halfway to the level of his eyes. But it
+was never fired, for Peter's revolver flashed fire, twice--three times,
+and Yakimov with a sudden wide stare at vacancy pitched forward and
+crashed down. The surprise was complete, for a fourth shot went into the
+right arm of Shad Wells, which ruined his shot and sent his weapon
+clattering to the floor.
+
+Peter had taken Shad's measure once before and the memory of the blow
+from the axhandle earlier in the day did nothing to soften Peter's
+intent. The quick command as he scrambled to his feet and the sight of
+the imminent weapon caused Shad suddenly to forget everything but the
+desire, whatever else happened, not to die as Yakimov had done. And so
+he put his hands up--staggering back against the wall. Peter, with his
+weapon still covering Shad, put his fingers over Yakimov's heart. The
+man was dead. Then he rose soberly and faced Shad.
+
+"I ought to kill you like the dog that you are," he said tensely, "but I
+want to question you first. Stand over by the bed."
+
+Shad obeyed and Peter, watching him closely, picked up his weapon and
+Yakimov's and examined them carefully, putting one in his pocket and
+laying the other beside him on the mantel. But all the fight was out of
+Shad, who stood stupidly while Peter bound his wrists behind him. The
+man was badly hurt, but it was no time for Peter to be playing the good
+Samaritan.
+
+"So much for keeping bad company," said Peter coolly. "You'll find more
+of the same sort in the lock-up at May's Landing."
+
+"You daresn't send me there," muttered Shad, with a feeble attempt at
+bravado.
+
+"Won't I? You'll see--for attempted murder. The Sheriff is on his way
+here now. Have you anything to say?"
+
+Shad was silent, eying the dead man.
+
+"Oh, very well," said Peter. He closed and locked the door and, keeping
+the man covered with his revolver, moved to the telephone and got
+McGuire at Black Rock House, telling him in a few phrases what had
+happened.
+
+"Yes, Yakimov the Russian--I shot him.... Yes.... I killed him. It was
+to save my own life.... Shad Wells.... A prisoner. Send Brierly with a
+car down here at once. Hawk has been here too and has met Beth Cameron
+... God knows. He has taken her away with him somewhere--abducted
+her.... Yes ... Yes ... I've got to find her. Yes, _Beth_--can't you
+understand?... She came here to bring me a letter ... I found it. Hawk
+was here early this morning.... I know it. He bound her with some of my
+handkerchiefs ... No, there's no doubt of it--none at all.... I can't
+stand here talking. Send Brierly at once. Understand?"
+
+And Peter hung up the receiver and turned toward Shad, who was leaning
+forward toward him, his face pale, his mouth agape at what he had heard.
+But Peter, unaware of the sudden transformation in his prisoner, only
+glanced at him and bending over began a search of the pockets of the
+dead man, when Shad's voice cut the silence----
+
+"You--you say----," he stammered chokingly, "you say B-Beth has been
+abducted, Mister--Beth Cameron?"
+
+Peter straightened, his eyes searching the lumberman's face.
+
+"Yes. To-day--this morning," he answered crisply. "What of it? Do you
+know anything----?"
+
+"Hawk Kennedy took her?" the man faltered. "Are you sure?"
+
+Peter sprang up, his eyes blazing with eagerness.
+
+"What do you know of Hawk Kennedy?" he cried. And then, as Shad seemed
+suddenly to have been stricken dumb, Peter seized him by the shoulder
+and shook him. "Speak! Do you know Hawk Kennedy?"
+
+"Yes," said Shad in a bewildered way. "I do--but Beth----"
+
+"He's taken her away--don't you understand?"
+
+"W-Why?"
+
+"God knows," said Peter wildly. "It's part of a plot--against
+McGuire--to get money. Do you know where he is? Do you know where he's
+gone with her? Speak, man! Or must I----?"
+
+"I know him. I've seen him----," muttered Shad with a hang-dog air.
+
+"To-day?"
+
+"No."
+
+Peter gasped in disappointment, but still questioned quickly.
+
+"Where did you see him?"
+
+"Down near the camp. He came back again yesterday. He'd been away----"
+
+"Yes, yes, I know. What did he say?"
+
+"Oh, he was very peart--swaggered around like he owned the place and
+talked about a lot of money he was goin' to have. An' how he was----"
+
+"Do you know where he took Beth Cameron?" broke in Peter again.
+
+"No. I don't--My God--_him!_"
+
+"Yes, _him_. You know what it means. He'd kill her if he dared."
+
+"Would he? My God! Mister. You can't let----"
+
+"No. No." And then, sharply, "Speak up, Wells, and I'll set you free. Do
+you know where he could have taken her?"
+
+"I'm not sure, but maybe----"
+
+"Where----?"
+
+"He stayed down at the Forks----"
+
+"Yes. But he wouldn't have dared to take her there----"
+
+"No. That's so. Maybe----"
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Some other place----"
+
+"Of course. Was there any other place that he knew about?"
+
+"Yes, there was. But when he first came he rode down on a horse from
+Hammonton."
+
+"Yes, yes. Go on. And later----"
+
+"He used to come around the camp for food. It was when you first came on
+the job. But he bought it and paid for it."
+
+"I don't care about that. Where was he hiding?"
+
+"Back in the woods. He used to sleep in the old tool house down by the
+cedar swamp."
+
+Peter was now on edge with excitement.
+
+"Do you think he'd be likely to take Beth there?"
+
+"How should I know? Maybe he took her to Hammonton or Egg Harbor."
+
+"No. He wouldn't have had time. Where's this tool house?"
+
+"About half a mile from the mills."
+
+"Could you show me the way?"
+
+"I reckon I could----," Shad Wells sank into a chair and bent his head.
+"My God! Mister. If I'd only 'a' known! If you'd only let me help you--I
+can't stand thinkin' of anythin' happenin' to Beth--you an' me--we ain't
+got along, an' maybe you've got the upper hand of me, but----"
+
+"We've got to forget that now," put in Peter quickly, and taking out his
+hasp knife he cut the cords that bound Shad's wrists. "Just to show you
+that I mean what I say." And then, soberly, "You know these woods. Help
+me to find Beth Cameron and I'll make no charge against you. Is that a
+bargain?"
+
+"Yes, Mister."
+
+Peter glanced at his face and at the blood dripping from his finger
+ends. The man was suffering much pain but he hadn't whimpered.
+
+"All right. Take off your coat and I'll tie your arm up first."
+
+Silently Shad rose and obeyed while Peter got water and washed the
+wound, a clean one right through the muscles of the forearm. But no
+bones were broken and Peter bandaged it skillfully. Shad clenched his
+jaws during the washing of the wound but he said nothing more. Peter
+knew that the man still hated him but he knew also that Shad was now
+powerless to do him any injury, and that there was a tie to bind them
+now into this strange alliance. As Peter finished the bandaging and was
+improvising a sling for the wounded arm, Shad crumpled side-long upon
+the edge of the bed, his face ghastly, and would have fallen to the
+floor if Peter hadn't held him upright, and half carried him to the
+armchair. Then Peter unlocked a cupboard and brought forth whisky,
+giving Shad half a tumblerful and in a moment the man began to revive.
+So Peter poured another glass and slowly Shad pulled himself together.
+
+"Perhaps you're not up to it----," Peter began.
+
+But Shad wagged his head with some determination.
+
+"Yes, I--I'm up to it all right. I've got to go, Mister. We'll find her
+if she's in these woods----"
+
+"Bully for you. Feeling better now?"
+
+Shad nodded and then raised his head, staring with a frown out of the
+window by the piano. Peter had been so absorbed in his task of setting
+the man to rights that he had not noticed the dull glow that had risen
+in the southern sky. And following Shad's glance he turned his head and
+looked out of the window. At first he thought it might be the afterglow
+of the sunset until a word from Shad aroused him to the real
+significance of the light.
+
+"Fire!" gasped the lumberman.
+
+"Fire!" echoed Peter, aghast.
+
+"They've set the woods afire, Mister," muttered Shad helplessly.
+
+At the same moment the telephone from the house began jangling
+furiously. It was McGuire, who had made the same discovery.
+
+"Yes," replied Peter to the hysterical questions. "It's the lumber camp.
+They've broken loose and set the woods afire. You've got to get all the
+men you can together and rush them down there. Where's Brierly? On the
+way? Oh, all right. Good. He'll take me down and I'll send him back....
+Yes. I've got a clew to Hawk ... I don't know, but I'm going to try it.
+I'm taking Shad Wells with me ... The old tool house by the cedar swamp.
+Brierly will know. Send the men on in relays when they come--with
+shovels and sacks.... What did you say?... What?... Oh, 'D----n the
+woods.'... All right. I'll get the paper if I can ... Yes. It's my
+affair as much as yours now.... Yes.... Good-by."
+
+Peter hung up the receiver and turned to Shad, who had risen, his arm in
+the sling, just as Brierly came running up the path to the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE INFERNO
+
+
+The way through the woods was long, but Beth stumbled on, urged by the
+rough tone and strong hand of her captor. She knew the woods well,
+better than Hawk, but she had never ventured so far into the forest as
+he led her. She felt very certain that he knew even less than she of the
+way he was taking, and that his object in avoiding the roads and paths
+which led to the southward was to keep her hidden from the eyes of any
+persons that might be met on the paths between Black Rock and the lumber
+camp. But after a while she began to think that he knew with more or
+less definiteness the general direction in which they were moving, for
+he stopped from time to time to look at the sun and get his bearings.
+And then with a gruff word he would move on again, always to the south
+and east, and she knew that he had already decided upon their
+destination. With her hands still bound behind her, progress through the
+underbrush was difficult, for the branches stung her like whip-lashes,
+and thorn-bushes caught at her arms and tore her flimsy frock to shreds.
+The gag in her mouth made breathing painful, but Hawk seemed to be
+unaware of her sufferings or purposely oblivious of them, for he hardly
+glanced at her and said no word except to urge her on to greater
+exertion.
+
+When they approached the road which he wanted to cross, he warned her
+with an oath to remain where he left her and went forward to
+investigate, after which he returned and hurried her across into the
+thicket upon the other side. And it was not until they were securely
+hidden again far from the sight of any possible passers-by that he
+untied the bonds at her wrists and took the gag from her mouth. But she
+knew more than ever that she was completely in his power.
+
+He was sinister. He typified terror, physical and mental--and behind the
+threat of his very presence lay the gruesome vision of sand and sun and
+the bearded man lying with the knife in his back. She tried to summon
+her native courage to combat her fears, to believe that the situation in
+which she found herself was not so evil as she imagined it--and that
+soon Hawk Kennedy would have a change of heart and give her a chance to
+speak in her own behalf. But he silenced her gruffly whenever she
+addressed him and she gave up at last, in fear of bringing his wrath
+upon her. She could see that he was deeply intent upon his object to get
+her away from Black Rock where none could find her. And what then?
+
+In a wild impulse--a moment of desperation, she broke away from him and
+ran, but he caught her easily, for by this time she was very tired.
+Again, she thought of a struggle with him hand to hand, but he read her
+mind and drew a pistol, pushing her on ahead of him as before,
+threatening bodily injury. By this time she had learned to believe him
+capable of any cruelty. But she thanked God that the dangers that
+threatened were only those which could come from a brutal enemy and in
+his very brutality she even found refuge from the other and more
+terrible alternative of his amiability. As Hawk had said, he wasn't "on
+that lay this trip."
+
+But what his ultimate purpose was she had no means of determining. She
+knew that he was totally without scruple and had thought in her first
+moments of terror that he meant to take her far back into the woods--and
+there kill her as he had done her father, thus again destroying all
+claim. But as the moments passed and she saw that he had some definite
+objective, the feeble remnants of her courage gathered strength. Her
+attempt to escape had failed, of course, but his tolerance gave her a
+hope that he did not dare to do the dreadful violence of which she had
+thought.
+
+For hours--it seemed--they went through underbrush and swamp-land,
+stopping from time to time at Hawk's command while he listened and got
+their bearings. Beth had never been in this part of the woods, but she
+had an idea, from the crossing of the road and the character of the
+trees, that they were now somewhere in the Lower Reserve and not very
+far from the lumber camp. It was there that Peter Nichols was. Her heart
+leaped at the thought of his nearness. All memory of the heliotrope
+envelope and of its contents seemed to have been wiped from her
+consciousness by the rough usage of this enemy to them both. It seemed
+to matter very little now who this woman was that Peter had known. She
+belonged to a mysterious and unhappy past--for he had hinted at
+that--which had nothing to do with the revelation that Beth had read in
+his eyes as to the meaning of the wonderful present for them both. She
+knew now that he could have explained, if she had given him the chance.
+Instead of which she had rushed heedlessly to misfortune, the victim of
+a childish pride, plunging them both into this disaster. That pride was
+a pitiful thing now, like her disordered hair and her bedraggled frock,
+which flapped its ribbons, soaked and muddy, about her knees.
+
+But as long as she was still alive and in no immediate danger, she tried
+to hope for some incident which would send Peter back to Black Rock
+earlier than Hawk had expected, where, at the Cabin, he would guess the
+truth as to her meeting with Hawk and what had followed. But how could
+he guess all that? The difficulty dismayed her, He would hunt for her of
+course as soon as he learned of her disappearance, but clever as he was
+there seemed no way in which he could solve the mystery of her flight,
+still less, having guessed Hawk Kennedy's purpose, follow any trail
+through the wilderness by which her captor had led her.
+
+Even in the apparent hopelessness of her situation, she had not reached
+the point of actual despair. Youth and her customary belief in all that
+was good in the world sustained her. Something would happen--something
+_must_ happen.... As she trudged along, she prayed with her whole heart,
+like David, to be delivered from the hand of the oppressor.
+
+That prayer comforted her and gave her strength and so when they came
+out at the edge of the swamp some moments later she obeyed his
+instructions more hopefully. There was a path along the edge of the
+water which presently led into the heart of the woods again, and there
+almost before she was aware of it she found herself facing a small
+wooden house or shanty which seemed in a fairly good state of
+preservation.
+
+Silently, Hawk Kennedy unfastened the hasp which held the door, and
+gruffly ordered her to go inside. Wondering, she obeyed him. But her
+captor now acted with a celerity which while it gave her new fears, set
+other fears at rest, for he took the handkerchiefs from his pockets and
+gagged and bound her arms and wrists again, pushing her down on a pile
+of sacking which had served some one for a bed, tying her feet and knees
+with ropes that were there so that she could neither move nor make a
+sound.
+
+There for a moment he stood, staring down at her with a grim kind of
+humor, born of his successful flight.
+
+"Some kid, by G----! I'm kinder sorry--d---- if I ain't. But ye hadn't
+any business bein' who ye are. I believe I'd rather kill ye outright
+than hurt ye any more--that I would. Maybe I won't have to do either.
+Understand? But I got somethin' to do first. It ain't any child's play
+an' I ain't got much time to spare. Be a good kid an' lie quiet an' go
+to sleep and I'll be back after a while an' set ye free. Understand?"
+
+Beth nodded helplessly, for it was the only thing that she could do and
+with relief watched his evil shape darken the doorway out of which he
+went, carefully closing the door and fastening the hasp on the outside.
+Then she heard the crunch of his footsteps in the dry leaves behind the
+Cabin. They moved rapidly and in a few moments she heard them no more.
+
+Lying on her side, her head pillowed on the bagging, it did not seem at
+first as though she were uncomfortable, and her eyes, wide open, peered
+around her prison. There was a small window unglazed and by the light
+which came from it she could see some axhandles piled in one corner of
+the hut, several cross-cut saws on a box at one side, a few picks and a
+shovel or two. It must be a tool house used for the storage of extra
+implements and she remembered dimly that Shad had once spoken of the
+cutting that had been begun down by the swamp and abandoned for a better
+location. This then was where Hawk Kennedy had taken her and she knew
+that it was a spot little visited nowadays except by hunters, and at
+some distance from the scene of present logging operations, toward the
+spur of the railroad. It was here perhaps that Hawk Kennedy had hidden
+while making his earlier investigations of Black Rock while he ripened
+his plot against Mr. McGuire. There were several empty bottles upon the
+floor, a moldy crust of bread, and a broken water-pitcher which
+confirmed the surmise.
+
+She realized that Hawk had planned well. It seemed hardly possible to
+hope for a chance passer-by in this deserted spot. And even if she
+heard the sound of guns or even heard footsteps in the leaves, what
+chance had she of making known her whereabouts? But she strained her
+ears, listening, only to hear the twittering of the birds, the
+chattering of squirrels and the moaning of the wind in the tree tops.
+How near was freedom and yet how difficult of attainment! She wriggled
+gently in her bonds but each motion seemed to make them tighter, until
+they began to cut more and more cruelly into her tender flesh. She tried
+by twisting her hands and bending her body to touch the knots at her
+knees but her elbows were fastened securely and she couldn't reach them.
+And at last she gave up the attempt, half stifled from her exertions and
+suffering acutely. Then she lay quiet, sobbing gently to herself, trying
+to find a comfortable posture, and wondering what was to be the end of
+it all.
+
+Hours passed in which the scampering of the four-footed things grew less
+and less and the birds ceased their chirping. Only the moaning of the
+wind continued, high in the tree tops. Once or twice she thought she
+plainly heard footsteps near by and renewed her efforts to free herself,
+but desisted again when she learned that it was only the sound of the
+flying leaves dancing against the outside walls of her prison.
+
+She thought of all the things that had happened in her brief and
+uneventful life, but most she thought of Peter Nichols, and all that his
+visit to Black Rock had meant to her. And even in her physical
+discomfort and mental anguish found herself hoping against hope that
+something would yet happen to balk the sinister plans of Hawk Kennedy,
+whatever they were. She could not believe that happiness such as hers
+had been could come to such a dreadful end so soon. But what was Hawk
+Kennedy's mission now? Where had he gone unless to Black Rock again? And
+what would he be doing there? Was revenge his motive now, stronger
+since her revelation of her parentage? And was it Peter that he was
+going to...? Her cry was muffled in the bandage. He had gone back to
+Black Rock to lie in wait for Peter--to kill him perhaps. Sobbing anew
+she struggled again with her bonds, until at last she lay back relaxed
+and exhausted, and prayed with all her might to the God that had always
+been her guide.
+
+And after a while she grew calm again, refreshed and strengthened by her
+faith. No harm would befall Peter. No further harm would come to her.
+Evil such as Hawk's was powerless against her prayers. Already he had
+done her a great injury. The God of her faith would keep her scatheless
+until Peter, the man she loved, came to save her. She was as sure of
+this now as though she could see him coming, vengeance in his hand, with
+long strides through the forest to her hiding-place. And so, after a
+while, exhausted from her efforts, she fell into a doze.
+
+When she awoke from troubled dreams it was with a sense of suffocation.
+She had stirred in her sleep and the thongs had cut more deeply into the
+flesh at her knees, causing her pain. Below the knees she was numb from
+the constant pressure, but she moved her toes up and down and her limbs
+tingled painfully as the constricted blood flowed into her extremities.
+How long she had lain there she did not know, but the interior of the
+shed seemed to have grown quite dark, as though a storm were rising
+outside. The wind was still blowing, and above the moaning of the pines
+she could hear the continuous rustle of the leaves and the creaking of
+moving branches. She managed with an effort to turn her head toward the
+window, where through the dark leaves of the overshadowing trees she
+could catch glimpses of the sky, which seemed to have turned to a
+pinkish purple, like the afterglow of a sunset. Was it possible that she
+could have slept so long? In the turning of her head it seemed that the
+bandage over her mouth had become loosened and as she tried the
+experiment again, the handkerchief slipped down around her neck. In a
+moment she had gotten rid of the wad of linen in her mouth. At least she
+could breathe freely now and moisten her parching lips. This boon seemed
+almost in answer to her prayers. And if one bandage could come loose by
+God's help, why not another?
+
+And so cheerfully and with a persistence which took no thought of the
+pain she was inflicting upon herself, she began working her hands to and
+fro behind her until she fancied that the pressure on her wrists was not
+so great as before. With an effort she managed to wriggle over against
+the wall and so to straighten into a sitting posture.
+
+It was then that she suddenly raised her head and sniffed at the air
+from the small window above her through which a slender wisp of smoke
+came curling. Smoke! The smell of burning brush, familiar to her, and
+yet back here in the woods, unless from a well tended camp-fire, fraught
+with perilous meaning. She glanced out of the small opening again. The
+purple had grown redder, a dull crimson shot with streaks of blue--smoke
+everywhere, endless streamers and tortuous billows sweeping down on the
+wings of the wind.
+
+Fire in the woods! She knew the meaning of that. And the reddish purple
+was not the sunset but the glow of mighty flames near by, a "crown" fire
+in the pines! From the volume of smoke, increasing with every moment, it
+seemed that the old tool house in which she was imprisoned must be
+directly in the path of the flames. Now thoroughly aware of her possible
+fate if she could not release herself she strained her ears, listening,
+and now heard distinctly above the sounds nearer at hand a distant
+crackling roar and the thud of heavy branches falling. The interior of
+the cabin had now grown even dimmer--to a dark redness--and the smoke
+came billowing in at the window almost stifling her with its acrid
+fumes. Outside the window, when she struggled for freedom, she caught a
+glimpse of sparks, flying like meteors past the dim rectangle of her
+vision, small ones, larger ones, and then flaming brands which must set
+fire to whatsoever they touched.
+
+She was half mad now with terror. She tried to think calmly, because she
+knew that unless a miracle happened she would die alone here--the most
+horrible of all deaths. And then her eye caught the gleam of something
+upon the tool chest in the shadows beyond--the teeth of the cross-cut
+saw!
+
+If she could reach it! She fell over purposely on the sacking and with
+great difficulty wriggled slowly toward it, inch by inch. Could she
+reach it with her wrists? With an effort she squirmed to the chest and
+straightened, her back against it, as she had done against the wall, and
+then turning, in spite of the increased pressure of her thongs, managed
+in some way to get to her knees, feeling for the teeth of the saw with
+her fingers behind her. It was not very sharp, but if she could direct
+it between her wrists it would do.
+
+In her new thrill of hope, she was hardly conscious of the suffocating
+smoke which now filled the cabin, stinging her eyes so that she could
+hardly see, or of the heat which with her exertions had sent the
+perspiration streaming down her face. For now, balancing herself with
+great care, she moved her tortured arms, half numb with pain, up and
+down against the rusty edges. A sharp pain and she bit her
+lips,--readjusting herself to her task. But she felt the saw cutting
+into the rope--one strand, another, and in a moment her hands were
+released.
+
+In her joy of the achievement, she toppled over on the floor, but
+managed to release her elbows. Now, panting with her exertions and
+moving her arms quickly to restore the circulation, she felt for the
+knots at her knees and ankles and in a moment her limbs were free. But
+she had not reckoned with the effects of their long period of
+inactivity, for when she tried to get to her feet she found that her
+limbs were powerless. But she moved her knees up and down, suffering
+keenly as the blood took up its course, and after a time managed to
+scramble to her feet, and stagger to the opening in the wall.
+
+It seemed that all the forest was now a mass of flaming brands and that
+the roar of the flames was at her very ears. It was stiflingly hot too
+and in one corner of the cabin there was a tiny bright spot and a curl
+of smoke. Had her liberty come too late? She was not even free yet, for
+the hole in the wall of the building was no larger than a single pane of
+glass and the door of the shanty was fastened by the hasp on the
+outside.
+
+There was no time now to hesitate unless she wished to be burned alive.
+With an effort she threw herself against the door--again and again, but
+it would not yield. Despairing and blinded by smoke, she staggered to
+the box hunting an ax, when her fingers met the handle of the friendly
+saw. It was heavy but she knew how to use it, and set it at the hole in
+the wall, drawing it back and forth. The wood was dead and she felt it
+yield to the strong teeth of the tool, so that she struggled on, the
+width of the board; then cut again, at the upper edge of the aperture,
+and in a moment the board fell away.
+
+She was not a moment too soon, for as she crawled through the opening
+and fell exhausted on the outside, one end of the building suddenly
+caught fire, blazing fiercely. The sparks were all around her and her
+skirt caught fire in the flaming leaves into which she had fallen, but
+she put it out with her blistered hands and rose to her feet. A figure
+was coming toward her, bent, its hand before its eyes. She could not
+make out who it was, but as she turned to run Hawk Kennedy espied her.
+
+"Ho there, kid! Got loose, hey? Just in time. Did ye think I was goin'
+to let ye be burned to death?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+With Brierly leading them to the machine and listening to Peter's story
+as they went, Peter made his way across the foot of the lawn to the road
+where the machine was waiting for them. As they climbed into it, the
+glow to the south had turned a lurid red, staining the dusky sky to the
+zenith. Brierly drove and for precaution's sake Peter sat in the tonneau
+with Shad. But the lumberman, if he had ever been considered formidable
+even in his own estimation, showed no evidence of any self-confidence.
+Peter had given him signs of mettle which were not to be denied and like
+all bullies Shad knew that he was beaten. The one vestige of his
+decency,--his honorable affection for Beth, which had blinded him to
+reason and all sense of duty, was now dedicated to the task of saving
+her. And though the dull hatred of Peter still burned in his breast, the
+instinct of self-preservation, and the chance of retrieving himself at
+the last, made it necessary for him to put his pride in his pocket and
+accept the inevitable.
+
+"Ye'll keep yer word, Mister?" he inquired of Peter, after a moment. "I
+didn't have nothin' to do with settin' them woods afire. Ye'll get me
+out o' this scrape?"
+
+"Yes," said Peter shortly. "I will."
+
+But he watched him nevertheless.
+
+The ex-soldier drove the car at a furious pace over the rough road,
+rejoicing in the open cut-out and the rush of the wind past his ears. He
+had been, for a time, a chauffeur of a staff car on the other side, and
+the present conditions were full of promise of the kind of excitement
+that appealed to his youthful spirit. Shad shouted instructions over
+his shoulder but Brierly only nodded and sent the car on over the
+corduroy to which they had come, with the throttle wide. Night had
+nearly fallen but the road was a crimson track picked out with long
+pencilings of shadow. The wind was still tossing the tree tops and
+leaves and twigs cut sharply across their faces. There was no mistaking
+the danger to the whole of the Lower Reserve unless the wind fell--a
+"crown" fire after two weeks of drought was not a subject for jest.
+
+But Peter was not thinking of the damage to McGuire's property. He
+roared questions eagerly at Wells as to the location of the cabin with
+reference to the probable course of the flames. The man only shook his
+head dubiously, but it was plain that he was considering that danger. As
+they neared the fire they could see the flames clearly now, beyond the
+pines just before them, which were etched in deeply bitten lines, every
+quivering frond in silhouette against the glare.
+
+As the car neared the "Forks," Shad directed Brierly to take the turn to
+the left--away from the main road to camp, and they swung into a sandy
+road, the wind at their backs, their way for a time almost parallel to
+the course of the flames. They passed the small settlement of the
+"Forks," the few denizens of which were standing beside the road, their
+few household goods packed in barrows and carts, undecided whether or
+not the red terror would come their way. The flames were clearly visible
+now, leaping skyward like devils freed from Hell, and so hot was the
+fire and so high the wind that whole branches were carried high into the
+air and flaming fell beyond into the cool dark to kindle new
+destruction. Anything that lay to leeward of the holocaust was doomed.
+Peter furiously questioned Wells again, but he only shook his head while
+he anxiously watched the flames as the road converged toward them. But
+as the road swung to the left Shad shouted and held up his hand and
+Brierly brought the car to a stop.
+
+"This is the nearest point, I guess, Mister. From here on to Cranberry
+town the road runs to the left of Cedar Swamp."
+
+"Where's the cabin?" queried Peter anxiously.
+
+"In yonder, not far from the edge of the swamp," Shad replied with a
+frown. "Looks like the fire's pretty near there."
+
+"Come on, then," said Peter quickly. "Brierly, you go back to Black Rock
+and bring the men here. Follow in. We'll be on the lookout for you."
+
+And leaving Brierly to turn the car, he started off with Shad Wells into
+the underbrush. His heart sank as he saw how furiously the fire was
+raging and how near it seemed to be. But Shad needed no urging now and
+led the way with a long stride, Peter following closely. The woods were
+not so heavy here and the forest was now as bright as at midday, and so
+they made rapid progress, coming out at the end of some minutes at the
+edge of the swamp, whose burnished pools sullenly reflected the fiery
+heavens. There they found a path and proceeded more quickly. To Peter's
+anxious questions Shad shook his head and only peered before him,
+forgetting his own suffering in the dreadful danger to which the girl
+they sought might be subjected. A terrible thought had come into Peter's
+mind in the last few moments--that it was Hawk Kennedy who had set fire
+to the woods after imprisoning Beth in a cabin in the path of the
+flames. This was his vengeance, terrible in its simplicity--for a
+lighted match in the dry leaves would do the trick, and incendiarism in
+the woods was difficult to trace. A vengeance fatal in its
+effectiveness, for such a fire would tell no tales. Peter found himself
+hoping that it was not to the old tool cabin that Beth had been
+taken--that she was even far away from this inferno that lay before him.
+The glare was already hot on his face and stray breezes which blew
+toward him from time to time showed that the wind might be veering to
+the eastward, in which case all the woods which they now traversed would
+soon be afire.
+
+But to the credit of Shad Wells it may be said that he did not hesitate,
+for when he reached a point in the path where it turned closely along
+the edge of the swamp, he plunged boldly into the woods, directly toward
+the flames, and Peter, even more eager than he, ran ahead, peering to
+right and left for signs of the cabin which now could not be far away.
+The roar and the crackling were now ominously near and the flames seemed
+to be all about them, while the tree tops seemed to be filled with
+flaming brands. Sparks and live cinders fell upon them and the hot
+breath of the wind blistered them with its heat.
+
+Suddenly the panting Shad grasped Peter sharply by the arm with his
+uninjured hand.
+
+"The cabin! My God! It's burning now----Quick, Mister--or----"
+
+Peter sprang forward through the flaming leaves. He seemed to be in the
+very midst of the flames. Blinded and suffocated by the smoke, Peter
+plunged forward and reached the cabin. One end and side of it was
+blazing furiously but he dashed around the lower end of it, seeking the
+door. It was open and already aflame. The hut was empty. He ran out
+again, blinded by the smoke and the glare. Was it a fool's errand? And
+had he and Shad only entrapped themselves to no good end? To the right
+of him the fire roared and with his back to the glare his eyes eagerly
+sought the shadows down the wind. Vague shapes of gnarled branches and
+pallid tree trunks, spectral bushes quivering before the advancing
+demon, some of them already alight. Safety lay only in this one
+direction--for Beth, if she had been there, for Shad----Peter suddenly
+remembered the lumberman and turned to his left to look, when suddenly
+he espied a figure moving away from him and ran after it, calling. He
+realized immediately that his hoarse cry was lost in the inferno of the
+flames, but he ran more rapidly, beating out the embers which had
+ignited the sleeve of his shirt.
+
+He saw the figure clearly now, but it was not Shad--for Shad had been in
+his shirt sleeves. This figure wore a coat and stumbled away half bent,
+one arm over its head, pushing something--some one ahead of it. Peter
+drew his revolver, leaping the burning leaves and calling aloud.
+
+He saw the figures ahead of him halt and turn as they heard his voice
+and the glare behind him shone full upon them, the face of the man agape
+with inflamed surprise--Hawk Kennedy's, and the other, wide-eyed as at
+the sight of an apparition--Beth's.
+
+Only thirty paces separated them when Hawk Kennedy fired. Peter heard
+Beth's scream and saw her strike at the man's arm, but furiously he
+swung her in front of him and fired again. But her struggles and the
+uncertain light sent the bullet wide. Peter did not dare to shoot for
+the man was using her as a shield, but he did not hesitate and ran in,
+trusting to luck and Beth's struggles. One bullet struck him somewhere
+as Beth seemed to stumble and crumple to the ground, but he went on
+unspent and catapulted into his man with a rush that sent them both
+sprawling into the smoldering foliage. Blinded by the smoke, but mad
+with fury, Peter struck and clutched, and Hawk's last shot went upward
+for Peter wrenched his wrist and then struck him full on the head with
+his own weapon.
+
+He felt the man relax and slip down into the dust and smoke, where he
+lay motionless.
+
+Peter drew himself up to arm's length, wondering at the feebleness of
+his muscles and the trouble with his breathing.
+
+"Beth!" he gasped, frantically, searching the smoking ground for her.
+
+"Peter--thank God!" Her voice was just at his ear and an arm went around
+his neck.
+
+"Beth! Beth! You've got to get out of this."
+
+"Come, Peter--there's time----"
+
+Just then a branch crashed down just beside them, showering them with
+sparks.
+
+"Come, Peter--come!" she cried.
+
+He struggled up with an effort, one hand clutching at his breast.
+
+"Go, Beth!" he gasped. "For God's sake, go!"
+
+Beth stared at him for one short terrible moment as she realized what
+had happened to him.
+
+"Peter! You--you're----"
+
+"I--I think I'm hurt--a little--it isn't much."
+
+He swayed but she caught him and put an arm around one shoulder,
+clutching it with the other hand.
+
+"Lean on me," she muttered. "I'm strong enough----"
+
+"No--go, Beth----"
+
+But she put her strength under him and began walking while he staggered
+on beside her. Sparks and fiery brands rained down upon them, blistering
+and burning, the hot breath of the furnace drove their breath poisoned
+back into their lungs and scorched their bodies, but still they remained
+upright--and by a miracle still moved on.
+
+"To the left," Peter heard dimly, "the swamp is close by."
+
+He obeyed her, more dead than alive, and by sheer effort of will kept
+his feet moving, paced to hers. He seemed to be walking as though in a
+red fever, on leaden feet, carrying a body that had no weight or
+substance.
+
+But after a while his feet too seemed to grow lighter and he felt
+himself falling through space. But her arms were still about him.
+
+"Peter," he heard her voice in agony, "only a few yards further----"
+
+With a last remaining effort he struggled and then his feet stumbling,
+toppled forward and sank into something soft, something deliciously cool
+and soothing. He felt a hand tugging at him, but he had no pain now, no
+weakness--only the perfect happiness of a body that, seeking rest, has
+found it.
+
+After a while he revived at the sound of a voice at his ear. Water was
+splashing over his face and he struggled up.
+
+"No--keep down," he heard Beth's voice saying. "We're safe, Peter--the
+wind is changing----"
+
+"And you, Beth----?"
+
+"All right, dear. A little patience----"
+
+The voice trembled, but there was a world of faith in it. After all that
+had happened, it was impossible that further disaster should follow now.
+
+"Y-you're all right?" he gasped weakly.
+
+"Yes. Yes. Lie still for a while."
+
+And so they half lay, half crouched in the mud and water, while the
+inferno swept over them, passing to the south. His head was on her
+breast and against his ear he could feel her heart beating bravely, a
+message of strength and cheer. From time to time her wet fingers brushed
+his hair with water and then, as he seemed to be sinking into a dream
+again, he felt lips light as thistle-down upon his brows.
+
+Death such as this, he thought, was very pleasant.
+
+And then later he was aroused by a shrill clear call.... Then saw lights
+flashing.... Heard men's voices.... Felt himself carried in strong arms
+... but all the while there were soft fingers in his own.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+RETRIBUTION
+
+
+When they lifted him into the automobile and Beth got in beside him, his
+fingers moved in her own.
+
+"Beth," she heard him whisper.
+
+"Peter--I'm here."
+
+"Thank God. And--and Shad----? He--he was with me----"
+
+"He's asking for Shad," she repeated to Brierly, unaware that her
+cousin, like his Biblical namesake, had come scatheless through the
+fiery furnace. But some one heard the question and replied:
+
+"Shad's here, Miss. He's all right----"
+
+"Oh," gasped Peter. "And there's something else----"
+
+"No, no--we must go. Your wound----"
+
+But he insisted. "I--I'm all--right. Something else,--Beth--some one
+must get--paper--blue envelope--Hawk Ken----"
+
+His words ended in a gasp and he sank back in her arms.
+
+Beth was frightened at the sudden collapse and the look in his face, but
+she knew that his injunction was important. And keeping her courage she
+called Shad Wells to the side of the car and gave quick directions.
+There was a note of appeal in her voice and Shad listened, his gaze over
+his shoulder in the direction she indicated.
+
+"If he ain't burned to a crisp by now----"
+
+"Go, Shad--please! And if you can get to him bring the papers in his
+pocket to me."
+
+He met her gaze and smiled.
+
+"I reckon I'll get to him if anybody can."
+
+"Oh, thanks, Shad--thanks----" she muttered, as the lumberman turned,
+followed by one of the others, and silently moved toward the flames.
+
+And in a moment the car was on its way to Black Rock, Brierly driving
+carefully over the rough road. That was a terrible ride for Beth. She
+supported the wounded man against her shoulder, her gaze on his pallid
+face. Her poor blistered arm was about his waist, but she had no thought
+for her own suffering. Every ounce of strength that remained to her was
+given to holding Peter close to her so that he would not slip down,
+every ounce of faith in her soul given to combat with the fears that
+assailed her. It seemed to Beth that if the Faith that had brought her
+through this day and out of that furnace were still strong enough she
+could combat even the Death that rode with them. And so she prayed
+again, holding him closely. But he was so cold and inert. She put her
+hand over his heart and a tiny pulsation answered as though to reassure
+her. Her hand came away dry, for the wound was not near his heart. She
+thanked God for that. She found it high up on the right side just below
+the collar bone and held her fingers there, pressing them tightly. If
+this blood were life and she could keep it within him she would do it.
+But he was so pale....
+
+Brierly drove to Black Rock House instinctively. Here were beds,
+servants and the telephone. He sounded his horn as they came up the
+driveway and an excited group came out upon the porch. But Beth saw only
+McGuire.
+
+"Mr. Nichols has been shot, Mr. McGuire--he's dangerously hurt," she
+appealed. "He's got to have a doctor--at once."
+
+"Who--who shot him?"
+
+"Hawk Kennedy."
+
+"And he--Hawk----?"
+
+"He's dead, I think."
+
+She heard McGuire's sudden gasp and saw Aunt Tillie come running.
+
+"He's got to be put to bed--Aunt Tillie," she pleaded.
+
+"Of course," said McGuire, finding his voice suddenly, "Of course--at
+once. The blue room, Mrs. Bergen. We'll carry him up. Send Stryker."
+
+And Aunt Tillie ran indoors.
+
+Peter was still quite unconscious, but between them they managed to get
+him upstairs.
+
+McGuire seemed now galvanized into activity and while the others cut
+Peter's coat away and found the wound he got Hammonton and a doctor on
+the 'phone. It was twelve miles away but he promised to be at Black Rock
+House inside half an hour.
+
+"Twenty minutes and you won't regret it. Drive like Hell. It's a matter
+of life or death."
+
+Meanwhile, Aunt Tillie, with anxious glances at Beth, had brought
+absorbent cotton, clean linen, a basin of water and a sponge, and
+Stryker and Brierly washed the wound, while McGuire rushed for his
+bottle and managed to force some whisky and water between Peter's teeth.
+The bullet they found had gone through the body and had come out at the
+back, shattering the shoulder-blade. But the hemorrhage had almost
+ceased and the wounded man's heart was still beating faintly.
+
+"It's the blood he's lost," muttered Brierly sagely.
+
+"He'll come around all right. You can't kill a man as game as that."
+
+Beth clung to the arms of the chair in which they had placed her. "You
+think--he--he'll live?"
+
+"Sure he will. I've seen 'em worse'n that----"
+
+She sank back into her chair, exhausted. She had never fainted in her
+life and she wasn't going to begin. But now that all that they could do
+had been done for Peter, they turned their attention to Beth. She had
+not known how much she needed it. Her hair was singed, her wrists were
+raw and bleeding, and her arms, half naked, were red and blistered. Her
+dress, soaked with mud and water, was partly torn or burned away.
+
+"She must be put to bed here, Mrs. Bergen," said McGuire. "She'll need
+the doctor too."
+
+Beth protested and would not leave the room until the doctor came. But
+McGuire, who seemed--and somewhat justly--to have complete faith in the
+efficacy of his own remedy, gave her some of the whisky and water to
+drink, while Aunt Tillie washed her face and rubbed vaseline upon her
+arms, crooning over her all the while in the comforting way of women of
+her kind, to the end that Beth felt the pain of her body lessen.
+
+It was not until the doctor arrived with a businesslike air and made his
+examination, pronouncing Peter's condition serious but not necessarily
+fatal, that the tension at Beth's heart relaxed.
+
+"He--he'll get well, Doctor?" she asked timidly.
+
+"I think so," he said with a smile, "but we've got to have absolute
+quiet now. I'd like some one here to help me----"
+
+"If you'd only let me----"
+
+But she read refusal in his eyes as he looked at her critically, and saw
+him choose Stryker.
+
+"You're to be put to bed at once," he said dryly. "You'll need attention
+too, I'm thinking."
+
+And so Beth, with McGuire's arm supporting and Aunt Tillie's arm around
+her, was led to the room adjoining,--the pink room of Miss Peggy
+McGuire. McGuire closed the door and questioned her eagerly.
+
+"You say Hawk Kennedy was killed----?"
+
+"I think so--or--or burned," said Beth, now quivering in the reaction
+of all that she had experienced. "I--I sent Shad Wells to see. We left
+him lying there. We just had time to get away. The fire was all around.
+We got to the swamp--into the water--but he----" She put her face into
+her hands, trembling with the recollection. "It was horrible. I can't
+talk about it."
+
+Aunt Tillie glared at McGuire, but he still questioned uneasily.
+
+"You--you saw nothing of a blue envelope, a paper----"
+
+With an effort Beth lowered her hands and replied:
+
+"No--Peter--Mr. Nichols thought of it. Shad Wells will bring it--if it
+isn't burned."
+
+"Oh, I see----"
+
+"But what you can't see," broke in Aunt Tillie with spirit, "is that the
+poor child ain't fit to answer any more questions to-night. And she
+shan't."
+
+"Er--no--of course," said McGuire, and went out.
+
+If it had been an eventful day for Peter and Beth, the night was to
+prove eventful for McGuire, for not content to wait the arrival of Shad
+Wells, he took his courage in his hands and with Brierly drove at once
+to the scene of the disaster. The wind had died and a gentle rain began
+to fall, but the fire was burning fiercely.
+
+The other matter in McGuire's thoughts was so much the more important to
+him that he had given little thought to the damage to his property. His
+forests might all be burned down for all that he cared.
+
+At the spot to which Beth and Peter had been carried he met Shad and the
+party of men that had been looking for Hawk Kennedy, but the place where
+the fight had taken place was still a mass of fallen trees and branches
+all flaming hotly and it was impossible for any one to get within
+several hundred yards of it.
+
+There seemed little doubt as to the fate of his enemy. Jonathan K.
+McGuire stood at the edge of the burned area, peering into the glowing
+embers. His look was grim but there was no smile of triumph at his lips.
+In his moments of madness he had often wished Hawk Kennedy dead, but
+never had he wished him such a death as this. He questioned Shad sharply
+as to his share in the adventure, satisfying himself at last that the
+man had told a true story, and then, noting his wounded arm, sent him
+back with Brierly in the car to Black Rock House for medical treatment
+with orders to send the chauffeur with the limousine.
+
+The rain was now falling fast, but Jonathan K. McGuire did not seem to
+be aware of it. His gaze was on the forest, on that of the burning area
+nearest him where the fire still flamed the hottest, beneath the embers
+of which lay the one dreadful secret of his life. Even where he stood
+the heat was intense, but he did not seem to be aware of it, nor did he
+follow the others when they retreated to a more comfortable spot. No one
+knew why he waited or of what he was thinking, unless of the damage to
+the Reserve and what the loss in money meant to him. They could not
+guess that pity and fear waged their war in his heart--pity that any man
+should die such a death--fear that the man he thought of should not die
+it.
+
+But as the hours lengthened and there was no report brought to him of
+any injured man, being found in the forest near by, he seemed to know
+that Peter Nichols had not struck for Beth in vain.
+
+When the limousine came, he sent the other watchers home, and got into
+it, sitting in solitary grandeur in his wet clothing, peering out of the
+window. The glow of the flames grew dimmer and died at last with the
+first pale light to the eastward which announced the coming of the dawn.
+A light drizzle was still falling when it grew light enough to see.
+McGuire got down and without awakening the sleeping chauffeur went
+forth into the spectral woods. He knew where the old tool cabin had
+stood and, from the description Wells had given him, had gained a
+general idea of where the fight had taken place--two hundred yards from
+the edge of the swamp where Nichols and the Cameron girl had been found,
+and nearly in a line with the biggest of the swamp-maples, the trunk of
+which still stood, a melancholy skeleton of its former grandeur.
+
+The ground was still hot under the mud and cinders, but not painfully
+so, and he was not aware of any discomfort. Clouds of steam rose and
+among them he moved like the ghost of a sin, bent, eager, searching with
+heavy eyes for what he hoped and what he feared to find. The old tool
+house had disappeared, but he saw a heap of ashes and among them the
+shapes of saws and iron picks and shovels. But he passed them by, making
+a straight line to the eastward and keeping his gaze upon the charred
+and blackened earth, missing nothing to right and left, fallen branches,
+heaps of rubbish, mounds of earth.
+
+Suddenly startled, McGuire halted and stood for a long moment.... Then,
+his hand before his eyes he turned away and slowly made his way back to
+his automobile. But there was no triumph in his eyes. A power greater
+than his own had avenged Ben Cameron.
+
+His vigil was over--his nightly vigil--the vigil of years. He made his
+way to his car and, awakening his chauffeur, told him to drive to Black
+Rock House. But when he reached home, the set look that his face had
+worn for so many weeks had disappeared. And in its place among the
+relaxed muscles which showed his years, sat the benignity of a new
+resolution.
+
+It was broad daylight when he quietly knocked at the door of the room in
+which the injured man lay. The doctor came to the door. It seemed that
+all immediate danger of a further collapse had passed for the heart was
+stronger and unless there was a setback Peter Nichols had an excellent
+chance of recovery. McGuire himself offered to watch beside the bed; but
+the doctor explained that a trained nurse was already on the way from
+Philadelphia and would arrive at any moment. So McGuire went to his own
+room and, sinking into his armchair, slept for the first time in many
+weeks at peace, smiling his benignant smile.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Beth awoke in the pink room of Miss Peggy McGuire in which she had been
+put to bed. She lay for a moment still stupefied, her brain struggling
+against the effects of the sleeping potion that the doctor had given her
+and then slowly straightened to a sitting posture, regarding in
+bewilderment the embroidered night-robe which she wore and the flowered
+pink hangings at the windows. She couldn't at first understand the pain
+at her head and other aches and pains which seemed to come mysteriously
+into being. But she heard a familiar voice at her ear and saw the
+anxious face of Aunt Tillie, who rose from the chair at her bedside.
+
+"Aunt Tillie!" she whispered.
+
+"It's all right, dearie," said the old woman. "You're to lie quite still
+until the doctor sees you----"
+
+"The doctor----? Oh, I--I remember----" And then with a sudden awakening
+to full consciousness--"Peter!" she gasped.
+
+"He's better, dearie."
+
+"But what does the doctor say?"
+
+"He's doin' as well as possible----"
+
+"Will he get well?"
+
+"Yes, yes. The doctor is very hopeful."
+
+"You're sure?"
+
+"Yes. He's sleepin' now--quiet--ye'd better just lie back again."
+
+"But I want to go to him, Aunt Tillie. I want to."
+
+"No. Ye can't, dearie--not now."
+
+And so by dint of reassurance and persuasion, Aunt Tillie prevailed upon
+the girl to lie back upon her pillows and after a while she slept again.
+
+But Beth was no weakling and when the doctor came into her room some
+time later, the effects of her potion wearing away, she awoke to full
+consciousness. He saw the imploring question in her eyes, before he took
+her pulse and answered it with a quick smile.
+
+"He's all right. Heart coming on nicely----"
+
+"Will h-he live?" she gasped.
+
+"He'll be a fool if he doesn't."
+
+"What----?"
+
+"I'd be, if I knew there was a girl like you in the next room with that
+kind of look in her eyes asking for me."
+
+But his remark went over Beth's head.
+
+"He's better?"
+
+"Yes. Conscious too. But he'll have to be kept quiet."
+
+"D-did he speak of me?"
+
+The doctor was taking her pulse and put on a professional air which hid
+his inward smiles and provoked a repetition of her question.
+
+"D-did he?" she repeated softly.
+
+"Oh, yes," he said with a laugh. "He won't talk of anything else. I had
+to give him a hypodermic to make him stop."
+
+Beth was silent for a moment. And then timidly----
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"Oh, just that you saved his life, that's all."
+
+"Nothing else?"
+
+"Oh, yes. Now that I come to think of it, he did."
+
+"What?"
+
+"That he wanted to see you."
+
+"Oh! And can I----?"
+
+The doctor snapped his watch and relinquished her wrist with a smile.
+
+"If everything goes well--to-morrow--for two minutes--just two minutes,
+you understand."
+
+"Not until to-morrow?" she asked ruefully.
+
+"You ought to be glad to see him alive at all. He had a narrow shave of
+it. An inch or two lower----" And then with a smile, "But he's going to
+get well, I promise you that."
+
+"Oh, thanks," said Beth gratefully.
+
+"Don't worry. And if you behave yourself I'll let you get up after
+lunch." He gave some directions to Mrs. Bergen as to the treatment of
+Beth's blistered arms, and went out.
+
+So in spite of the pain that she still suffered, Beth was content. At
+least she was content until Aunt Tillie brought her Miss Peggy McGuire's
+silver hand-mirror and she saw the reflection of her once beautiful
+self.
+
+"Aunt Tillie!" she gasped. "I'm a sight."
+
+"Maybe--but that's a sight better than bein' burned to death," said the
+old lady, soberly.
+
+"My hair----!"
+
+"It's only frizzled. They say that's good for the hair," she said
+cheerfully.
+
+"Oh, well," sighed Beth as she laid the mirror down beside her. "I guess
+I ought to be glad I'm alive after----"
+
+And then with an uncontrollable shudder, she asked, "And--and--_him_?"
+
+"Dead," said Aunt Tillie with unction. "Burned to a crisp."
+
+Beth gasped but said nothing more. She didn't want to think of
+yesterday, but she couldn't help it--the horrors that she had passed
+through--the fate that might have been in store for her, if--Peter
+hadn't found her in time!
+
+Beth relaxed in comfort while Aunt Tillie bathed and anointed her,
+brushed out the hair that was "frizzled," refreshing and restoring her
+patient, so that after lunch she got up and put on the clothing that had
+been brought from her home. Her arms were swathed in bandages from
+wrists to shoulders but the pain was much less, so, when McGuire knocked
+at the door and asked if he might see her, she was sitting in a chair by
+the window and greeted him with a smile.
+
+He entered timidly and awkwardly, rubbing his fingers uncomfortably
+against the palms of his hands.
+
+"They tell me you're feelin' better, Miss Cameron," he said soberly.
+"I--I'd like to talk to you for a moment," and with a glance at Aunt
+Tillie, "alone if you don't mind."
+
+Aunt Tillie gathered up some bandages and grudgingly departed.
+
+McGuire came forward slowly and sank into a chair beside Beth's, laying
+his hand timidly on hers.
+
+"I thank God nothing happened to you, child, and I hope you believe me
+when I say it," he began in an uncertain voice.
+
+"Oh, yes, sir, I do."
+
+"Because the only thing that matters to me now is setting myself
+straight with you and Mr. Nichols."
+
+He paused in a difficulty of speech and then went on.
+
+"He--Mr. Nichols has told you everything----?"
+
+Beth wagged her head like a solemn child and then laid her other hand on
+his.
+
+"Oh, I'm so sorry for you," she said.
+
+"You mustn't say that," he muttered. "I--I've done you a great
+wrong--not trying to find out about Ben Cameron--not trying to find
+_you_. But I've suffered for it, Miss----" And then eagerly----"You
+don't mind my calling you Beth, do you?"
+
+"No, Mr. McGuire."
+
+"I ought to have told what happened. I ought to have tried to find out
+if Ben Cameron had any kin. I did wrong. But I've paid for it. I've
+never had a happy hour since I claimed that mine that didn't belong to
+me. I've made a lot of money but what I did has been hanging over me for
+years making an old man of me before my time----"
+
+"Oh, please don't be unhappy any more----"
+
+"Let me talk Miss--Beth. I've got to tell you. It'll make me feel a lot
+easier." Beth smoothed his hand reassuringly and he clasped hers eagerly
+as though in gratitude. "I never was much good when I was a lad, Beth,
+and I never could get along even after I got married. It wasn't in me
+somehow. I was pretty straight as young fellows go but nothing went
+right for me. I was a failure. And then----"
+
+He paused a moment with bent head but Beth didn't speak. It was all very
+painful to her.
+
+"Hawk Kennedy killed your father. But I was a crook too. I left Hawk
+there without water to die. It was a horrible thing to do--even after
+what he'd done to me. My God! Maybe I didn't suffer for that! I was glad
+when I learned Hawk didn't die, even though I knew from that time that
+he'd be hanging over me like a curse. He did for years and years. I knew
+he'd turn up some day, I tried to forget, but I couldn't. The sight of
+him was always with me."
+
+"How terrible!" whispered Beth.
+
+"But from that moment everything I did went well. Money came fast. I
+wasn't a bad business man, but even a bad business man could have put
+_that_ deal through. I sold out the mine. I've got the figures and I'm
+going to show them to you, because they're yours to see. With the money
+I made some good investments. That money made more money and more
+besides. Making money got to be my passion. It was the only thing I
+cared for--except my girls--and it was the only thing that made me
+forget."
+
+"Please don't think you've got to tell me any more."
+
+"Yes, I want to. I don't know how much I'm worth to-day." And then in a
+confidential whisper--"I couldn't tell within half a million or so, but
+I guess it ain't far short of ten millions, Beth. You're the only person
+in the world outside the Treasury Department that knows how much I'm
+worth. I'm telling you. I've never told anybody--not even Peggy. And the
+reason I'm telling you is because, you've got to know, because I can't
+sleep sound yet, until I straighten this thing out with you. It didn't
+take much persuading for Mr. Nichols to show me what I had to do when
+he'd found out, because everything I've got comes from money I took from
+you. And I'm going to give you what belongs to you, the full amount I
+got for that mine with interest to date. It's not mine. It's yours and
+you're a rich girl, Beth----"
+
+"I won't know what to do with all that money, Mr. McGuire," said Beth in
+an awed voice.
+
+"Oh, yes, you will. I've been thinking it all out. It's a deed by gift.
+We'll have to have a consideration to make it binding. We may have to
+put in the facts that I've been--er--only a sort of trustee of the
+proceeds of the 'Tarantula' mine. I've got a good lawyer. He'll know
+what to do--how to fix it."
+
+"I--I'm sure I'm very grateful."
+
+"You needn't be." He paused and laid his hand over hers again. "But if
+it's all the same to you, I'd rather not have much talk about it--just
+what's said in the deed--to explain."
+
+"I'll say nothin' you don't want said."
+
+"I knew you wouldn't. Until the papers are drawn I'd rather you wouldn't
+speak of it."
+
+"I won't."
+
+"You're a good girl. I--I'd like to see you happy. If money will make
+you happy, I'm glad I can help."
+
+"You've been very kind, Mr. McGuire--and generous. I can't seem to think
+about all that money. It's just like a fairy tale."
+
+"And you forgive me--for what I did----? You forgive me, Beth?"
+
+"Yes, I do, Mr. McGuire. Don't say anythin' more about it--please!"
+
+The old man bent his head and kissed her hand and then with a great sigh
+of relief straightened and rose.
+
+"Thank God!" he said quietly. And bidding her good-by he walked from the
+room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+A VISITOR
+
+
+The two minutes permitted by the doctor had come and gone. There had
+been much to say with too little time to say it in. For Beth, admonished
+that the patient must be kept quiet, and torn between joy at Peter's
+promised recovery and pity for his pale face, could only look at him and
+murmur soothing phrases, while Peter merely smiled and held her hand.
+But that, it seemed, was enough, for Beth read in his eyes that what had
+happened had merely set an enduring seal upon the affection of both of
+them.
+
+With the promise that she could see him again on the morrow, Beth went
+back to her room. She had wanted to return to the village, but McGuire
+had insisted upon her staying where she was under the care of the doctor
+until what they were pleased to call the shock to her system had yielded
+to medical treatment. Beth said nothing. She was already herself and
+quite able to take up her life just where she had left it, but she
+agreed to stay in McGuire's house. It seemed to make him happier when
+she acquiesced in his wishes. Besides, it was nice to be waited on and
+to be next to the room where the convalescent was.
+
+But the revelation as to Peter's identity could not be long delayed.
+Brierly had brought the tale back from the lumber camp, and the village
+was all agog with excitement. But Beth had seen no one but Mr. McGuire
+and Aunt Tillie, and Peter had requested that no one should tell her but
+himself. And so in a day or so when Beth went into Peter's room she
+found him with a color in his cheeks, and wearing a quizzical smile.
+
+"I thought you were never coming, Beth," he said.
+
+"I came as soon as they'd let me, Peter. Do you feel stronger?"
+
+"Every hour. Better when you're here. And you?"
+
+"Oh, I'm all right."
+
+He looked at her with his head on one side.
+
+"Do you think you could stand hearing something very terrible about me,
+Beth?"
+
+She glanced at him anxiously and then a smile of perfect faith responded
+to his. She knew that he was getting well now, because this was a touch
+of his old humor.
+
+"H-m. I guess so. I don't believe it can be so _very_ terrible, Peter."
+
+"It is--_very_ terrible, Beth."
+
+But the pressure of his fingers was reassuring.
+
+"I'm listenin'," she said.
+
+"Well, you know, you told me once that you'd marry me no matter what I'd
+been----"
+
+"Yes. I meant that, Peter. I mean it now. It's what you are----"
+
+Peter Nichols chuckled. It was his last chuckle as Peter Nichols.
+
+"Well, I'm not what you thought I was. I've been acting under false
+colors--under false pretenses. My name isn't Peter Nichols. It's Peter
+Nicholaevitch----"
+
+"Then you _are_ all Russian!" she said.
+
+Peter shook his head.
+
+"No. Only half of me. But I used to live in Russia--at a place called
+Zukovo. The thing I wanted to tell you was that they fired me out
+because they didn't want me there."
+
+"You! How dared they! I'd like to give them a piece of my mind," said
+Beth indignantly.
+
+"It wouldn't have done any good. I tried to do that."
+
+"And wouldn't they listen?"
+
+"No. They burned my--my house and tried to shoot me."
+
+"Oh! How could they!" And then, gently, "Oh, Peter. You _have_ had
+troubles, haven't you?"
+
+"I don't mind. If I hadn't had them, I wouldn't have come here and I
+wouldn't have found you."
+
+"So after all, I ought to be glad they did fire you out," she said
+gently.
+
+"But aren't you curious to know _why_ they did?"
+
+"I am, if you want to tell me, but even if it was bad, I don't care
+_what_ you did, Peter."
+
+He took her fingers to his lips.
+
+"It wasn't so very bad after all, Beth. It wasn't so much what I did as
+what my--er--my family had done that made them angry."
+
+"Well, _you_ weren't responsible for what your kin-folks did."
+
+Peter laughed softly.
+
+"_They_ seemed to think so. My--er--my kin-folks were mixed up in
+politics in Russia and one of my cousins had a pretty big job--too big a
+job for _him_ and that's the truth." A cloud passed for a moment over
+Peter's face and he looked away.
+
+"But what did _his_ job have to do with _you_?" she asked.
+
+"Well, you see, we were all mixed up with him, just by being related--at
+least that's what the people thought. And so when my cousin did a lot of
+things the people thought he oughtn't to do and didn't do a lot of other
+things that they thought he _ought_ to have done, they believed that I
+was just the same sort of man that he was."
+
+"How unjust, Peter!"
+
+He smiled at the ceiling.
+
+"I thought so. I told them what I thought. I did what I could to
+straighten things out and to help them, but they wouldn't listen.
+Instead they burned my--my house down and I had to run away."
+
+"How terrible for you!" And then, after a pause, "Was it a pretty house,
+Peter?"
+
+"Yes," he replied slowly, "it was. A very pretty house--in the midst of
+a forest, with great pines all about it. I wish they hadn't burned that
+house, Beth, because I loved it."
+
+"Poor dear! I'm _so_ sorry."
+
+"I thought you would be, because it was a big house, with pictures,
+books, music----"
+
+"All burned! Land's sakes alive!"
+
+"And a wonderful grand piano."
+
+"Oh, Peter!" And then with a flash of joy, "But you're goin' to have
+another grand piano just like it soon."
+
+"Am I? Who's going to give it to me?"
+
+"_I_ am," said Beth quietly. "And another house and pictures and books
+and music."
+
+He read her expression eagerly.
+
+"Mr. McGuire has told you?" he asked.
+
+She nodded. "You knew?"
+
+"Yes," he replied. "He told me yesterday."
+
+"Isn't it wonderful?" she whispered. And then went on rapidly, "So you
+see, Peter, maybe I can be some good to you after all."
+
+He pressed her fingers, enjoying her happiness.
+
+"I can hardly believe it's true," she gasped, "but it must be, because
+Mr. McGuire had his lawyer here yesterday talkin' about it----"
+
+"Yes. It's true. I think he's pretty happy to get all that off his
+conscience. You're a rich girl, Beth." And then, with a slow smile,
+"That was one of the reasons why I wanted to talk with you about who _I_
+was. You see, I thought that now that you're going to have all this
+money, you might want to change your mind about marrying a forester
+chap who--who just wants to try to show the trees how to grow."
+
+"Peter! Don't make fun of me. _Please._ And you hurt me so!" she
+reproached him. "You know I'll never want to change my mind ever,
+_ever_--even if I had all the money in the world."
+
+He laughed, drew her face down to his and whispered, "Beth, dear. I knew
+you wouldn't want to--but I just wanted to hear you say it."
+
+"Well, I _have_ said it. And I don't want you ever to say such a thing
+again. As if I cared for anythin'--anythin' but _you_."
+
+He kissed her on the lips and she straightened.
+
+"I wanted to hear you say _that_ too," he said with a laugh.
+
+And then, after a silence which they both improved by gazing at each
+other mutely, "But you don't seem very curious about who I am."
+
+Beth pressed his fingers confidently. What he was to _her_ mattered a
+great deal--and she realized that nothing else did. But she knew that
+something was required of her. And so, "Oh, yes. Indeed I am,
+Peter,--awfully curious," she said politely.
+
+"Well, you know, Beth, I'm not really so poor as I seem to be. I've got
+a lot of securities in a bank in Russia, because nobody knew where they
+were and so they couldn't take them."
+
+"And they would have taken your money too?"
+
+"Yes. When this cousin of mine--his name was Nicholas--when Nicholas was
+killed----"
+
+"They killed him! Who?"
+
+"The Bolsheviki--they killed Nicholas and his whole family--his wife,
+son and four daughters----"
+
+"Peter!" Beth started up and stared at him in startled bewilderment, as
+she remembered the talks she had had with him about the Russian
+Revolution. "Nicholas----!" she gasped. "His wife--son--daughters. He
+had the same name as--as the Czar--!" And as her gaze met his again she
+seemed to guess.... "Peter!" she gasped. "What--what do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that it was the Little Father--the Czar--who was my cousin,
+Beth."
+
+She stared at Peter in awe and a kind of fear of this new element in
+their relations.
+
+"And--and you----? You're----?"
+
+"I'm just Peter Nichols----," he said with a laugh.
+
+"But over there----"
+
+"I'm nothing. They chucked us all out, the Bolsheviki--every last one of
+us that had a handle to his name."
+
+"A handle----?"
+
+"Yes. I used to be Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch of Zukovo and
+Galitzin----"
+
+"G-Grand Duke Peter!" she whispered in a daze. And then, "Oh--how--how
+_could_ you?" she gasped.
+
+Peter laughed.
+
+"I couldn't help it, Beth. I was born that--way. But you _will_ forgive
+me, won't you?"
+
+"Forgive----? Oh--it--it makes such a difference to find--you're not
+_you_--but somebody else----"
+
+"No. I _am_--_me_. I'm not anybody else. But I had to tell
+you--sometime. You don't think any the less of me, do you, Beth?"
+
+"I--I don't know _what_ to think. I'm so--you're so----"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Grand--and I'm----"
+
+Peter caught her hands and made her look at him.
+
+"You're the only woman in the world I've ever wanted--the only
+one--and you've promised me you'd marry me--you've promised, Beth."
+
+Her fingers moved gently in his and her gaze, wide-eyed, sought his.
+
+"And it won't make any difference----?"
+
+"No, Beth. Why should you think that?"
+
+"I--I was afraid--it might," she gasped. And then for a while Peter held
+her hands, whispering, while Beth, still abashed, answered in
+monosyllables, nodding from time to time.
+
+Later the nurse entered, her glance on her wrist-watch.
+
+"Time's up," she said. And Beth rose as one in a dream and moved slowly
+around the foot of the bed to the door.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jonathan K. McGuire had been as much astonished as Beth at the
+revelation of Peter's identity, and the service that Peter had rendered
+him made him more than anxious to show his appreciation by doing
+everything he could for the wounded man's comfort and happiness. He
+visited the bedside daily and told Peter of his conversation with Beth,
+and of the plans that he was making for her future--which now, it
+seemed, was Peter's future also. Peter told him something of his own
+history and how he had met Jim Coast on the _Bermudian_. Then McGuire
+related the story of the suppression of the outbreak at the lumber camp
+by the Sheriff and men from May's Landing, and the arrest of Flynn and
+Jacobi on charges of assault and incendiarism. Some of the men were to
+be deported as dangerous "Reds." Brierly had been temporarily put in
+charge at the Mills and Jesse Brown, now much chastened, was helping
+McGuire to restore order. Shad Wells was technically under arrest, for
+the coroner had "viewed" the body of the Russian Committeeman before it
+had been removed by his friends and buried, and taken the testimony. But
+McGuire had given bail and arranged for a hearing both as to the
+shooting of and the death of Hawk Kennedy, when Peter was well enough to
+go to May's Landing.
+
+The death of Hawk had produced a remarkable change in the character and
+personality of the owner of the Black Rock Reserve. His back was
+straighter, his look more direct, and he entered with avidity into the
+business of bringing order out of the chaos that had resulted from the
+riot. His word carried some weight, his money more, and with the
+completion of his arrangements with Beth Cameron, he drew again the
+breath of a free man.
+
+But of all this he had said nothing to Peggy, his daughter. He had
+neither written to her nor telephoned, for he had no desire that she
+should know more than the obvious facts as to the death of Hawk Kennedy,
+for conflicting reports would lead to questions. Since she had suspected
+nothing, it was needless to bring that horror to her notice, now that
+the threat had passed. McGuire was a little afraid of his colorful
+daughter. She talked too much and it had been decided that nobody,
+except the lawyer, Peter, Beth and Mrs. Bergen should know the source of
+Beth's sudden and unexpected inheritance. The girl had merely fallen
+heir to the estate of her father, who had died many years before, not
+leaving any record of this daughter, who had at last been found. All of
+which was the truth, so far as it went, and was enough of a story to
+tell Peggy when he should see her.
+
+But Jonathan McGuire found himself somewhat disturbed when he learned
+one morning over the telephone that Peggy McGuire and a guest were on
+their way to Black Rock House for the week-end. The message came from
+the clerk of the hotel, and since Peggy and her friend had already
+started from New York, he knew of no way to intercept them. There was
+nothing to do but make the best of the situation. Peter had the best
+guest room, but Beth had decided the day before to return to the
+cottage, which was greatly in need of her attention. And so McGuire
+informed Mrs. Bergen of the impending visit and gave orders that Miss
+Peggy's room and a room in the wing should be prepared for the
+newcomers.
+
+Beth had no wish to meet Peggy McGuire in this house after the scene
+with Peter in the Cabin, when the young lady had last visited Black
+Rock, for that encounter had given Beth glimpses of the kind of thoughts
+beneath the pretty toques and _cerise_ veils that had once been the
+apple of her admiring eyes. But as luck would have it, as Beth finished
+her afternoon's visit to Peter's bedside and hurried down to get away to
+the village before the visitors arrived, Miss Peggy's low runabout
+roared up to the portico. Beth's first impulse was to draw back and go
+out through the kitchen, but the glances of the two girls met, Peggy's
+in instant recognition. And so Beth tilted her chin and walked down the
+steps just beside the machine, aware of an elegantly attired lady with a
+doll-like prettiness who sat beside Peggy, oblivious of the sharp
+invisible daggers which shot from eye to eye.
+
+"_You_ here!" said Peggy, with an insulting shrug.
+
+Beth merely went her way. But no feminine adept of the art of give and
+take could have showed a more perfect example of studied indifference
+than Beth did. It was quite true that her cheeks burned as she went down
+the drive and that she wished that Peter were well out of the house so
+long as Peggy was in it.
+
+But Peggy McGuire could know nothing of Beth's feelings and cared not at
+all what she thought or felt. Peggy McGuire was too much concerned with
+the importance of the visitor that she had brought with her, the first
+live princess that she had succeeded in bringing into captivity. But
+Anastasie Galitzin had not missed the little by-play and inquired with
+some amusement as to the very pretty girl who had come out of the house.
+
+"Oh--the housekeeper's niece," replied Peggy, in her boarding school
+French. "I don't like her. I thought she'd gone. She's been having a
+_petite affaire_ with our new forester and superintendent."
+
+Anastasie Galitzin, who was in the act of descending from the machine,
+remained poised for a moment, as it were, in midair, staring at her
+hostess.
+
+"Ah!" she said. "_Vraiment!_"
+
+By this time the noise of the motor had brought Stryker and the
+downstairs maid from the house, and in the confusion of carrying the
+luggage indoors, the conversation terminated. It was not until Peggy's
+noisy greetings to her father in the hallway were concluded and the
+introduction of her new guest accomplished that Jonathan McGuire was
+permitted to tell her in a few words the history of the past week, and
+of the injury to the superintendent, who lay upstairs in the room of the
+guest of honor.
+
+"H-m," sniffed Peggy, "I don't see why you had to bring him _here_!"
+
+"It's a long story, Peg," said McGuire calmly. "I'll tell you presently.
+Of course the Princess is very welcome, but I couldn't let him be taken
+anywhere but here, after he'd behaved so fine all through the rioting."
+
+"Well, it seems to me," Peggy began, when the voice of her guest cut in
+rather sharply.
+
+"_Pierre!_" gasped Anastasie sharply, and then, in her pretty broken
+English, "You say, Monsieur, it is he--Pe-ter Nichols--who 'as been
+badly 'urt?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am, pretty bad--shot through the breast----"
+
+"_Sainte Vierge!_"
+
+"But he's getting on all right now. He'll be sitting up in a day or so,
+the doctor says. Did you know him, ma'am?"
+
+Anastasie Galitzin made no reply, and only stared at her host, breathing
+with some difficulty. Peggy, who had been watching her startled face,
+found herself intensely curious. But as she would have questioned, the
+Princess recovered herself with an effort.
+
+"No--yes, Monsieur. It--it is nothing. But if you please--I should like
+to go at once to my room."
+
+And Peggy and her father, both of them much mystified, led the way up
+the stairs and to the room that had been prepared in the wing of the
+house, Stryker following with the bag and dressing case.
+
+At the door of the room the Princess begged Peggy to excuse her,
+pleading weariness, and so the astonished and curious hostess was forced
+to relinquish her latest social conquest and seek her own room, there to
+meditate upon the extraordinary thing that had happened. Why was
+Anastasie Galitzin so perturbed at learning of the wounds of Peter
+Nichols? What did it all mean? Had she known him somewhere in the
+past--in England--in Russia? What was he to her?
+
+But in a moment Jonathan McGuire joined her and revealed the identity of
+his mysterious forester and superintendent. At first Peggy was
+incredulous, then listened while her father told a story, half true,
+half fictitious, which had been carefully planned to answer all the
+requirements of the situation. And unaware of the cyclonic disturbances
+he was causing in the breast of his only child, he told her of Beth and
+Peter, and of the evidences of their devotion each to the other in spite
+of their difference in station. Peggy's small soul squirmed during the
+recital, but she only listened and said nothing. She realized that in a
+situation such as this mere words on her part would be superfluous. The
+Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch! Here at Black Rock! Her pop's
+superintendent! And she had not known. She had even insulted him. It was
+hideous!
+
+And the Princess? The deep emotion that she had shown on hearing of the
+dangerous wound of the convalescent was now explained. But only partly
+so. The look that Peggy had surprised in Anastasie Galitzin's face meant
+something more than mere solicitude for the safety of one of Russia's
+banished Grand Dukes. It was the Princess who had been shocked at the
+information, but it was the woman who had showed pain. Was there--had
+there ever been--anything between Anastasie Galitzin and this--this
+Peter Nichols?
+
+Facts about the early stages of her acquaintanceship with Anastasie
+Galitzin now loomed up with an unpleasant definiteness. She had been
+much flattered that so important a personage had shown her such
+distinguished marks of favor and had rejoiced in the celerity with which
+the intimacy had been established. The thought that the Princess
+Galitzin had known all the while that the Grand Duke was living
+incognito at Black Rock and had merely used Peggy as a means to bring
+about this visit was not a pleasant one to Peggy. But the fact was now
+quite obvious. She had been making a convenience of her. And what was
+now to be the result of this visit? The Princess did not yet know of the
+engagement of His Highness to the scullery maid. Who was to tell her?
+
+The snobbish little heart of Peggy McGuire later gained some
+consolation, for Anastasie Galitzin emerged from her room refreshed and
+invigorated, and lent much grace to the dinner table, telling father and
+daughter something of the early life of the convalescent, exhibiting a
+warm friendship which could be satisfied with nothing less than a visit
+on the morrow to the sick-room. And His Highness now very much on the
+mend, sent word, with the doctor's permission, that he would be charmed
+to receive the Princess Galitzin at ten in the morning.
+
+What happened in the room of the convalescent was never related to Peggy
+McGuire. But Anastasie emerged with her head erect, her pretty face
+wearing the fixed smile of the eternally bored. And then she told Peggy
+that she had decided to return to New York. So after packing her
+belongings, she got into Peggy's car and was driven much against the
+will of her hostess to the Bergen cottage. Peggy wouldn't get out of the
+car but Anastasie went to the door and knocked. Beth came out with her
+sleeves rolled above her elbows, her fingers covered with flour. The
+Princess Galitzin vanished inside and the door was closed. Her call
+lasted ten minutes while Peggy cooled her heels. But whether the visit
+had been prompted by goodness of heart or whether by a curiosity to
+study the lady of Peter's choice at close range, no one will ever know.
+Beth was very polite to her and though she identified her without
+difficulty as the heliotrope-envelope lady, she offered her some of the
+"cookies" that she had made for Peter, and expressed the warmest thanks
+for her kind wishes. She saw Anastasie Galitzin to the door, marking her
+heightened color and wondering what her fur coat had cost. Beth couldn't
+help thinking, whatever her motive in coming, that the Princess Galitzin
+was a very beautiful lady and that her manners had been lovely. But it
+was with a sigh of relief that she saw the red car vanish down the road
+in a cloud of dust.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+His convalescence begun, Peter recovered rapidly and in three weeks more
+he was himself again. In those three weeks many interesting things had
+happened.
+
+Jonathan K. McGuire had held a series of important conferences with
+Peter and Mrs. Bergen who seemed to have grown ten years younger. And
+one fine day after a protracted visit to New York with Mrs. Bergen, he
+returned laden with mysterious packages and boxes, and stopped at the
+door of the cottage, where Peter was taking a lunch of Beth's cooking.
+
+It was a beautiful surprise. Mrs. Bergen whispered in Beth's ear and
+Beth followed her into the kitchen, where the contents of one or two of
+the boxes were exposed to Beth's astonished gaze. Peter, of course,
+being in the secret, kept aloof, awaiting the result of Mrs. Bergen's
+disclosures. But when Beth came back into the plush-covered parlor, he
+revealed his share in the conspiracy by producing, with the skill of a
+conjurer taking a rabbit from a silk hat, a minister and a marriage
+license, the former having been hidden in the house of a neighbor. And
+Jonathan K. McGuire, with something of an air, fully justified by the
+difficulties he had been at to secure it, produced a pasteboard box,
+which contained another box of beautiful white velvet, which he opened
+with pride, exhibiting its contents. On the soft satin lining was a
+brooch, containing a ruby as large as Beth's thumbnail.
+
+With a gasp of joy, she gazed at it, for she knew just what it was, the
+family jewel that had been sold to the purser of the _Bermudian_. And
+then she threw her arms around McGuire's neck and kissed him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Some weeks later Beth and Peter sat at dusk in the drawing-room of Black
+Rock House, for McGuire had turned the whole place over to them for the
+honeymoon. The night was chilly, a few flakes of snow had fallen during
+the afternoon, so a log fire burned in the fireplace. Peter sat at the
+piano playing the "Romance" of Sibelius, for which Beth had asked, but
+when it was finished, his fingers, impelled by a thought beyond his own
+control, began the opening rumble of the "Revolutionary Etude." The
+music was familiar to Beth and it stirred her always because it was
+this gorgeous plaint of hope and despair that had at the very first
+sounded depths in her own self the existence of which she had never even
+dreamed. But to-night Peter played it as she had never heard him play it
+before, with all his soul at his finger tips. And she watched his
+downcast profile as he stared at vacancy while he played. It was in
+moments like these that Beth felt herself groping in the dark after him,
+he was so far away. And yet she was not afraid, for she knew that out of
+the dreams and mysticism of the half of him that was Russian he would
+come back to her,--just Peter Nichols.
+
+He did presently, when his hands fell upon the last chords and he sat
+with head still bowed until the last tremor had died. Then he rose and
+turned to her. She smiled at him and he joined her on the divan. Their
+fingers intertwined and they sat for a long moment looking into the
+fire. But Beth knew of what he was thinking and Peter knew that she
+knew. Their honeymoon was over. There was work to do in the world.
+
+
+
+
+    +-------------------------------------------------+
+    |             Transcriber's Note:                 |
+    |                                                 |
+    | Typographical errors corrected in the text:     |
+    |                                                 |
+    | Page   9  Nicolaevitch changed to Nicholaevitch |
+    | Page  12  Vasil changed to Vasili               |
+    | Page  39  reassuring changed to reassuring      |
+    | Page  90  rigidily changaed to rigidly          |
+    | Page  94  seee changed to see                   |
+    | Page 158  Andy should read Jesse                |
+    | Page 164  the changed to he                     |
+    | Page 188  Well's changed to Wells's             |
+    | Page 353  musn't changed to mustn't             |
+    | Page 355  Its changed to It's                   |
+    | Page 362  Lukovo changed to Zukovo              |
+    +-------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Vagrant Duke, by George Gibbs
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