diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 33065-8.txt | 11998 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 33065-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 224177 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 33065-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 350423 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 33065-h/33065-h.htm | 16400 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 33065-h/images/img-202.jpg | bin | 0 -> 63880 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 33065-h/images/img-front.jpg | bin | 0 -> 57576 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 33065.txt | 11998 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 33065.zip | bin | 0 -> 224145 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
11 files changed, 40412 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/33065-8.txt b/33065-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fcacaed --- /dev/null +++ b/33065-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11998 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Indian Drum, by William MacHarg and Edwin Balmer + +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 Indian Drum + +Author: William MacHarg + Edwin Balmer + +Illustrator: W. T. Benda + +Release Date: July 3, 2010 [EBook #33065] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INDIAN DRUM *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: As Constance started away, Spearman suddenly drew her +back to him and kissed her.] + + + + + +THE INDIAN DRUM + + +BY + +WILLIAM MacHARG + +AND + +EDWIN BALMER + + + + +FRONTISPIECE BY + +W. T. BENDA + + + + +NEW YORK + +GROSSET & DUNLAP + +PUBLISHERS + + + + +_Copyright, 1917,_ + +BY EDWIN BALMER + + +_All rights reserved_ + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I THE MAN WHOM THE STORM HAUNTED + II WHO IS ALAN CONRAD? + III DISCUSSION OF A SHADOW + IV "ARRIVED SAFE; WELL" + V AN ENCOUNTER + VI CONSTANCE SHERRILL + VII THE DEED IN TRUST + VIII MR. CORVET'S PARTNER + IX VIOLENCE + X A WALK BESIDE THE LAKE + XI A CALLER + XII THE LAND OF THE DRUM + XIII THE THINGS FROM CORVET'S POCKETS + XIV THE OWNER OF THE WATCH + XV OLD BURR OF THE FERRY + XVI A GHOST SHIP + XVII "HE KILLED YOUR FATHER" + XVIII MR. SPEARMAN GOES NORTH + XIX THE WATCH UPON THE BEACH + XX THE SOUNDING OF THE DRUM + XXI THE FATE OF THE MIWAKA + + + + +THE INDIAN DRUM + + +CHAPTER I + +THE MAN WHOM THE STORM HAUNTED + +Near the northern end of Lake Michigan, where the bluff-bowed +ore-carriers and the big, low-lying, wheat-laden steel freighters from +Lake Superior push out from the Straits of Mackinac and dispute the +right of way, in the island divided channel, with the white-and-gold, +electric lighted, wireless equipped passenger steamers bound for +Detroit and Buffalo, there is a copse of pine and hemlock back from the +shingly beach. From this copse--dark, blue, primeval, silent at most +times as when the Great Manitou ruled his inland waters--there comes at +time of storm a sound like the booming of an old Indian drum. This +drum beat, so the tradition says, whenever the lake took a life; and, +as a sign perhaps that it is still the Manitou who rules the waters in +spite of all the commerce of the cities, the drum still beats its roll +for every ship lost on the lake, one beat for every life. + +So--men say--they heard and counted the beatings of the drum to +thirty-five upon the hour when, as afterward they learned, the great +steel steamer _Wenota_ sank with twenty-four of its crew and eleven +passengers; so--men say--they heard the requiem of the five who went +down with the schooner _Grant_; and of the seventeen lost with the +_Susan Hart_; and so of a score of ships more. Once only, it is told, +has the drum counted wrong. + +At the height of the great storm of December, 1895, the drum beat the +roll of a sinking ship. One, two, three--the hearers counted the drum +beats, time and again, in their intermitted booming, to twenty-four. +They waited, therefore, for report of a ship lost with twenty-four +lives; no such news came. The new steel freighter _Miwaka_, on her +maiden trip during the storm with twenty-five--not twenty-four--aboard +never made her port; no news was ever heard from her; no wreckage ever +was found. On this account, throughout the families whose fathers, +brothers, and sons were the officers and crew of the _Miwaka_, there +stirred for a time a desperate belief that one of the men on the +_Miwaka_ was saved; that somewhere, somehow, he was alive and might +return. The day of the destruction of the _Miwaka_ was fixed as +December fifth by the time at which she passed the government lookout +at the Straits; the hour was fixed as five o'clock in the morning only +by the sounding of the drum. + +The region, filled with Indian legend and with memories of wrecks, +encourages such beliefs as this. To northward and to westward a half +dozen warning lights--Ile-aux-Galets ("Skilligalee" the lake men call +it), Waugaushance, Beaver, and Fox Islands--gleam spectrally where the +bone-white shingle outcrops above the water, or blur ghostlike in the +haze; on the dark knolls topping the glistening sand bluffs to +northward, Chippewas and Ottawas, a century and a half ago, quarreled +over the prisoners after the massacre at Fort Mackinac; to southward, +where other hills frown down upon Little Traverse Bay, the black-robed +priests in their chapel chant the same masses their predecessors +chanted to the Indians of that time. So, whatever may be the origin of +that drum, its meaning is not questioned by the forlorn descendants of +those Indians, who now make beadwork and sweet-grass baskets for their +summer trade, or by the more credulous of the white fishermen and +farmers; men whose word on any other subject would receive +unquestioning credence will tell you they have heard the drum. + +But at bottom, of course, this is only the absurdest of superstitions, +which can affect in no way men who to-day ship ore in steel bottoms to +the mills of Gary and carry gasoline-engine reaped and threshed wheat +to the elevators of Chicago. It is recorded, therefore, only as a +superstition which for twenty-years has been connected with the loss of +a great ship. + + * * * * * + +Storm--the stinging, frozen sleet-slash of the February norther +whistling down the floe-jammed length of the lake--was assaulting +Chicago. Over the lake it was a white, whirling maelstrom, obscuring +at midafternoon even the lighthouses at the harbor entrance; beyond +that, the winter boats trying for the harbor mouth were bellowing +blindly at bay before the jammed ice, and foghorns and sirens echoed +loudly in the city in the lulls of the storm. + +Battering against the fronts of the row of club buildings, fashionable +hotels, and shops which face across the narrow strip of park to the +lake front in downtown Chicago, the gale swirled and eddied the sleet +till all the wide windows, warm within, were frosted. So heavy was +this frost on the panes of the Fort Dearborn Club--one of the staidest +of the down-town clubs for men--that the great log fires blazing on the +open hearths added appreciable light as well as warmth to the rooms. + +The few members present at this hour of the afternoon showed by their +lazy attitudes and the desultoriness of their conversation the dulling +of vitality which warmth and shelter bring on a day of cold and storm. +On one, however, the storm had had a contrary effect. With swift, +uneven steps he paced now one room, now another; from time to time he +stopped abruptly by a window, scraped from it with finger nail the +frost, stared out for an instant through the little opening he had +made, then resumed as abruptly his nervous pacing with a manner so +uneasy and distraught that, since his arrival at the club an hour +before, none even among those who knew him best had ventured to speak +to him. + +There are, in every great city, a few individuals who from their +fullness of experience in an epoch of the city's life come to epitomize +that epoch in the general mind; when one thinks of a city or of a +section of the country in more personal terms than its square miles, +its towering buildings, and its censused millions, one must think of +those individuals. Almost every great industry owns one and seldom +more than one; that often enough is not, in a money sense, the +predominant figure of his industry; others of his rivals or even of his +partners may be actually more powerful than he; but he is the +personality; he represents to the outsiders the romance and mystery of +the secrets and early, naked adventures of the great achievement. +Thus, to think of the great mercantile establishments of State Street +is to think immediately of one man; another very vivid and picturesque +personality stands for the stockyards; another rises from the wheat +pit; one more from the banks; one from the steel works. The man who +was pacing restlessly and alone the rooms of the Fort Dearborn Club on +this stormy afternoon was the man who, to most people, bodied forth the +life underlying all other commerce thereabouts but the least known, the +life of the lakes. + +The lakes, which mark unmistakably those who get their living from +them, had put their marks on him. Though he was slight in frame with a +spare, almost ascetic leanness, he had the wiry strength and endurance +of the man whose youth had been passed upon the water. He was very +close to sixty now, but his thick, straight hair was still jet black +except for a slash of pure white above one temple; his brows were black +above his deep blue eyes. Unforgettable eyes, they were; they gazed at +one directly with surprising, disconcerting intrusion into one's +thoughts; then, before amazement altered to resentment, one realized +that, though he was still gazing, his eyes were vacant with +speculation--a strange, lonely withdrawal into himself. His +acquaintances, in explaining him to strangers, said he had lived too +much by himself of late; he and one man servant shared the great house +which had been unchanged--and in which nothing appeared to have been +worn out or have needed replacing--since his wife left him, suddenly +and unaccountably, about twenty years before. At that time he had +looked much the same as now; since then, the white slash upon his +temple had grown a bit broader perhaps; his nose had become a trifle +aquiline, his chin more sensitive, his well formed hands a little more +slender. People said he looked more French, referring to his father +who was known to have been a skin-hunter north of Lake Superior in the +50's but who later married an English girl at Mackinac and settled down +to become a trader in the woods of the North Peninsula, where Benjamin +Corvet was born. + +During his boyhood, men came to the peninsula to cut timber; young +Corvet worked with them and began building ships. Thirty-five years +ago, he had been only one of the hundreds with his fortune in the fate +of a single bottom; but to-day in Cleveland, in Duluth, in Chicago, +more than a score of great steamers under the names of various +interdependent companies were owned or controlled by him and his two +partners, Sherrill and young Spearman. + +He was a quiet, gentle-mannered man. At times, however, he suffered +from fits of intense irritability, and these of late had increased in +frequency and violence. It had been noticed that these outbursts +occurred generally at times of storm upon the lake, but the mere threat +of financial loss through the destruction of one or even more of his +ships was not now enough to cause them; it was believed that they were +the result of some obscure physical reaction to the storm, and that +this had grown upon him as he grew older. + +To-day his irritability was so marked, his uneasiness so much greater +than any one had seen it before, that the attendant whom Corvet had +sent, a half hour earlier, to reserve his usual table for him in the +grill--"the table by the second window"--had started away without +daring to ask whether the table was to be set for one or more. Corvet +himself had corrected the omission: "For two," he had shot after the +man. Now, as his uneven footsteps carried him to the door of the +grill, and he went in, the steward, who had started forward at sight of +him, suddenly stopped, and the waiter assigned to his table stood +nervously uncertain, not knowing whether to give his customary greeting +or to efface himself as much as possible. + +The tables, at this hour, were all unoccupied. Corvet crossed to the +one he had reserved and sat down; he turned immediately to the window +at his side and scraped on it a little clear opening through which he +could see the storm outside. Ten minutes later he looked up sharply +but did not rise, as the man he had been awaiting--Spearman, the +younger of his two partners--came in. + +Spearman's first words, audible through the big room, made plain that +he was late to an appointment asked by Corvet; his acknowledgment of +this took the form of an apology, but one which, in tone different from +Spearman's usual bluff, hearty manner, seemed almost contemptuous. He +seated himself, his big, powerful hands clasped on the table, his gray +eyes studying Corvet closely. As Corvet, without acknowledging the +apology, took the pad and began to write an order for both, Spearman +interfered; he had already lunched; he would take only a cigar. The +waiter took the order and went away. + +When he returned, the two men were obviously in bitter quarrel. +Corvet's tone, low pitched but violent, sounded steadily in the room, +though his words were inaudible. The waiter, as he set the food upon +the table, felt relief that Corvet's outburst had fallen on other +shoulders than his. + +It had fallen, in fact, upon the shoulders best able to bear it. +Spearman--still called, though he was slightly over forty now, "young" +Spearman--was the power in the great ship-owning company of Corvet, +Sherrill, and Spearman. Corvet had withdrawn, during recent years, +almost entirely from active life; some said the sorrow and +mortification of his wife's leaving him had made him choose more and +more the seclusion of his library in the big lonely house on the North +Shore, and had given Spearman the chance to rise; but those most +intimately acquainted with the affairs of the great ship-owning firm +maintained that Spearman's rise had not been granted him but had been +forced by Spearman himself. In any case, Spearman was not the one to +accept Corvet's irritation meekly. + +For nearly an hour, the quarrel continued with intermitted truces of +silence. The waiter, listening, as waiters always do, caught at times +single sentences. + +"You have had that idea for some time?" he heard from Corvet. + +"We have had an understanding for more than a month." + +"How definite?" + +Spearman's answer was not audible, but it more intensely agitated +Corvet; his lips set; a hand which held his fork clasped and unclasped +nervously; he dropped his fork and, after that, made no pretense of +eating. + +The waiter, following this, caught only single words. +"Sherrill"--that, of course, was the other partner. "Constance"--that +was Sherrill's daughter. The other names he heard were names of ships. +But, as the quarrel went on, the manners of the two men changed; +Spearman, who at first had been assailed by Corvet, now was assailing +him. Corvet sat back in his seat, while Spearman pulled at his cigar +and now and then took it from his lips and gestured with it between his +fingers, as he jerked some ejaculation across the table. + +Corvet leaned over to the frosted window, as he had done when alone, +and looked out. Spearman shot a comment which made Corvet wince and +draw back from the window; then Spearman rose. He delayed, standing, +to light another cigar deliberately and with studied slowness. Corvet +looked up at him once and asked a question, to which Spearman replied +with a snap of the burnt match down on the table; he turned abruptly +and strode from the room. Corvet sat motionless. + +The revulsion to self-control, sometimes even to apology, which +ordinarily followed Corvet's bursts of irritation had not come to him; +his agitation plainly had increased. He pushed from him his uneaten +luncheon and got up slowly. He went out to the coat room, where the +attendant handed him his coat and hat. He hung the coat upon his arm. +The doorman, acquainted with him for many years, ventured to suggest a +cab. Corvet, staring strangely at him, shook his head. + +"At least, sir," the man urged, "put on your coat." + +Corvet ignored him. + +He winced as he stepped out into the smarting, blinding swirl of sleet, +but his shrinking was not physical; it was mental, the unconscious +reaction to some thought the storm called up. The hour was barely four +o'clock, but so dark was it with the storm that the shop windows were +lit; motorcars, slipping and skidding up the broad boulevard, with +headlights burning; kept their signals clattering constantly to warn +other drivers blinded by the snow. The sleet-swept sidewalks were +almost deserted; here or there, before a hotel or one of the shops, a +limousine came to the curb, and the passengers dashed swiftly across +the walk to shelter. + +Corvet, still carrying his coat upon his arm, turned northward along +Michigan Avenue, facing into the gale. The sleet beat upon his face +and lodged in the folds of his clothing without his heeding it. + +Suddenly he aroused. "One--two--three--four!" he counted the long, +booming blasts of a steam whistle. A steamer out on that snow-shrouded +lake was in distress. The sound ceased, and the gale bore in only the +ordinary storm and fog signals. Corvet recognized the foghorn at the +lighthouse at the end of the government pier; the light, he knew, was +turning white, red, white, red, white behind the curtain of sleet; +other steam vessels, not in distress, blew their blasts; the long four +of the steamer calling for help cut in again. + +Corvet stopped, drew up his shoulders, and stood staring out toward the +lake, as the signal blasts of distress boomed and boomed again. Color +came now into his pale cheeks for an instant. A siren swelled and +shrieked, died away wailing, shrieked louder and stopped; the four +blasts blew again, and the siren wailed in answer. + +A door opened behind Corvet; warm air rushed out, laden with sweet, +heavy odors--chocolate and candy; girls' laughter, exaggerated +exclamations, laughter again came with it; and two girls holding their +muffs before their faces passed by. + +"See you to-night, dear." + +"Yes; I'll be there--if he comes." + +"Oh, he'll come!" + +They ran to different limousines, scurried in, and the cars swept off. + +Corvet turned about to the tearoom from which they had come; he could +see, as the door opened again, a dozen tables with their white cloths, +shining silver, and steaming little porcelain pots; twenty or thirty +girls and young women were refreshing themselves, pleasantly, after +shopping or fittings or a concert; a few young men were sipping +chocolate with them. The blast of the distress signal, the scream of +the siren, must have come to them when the door was opened; but, if +they heard it at all, they gave it no attention; the clatter and +laughter and sipping of chocolate and tea was interrupted only by those +who reached quickly for a shopping list or some filmy possession +threatened by the draft. They were as oblivious to the lake in front +of their windows, to the ship struggling for life in the storm, as +though the snow were a screen which shut them into a distant world. + +To Corvet, a lake man for forty years, there was nothing strange in +this. Twenty miles, from north to south, the city--its business +blocks, its hotels and restaurants, its homes--faced the water and, +except where the piers formed the harbor, all unprotected water, an +open sea where in times of storm ships sank and grounded, men fought +for their lives against the elements and, losing, drowned and died; and +Corvet was well aware that likely enough none of those in that tearoom +or in that whole building knew what four long blasts meant when they +were blown as they were now, or what the siren meant that answered. +But now, as he listened to the blasts which seemed to have grown more +desperate, this profoundly affected Corvet. He moved once to stop one +of the couples coming from the tearoom. They hesitated, as he stared +at them; then, when they had passed him, they glanced back. Corvet +shook himself together and went on. + +He continued to go north. He had not seemed, in the beginning, to have +made conscious choice of this direction; but now he was following it +purposely. He stopped once at a shop which sold men's things to make a +telephone call. He asked for Miss Sherrill when the number answered; +but he did not wish to speak to her, he said; he wanted merely to be +sure she would be there if he stopped in to see her in half an hour. +Then--north again. He crossed the bridge. Now, fifteen minutes later, +he came in sight of the lake once more. + +Great houses, the Sherrill house among them, here face the Drive, the +bridle path, the strip of park, and the wide stone esplanade which +edges the lake. Corvet crossed to this esplanade. It was an ice-bank +now; hummocks of snow and ice higher than a man's head shut off view of +the floes tossing and crashing as far out as the blizzard let one see; +but, dislodged and shaken by the buffeting of the floe, they let the +gray water swell up from underneath and wash around his feet as he went +on. He did not stop at the Sherrill house or look toward it, but went +on fully a quarter of a mile beyond it; then he came back, and with an +oddly strained and queer expression and attitude, he stood staring out +into the lake. He could not hear the distress signals now. + +Suddenly he turned. Constance Sherrill, seeing him from a window of +her home, had caught a cape about her and run out to him. + +"Uncle Benny!" she hailed him with the affectionate name she had used +with her father's partner since she was a baby. "Uncle Benny, aren't +you coming in?" + +"Yes," he said vaguely. "Yes, of course." He made no move but +remained staring at her. "Connie!" he exclaimed suddenly, with strange +reproach to himself in his tone. "Connie! Dear little Connie!" + +"Why?" she asked him. "Uncle Benny, what's the matter?" + +He seemed to catch himself together. "There was a ship out there in +trouble," he said in a quite different tone. "They aren't blowing any +more; are they all right?" + +"It was one of the M and D boats--the _Louisiana_, they told me. She +went by here blowing for help, and I called up the office to find out. +A tug and one other of their line got out to her; she had started a +cylinder head bucking the ice and was taking in a little water. Uncle +Benny, you must put on your coat." + +She brushed the sleet from his shoulders and collar, and held the coat +for him; he put it on obediently. + +"Has Spearman been here to-day?" he asked, not looking at her. + +"To see father?" + +"No; to see you." + +"No." + +He seized her wrist. "Don't see him, when he comes!" he commanded. + +"Uncle Benny!" + +"Don't see him!" Corvet repeated. "He's asked you to marry him, hasn't +he?" + +Connie could not refuse the answer. "Yes." + +"And you?" + +"Why--why, Uncle Benny, I haven't answered him yet." + +"Then don't--don't; do you understand, Connie?" + +She hesitated, frightened for him. "I'll--I'll tell you before I see +him, if you want me to, Uncle Benny," she granted. + +"But if you shouldn't be able to tell me then, Connie; if you +shouldn't--want to then?" The humility of his look perplexed her; if +he had been any other man--any man except Uncle Benny--she would have +thought some shameful and terrifying threat hung over him; but he broke +off sharply. "I must go home," he said uncertainly. "I must go home; +then I'll come back. Connie, you won't give him an answer till I come +back, will you?" + +"No." He got her promise, half frightened, half bewildered; then he +turned at once and went swiftly away from her. + +She ran back to the door of her father's house. From there she saw him +reach the corner and turn west to go to Astor Street. He was walking +rapidly and did not hesitate. + +The trite truism which relates the inability of human beings to know +the future, has a counterpart not so often mentioned: We do not always +know our own past until the future has made plain what has happened to +us. Constance Sherrill, at the close of this, the most important day +in her life, did not know at all that it had been important to her. +All she felt was a perplexed, but indefinite uneasiness about Uncle +Benny. How strangely he had acted! Her uneasiness increased when the +afternoon and evening passed without his coming back to see her as he +had promised, but she reflected he had not set any definite time when +she was to expect him. During the night her anxiety grew still +greater; and in the morning she called his house up on the telephone, +but the call was unanswered. An hour later, she called again; still +getting no result, she called her father at his office, and told him of +her anxiety about Uncle Benny, but without repeating what Uncle Benny +had said to her or the promise she had made to him. Her father made +light of her fears; Uncle Benny, he reminded her, often acted queerly +in bad weather. Only partly reassured, she called Uncle Benny's house +several more times during the morning, but still got no reply; and +after luncheon she called her father again, to tell him that she had +resolved to get some one to go over to the house with her. + +Her father, to her surprise, forbade this rather sharply; his voice, +she realized, was agitated and excited, and she asked him the reason; +but instead of answering her, he made her repeat to him her +conversation of the afternoon before with Uncle Benny, and now he +questioned her closely about it. But when she, in her turn, tried to +question him, he merely put her off and told her not to worry. Later, +when she called him again, resolved to make him tell her what was the +matter, he had left the office. + +In the late afternoon, as dusk was drawing into dark, she stood at the +window, watching the storm, which still continued, with one of those +delusive hopes which come during anxiety that, because it was the time +of day at which she had seen Uncle Benny walking by the lake the day +before, she might see him there again, when she saw her father's motor +approaching. It was coming from the north, not from the south as it +would have been if he was coming from his office or his club, and it +had turned into the drive from the west. She knew, therefore, that he +was coming from Uncle Benny's house, and, as the car swerved and +wheeled in, she ran out into the hall to meet him. + +He came in without taking off hat or coat; she could see that he was +perturbed, greatly agitated. + +"What is it, father?" she demanded. "What has happened?" + +"I do not know, my dear." + +"It is something--something that has happened to Uncle Benny?" + +"I am afraid so, dear--yes. But I do not know what it is that has +happened, or I would tell you." + +He put his arm about her and drew her into a room opening off the +hall--his study. He made her repeat again to him the conversation she +had had with Uncle Benny and tell him how he had acted; but she saw +that what she told him did not help him. He seemed to consider it +carefully, but in the end to discard or disregard it. + +Then he drew her toward him. + +"Tell me, little daughter. You have been a great deal with Uncle Benny +and have talked with him; I want you to think carefully. Did you ever +hear him speak of any one called Alan Conrad?" + +She thought. "No, father." + +"No reference ever made by him at all to either name--Alan or Conrad?" + +"No, father." + +"No reference either to any one living in Kansas, or to a town there +called Blue Rapids?" + +"No, father. Who is Alan Conrad?" + +"I do not know, dear. I never heard the name until to-day, and Henry +Spearman had never heard it. But it appears to be intimately connected +in some way with what was troubling Uncle Benny yesterday. He wrote a +letter yesterday to Alan Conrad in Blue Rapids and mailed it himself; +and afterward he tried to get it back, but it already had been taken up +and was on its way. I have not been able to learn anything more about +the letter than that. He seems to have been excited and troubled all +day; he talked queerly to you, and he quarreled with Henry, but +apparently not about anything of importance. And to-day that name, +Alan Conrad, came to me in quite another way, in a way which makes it +certain that it is closely connected with whatever has happened to +Uncle Benny. You are quite sure you never heard him mention it, dear?" + +"Quite sure, father." + +He released her and, still in his hat and coat, went swiftly up the +stairs. She ran after him and found him standing before a highboy in +his dressing room. He unlocked a drawer in the highboy, and from +within the drawer he took a key. Then, still disregarding her, he +hurried back down-stairs. + +As she followed him, she caught up a wrap and pulled it around her. He +had told the motor, she realized now, to wait; but as he reached the +door, he turned and stopped her. + +"I would rather you did not come with me, little daughter. I do not +know at all what it is that has happened--I will let you know as soon +as I find out." + +The finality in his tone stopped her from argument. As the house door +and then the door of the limousine closed after him, she went back +toward the window, slowly taking off the wrap. She saw the motor shoot +swiftly out upon the drive, turn northward in the way that it had come, +and then turn again, and disappear. She could only stand and watch for +it to come back and listen for the 'phone; for the moment she found it +difficult to think. Something had happened to Uncle Benny, something +terrible, dreadful for those who loved him; that was plain, though only +the fact and not its nature was known to her or to her father; and that +something was connected--intimately connected, her father had +said--with a name which no one who knew Uncle Benny, ever had heard +before, with the name of Alan Conrad of Blue Rapids, Kansas. Who was +this Alan Conrad, and what could his connection be with Uncle Benny so +to precipitate disaster upon him? + + + + +CHAPTER II + +WHO IS ALAN CONRAD? + +The recipient of the letter which Benjamin Corvet had written and later +so excitedly attempted to recover, was asking himself a question which +was almost the same as the question which Constance Sherrill had asked. +He was, the second morning later, waiting for the first of the two +daily eastbound trains which stopped at the little Kansas town of Blue +Rapids which he called home. As long as he could look back into his +life, the question, who is this person they call Alan Conrad, and what +am I to the man who writes from Chicago, had been the paramount enigma +of existence for him. Since he was now twenty-three, as nearly as he +had been able to approximate it, and as distinct recollection of +isolated, extraordinary events went back to the time when he was five, +it was quite eighteen years since he had first noticed the question put +to the people who had him in charge: "So this is little Alan Conrad. +Who is he?" + +Undoubtedly the question had been asked in his presence before; +certainly it was asked many times afterwards; but it was since that day +when, on his noticing the absence of a birthday of his own, they had +told him he was five, that he connected the evasion of the answer with +the difference between himself and the other children he saw, and +particularly between himself and the boy and girl in the same house +with him. When visitors came from somewhere far off, no one of them +ever looked surprised at seeing the other children or asked about them. +Always, when some one came, it was, "So this is little Jim!" and "This +is Betty; she's more of a Welton every day!" Then, each time with that +change in the voice and in the look of the eyes and in the feel of the +arms about him--for though Alan could not feel how the arms hugged Jim +and Betty, he knew that for him it was quite different--"So this is +Alan Conrad," or, "So this is the child!" or, "This, I suppose, is the +boy I've heard about!" + +However, there was a quite definite, if puzzling, advantage at times in +being Alan Conrad. Following the arrival of certain letters, which +were distinguished from most others arriving at the house by having no +ink writing on the envelope but just a sort of purple or black printing +like newspapers, Alan invariably received a dollar to spend just as he +liked. To be sure, unless "papa" took him to town, there was nothing +for him to spend it upon; so, likely enough, it went into the square +iron bank, of which the key was lost; but quite often he did spend it +according to plans agreed upon among all his friends and, in memory of +these occasions and in anticipation of the next, "Alan's dollar" became +a community institution among the children. + +But exhilarating and wonderful as it was to be able of one's self to +take three friends to the circus, or to be the purveyor of twenty whole +packages--not sticks--of gum, yet the dollar really made only more +plain the boy's difference. The regularity and certainty of its +arrival as Alan's share of some larger sum of money which came to +"papa" in the letter, never served to make the event ordinary or +accepted. + +"Who gives it to you, Alan?" was a question more often asked, as time +went on. The only answer Alan could give was, "It comes from Chicago." +The postmark on the envelope, Alan noticed, was always Chicago; that +was all he ever could find out about his dollar. He was about ten +years old when, for a reason as inexplicable as the dollar's coming, +the letters with the typewritten addresses and the enclosed money +ceased. + +Except for the loss of the dollar at the end of every second month--a +loss much discussed by all the children and not accepted as permanent +till more than two years had passed--Alan felt no immediate results +from the cessation of the letters from Chicago; and when the first +effects appeared, Jim and Betty felt them quite as much as he. Papa +and mamma felt them, too, when the farm had to be given up, and the +family moved to the town, and papa went to work in the woolen mill +beside the river. + +Papa and mamma, at first surprised and dismayed by the stopping of the +letters, still clung to the hope of the familiar, typewritten addressed +envelope appearing again; but when, after two years, no more money +came, resentment which had been steadily growing against the person who +had sent the money began to turn against Alan; and his "parents" told +him all they knew about him. + +In 1896 they had noticed an advertisement for persons to care for a +child; they had answered it to the office of the newspaper which +printed it. In response to their letter a man called upon them and, +after seeing them and going around to see their friends, had made +arrangements with them to take a boy of three, who was in good health +and came of good people. He paid in advance board for a year and +agreed to send a certain amount every two months after that time. The +man brought the boy, whom he called Alan Conrad, and left him. For +seven years the money agreed upon came; now it had ceased, and papa had +no way of finding the man--the name given by him appeared to be +fictitious, and he had left no address except "general delivery, +Chicago"--Papa knew nothing more than that. He had advertised in the +Chicago papers after the money stopped coming, and he had communicated +with every one named Conrad in or near Chicago, but he had learned +nothing. Thus, at the age of thirteen, Alan definitely knew that what +he already had guessed--the fact that he belonged somewhere else than +in the little brown house--was all that any one there could tell him; +and the knowledge gave persistence to many internal questionings. +Where did he belong? Who was he? Who was the man who had brought him +here? Had the money ceased coming because the person who sent it was +dead? In that case, connection of Alan with the place where he +belonged was permanently broken. Or would some other communication +from that source reach him some time--if not money, then something +else? Would he be sent for some day? He did not resent "papa and +mamma's" new attitude of benefactors toward him; instead, loving them +both because he had no one else to love, he sympathized with it. They +had struggled hard to keep the farm. They had ambitions for Jim; they +were scrimping and sparing now so that Jim could go to college, and +whatever was given to Alan was taken away from Jim and diminished by +just that much his opportunity. + +But when Alan asked papa to get him a job in the woolen mill at the +other side of town where papa himself worked in some humble and +indefinite capacity, the request was refused. Thus, externally at +least, Alan's learning the little that was known about himself made no +change in his way of living; he went, as did Jim, to the town school, +which combined grammar and high schools under one roof; and, as he grew +older, he clerked--as Jim also did--in one of the town stores during +vacations and in the evenings; the only difference was this: that Jim's +money, so earned, was his own, but Alan carried his home as part +payment of those arrears which had mounted up against him since the +letters ceased coming. At seventeen, having finished high school, he +was clerking officially in Merrill's general store, when the next +letter came. + +It was addressed this time not to papa, but to Alan Conrad. He seized +it, tore it open, and a bank draft for fifteen hundred dollars fell +out. There was no letter with the enclosure, no word of communication; +just the draft to the order of Alan Conrad. Alan wrote the Chicago +bank by which the draft had been issued; their reply showed that the +draft had been purchased with currency, so there was no record of the +identity of the person who had sent it. More than that amount was due +for arrears for the seven years during which no money was sent, even +when the total which Alan had earned was deducted. So Alan merely +endorsed the draft over to "father"; and that fall Jim went to college. +But, when Jim discovered that it not only was possible but planned at +the university for a boy to work his way through, Alan went also. + +Four wonderful years followed. The family of a professor of physics, +with whom he was brought in contact by his work outside of college, +liked him and "took him up." He lodged finally in their house and +became one of them. In companionship with these educated people, ideas +and manners came to him which he could not have acquired at home; +athletics straightened and added bearing to his muscular, well-formed +body; his pleasant, strong young face acquired self-reliance and +self-control. Life became filled with possibilities for himself which +it had never held before. + +But on his day of graduation he had to put away the enterprises he had +planned and the dreams he dreamed and, conscious that his debt to +father and mother still remained unpaid, he had returned to care for +them; for father's health had failed and Jim who had opened a law +office in Kansas City, could do nothing to help. + +No more money had followed the draft from Chicago and there had been no +communication of any kind; but the receipt of so considerable a sum had +revived and intensified all Alan's speculations about himself. The +vague expectation of his childhood that sometime, in some way, he would +be "sent for" had grown during the last six years to a definite belief. +And now--on the afternoon before--the summons had come. + +This time, as he tore open the envelope, he saw that besides a check, +there was writing within--an uneven and nervous-looking but plainly +legible communication in longhand. The letter made no explanation. It +told him, rather than asked him, to come to Chicago, gave minute +instructions for the journey, and advised him to telegraph when he +started. The check was for a hundred dollars to pay his expenses. +Check and letter were signed by a name completely strange to him. + +He was a distinctly attractive looking lad, as he stood now on the +station platform of the little town, while the eastbound train rumbled +in, and he fingered in his pocket the letter from Chicago. + +As the train came to a stop, he pushed his suitcase up on to a car +platform and stood on the bottom step, looking back at the little town +standing away from its railroad station among brown, treeless hills, +now scantily snow-covered--the town which was the only home he ever +consciously had known. His eyes dampened and he choked, as he looked +at it and at the people on the station platform--the station-master, +the drayman, the man from the post office who would receive the mail +bag, people who called him by his first name, as he called them by +theirs. He did not doubt at all that he would see the town and them +again. The question was what he would be when he did see them. They +and it would not be changed, but he would. As the train started, he +picked up the suitcase and carried it into the second day-coach. + +Finding a seat, at once he took the letter from his pocket and for the +dozenth time reread it. Was Corvet a relative? Was he the man who had +sent the remittances when Alan was a little boy, and the one who later +had sent the fifteen hundred dollars? Or was he merely a go-between, +perhaps a lawyer? There was no letterhead to give aid in these +speculations. The address to which Alan was to come was in Astor +Street. He had never heard the name of the street before. Was it a +business street, Corvet's address in some great office building, +perhaps? + +He tried by repeating both names over and over to himself to arouse any +obscure, obliterated childhood memory he might have had of then; but +the repetition brought no result. Memory, when he stretched it back to +its furthest, showed him only the Kansas prairie. + +Late that afternoon he reached Kansas City, designated in the letter as +the point where he would change cars. That night saw him in his +train--a transcontinental with berths nearly all made up and people +sleeping behind the curtains. Alan undressed and got into his berth, +but he lay awake most of the night, excited and expectant. The late +February dawn showed him the rolling lands of Iowa which changed, while +he was at breakfast in the dining car, to the snow-covered fields and +farms of northern Illinois. Toward noon, he could see, as the train +rounded curves, that the horizon to the east had taken on a murky look. +Vast, vague, the shadow--the emanation of hundreds of thousands of +chimneys--thickened and grew more definite as the train sped on; +suburban villages began supplanting country towns; stations became more +pretentious. They passed factories; then hundreds of acres of little +houses of the factory workers in long rows; swiftly the buildings +became larger, closer together; he had a vision of miles upon miles of +streets, and the train rolled slowly into a long trainshed and stopped. + +Alan, following the porter with his suitcase from the car, stepped down +among the crowds hurrying to and from the trains. He was not confused, +he was only intensely excited. Acting in implicit accord with the +instructions of the letter, which he knew by heart, he went to the +uniformed attendant and engaged a taxicab--itself no small experience; +there would be no one at the station to meet him, the letter had said. +He gave the Astor Street address and got into the cab. Leaning forward +in his seat, looking to the right and then to the left as he was driven +through the city, his first sensation was only disappointment. + +Except that it was larger, with more and bigger buildings and with more +people upon its streets, Chicago apparently did not differ from Kansas +City. If it was, in reality, the city of his birth, or if ever he had +seen these streets before, they now aroused no memories in him. + +It had begun to snow again. For a few blocks the taxicab drove north +past more or less ordinary buildings, then turned east on a broad +boulevard where tall tile and brick and stone structures towered till +their roofs were hidden in the snowfall. The large, light flakes, +falling lazily, were thick enough so that, when the taxicab swung to +the north again, there seemed to Alan only a great vague void to his +right. For the hundred yards which he could view clearly, the space +appeared to be a park; now a huge granite building, guarded by stone +lions, went by; then more park; but beyond-- A strange stir and +tingle, quite distinct from the excitement of the arrival at the +station, pricked in Alan's veins, and hastily he dropped the window to +his right and gazed out again. The lake, as he had known since his +geography days, lay to the east of Chicago; therefore that void out +there beyond the park was the lake or, at least, the harbor. A +different air seemed to come from it; sounds... Suddenly it all was +shut off; the taxicab, swerving a little, was dashing between business +blocks; a row of buildings had risen again upon the right; they broke +abruptly to show him a wooden-walled chasm in which flowed a river full +of ice with a tug dropping its smokestack as it went below the bridge +which the cab crossed; buildings on both sides again; then, to the +right, a roaring, heaving, crashing expanse. + +The sound, Alan knew, had been coming to him as an undertone for many +minutes; now it overwhelmed, swallowed all other sound. It was great, +not loud; all sound which Alan had heard before, except the soughing of +the wind over his prairies, came from one point; even the monstrous +city murmur was centered in comparison with this. Alan could see only +a few hundred yards out over the water as the taxicab ran along the +lake drive, but what was before him was the surf of a sea; that +constant, never diminishing, never increasing roar came from far beyond +the shore; the surge and rise and fall and surge again were of a sea in +motion. Floes floated, tossed up, tumbled, broke, and rose again with +the rush of the surf; spray flew up between the floes; geysers spurted +high into the air as the pressure of the water, bearing up against the +ice, burst between two great ice-cakes before the waves cracked them +and tumbled them over. And all was without wind; over the lake, as +over the land, the soft snowflakes lazily floated down, scarcely +stirred by the slightest breeze; that roar was the voice of the water, +that awful power its own. + +Alan choked and gasped for breath, his pulses pounding in his throat; +he had snatched off his hat and, leaning out of the window sucked the +lake air into his lungs. There had been nothing to make him expect +this overwhelming crush of feeling. The lake--he had thought of it, of +course, as a great body of water, an interesting sight for a prairie +boy to see; that was all. No physical experience in all his memory had +affected him like this; and it was without warning; the strange thing +that had stirred within him as the car brought him to the drive +down-town was strengthened now a thousand-fold; it amazed, half +frightened, half dizzied him. Now, as the motor suddenly swung around +a corner and shut the sight of the lake from him, Alan sat back +breathless. + +"Astor Street," he read the marker on the corner a block back from the +lake, and he bent quickly forward to look, as the car swung to the +right into Astor Street. It was--as in this neighborhood it must be--a +residence street of handsome mansions built close together. The car +swerved to the east curb about the middle of the block and came to a +stop. The house before which it had halted was a large stone house of +quiet, good design; it was some generation older, apparently, than the +houses on each side of it which were brick and terra cotta of recent, +fashionable architecture; Alan only glanced at them long enough to get +that impression before he opened the cab door and got out; but as the +cab drove away, he stood beside his suitcase looking up at the old +house which bore the number given in Benjamin Corvet's letter, then +around at the other houses and back to that again. + +The neighborhood obviously precluded the probability of Corvet's being +merely a lawyer--a go-between. He must be some relative; the question +ever present in Alan's thought since the receipt of the letter, but +held in abeyance, as to the possibility and nearness of Corvet's +relation to him, took sharper and more exact form now than he had dared +to let it take before. Was his relationship to Corvet, perhaps, the +closest of all relationships? Was Corvet his ... father? He checked +the question within himself, for the time had passed for mere +speculation upon it now. Alan was trembling excitedly; for--whoever +Corvet might be--the enigma of Alan's existence was going to be +answered when he had entered that house. He was going to know who he +was. All the possibilities, the responsibilities, the attachments, the +opportunities, perhaps, of that person whom he was--but whom, as yet, +he did not know--were before him. + +He half expected the heavy, glassless door at the top of the stone +steps to be opened by some one coming out to greet him, as he took up +his suitcase; but the gray house, like the brighter mansions on both +sides of it, remained impassive. If any one in that house had observed +his coming, no sign was given. He went up the steps and, with fingers +excitedly unsteady, he pushed the bell beside the door. + +The door opened almost instantly--so quickly after the ring, indeed, +that Alan, with leaping throb of his heart, knew that some one must +have been awaiting him. But the door opened only halfway, and the man +who stood within, gazing out at Alan questioningly, was obviously a +servant. + +"What is it?" he asked, as Alan stood looking at him and past him to +the narrow section of darkened hall which was in sight. + +Alan put his hand over the letter in his pocket. "I've come to see Mr. +Corvet," he said--"Mr. Benjamin Corvet." + +"What is your name?" + +Alan gave his name; the man repeated it after him, in the manner of a +trained servant, quite without inflection. Alan, not familiar with +such tones, waited uncertainly. So far as he could tell, the name was +entirely strange to the servant, awaking neither welcome nor +opposition, but indifference. The man stepped back, but not in such a +manner as to invite Alan in; on the contrary, he half closed the door +as he stepped back, leaving it open only an inch or two; but it was +enough so that Alan heard him say to some one within: + +"He says he's him." + +"Ask him in; I will speak to him." It was a girl's voice--this second +one, a voice such as Alan never had heard before. It was low and soft +but quite clear and distinct, with youthful, impulsive modulations and +the manner of accent which Alan knew must go with the sort of people +who lived in houses like those on this street. + +The servant, obeying the voice, returned and opened wide the door. + +"Will you come in, sir?" + +Alan put down his suitcase on the stone porch; the man made no move to +pick it up and bring it in. Then Alan stepped into the hall face to +face with the girl who had come from the big room on the right. + +She was quite a young girl--not over twenty-one or twenty-two, Alan +judged; like girls brought up in wealthy families, she seemed to Alan +to have gained young womanhood in far greater degree in some respects +than the girls he knew, while, at the same time, in other ways, she +retained more than they some characteristics of a child. Her slender +figure had a woman's assurance and grace; her soft brown hair was +dressed like a woman's; her gray eyes had the open directness of the +girl. Her face--smoothly oval, with straight brows and a skin so +delicate that at the temples the veins showed dimly blue--was at once +womanly and youthful; and there was something altogether likable and +simple about her, as she studied Alan now. She had on a street dress +and hat; whether it was this, or whether it was the contrast of her +youth and vitality with this somber, darkened house that told him, Alan +could not tell, but he felt instinctively that this house was not her +home. More likely, it was some indefinable, yet convincing expression +of her manner that gave him that impression. While he hazarded, with +fast beating heart, what privilege of acquaintance with her Alan Conrad +might have, she moved a little nearer to him. She was slightly pale, +he noticed now, and there were lines of strain and trouble about her +eyes. + +"I am Constance Sherrill," she announced. Her tone implied quite +evidently that she expected him to have some knowledge of her, and she +seemed surprised to see that her name did not mean more to him. + +"Mr. Corvet is not here this morning," she said. + +He hesitated, but persisted: "I was to see him here to-day, Miss +Sherrill. He wrote me, and I telegraphed him I would be here to-day." + +"I know," she answered. "We had your telegram. Mr. Corvet was not +here when it came, so my father opened it." Her voice broke oddly, and +he studied her in indecision, wondering who that father might be that +opened Mr. Corvet's telegrams. + +"Mr. Corvet went away very suddenly," she explained. She seemed, he +thought, to be trying to make something plain to him which might be a +shock to him; yet herself to be uncertain what the nature of that shock +might be. Her look was scrutinizing, questioning, anxious, but not +unfriendly. "After he had written you and something else had +happened--I think--to alarm my father about him, father came here to +his house to look after him. He thought something might have ... +happened to Mr. Corvet here in his house. But Mr. Corvet was not here." + +"You mean he has--disappeared?" + +"Yes; he has disappeared." + +Alan gazed at her dizzily. Benjamin Corvet--whoever he might be--had +disappeared; he had gone. Did any one else, then, know about Alan +Conrad? + +"No one has seen Mr. Corvet," she said, "since the day he wrote to you. +We know that--that he became so disturbed after doing that--writing to +you--that we thought you must bring with you information of him." + +"Information!" + +"So we have been waiting for you to come here and tell us what you know +about him or--or your connection with him." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +DISCUSSION OF A SHADOW + +Alan, as he looked confusedly and blankly at her, made no attempt to +answer the question she had asked, or to explain. For the moment, as +he fought to realize what she had said and its meaning for himself, all +his thought was lost in mere dismay, in the denial and checking of what +he had been feeling as he entered the house. His silence and +confusion, he knew, must seem to Constance Sherrill unwillingness to +answer her; for she did not suspect that he was unable to answer her. +She plainly took it in that way; but she did not seem offended; it was +sympathy, rather, that she showed. She seemed to appreciate, without +understanding except through her feelings, that--for some +reason--answer was difficult and dismaying for him. + +"You would rather explain to father than to me," she decided. + +He hesitated. What he wanted now was time to think, to learn who she +was and who her father was, and to adjust himself to this strange +reversal of his expectations. + +"Yes; I would rather do that," he said. + +"Will you come around to our house, then, please?" + +She caught up her fur collar and muff from a chair and spoke a word to +the servant. As she went out on to the porch, he followed her and +stooped to pick up his suitcase. + +"Simons will bring that," she said, "unless you'd rather have it with +you. It is only a short walk." + +He was recovering from the first shock of her question now, and, +reflecting that men who accompanied Constance Sherrill probably did not +carry hand baggage, he put the suitcase down and followed her to the +walk. As she turned north and he caught step beside her, he studied +her with quick interested glances, realizing her difference from all +other girls he ever had walked with, but he did not speak to her nor +she to him. Turning east at the first corner, they came within sight +and hearing again of the turmoil of the lake. + +"We go south here," she said at the corner of the Drive. "Our house is +almost back to back with Mr. Corvet's." + +Alan, looking up after he had made the turn with her, recognized the +block as one he had seen pictured sometimes in magazines and +illustrated papers as a "row" of the city's most beautiful homes. +Larger, handsomer, and finer than the mansions on Astor Street, each +had its lawn or terrace in front and on both sides, where snow-mantled +shrubs and straw-bound rosebushes suggested the gardens of spring. +They turned in at the entrance of a house in the middle of the block +and went up the low, wide stone steps; the door opened to them without +ring or knock; a servant in the hall within took Alan's hat and coat, +and he followed Constance past some great room upon his right to a +smaller one farther down the hall. + +"Will you wait here, please?" she asked. + +He sat down, and she left him; when her footsteps had died away, and he +could hear no other sounds except the occasional soft tread of some +servant, he twisted himself about in his chair and looked around. A +door between the room he was in and the large room which had been upon +his right as they came in--a drawing-room--stood open; he could see +into the drawing-room, and he could see through the other door a +portion of the hall; his inspection of these increased the bewilderment +he felt. Who were these Sherrills? Who was Corvet, and what was his +relation to the Sherrills? What, beyond all, was their and Corvet's +relation to Alan Conrad--to himself? The shock and confusion he had +felt at the nature of his reception in Corvet's house, and the +strangeness of his transition from his little Kansas town to a place +and people such as this, had prevented him from inquiring directly from +Constance Sherrill as to that; and, on her part, she had assumed, +plainly, that he already knew and need not be told. + +He got up and moved about the rooms; they, like all rooms, must tell +something about the people who lived in them. The rooms were large and +open; Alan, in dreaming and fancying to himself the places to which he +might some day be summoned, had never dreamed of entering such a home +as this. For it was a home; in its light and in its furnishings there +was nothing of the stiffness and aloofness which Alan, never having +seen such rooms except in pictures, had imagined to be necessary evils +accompanying riches and luxury; it was not the richness of its +furnishings that impressed him first, it was its livableness. Among +the more modern pieces in the drawing-room and hall were some which +were antique. In the part of the hall that he could see, a black and +ancient-looking chair whose lines he recognized, stood against the +wall. He had seen chairs like that, heirlooms of colonial +Massachusetts or Connecticut, cherished in Kansas farmhouses and +recalling some long-past exodus of the family from New England. On the +wall of the drawing-room, among the beautiful and elusive paintings and +etchings, was a picture of a ship, plainly framed; he moved closer to +look at it, but he did not know what kind of ship it was except that it +was a sailing ship of some long-disused design. Then he drew back +again into the smaller room where he had been left, and sat down again +to wait. + +A comfortable fire of cannel coal was burning in this smaller room in a +black fire-basket set in a white marble grate, obviously much older +than the house; there were big easy leather chairs before it, and +beside it there were bookcases. On one of these stood a two-handled +silver trophy cup, and hung high upon the wall above the mantel was a +long racing sweep with the date '85 painted in black across the blade. +He had the feeling, coming quite unconsciously, of liking the people +who lived in this handsome house. + +He straightened and looked about, then got up, as Constance Sherrill +came back into the room. + +"Father is not here just now," she said. "We weren't sure from your +telegram exactly at what hour you would arrive, and that was why I +waited at Mr. Corvet's to be sure we wouldn't miss you. I have +telephoned father, and he's coming home at once." + +She hesitated an instant in the doorway, then turned to go out again. + +"Miss Sherrill--" he said. + +She halted. "Yes." + +"You told me you had been waiting for me to come and explain my +connection with Mr. Corvet. Well--I can't do that; that is what I came +here hoping to find out." + +She came back toward him slowly. + +"What do you mean?" she asked. + +He was forcing himself to disregard the strangeness which his +surroundings and all that had happened in the last half hour had made +him feel; leaning his arms on the back of the chair in which he had +been sitting, he managed to smile reassuringly; and he fought down and +controlled resolutely the excitement in his voice, as he told her +rapidly the little he knew about himself. + +He could not tell definitely how she was affected by what he said. She +flushed slightly, following her first start of surprise after he had +begun to speak; when he had finished, he saw that she was a little pale. + +"Then you don't know anything about Mr. Corvet at all," she said. + +"No; until I got his letter sending for me here, I'd never seen or +heard his name." + +She was thoughtful for a moment. + +"Thank you for telling me," she said. "I'll tell my father when he +comes." + +"Your father is--?" he ventured. + +She understood now that the name of Sherrill had meant nothing to him. +"Father is Mr. Corvet's closest friend, and his business partner as +well," she explained. + +He thought she was going to tell him something more about them; but she +seemed then to decide to leave that for her father to do. She crossed +to the big chair beside the grate and seated herself. As she sat +looking at him, hands clasped beneath her chin, and her elbows resting +on the arm of the chair, there was speculation and interest in her +gaze; but she did not ask him anything more about himself. She +inquired about the Kansas weather that week in comparison with the +storm which had just ceased in Chicago, and about Blue Rapids, which +she said she had looked up upon the map, and he took this chat for what +it was--notification that she did not wish to continue the other topic +just then. + +She, he saw, was listening, like himself, for the sound of Sherrill's +arrival at the house; and when it came, she recognized it first, rose, +and excused herself. He heard her voice in the hall, then her father's +deeper voice which answered; and ten minutes later, he looked up to see +the man these things had told him must be Sherrill standing in the door +and looking at him. + +He was a tall man, sparely built; his broad shoulders had been those of +an athlete in his youth; now, at something over fifty, they had taken +on a slight, rather studious stoop, and his brown hair had thinned upon +his forehead. His eyes, gray like his daughter's, were thoughtful +eyes; just now deep trouble filled them. His look and bearing of a +refined and educated gentleman took away all chance of offense from the +long, inquiring scrutiny to which he subjected Alan's features and +figure before he came into the room. + +Alan had risen at sight of him; Sherrill, as he came in, motioned him +back to his seat; he did not sit down himself, but crossed to the +mantel and leaned against it. + +"I am Lawrence Sherrill," he said. + +As the tall, graceful, thoughtful man stood looking down at him, Alan +could tell nothing of the attitude of this friend of Benjamin Corvet +toward himself. His manner had the same reserve toward Alan, the same +questioning consideration of him, that Constance Sherrill had had after +Alan had told her about himself. + +"My daughter has repeated to me what you told her, Mr. Conrad," +Sherrill observed. "Is there anything you want to add to me regarding +that?" + +"There's nothing I can add," Alan answered. "I told her all that I +know about myself." + +"And about Mr. Corvet?" + +"I know nothing at all about Mr. Corvet." + +"I am going to tell you some things about Mr. Corvet," Sherrill said. +"I had reason--I do not want to explain just yet what that reason +was--for thinking you could tell us certain things about Mr. Corvet, +which would, perhaps, make plainer what has happened to him. When I +tell you about him now, it is in the hope that, in that way, I may +awake some forgotten memory of him in you; if not that, you may +discover some coincidences of dates or events in Corvet's life with +dates or events in your own. Will you tell me frankly, if you do +discover anything like that?" + +"Yes; certainly." + +Alan leaned forward in the big chair, hands clasped between his knees, +his blood tingling sharply in his face and fingertips. So Sherrill +expected to make him remember Corvet! There was strange excitement in +this, and he waited eagerly for Sherrill to begin. For several +moments, Sherrill paced up and down before the fire; then he returned +to his place before the mantel. + +"I first met Benjamin Corvet," he commenced, "nearly thirty years ago. +I had come West for the first time the year before; I was about your +own age and had been graduated from college only a short time, and a +business opening had offered itself here. + +"There was a sentimental reason--I think I must call it that--as well, +for my coming to Chicago. Until my generation, the property of our +family had always been largely--and generally exclusively--in ships. +It is a Salem family; a Sherrill was a sea-captain, living in Salem, +they say, when his neighbors--and he, I suppose--hanged witches; we had +privateers in 1812 and our clippers went round the Horn in '49. The +_Alabama_ ended our ships in '63, as it ended practically the rest of +the American shipping on the Atlantic; and in '73, when our part of the +_Alabama_ claims was paid us, my mother put it in bonds waiting for me +to grow up. + +"Sentiment, when I came of age, made me want to put this money back +into ships flying the American flag; but there was small chance of +putting it--and keeping it, with profit--in American ships on the sea. +In Boston and New York, I had seen the foreign flags on the deep-water +ships--British, German, French, Norwegian, Swedish, and Greek; our flag +flew mostly on ferries and excursion steamers. But times were booming +on the great lakes. Chicago, which had more than recovered from the +fire, was doubling its population every decade; Cleveland, Duluth, and +Milwaukee were leaping up as ports. Men were growing millions of +bushels of grain which they couldn't ship except by lake; hundreds of +thousands of tons of ore had to go by water; and there were tens of +millions of feet of pine and hardwood from the Michigan forests. +Sailing vessels such as the Sherrills had always operated, it is true, +had seen their day and were disappearing from the lakes; were being +'sold,' many of them, as the saying is, 'to the insurance companies' by +deliberate wrecking. Steamers were taking their place. Towing had +come in. The first of the whalebacks was built about that time, and we +began to see those processions of a barge and two, three, or four tows +which the lakemen called 'the sow and her pigs.' Men of all sorts had +come forward, of course, and, serving the situation more or less +accidentally, were making themselves rich. + +"It was railroading which had brought me West; but I had brought with +me the _Alabama_ money to put into ships. I have called it sentiment, +but it was not merely that; I felt, young man though I was, that this +transportation matter was all one thing, and that in the end the +railroads would own the ships. I have never engaged very actively in +the operation of the ships; my daughter would like me to be more active +in it than I have been; but ever since, I have had money in lake +vessels. It was the year that I began that sort of investment that I +first met Corvet." + +Alan looked up quickly. "Mr. Corvet was--?" he asked. + +"Corvet was--is a lakeman," Sherrill said. + +Alan sat motionless, as he recollected the strange exaltation that had +come to him when he saw the lake for the first time. Should he tell +Sherrill of that? He decided it was too vague, too indefinite to be +mentioned; no doubt any other man used only to the prairie might have +felt the same. + +"He was a ship owner, then," he said. + +"Yes; he was a shipowner--not, however, on a large scale at that time. +He had been a master, sailing ships which belonged to others; then he +had sailed one of his own. He was operating then, I believe, two +vessels; but with the boom times on the lakes, his interests were +beginning to expand. I met him frequently in the next few years, and +we became close friends." + +Sherrill broke off and stared an instant down at the rug. Alan bent +forward; he made no interruption but only watched Sherrill attentively. + +"It was one of the great advantages of the West, I think--and +particularly of Chicago at that time--that it gave opportunity for +friendships of that sort," Sherrill said. "Corvet was a man of a sort +I would have been far less likely ever to have known intimately in the +East. He was both what the lakes had made him and what he had made of +himself; a great reader--wholly self-educated; he had, I think, many of +the attributes of a great man--at least, they were those of a man who +should have become great; he had imagination and vision. His whole +thought and effort, at that time, were absorbed in furthering and +developing the traffic on the lakes, and not at all from mere desire +for personal success. I met him for the first time one day when I went +to his office on some business. He had just opened an office at that +time in one of the old ramshackle rows along the river front; there was +nothing at all pretentious about it--the contrary, in fact; but as I +went in and waited with the others who were there to see him, I had the +sense of being in the ante-room of a great man. I do not mean there +was any idiotic pomp or lackyism or red tape about it; I mean that the +others who were waiting to see him, and who knew him, were keyed up by +the anticipation and keyed me up.... + +"I saw as much as I could of him after that, and our friendship became +very close. + +"In 1892, when I married and took my residence here on the lake +shore--the house stood where this one stands now--Corvet bought the +house on Astor Street. His only reason for doing it was, I believe, +his desire to be near me. The neighborhood was what they call +fashionable; neither Corvet nor Mrs. Corvet--he had married in +1889--had social ambitions of that sort. Mrs. Corvet came from +Detroit; she was of good family there--a strain of French blood in the +family; she was a schoolteacher when he married her, and she had made a +wonderful wife for him--a good woman, a woman of very high ideals; it +was great grief to both of them that they had no children. + +"Between 1886, when I first met him, and 1895, Corvet laid the +foundation of great success; his boats seemed lucky, men liked to work +for him, and he got the best skippers and crews. A Corvet captain +boasted of it and, if he had had bad luck on another line, believed his +luck changed when he took a Corvet ship; cargoes in Corvet bottoms +somehow always reached port; there was a saying that in storm a Corvet +ship never asked help; it gave it; certainly in twenty years no Corvet +ship had suffered serious disaster. Corvet was not yet rich, but +unless accident or undue competition intervened, he was certain to +become so. Then something happened." + +Sherrill looked away at evident loss how to describe it. + +"To the ships?" Alan asked him. + +"No; to him. In 1896, for no apparent reason, a great change came over +him." + +"In 1896!" + +"That was the year." + +Alan bent forward, his heart throbbing in his throat. "That was also +the year when I was brought and left with the Weltons in Kansas," he +said. + +Sherrill did not speak for a moment. "I thought," he said finally, "it +must have been about that time; but you did not tell my daughter the +exact date." + +"What kind of change came over him that year?" Alan asked. + +Sherrill gazed down at the rug, then at Alan, then past him. "A change +in his way of living," he replied. "The Corvet line of boats went on, +expanded; interests were acquired in other lines; and Corvet and those +allied with him swiftly grew rich. But in all this great development, +for which Corvet's genius and ability had laid the foundation, Corvet +himself ceased to take active part. I do not mean that he formally +retired; he retained his control of the business, but he very seldom +went to the office and, except for occasional violent, almost pettish +interference in the affairs of the company, he left it in the hands of +others. He took into partnership, about a year later, Henry Spearman, +a young man who had been merely a mate on one of his ships. This +proved subsequently to have been a good business move, for Spearman has +tremendous energy, daring, and enterprise; and no doubt Corvet had +recognized these qualities in him before others did. But at the time +it excited considerable comment. It marked, certainly, the beginning +of Corvet's withdrawal from active management. Since then he has been +ostensibly and publicly the head of the concern, but he has left the +management almost entirely to Spearman. The personal change in Corvet +at that time is harder for me to describe to you." + +Sherrill halted, his eyes dark with thought, his lips, pressed closely +together; Alan waited. + +"When I saw Corvet again, in the summer of '96--I had been South during +the latter part of the winter and East through the spring--I was +impressed by the vague but, to me, alarming change in him. I was +reminded, I recall, of a friend I had had in college who had thought he +was in perfect health and had gone to an examiner for life insurance +and had been refused, and was trying to deny to himself and others that +anything could be the matter. But with Corvet I knew the trouble was +not physical. The next year his wife left him." + +"The year of--?" Alan asked. + +"That was 1897. We did not know at first, of course, that the +separation was permanent. It proved so, however; and Corvet, I know +now, had understood it to be that way from the first. Mrs. Corvet went +to France--the French blood in her, I suppose, made her select that +country; she had for a number of years a cottage near Trouville, in +Normandy, and was active in church work. I know there was almost no +communication between herself and her husband during those years, and +her leaving him markedly affected Corvet. He had been very fond of her +and proud of her. I had seen him sometimes watching her while she +talked; he would gaze at her steadily and then look about at the other +women in the room and back to her, and his head would nod just +perceptibly with satisfaction; and she would see it sometimes and +smile. There was no question of their understanding and affection up +to the very time she so suddenly and so strangely left him. She died +in Trouville in the spring of 1910, and Corvet's first information of +her death come to him through a paragraph in a newspaper." + +Alan had started; Sherrill looked at him questioningly. + +"The spring of 1910," Alan explained, "was when I received the bank +draft for fifteen hundred dollars." + +Sherrill nodded; he did not seem surprised to hear this; rather it +appeared to be confirmation of something in his own thought. + +"Following his wife's leaving him," Sherrill went on, "Corvet saw very +little of any one. He spent most of his time in his own house; +occasionally he lunched at his club; at rare intervals, and always +unexpectedly, he appeared at his office. I remember that summer he was +terribly disturbed because one of his ships was lost. It was not a bad +disaster, for every one on the ship was saved, and hull and cargo were +fully covered by insurance; but the Corvet record was broken; a Corvet +ship had appealed for help; a Corvet vessel had not reached port.... +And later in the fall, when two deckhands were washed from another of +his vessels and drowned, he was again greatly wrought up, though his +ships still had a most favorable record. In 1902 I proposed to him +that I buy full ownership in the vessels I partly controlled and ally +them with those he and Spearman operated. It was a time of +combination--the railroads and the steel interests were acquiring the +lake vessels; and though I believed in this, I was not willing to enter +any combination which would take the name of Sherrill off the list of +American shipowners. I did not give Corvet this as my reason; and he +made me at that time a very strange counter-proposition--which I have +never been able to understand, and which entailed the very obliteration +of my name which I was trying to avoid. He proposed that I accept a +partnership in his concern on a most generous basis, but that the name +of the company remain as it was, merely Corvet and Spearman. +Spearman's influence and mine prevailed upon him to allow my name to +appear; since then, the firm name has been Corvet, Sherrill, and +Spearman. + +"Our friendship had strengthened and ripened during those years. The +intense activity of Corvet's mind, which as a younger man he had +directed wholly to the shipping, was directed, after he had isolated +himself in this way, to other things. He took up almost feverishly an +immense number of studies--strange studies most of them for a man whose +youth had been almost violently active and who had once been a lake +captain. I cannot tell you what they all were--geology, ethnology, +nearly a score of subjects; he corresponded with various scientific +societies; he has given almost the whole of his attention to such +things for about twenty years. Since I have known him, he has +transformed himself from the rather rough, uncouth--though always +spiritually minded--man he was when I first met him into an educated +gentleman whom anybody would be glad to know; but he has made very few +acquaintances in that time, and has kept almost none of his old +friendships. He has lived alone in the house on Astor Street with only +one servant--the same one all these years. + +"The only house he has visited with any frequency has been mine. He +has always liked my wife; he had--he has a great affection for my +daughter, who, when she was a child, ran in and out of his home as she +pleased. He would take long walks with her; he'd come here sometimes +in the afternoon to have tea with her on stormy days; he liked to have +her play and sing to him. My daughter believes now that his present +disappearance--whatever has happened to him--is connected in some way +with herself. I do not think that is so--" + +Sherrill broke off and stood in thought for a moment; he seemed to +consider, and to decide that it was not necessary to say anything more +on that subject. + +"Recently Corvet's moroseness and irritability had very greatly +increased; he had quarreled frequently and bitterly with Spearman over +business affairs. He had seemed more than usually eager at times to +see me or to see my daughter; and at other times he had seemed to avoid +us and keep away. I have had the feeling of late, though I could not +give any actual reason for it except Corvet's manner and look, that the +disturbance which had oppressed him for twenty years was culminating in +some way. That culmination seems to have been reached three days ago, +when he wrote summoning you here. Henry Spearman, whom I asked about +you when I learned you were coming, had never heard of you; Mr. +Corvet's servant had never heard of you.... + +"Is there anything in what I have told you which makes it possible for +you to recollect or to explain?" + +Alan shook his head, flushed, and then grew a little pale. What +Sherrill told him had excited him by the coincidences it offered +between events in Benjamin Corvet's life and his own; it had not made +him "recollect" Corvet, but it had given definiteness and direction to +his speculations as to Corvet's relation to himself. + +Sherrill drew one of the large chairs nearer to Alan and sat down +facing him. He felt in an inner pocket and brought out an envelope; +from the envelope he took three pictures, and handed the smallest of +them to Alan. As Alan took it, he saw that it was a tintype of himself +as a round-faced boy of seven. + +"That is you?" Sherrill asked. + +"Yes; it was taken by the photographer in Blue Rapids. We all had our +pictures taken on that day--Jim, Betty, and I. Mr. Welton"--for the +first time Alan consciously avoided giving the title "Father" to the +man in Kansas--"sent one of me to the 'general delivery' address of the +person in Chicago." + +"And this?" + +The second picture, Alan saw, was one that had been taken in front of +the barn at the farm. It showed Alan at twelve, in overalls and +barefooted, holding a stick over his head at which a shepherd dog was +jumping. + +"Yes; that is Shep and I--Jim's and my dog, Mr. Sherrill. It was taken +by a man who stopped at the house for dinner one day; he liked Shep and +wanted a picture of him; so he got me to make Shep jump, and he took +it." + +"You don't remember anything about the man?" + +"Only that he had a camera and wanted a picture of Shep." + +"Doesn't it occur to you that it was your picture he wanted, and that +he had been sent to get it? I wanted your verification that these +earlier pictures were of you, but this last one is easily recognizable." + +Sherrill unfolded the third picture; it was larger than the others and +had been folded across the middle to get it into the envelope. Alan +leaned forward to look at it. + +"That is the University of Kansas football team," he said. "I am the +second one in the front row; I played end my junior year and tackle +when I was a senior. Mr. Corvet--?" + +"Yes; Mr. Corvet had these pictures. They came into my possession day +before yesterday, the day after Corvet disappeared; I do not want to +tell just yet how they did that." + +Alan's face, which had been flushed at first with excitement, had gone +quite pale, and his hands, as he clenched and unclenched them +nervously, were cold, and his lips were very dry. He could think of no +possible relationship between Benjamin Corvet and himself, except one, +which could account for Corvet's obtaining and keeping these pictures +of him through the years. As Sherrill put the pictures back into their +envelope and the envelope back into his pocket, and Alan watched him, +Alan felt nearly certain now that it had not been proof of the nature +of this relationship that Sherrill had been trying to get from him, but +only corroboration of some knowledge, or partial knowledge, which had +come to Sherrill in some other way. The existence of this knowledge +was implied by Sherrill's withholding of the way he had come into +possession of the pictures, and his manner showed now that he had +received from Alan the confirmation for which he had been seeking. + +"I think you know who I am," Alan said. + +Sherrill had risen and stood looking down at him. + +"You have guessed, if I am not mistaken, that you are Corvet's son." + +The color flamed to Alan's face for an instant, then left it paler than +before. "I thought it must be that way," he answered; "but you said he +had no children." + +"Benjamin Corvet and his wife had no children." + +"I thought that was what you meant." A twinge twisted Alan's face; he +tried to control it but for a moment could not. + +Sherrill suddenly put his hand on Alan's shoulder; there was something +so friendly, so affectionate in the quick, impulsive grasp of +Sherrill's fingers, that Alan's heart throbbed to it; for the first +time some one had touched him in full, unchecked feeling for him; for +the first time, the unknown about him had failed to be a barrier and, +instead, had drawn another to him. + +"Do not misapprehend your father," Sherrill said quietly. "I cannot +prevent what other people may think when they learn this; but I do not +share such thoughts with them. There is much in this I cannot +understand; but I know that it is not merely the result of what others +may think it--of 'a wife in more ports than one,' as you will hear the +lakemen put it. What lies under this is some great misadventure which +had changed and frustrated all your father's life." + +Sherrill crossed the room and rang for a servant. + +"I am going to ask you to be my guest for a short time, Alan," he +announced. "I have had your bag carried to your room; the man will +show you which one it is." + +Alan hesitated; he felt that Sherrill had not told him all he +knew--that there were some things Sherrill purposely was withholding +from him; but he could not force Sherrill to tell more than he wished; +so after an instant's irresolution, he accepted the dismissal. + +Sherrill walked with him to the door, and gave his directions to the +servant; he stood watching, as Alan and the man went up the stairs. +Then he went back and seated himself in the chair Alan had occupied, +and sat with hands grasping the arms of the chair while he stared into +the fire. + +Fifteen minutes later, he heard his daughter's footsteps and looked up. +Constance halted in the door to assure herself that he was now alone; +then she came to him and, seating herself on the arm of the chair, she +put her hand on his thin hair and smoothed it softly; he felt for her +other hand with his and found it, and held it clasped between his palms. + +"You've found out who he is, father?" she asked. + +"The facts have left me no doubt at all as to that, little daughter." + +"No doubt that he is----who?" + +Sherrill was silent for a moment--not from uncertainty, but because of +the effect which what he must say would have upon her; then he told her +in almost the same words he had used to Alan. Constance started, +flushed, and her hand stiffened convulsively between her father's. + +They said nothing more to one another; Sherrill seemed considering and +debating something within himself; and presently he seemed to come to a +decision. He got up, stooped and touched his daughter's hand, and left +the room. He went up the stairs and on the second floor he went to a +front room and knocked. Alan's voice told him to come in. Sherrill +went in and, when he had made sure that the servant was not with Alan, +he closed the door carefully behind him. + +Then he turned back to Alan, and for an instant stood indecisive as +though he did not know how to begin what he wanted to say. As he +glanced down at a key he took from his pocket, his indecision seemed to +receive direction and inspiration from it; and he put it down on Alan's +dresser. + +"I've brought you," he said evenly, "the key to your house." + +Alan gazed at him, bewildered. "The key to my house?" + +"To the house on Astor Street," Sherrill confirmed. "Your father +deeded the house and its furniture and all its contents to you the day +before he disappeared. I have not the deed here; it came into my hands +the day before yesterday at the same time I got possession of the +pictures which might--or might not, for all I knew then--be you. I +have the deed down-town and will give it to you. The house is yours in +fee simple, given you by your father, not bequeathed to you by him to +become your property after his death. He meant by that, I think, even +more than the mere acknowledgment that he is your father." + +Sherrill walked to the window and stood as though looking out, but his +eyes were blank with thought. + +"For almost twenty years," he said, "your father, as I have told you, +lived in that house practically alone; during all those years a shadow +of some sort was over him. I don't know at all, Alan, what that shadow +was. But it is certain that whatever it was that had changed him from +the man he was when I first knew him culminated three days ago when he +wrote to you. It may be that the consequences of his writing to you +were such that, after he had sent the letter, he could not bring +himself to face them and so has merely ... gone away. In that case, as +we stand here talking, he is still alive. On the other hand, his +writing you may have precipitated something that I know nothing of. In +either case, if he has left anywhere any evidence of what it is that +changed and oppressed him for all these years, or if there is any +evidence of what has happened to him now, it will be found in his +house." + +Sherrill turned back to Alan. "It is for you--not me, Alan," he said +simply, "to make that search. I have thought seriously about it, this +last half hour, and have decided that is as he would want it--perhaps +as he did want it--to be. He could have told me what his trouble was +any time in these twenty years, if he had been willing I should know; +but he never did." + +Sherrill was silent for a moment. + +"There are some things your father did just before he disappeared that +I have not told you yet," he went on. "The reason I have not told them +is that I have not yet fully decided in my own mind what action they +call for from me. I can assure you, however, that it would not help +you now in any way to know them." + +He thought again; then glanced to the key on the dresser and seemed to +recollect. + +"That key," he said, "is one I made your father give me some time ago; +he was at home alone so much that I was afraid something might happen +to him there. He gave it me because he knew I would not misuse it. I +used it, for the first time, three days ago, when, after becoming +certain something had gone wrong with him, I went to the house to +search for him; my daughter used it this morning when she went there to +wait for you. Your father, of course, had a key to the front door like +this one; his servant has a key to the servants' entrance. I do not +know of any other keys." + +"The servant is in charge there now?" Alan asked. + +"Just now there is no one in the house. The servant, after your father +disappeared, thought that, if he had merely gone away, he might have +gone back to his birthplace near Manistique, and he went up there to +look for him. I had a wire from him to-day that he had not found him +and was coming back." + +Sherrill waited a moment to see whether there was anything more Alan +wanted to ask; then he went out. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"ARRIVED SAFE; WELL" + +As the door closed behind Sherrill, Alan went over to the dresser and +picked up the key which Sherrill had left. It was, he saw, a flat key +of a sort common twenty years before, not of the more recent corrugated +shape. As he looked at it and then away from it, thoughtfully turning +it over and over in his fingers, it brought no sense of possession to +him. Sherrill had said the house was his, had been given him by his +father; but that fact could not actually make it his in his +realization. He could not imagine himself owning such a house or what +he would do with it if it were his. He put the key, after a moment, on +the ring with two or three other keys he had, and dropped them into his +pocket; then he crossed to a chair and sat down. + +He found, as he tried now to disentangle the events of the afternoon, +that from them, and especially from his last interview with Sherrill, +two facts stood out most clearly. The first of these related more +directly to his father--to Benjamin Corvet. When such a man as +Benjamin Corvet must have been, disappears--when, without warning and +without leaving any account of himself he vanishes from among those who +knew him--the persons most closely interested pass through three stages +of anxiety. They doubt first whether the disappearance is real and +whether inquiry on their part will not be resented; they waken next to +realization that the man is actually gone, and that something must be +done; the third stage is open and public inquiry. Whatever might be +the nature of the information Sherrill was withholding from him, Alan +saw that its effect on Sherrill had been to shorten very greatly +Sherrill's time of doubt as to Corvet's actual disappearance. The +Sherrills--particularly Sherrill himself--had been in the second stage +of anxiety when Alan came; they had been awaiting Alan's arrival in the +belief that Alan could give them information which would show them what +must be "done" about Corvet. Alan had not been able to give them this +information; but his coming, and his interview with Sherrill, had +strongly influenced Sherrill's attitude. Sherrill had shrunk, still +more definitely and consciously, after that, from prying into the +affairs of his friend; he had now, strangely, almost withdrawn himself +from the inquiry, and had given it over to Alan. + +Sherrill had spoken of the possibility that something might have +"happened" to Covert; but it was plain he did not believe he had met +with actual violence. He had left it to Alan to examine Corvet's +house; but he had not urged Alan to examine it at once; he had left the +time of the examination to be determined by Alan. This showed clearly +that Sherrill believed--perhaps had sufficient reason for +believing--that Corvet had simply "gone away." The second of Alan's +two facts related even more closely and personally to Alan himself. +Corvet, Sherrill had said, had married in 1889. But Sherrill in long +knowledge of his friend, had shown firm conviction that there had been +no mere vulgar liaison in Corvet's life. Did this mean that there +might have been some previous marriage of Alan's father--some marriage +which had strangely overlapped and nullified his public marriage? In +that case, Alan could be, not only in fact but legally, Corvet's son; +and such things as this, Alan knew, had sometimes happened, and had +happened by a strange combination of events, innocently for all +parties. Corvet's public separation from his wife, Sherrill had said, +had taken place in 1897, but the actual separation between them might, +possibly, have taken place long before that. + +Alan resolved to hold these questions in abeyance; he would not accept +or grant the stigma which his relationship to Corvet seemed to attach +to himself until it had been proved to him. He had come to Chicago +expecting, not to find that there had never been anything wrong, but to +find that the wrong had been righted in some way at last. But what was +most plain of all to him, from what Sherrill had told him, was that the +wrong--whatever it might be--had not been righted; it existed still. + +The afternoon had changed swiftly into night; dusk had been gathering +during his last talk with Sherrill, so that he hardly had been able to +see Sherrill's face, and just after Sherrill had left him, full dark +had come. Alan did not know how long he had been sitting in the +darkness thinking out these things; but now a little clock which had +been ticking steadily in the blackness tinkled six. Alan heard a knock +at his door, and when it was repeated, he called, "Come in." + +The light which came in from the hall, as the door was opened, showed a +man servant. The man, after a respectful inquiry, switched on the +light. He crossed into the adjoining room--a bedroom; the room where +Alan was, he thought, must be a dressing room, and there was a bath +between. Presently the man reappeared, and moved softly about the +room, unpacking Alan's suitcase. He hung Alan's other suit in the +closet on hangers; he put the linen, except for one shirt, in the +dresser drawers, and he put Alan's few toilet things with the +ivory-backed brushes and comb and other articles on the dressing stand. + +Alan watched him queerly; no one except himself ever had unpacked +Alan's suitcase before; the first time he had gone away to college--it +was a brand new suitcase then--"mother" had packed it; after that first +time, Alan had packed and unpacked it. It gave him an odd feeling now +to see some one else unpacking his things. The man, having finished +and taken everything out, continued to look in the suitcase for +something else. + +"I beg pardon, sir," he said finally, "but I cannot find your buttons." + +"I've got them on," Alan said. He took them out and gave them to the +valet with a smile; it was good to have something to smile at, if it +was only the realization that he never had thought before of any one's +having more than one set of buttons for ordinary shirts. Alan +wondered, with a sort of trepidation, whether the man would expect to +stay and help him dress; but he only put the buttons in the clean shirt +and reopened the dresser drawers and laid out a change of things. + +"Is there anything else, sir?" he asked. + +"Nothing, thank you," Alan said. + +"I was to tell you, sir, Mr. Sherrill is sorry he cannot be at home to +dinner to-night. Mrs. Sherrill and Miss Sherrill will be here. Dinner +is at seven, sir." + +Alan dressed slowly, after the man had gone; and at one minute before +seven he went down-stairs. + +There was no one in the lower hall and, after an instant of +irresolution and a glance into the empty drawing-room, he turned into +the small room at the opposite side of the hall. A handsome, stately, +rather large woman, whom he found there, introduced herself to him +formally as Mrs. Sherrill. + +He knew from Sherrill's mention of the year of their marriage that Mrs. +Sherrill's age must be about forty-five, but if he had not known this, +he would have thought her ten years younger. In her dark eyes and her +carefully dressed, coal-black hair, and in the contour of her youthful +looking, handsome face, he could not find any such pronounced +resemblance to her daughter as he had seen in Lawrence Sherrill. Her +reserved, yet almost too casual acceptance of Alan's presence, told him +that she knew all the particulars about himself which Sherrill had been +able to give; and as Constance came down the stairs and joined them +half a minute later, Alan was certain that she also knew. + +Yet there was in her manner toward Alan a difference from that of her +mother--a difference which seemed almost opposition. Not that Mrs. +Sherrill's was unfriendly or critical; rather, it was kind with the +sort of reserved kindness which told Alan, almost as plainly as words, +that she had not been able to hold so charitable a conviction in regard +to Corvet's relationship with Alan as her husband held, but that she +would be only the more considerate to Alan for that. It was this +kindness which Constance set herself to oppose, and which she opposed +as reservedly and as subtly as it was expressed. It gave Alan a +strange, exhilarating sensation to realize that, as the three talked +together, this girl was defending him. + +Not him alone, of course, or him chiefly. It was Benjamin Corvet, her +friend, whom she was defending primarily; yet it was Alan too; and all +went on without a word about Benjamin Corvet or his affairs being +spoken. + +Dinner was announced, and they went into the great dining-room, where +the table with its linen, silver, and china gleamed under shaded +lights. The oldest and most dignified of the three men servants who +waited upon them in the dining-room Alan thought must be a butler--a +species of creature of whom Alan had heard but never had seen; the +other servants, at least, received and handed things through him, and +took their orders from him. As the silent-footed servants moved about, +and Alan kept up a somewhat strained conversation with Mrs. Sherrill--a +conversation in which no reference to his own affairs was yet made--he +wondered whether Constance and her mother always dressed for dinner in +full evening dress as now, or whether they were going out. A word from +Constance to her mother told him this latter was the case, and while it +did not give complete answer to his internal query, it showed him his +first glimpse of social engagements as a part of the business of life. +In spite of the fact that Benjamin Corvet, Sherrill's close friend, had +disappeared--or perhaps because he had disappeared and, as yet, it was +not publicly known--their and Sherrill's engagements had to be +fulfilled. + +What Sherrill had told Alan of his father had been iterating itself +again and again in Alan's thoughts; now he recalled that Sherrill had +said that his daughter believed that Corvet's disappearance had had +something to do with her. Alan had wondered at the moment how that +could be; and as he watched her across the table and now and then +exchanged a comment with her, it puzzled him still more. He had +opportunity to ask her when she waited with him in the library, after +dinner was finished and her mother had gone up-stairs; but he did not +see then how to go about it. + +"I'm sorry," she said to him, "that we can't be home to-night; but +perhaps you would rather be alone?" + +He did not answer that. + +"Have you a picture here, Miss Sherrill, of--my father?" he asked. + +"Uncle Benny had had very few pictures taken; but there is one here." + +She went into the study, and came back with a book open at a half-tone +picture of Benjamin Corvet. Alan took it from her and carried it +quickly closer to the light. The face that looked up to him from the +heavily glazed page was regular of feature, handsome in a way, and +forceful. There were imagination and vigor of thought in the broad, +smooth forehead; the eyes were strangely moody and brooding; the mouth +was gentle, rather kindly; it was a queerly impelling, haunting face. +This was his father! But, as Alan held the picture, gazing down upon +it, the only emotion which came to him was realization that he felt +none. He had not expected to know his father from strangers on the +street; but he had expected, when told that his father was before him, +to feel through and through him the call of a common blood. Now, +except for consternation at his own lack of feeling, he had no emotion +of any sort; he could not attach to this man, because he bore the name +which some one had told him was his father's, the passions which, when +dreaming of his father, he had felt. + +As he looked up from the picture to the girl who had given it to him, +startled at himself and believing she must think his lack of feeling +strange and unnatural, he surprised her gazing at him with wetness in +her eyes. He fancied at first it must be for his father, and that the +picture had brought back poignantly her fears. But she was not looking +at the picture, but at him; and when his eyes met hers, she quickly +turned away. + +His own eyes filled, and he choked. He wanted to thank her for her +manner to him in the afternoon, for defending his father and him, as +she had at the dinner table, and now for this unplanned, impulsive +sympathy when she saw how he had not been able to feel for this man who +was his father and how he was dismayed by it. But he could not put his +gratitude in words. + +A servant's voice came from the door, startling him. + +"Mrs. Sherrill wishes you told she is waiting, Miss Sherrill." + +"I'll be there at once." Constance, also, seemed startled and +confused; but she delayed and looked back to Alan. + +"If--if we fail to find your father," she said, "I want to tell you +what a man he was." + +"Will you?" Alan asked. "Will you?" + +She left him swiftly, and he heard her mother's voice in the hall. A +motor door closed sharply, after a minute or so; then the house door +closed. Alan stood still a moment longer, then, remembering the book +which he held, he drew a chair up to the light, and read the short, dry +biography of his father printed on the page opposite the portrait. It +summarized in a few hundred words his father's life. He turned to the +cover of the book and read its title, "Year Book of the Great Lakes," +and a date of five years before; then he looked through it. It +consisted in large part, he saw, merely of lists of ships, their kind, +their size, the date when they were built, and their owners. Under +this last head he saw some score of times the name "Corvet, Sherrill +and Spearman." There was a separate list of engines and boilers, and +when they had been built and by whom. There was a chronological table +of events during the year upon the lakes. Then he came to a part +headed "Disasters of the Year," and he read some of them; they were +short accounts, drily and unfeelingly put, but his blood thrilled to +these stories of drowning, freezing, blinded men struggling against +storm and ice and water, and conquering or being conquered by them. +Then he came to his father's picture and biography once more and, with +it, to pictures of other lakemen and their biographies. He turned to +the index and looked for Sherrill's name, and then Spearman's; finding +they were not in the book, he read some of the other ones. + +There was a strange similarity, he found, in these biographies, among +themselves as well as to that of his father. These men had had, the +most of them, no tradition of seamanship, such as Sherrill had told him +he himself had had. They had been sons of lumbermen, of farmers, of +mill hands, miners, or fishermen. They had been very young for the +most part, when they had heard and answered the call of the lakes--the +ever-swelling, fierce demand of lumber, grain, and ore for outlet; and +they had lived hard; life had been violent, and raw, and brutal to +them. They had sailed ships, and built ships, and owned and lost them; +they had fought against nature and against man to keep their ships, and +to make them profitable, and to get more of them. In the end a few, a +very few comparatively, had survived; by daring, by enterprise, by +taking great chances, they had thrust their heads above those of their +fellows; they had come to own a half dozen, a dozen, perhaps a score of +bottoms, and to have incomes of fifty, of a hundred, of two hundred +thousand dollars a year. + +Alan shut the book and sat thoughtful. He felt strongly the immensity, +the power, the grandeur of all this; but he felt also its violence and +its fierceness. What might there not have been in the life of his +father who had fought up and made a way for himself through such things? + +The tall clock in the hall struck nine. He got up and went out into +the hall and asked for his hat and coat. When they had been brought +him, he put them on and went out. + +The snow had stopped some time before; a strong and increasing wind had +sprung up, which Alan, with knowledge of the wind across his prairies, +recognized as an aftermath of the greater storm that had produced it; +for now the wind was from the opposite direction--from the west. He +could see from the Sherrills' door step, when he looked toward the +lighthouse at the harbor mouth winking red, white, red, white, at him, +that this offshore wind was causing some new commotion and upheaval +among the ice-floes; they groaned and labored and fought against the +opposing pressure of the waves, under its urging. + +He went down the steps and to the corner and turned west to Astor +Street. When he reached the house of his father, he stopped under a +street-lamp, looking up at the big, stern old mansion questioningly. +It had taken on a different look for him since he had heard Sherrill's +account of his father; there was an appeal to him that made his throat +grow tight, in its look of being unoccupied, in the blank stare of its +unlighted windows which contrasted with the lighted windows in the +houses on both sides, and in the slight evidences of disrepair about +it. He waited many minutes, his hand upon the key in his pocket; yet +he could not go in, but instead walked on down the street, his thoughts +and feelings in a turmoil. + +He could not call up any sense that the house was his, any more than he +had been able to when Sherrill had told him of it. He own a house on +that street! Yet was that in itself any more remarkable than that he +should be the guest, the friend of such people as the Sherrills? No +one as yet, since Sherrill had told him he was Corvet's son, had called +him by name; when they did, what would they call him? Alan Conrad +still? Or Alan Corvet? + +He noticed, up a street to the west, the lighted sign of a drug store +and turned up that way; he had promised, he had recollected now, to +write to ... those in Kansas--he could not call them "father" and +"mother" any more--and tell them what he had discovered as soon as he +arrived. He could not tell them that, but he could write them at least +that he had arrived safely and was well. He bought a postcard in the +drug store, and wrote just, "Arrived safely; am well" to John Welton in +Kansas. There was a little vending machine upon the counter, and he +dropped in a penny and got a box of matches and put them in his pocket. + +He mailed the card and turned back to Astor Street; and he walked more +swiftly now, having come to his decision, and only shot one quick look +up at the house as he approached it. With what had his father shut +himself up within that house for twenty years? And was it there still? +And was it from that that Benjamin Corvet had fled? He saw no one in +the street, and was certain no one was observing him as, taking the key +from his pocket, he ran up the steps and unlocked the outer door. +Holding this door open to get the light from the street lamp, he fitted +the key into the inner door; then he closed the outer door. For fully +a minute, with fast beating heart and a sense of expectation of he knew +not what, he kept his hand upon the key before he turned it; then he +opened the door and stepped into the dark and silent house. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +AN ENCOUNTER + +Alan, standing in the darkness of the hall, felt in his pocket for his +matches and struck one on the box. The light showed the hall in front +of him, reaching back into some vague, distant darkness, and great +rooms with wide portièred doorways gaping on both sides. He turned +into the room upon his right, glanced to see that the shades were drawn +on the windows toward the street, then found the switch and turned on +the electric light. + +As he looked around, he fought against his excitement and feeling of +expectancy; it was--he told himself--after all, merely a vacant house, +though bigger and more expensively furnished than any he ever had been +in except the Sherrills; and Sherrill's statement to him had implied +that anything there might be in it which could give the reason for his +father's disappearance would be probably only a paper, a record of some +kind. It was unlikely that a thing so easily concealed as that could +be found by him on his first examination of the place; what he had come +here for now--he tried to make himself believe--was merely to obtain +whatever other information it could give him about his father and the +way his father had lived, before Sherrill and he had any other +conversation. + +Alan had not noticed, when he stepped into the hall in the morning, +whether the house then had been heated; now he appreciated that it was +quite cold and, probably, had been cold for the three days since his +father had gone, and his servant had left to look for him. Coming from +the street, it was not the chilliness of the house he felt but the +stillness of the dead air; when a house is heated, there is always some +motion of the air, but this air was stagnant. Alan had dropped his hat +on a chair in the hall; he unbuttoned his overcoat but kept it on, and +stuffed his gloves into his pocket. + +A light in a single room, he thought, would not excite curiosity or +attract attention from the neighbors or any one passing in the street; +but lights in more than one room might do that. He resolved to turn +off the light in each room as he left it, before lighting the next one. + +It had been a pleasant as well as a handsome house, if he could judge +by the little of it he could see, before the change had come over his +father. The rooms were large with high ceilings. The one where he +stood, obviously was a library; bookshelves reached three quarters of +the way to the ceiling on three of its walls except where they were +broken in two places by doorways, and in one place on the south wall by +an open fireplace. There was a big library table-desk in the center of +the room, and a stand with a shaded lamp upon it nearer the fireplace. +A leather-cushioned Morris chair--a lonely, meditative-looking +chair--was by the stand and at an angle toward the hearth; the rug in +front of it was quite worn through and showed the floor underneath. A +sympathy toward his father, which Sherrill had not been able to make +him feel, came to Alan as he reflected how many days and nights +Benjamin Corvet must have passed reading or thinking in that chair +before his restless feet could have worn away the tough, Oriental +fabric of the rug. + +There were several magazines on the top of the large desk, some +unwrapped, some still in their wrappers; Alan glanced at them and saw +that they all related to technical and scientific subjects. The desk +evidently had been much used and had many drawers; Alan pulled one open +and saw that it was full of papers; but his sensation as he touched the +top one made him shut the drawer again and postpone prying of that sort +until he had looked more thoroughly about the house. + +He went to the door of the connecting room and looked into it. This +room, dusky in spite of the light which shone past him through the wide +doorway, was evidently another library; or rather it appeared to have +been the original library, and the front room had been converted into a +library to supplement it. The bookcases here were built so high that a +little ladder on wheels was required for access to the top shelves. +Alan located the light switch in the room; then he returned, switched +off the light in the front room, crossed in the darkness into the +second room, and pressed the switch. + +A weird, uncanny, half wail, half moan, coming from the upper hall, +suddenly filled the house. Its unexpectedness and the nature of the +sound stirred the hair upon his head, and he started back; then he +pressed the switch again, and the noise stopped. He lighted another +match, found the right switch, and turned on the light. Only after +discovering two long tiers of white and black keys against the north +wall did Alan understand that the switch must control the motor working +the bellows of an organ which had pipes in the upper hall; it was the +sort of organ that can be played either with fingers or by means of a +paper roll; a book of music had fallen upon the keys, so that one was +pressed down, causing the note to sound when the bellows pumped. + +But having accounted for the sound did not immediately end the start +that it had given Alan. He had the feeling which so often comes to one +in an unfamiliar and vacant house that there was some one in the house +with him. He listened and seemed to hear another sound in the upper +hall, a footstep. He went out quickly to the foot of the stairs and +looked up them. + +"Is any one here?" he called. "Is any one here?" + +His voice brought no response. He went half way up the curve of the +wide stairway, and called again, and listened; then he fought down the +feeling he had had; Sherrill had said there would be no one in the +house, and Alan was certain there was no one. So he went back to the +room where he had left the light. + +The center of this room, like the room next to it, was occupied by a +library table-desk. He pulled open some of the drawers in it; one or +two had blue prints and technical drawings in them; the others had only +the miscellany which accumulates in a room much used. There were +drawers also under the bookcases all around the room; they appeared, +when Alan opened some of them, to contain pamphlets of various +societies, and the scientific correspondence of which Sherrill had told +him. He looked over the titles of some of the books on the shelves--a +multitude of subjects, anthropology, exploration, deep-sea fishing, +ship-building, astronomy. The books in each section of the shelves +seemed to correspond in subject with the pamphlets and correspondence +in the drawer beneath, and these, by their dates, to divide themselves +into different periods during the twenty years that Benjamin Corvet had +lived alone here. + +Alan felt that seeing these things was bringing his father closer to +him; they gave him a little of the feeling he had been unable to get +when he looked at his father's picture. He could realize better now +the lonely, restless man, pursued by some ghost he could not kill, +taking up for distraction one subject of study after another, +exhausting each in turn until he could no longer make it engross him, +and then absorbing himself in the next. + +These two rooms evidently had been the ones most used by his father; +the other rooms on this floor, as Alan went into them one by one, he +found spoke far less intimately of Benjamin Corvet. A dining-room was +in the front of the house to the north side of the hall; a service room +opened from it, and on the other side of the service room was what +appeared to be a smaller dining-room. The service room communicated +both by dumb waiter and stairway with rooms below; Alan went down the +stairway only far enough to see that the rooms below were servants' +quarters; then he came back, turned out the light on the first floor, +struck another match, and went up the stairs to the second story. + +The rooms opening on to the upper hall, it was plain to him, though +their doors were closed, were mostly bedrooms. He put his hand at +hazard on the nearest door and opened it. As he caught the taste and +smell of the air in the room--heavy, colder, and deader even than the +air in the rest of the house--he hesitated; then with his match he +found the light switch. + +The room and the next one which communicated with it evidently were--or +had been--a woman's bedroom and boudoir. The hangings, which were +still swaying from the opening of the door, had taken permanently the +folds in which they had hung for many years; there were the scores of +long-time idleness, not of use, in the rugs and upholstery of the +chairs. The bed, however, was freshly made up, as though the bed +clothing had been changed occasionally. Alan went through the bedroom +to the door of the boudoir, and saw that that too had the same look of +unoccupancy and disuse. On the low dressing table were scattered such +articles as a woman starting on a journey might think it not worth +while to take with her. There was no doubt that these were the rooms +of his father's wife. + +Had his father preserved them thus, as she had left them, in the hope +that she might come back, permitting himself to fix no time when he +abandoned that hope, or even to change them after he had learned that +she was dead? Alan thought not; Sherrill had said that Corvet had +known from the first that his separation from his wife was permanent. +The bed made up, the other things neglected, and evidently looked after +or dusted only at long separated periods, looked more as though Corvet +had shrunk from seeing them or even thinking of them, and had left them +to be looked after wholly by the servant, without ever being able to +bring himself to give instructions that they should be changed. Alan +felt that he would not be surprised to learn that his father never had +entered these ghostlike rooms since the day his wife had left him. + +On the top of a chest of high drawers in a corner near the dressing +table were some papers. Alan went over to look at them; they were +invitations, notices of concerts and of plays twenty years old--the +mail, probably, of the morning she had gone away, left where her maid +or she herself had laid them, and only picked up and put back there at +the times since when the room was dusted. As Alan touched them, he saw +that his fingers left marks in the dust on the smooth top of the chest; +he noticed that some one else had touched the things and made marks of +the same sort as he had made. The freshness of these other marks +startled him; they had been made within a day or so. They could not +have been made by Sherrill, for Alan had noticed that Sherrill's hands +were slender and delicately formed; Corvet, too, was not a large man; +Alan's own hand was of good size and powerful, but when he put his +fingers over the marks the other man had made, he found that the other +hand must have been larger and more powerful than his own. Had it been +Corvet's servant? It might have been, though the marks seemed too +fresh for that; for the servant, Sherrill had said, had left the day +Corvet's disappearance was discovered. + +Alan pulled open the drawers to see what the other man might have been +after. It had not been the servant; for the contents of the +drawers--old brittle lace and woman's clothing--were tumbled as though +they had been pulled out and roughly and inexpertly pushed back; they +still showed the folds in which they had lain for years and which +recently had been disarranged. + +This proof that some one had been prying about in the house before +himself and since Corvet had gone, startled Alan and angered him. It +brought him suddenly a sense of possession which he had not been able +to feel when Sherrill had told him the house was his; it brought an +impulse of protection of these things about him. Who had been +searching in Benjamin Corvet's--in Alan's house? He pushed the drawers +shut hastily and hurried across the hall to the room opposite. In this +room--plainly Benjamin Corvet's bedroom--were no signs of intrusion. +He went to the door of the room connecting with it, turned on the +light, and looked in. It was a smaller room than the others and +contained a roll-top desk and a cabinet. The cover of the desk was +closed, and the drawers of the cabinet were shut and apparently +undisturbed. Alan recognized that probably in this room he would find +the most intimate and personal things relating to his father; but +before examining it, he turned back to inspect the bedroom. + +It was a carefully arranged and well-cared-for room, plainly in +constant use. A reading stand, with a lamp, was beside the bed with a +book marked about the middle. On the dresser were hair-brushes and a +comb, and a box of razors, none of which were missing. When Benjamin +Corvet had gone away, he had not taken anything with him, even toilet +articles. With the other things on the dresser, was a silver frame for +a photograph with a cover closed and fastened over the portrait; as +Alan took it up and opened it, the stiffness of the hinges and the +edges of the lid gummed to the frame by disuse, showed that it was long +since it had been opened. The picture was of a woman of perhaps +thirty--a beautiful woman, dark-haired, dark-eyed, with a refined, +sensitive, spiritual-looking face. The dress she wore was the same, +Alan suddenly recognized, which he had seen and touched among the +things in the chest of drawers; it gave him a queer feeling now to have +touched her things. He felt instinctively, as he held the picture and +studied it, that it could have been no vulgar bickering between wife +and husband, nor any caprice of a dissatisfied woman, that had made her +separate herself from her husband. The photographer's name was stamped +in one corner, and the date--1894, the year after Alan had been born. + +But Alan felt that the picture and the condition of her rooms across +the hall did not shed any light on the relations between her and +Benjamin Corvet; rather they obscured them; for his father neither had +put the picture away from him and devoted her rooms to other uses, nor +had he kept the rooms arranged and ready for her return and her picture +so that he would see it. He would have done one or the other of these +things, Alan thought, if it were she his father had wronged--or, at +least, if it were only she. + +Alan reclosed the case, and put the picture down; then he went into the +room with the desk. He tried the cover of the desk, but it appeared to +be locked; after looking around vainly for a key, he tried again, +exerting a little more force, and this time the top went up easily, +tearing away the metal plate into which the claws of the lock clasped +and the two long screws which had held it. He examined the lock, +surprised, and saw that the screws must have been merely set into the +holes; scars showed where a chisel or some metal implement had been +thrust in under the top to force it up. The pigeonholes and little +drawers in the upper part of the desk, as he swiftly opened them, he +found entirely empty. He hurried to the cabinet; the drawers of the +cabinet too had been forced, and very recently; for the scars and the +splinters of wood were clean and fresh. These drawers and the drawers +in the lower part of the desk either were empty, or the papers in them +had been disarranged and tumbled in confusion, as though some one had +examined them hastily and tossed them back. + +Sherrill had not done that, nor any one who had a business to be there. +If Benjamin Corvet had emptied some of those drawers before he went +away, he would not have relocked empty drawers. To Alan, the marks of +violence and roughness were unmistakably the work of the man with the +big hands who had left marks upon the top of the chest of drawers; and +the feeling that he had been in the house very recently was stronger +than ever. + +Alan ran out into the hall and listened; he heard no sound; but he went +back to the little room more excited than before. For what had the +other man been searching? For the same things which Alan was looking +for? And had the other man got them? Who might the other be, and what +might be his connection with Benjamin Corvet? Alan had no doubt that +everything of importance must have been taken away, but he would make +sure of that. He took some of the papers from the drawers and began to +examine them; after nearly an hour of this, he had found only one +article which appeared connected in any way with what Sherrill had told +him or with Alan himself. In one of the little drawers of the desk he +found several books, much worn as though from being carried in a +pocket, and one of these contained a series of entries stretching over +several years. These listed an amount--$150.--opposite a series of +dates with only the year and the month given, and there was an entry +for every second month. + +Alan felt his fingers trembling as he turned the pages of the little +book and found at the end of the list a blank, and below, in the same +hand but in writing which had changed slightly with the passage of +years, another date and the confirming entry of $1,500. The other +papers and books were only such things as might accumulate during a +lifetime on the water and in business--government certificates, +manifests, boat schedules of times long gone by, and similar papers. +Alan looked through the little book again and put it in his pocket. It +was, beyond doubt, his father's memorandum of the sums sent to Blue +Rapids for Alan; it told him that here he had been in his father's +thoughts; in this little room, within a few steps from those deserted +apartments of his wife, Benjamin Corvet had sent "Alan's dollar"--that +dollar which had been such a subject of speculation in his childhood +for himself and for all the other children. He grew warm at the +thought as he began putting the other things back into the drawers. + +He started and straightened suddenly; then he listened attentively, and +his skin, warm an instant before, turned cold and prickled. Somewhere +within the house, unmistakably on the floor below him, a door had +slammed. The wind, which had grown much stronger in the last hour, was +battering the windows and whining round the corners of the building; +but the house was tightly closed; it could not be the wind that had +blown the door shut. Some one--it was beyond question now, for the +realization was quite different from the feeling he had had about that +before--was in the house with him. Had his father's servant come back? +That was impossible; Sherrill had received a wire from the man that +day, and he could not get back to Chicago before the following morning +at the earliest. But the servant, Sherrill had said, was the only +other one besides his father who had a key. Was it ... his father who +had come back? That, though not impossible, seemed improbable. + +Alan stooped quickly, unlaced and stripped off his shoes, and ran out +into the hall to the head of the stairs where he looked down and +listened. From here the sound of some one moving about came to him +distinctly; he could see no light below, but when he ran down to the +turn of the stairs, it became plain that there was a very dim and +flickering light in the library. He crept on farther down the +staircase. His hands were cold and moist from his excitement, and his +body was hot and trembling. + +Whoever it was that was moving about down-stairs, even if he was not +one who had a right to be there, at least felt secure from +interruption. He was going with heavy step from window to window; +where he found a shade up, he pulled it down brusquely and with a +violence which suggested great strength under a nervous strain; a +shade, which had been pulled down, flew up, and the man damned it as +though it had startled him; then, after an instant, he pulled it down +again. + +Alan crept still farther down and at last caught sight of him. The man +was not his father; he was not a servant; it was equally sure at the +same time that he was not any one who had any business to be in the +house and that he was not any common house-breaker. + +He was a big, young-looking man, with broad shoulders and very evident +vigor; Alan guessed his age at thirty-five; he was handsome--he had a +straight forehead over daring, deep-set eyes; his nose, lips, and chin +were powerfully formed; and he was expensively and very carefully +dressed. The light by which Alan saw these things came from a flat +little pocket searchlight that the man carried in one hand, which threw +a little brilliant circle of light as he directed it; and now, as the +light chanced to fall on his other hand--powerful and heavily +muscled--Alan recollected the look and size of the finger prints on the +chest of drawers upstairs. He did not doubt that this was the same man +who had gone through the desk; but since he had already rifled the +desks, what did he want here now? As the man moved out of sight, Alan +crept on down as far as the door to the library; the man had gone on +into the rear room, and Alan went far enough into the library so he +could see him. + +He had pulled open one of the drawers in the big table in the rear +room--the room where the organ was and where the bookshelves reached to +the ceiling--and with his light held so as to show what was in it, he +was tumbling over its contents and examining them. He went through one +after another of the drawers of the table like this; after examining +them, he rose and kicked the last one shut disgustedly; he stood +looking about the room questioningly, then he started toward the front +room. + +He cast the light of his torch ahead of him; but Alan had time to +anticipate his action and to retreat to the hall. He held the hangings +a little way from the door jamb so he could see into the room. If this +man were the same who had looted the desk up-stairs, it was plain that +he had not procured there what he wanted or all of what he wanted; and +now he did not know where next to look. + +He had, as yet, neither seen nor heard anything to alarm him, and as he +went to the desk in the front room and peered impatiently into the +drawers, he slammed them shut, one after another. He straightened and +stared about. "Damn Ben! Damn Ben!" he ejaculated violently and +returned to the rear room. Alan, again following him, found him on his +knees in front of one of the drawers under the bookcases. As he +continued searching through the drawers, his irritation became greater +and greater. He jerked one drawer entirely out of its case, and the +contents flew in every direction; swearing at it, and damning "Ben" +again, he gathered up the letters. One suddenly caught his attention; +he began reading it closely, then snapped it back into the drawer, +crammed the rest on top of it, and went on to the next of the files. +He searched in this manner through half a dozen drawers, plainly +finding nothing at all he wanted; he dragged some of the books from +their cases, felt behind them and shoved back some of the books but +dropped others on the floor and blasphemy burst from him. + +He cursed "Ben" again and again, and himself, and God; he damned men by +name, but so violently and incoherently that Alan could not make out +the names; terribly he swore at men living and men "rotting in Hell." +The beam of light from the torch in his hand swayed aside and back and +forth. Without warning, suddenly it caught Alan as he stood in the +dark of the front room; and as the dim white circle of light gleamed +into Alan's face, the man looked that way and saw him. + +The effect of this upon the man was so strange and so bewildering to +Alan that Alan could only stare at him. The big man seemed to shrink +into himself and to shrink back and away from Alan. He roared out +something in a bellow thick with fear and horror; he seemed to choke +with terror. There was nothing in his look akin to mere surprise or +alarm at realizing that another was there and had been seeing and +overhearing him. The light which he still gripped swayed back and +forth and showed him Alan again, and he raised his arm before his face +as he recoiled. + +The consternation of the man was so complete that it checked Alan's +rush toward him; he halted, then advanced silently and watchfully. As +he went forward, and the light shone upon his face again, the big man +cried out hoarsely: + +"Damn you--damn you, with the hole above your eye! The bullet got you! +And now you've got Ben! But you can't get me! Go back to Hell! You +can't get me! I'll get you--I'll get you! You--can't save the +_Miwaka_!" + +He drew back his arm and with all his might hurled the flashlight at +Alan. It missed and crashed somewhere behind him, but did not go out; +the beam of light shot back and wavered and flickered over both of +them, as the torch rolled on the floor. Alan rushed forward and, +thrusting through the dark, his hand struck the man's chest and seized +his coat. + +The man caught at and seized Alan's arm; he seemed to feel of it and +assure himself of its reality. + +"Flesh! Flesh!" he roared in relief; and his big arms grappled Alan. +As they struggled, they stumbled and fell to the floor, the big man +underneath. His hand shifted its hold and caught Alan's throat; Alan +got an arm free and, with all his force, struck the man's face. The +man struck back--a heavy blow on the side of Alan's head which dizzied +him but left him strength to strike again, and his knuckles reached the +man's face once more, but he got another heavy blow in return. The man +was grappling no longer; he swung Alan to one side and off of him, and +rolled himself away. He scrambled to his feet and dashed out through +the library, across the hall, and into the service room. Alan heard +his feet clattering down the stairway to the floor beneath. Alan got +to his feet; dizzied and not yet familiar with the house, he blundered +against a wall and had to feel his way along it to the service room; as +he slipped and stumbled down the stairway, a door closed loudly at the +end of the corridor he had seen at the foot of the stairs. He ran +along the corridor to the door; it had closed with a spring lock, and +seconds passed while he felt in the dark for the catch; he found it and +tore the door open, and came out suddenly into the cold air of the +night in a paved passageway beside the house which led in one direction +to the street and in the other to a gate opening on the alley. He ran +forward to the street and looked up and down, but found it empty; then +he ran back to the alley. At the end of the alley, where it +intersected the cross street, the figure of the man running away +appeared suddenly out of the shadows, then disappeared; Alan, following +as far as the street, could see nothing more of him; this street too +was empty. + +He ran a little farther and looked, then he went back to the house. +The side door had swung shut again and latched. He felt in his pocket +for his key and went around to the front door. The snow upon the steps +had been swept away, probably by the servant who had come to the house +earlier in the day with Constance Sherrill, but some had fallen since; +the footsteps made in the early afternoon had been obliterated by it, +but Alan could see those he had made that evening, and the marks where +some one else had gone into the house and not come out again. In part +it was plain, therefore, what had happened: the man had come from the +south, for he had not seen the light Alan had had in the north and rear +part of the house; believing no one was in the house, the man had gone +in through the front door with a key. He had been some one familiar +with the house; for he had known about the side door and how to reach +it and that he could get out that way. This might mean no more than +that he was the same who had searched through the house before; but at +least it made his identity with the former intruder more certain. + +Alan let himself in at the front door and turned on the light in the +reading lamp in the library. The electric torch still was burning on +the floor and he picked it up and extinguished it; he went up-stairs +and brought down his shoes. He had seen a wood fire set ready for +lighting in the library, and now he lighted it and sat before it drying +his wet socks before he put on his shoes. He was still shaking and +breathing fast from his struggle with the man and his chase after him, +and by the strangeness of what had taken place. + +When the shaft of light from the torch had flashed across Alan's face +in the dark library, the man had not taken him for what he was--a +living person; he had taken him for a specter. His terror and the +things he had cried out could mean only that. The specter of whom? +Not of Benjamin Corvet; for one of the things Alan had remarked when he +saw Benjamin Corvet's picture was that he himself did not look at all +like his father. Besides, what the man had said made it certain that +he did not think the specter was "Ben"; for the specter had "got Ben." +Did Alan look like some one else, then? Like whom? Evidently like the +man--now dead for he had a ghost--who had "got" Ben, in the big man's +opinion. Who could that be? + +No answer, as yet, was possible to that. But if he did look like some +one, then that some one was--or had been--dreaded not only by the big +man who had entered the house, but by Benjamin Corvet as well. "You +got Ben!" the man had cried out. Got him? How? "But you can't get +me!" he had said. "You--with the bullet hole above your eye!" What +did that mean? + +Alan got up and went to look at himself in the mirror he had seen in +the hall. He was white, now that the flush of the fighting was going; +he probably had been pale before with excitement, and over his right +eye there was a round, black mark. Alan looked down at his hands; a +little skin was off one knuckle, where he had struck the man, and his +fingers were smudged with a black and sooty dust. He had smudged them +on the papers up-stairs or else in feeling his way about the dark +house, and at some time he had touched his forehead and left the black +mark. That had been the "bullet hole." + +The rest that the man had said had been a reference to some name; Alan +had no trouble to recollect the name and, while he did not understand +it at all, it stirred him queerly--"the _Miwaka_." What was that? The +queer excitement and questioning that the name brought, when he +repeated it to himself, was not recollection; for he could not recall +ever having heard the name before; but it was not completely strange to +him. He could define the excitement it stirred only in that way. + +He went back to the Morris chair; his socks were nearly dry, and he put +on his shoes. He got up and paced about. Sherrill had believed that +here in this house Benjamin Corvet had left--or might have left--a +memorandum, a record, or an account of some sort which would explain to +Alan, his son, the blight which had hung over his life. Sherrill had +said that it could have been no mere intrigue, no vulgar personal sin; +and the events of the night had made that very certain; for, plainly, +whatever was hidden in that house involved some one else seriously, +desperately. There was no other way to explain the intrusion of the +sort of man whom Alan had surprised there an hour ago. + +The fact that this other man searched also did not prove that Benjamin +Corvet had left a record in the house, as Sherrill believed; but it +certainly showed that another person believed--or feared--it. Whether +or not guilt had sent Benjamin Corvet away four days ago, whether or +not there had been guilt behind the ghost which had "got Ben," there +was guilt in the big man's superstitious terror when he had seen Alan. +A bold, powerful man like that one, when his conscience is clear, does +not see a ghost. And the ghost which he had seen had a bullet hole +above the brows! + +Alan did not flatter himself that in any physical sense he had +triumphed over that man; so far as it had gone, his adversary had had +rather the better of the battle; he had endeavored to stun Alan, or +perhaps do worse than stun; but after the first grapple, his purpose +had been to get away. But he had not fled from Alan; he had fled from +discovery of who he was. Sherrill had told Alan of no one whom he +could identify with this man; but Alan could describe him to Sherrill. + +Alan found a lavatory and washed and straightened his collar and tie +and brushed his clothes. There was a bruise on the side of his head; +but though it throbbed painfully, it did not leave any visible mark. +He could return now to the Sherrills'. It was not quite midnight but +he believed by this time Sherrill was probably home; perhaps already he +had gone to bed. Alan took up his hat and looked about the house; he +was going to return and sleep here, of course; he was not going to +leave the house unguarded for any long time after this; but, after what +had just happened, he felt he could leave it safely for half an hour, +particularly if he left a light burning within. + +He did this and stepped out. The wind from the west was blowing hard, +and the night had become bitter cold; yet, as Alan reached the drive, +he could see far out the tossing lights of a ship and, as he went +toward the Sherrills', he gazed out over the roaring water. Often on +nights like this, he knew, his father must have been battling such +water. + +The man who answered his ring at the Sherrills' recognized him at once +and admitted him; in reply to Alan's question, the servant said that +Mr. Sherrill had not yet returned. When Alan went to his room, the +valet appeared and, finding that Alan was packing, the man offered his +service. Alan let him pack and went down-stairs; a motor had just +driven up to the house. + +It proved to have brought Constance and her mother; Mrs. Sherrill, +after informing Alan that Mr. Sherrill might not return until some time +later, went up-stairs and did not appear again. Constance followed her +mother but, ten minutes later came downstairs. + +"You're not staying here to-night?" she said. + +"I wanted to say to your father," Alan explained, "that I believe I had +better go over to the other house." + +She came a little closer to him in her concern. "Nothing has happened +here?" + +"Here? You mean in this house?" Alan smiled. "No; nothing." + +She seemed relieved. Alan, remembering her mother's manner, thought he +understood; she knew that remarks had been made, possibly, which +repeated by a servant might have offended him. + +"I'm afraid it's been a hard day for you," she said. + +"It's certainly been unusual," Alan admitted. + +It had been a hard day for her, too, he observed; or probably the +recent days, since her father's and her own good friend had gone, had +been trying. She was tired now and nervously excited; but she was so +young that the little signs of strain and worry, instead of making her +seem older, only made her youth more apparent. The curves of her neck +and her pretty, rounded shoulders were as soft as before; her lustrous, +brown hair was more beautiful, and a slight flush colored her clear +skin. + +It had seemed to Alan, when Mrs. Sherrill had spoken to him a few +minutes before, that her manner toward him had been more reserved and +constrained than earlier in the evening; and he had put that down to +the lateness of the hour; but now he realized that she probably had +been discussing him with Constance, and that it was somewhat in +defiance of her mother that Constance had come down to speak with him +again. + +"Are you taking any one over to the other house with you?" she inquired. + +"Any one?" + +"A servant, I mean." + +"No." + +"Then you'll let us lend you a man from here." + +"You're awfully good; but I don't think I'll need any one to-night. +Mr. Corvet's--my father's man--is coming back to-morrow, I understand. +I'll get along very well until then." + +She was silent a moment as she looked away. Her shoulders suddenly +jerked a little. "I wish you'd take some one with you," she persisted. +"I don't like to think of you alone over there." + +"My father must have been often alone there." + +"Yes," she said. "Yes." She looked at him quickly, then away, +checking a question. She wanted to ask, he knew, what he had +discovered in that lonely house which had so agitated him; for of +course she had noticed agitation in him. And he had intended to tell +her or, rather, her father. He had been rehearsing to himself the +description of the man he had met there in order to ask Sherrill about +him; but now Alan knew that he was not going to refer the matter even +to Sherrill just yet. + +Sherrill had believed that Benjamin Corvet's disappearance was from +circumstances too personal and intimate to be made a subject of public +inquiry; and what Alan had encountered in Corvet's house had confirmed +that belief. Sherrill further had said that Benjamin Corvet, if he had +wished Sherrill to know those circumstances, would have told them to +him; but Corvet had not done that; instead, he had sent for Alan, his +son. He had given his son his confidence. + +Sherrill had admitted that he was withholding from Alan, for the time +being, something that he knew about Benjamin Corvet; it was nothing, he +had said, which would help Alan to learn about his father, or what had +become of him; but perhaps Sherrill, not knowing these other things, +could not speak accurately as to that. Alan determined to ask Sherrill +what he had been withholding before he told him all of what had +happened in Corvet's house. There was one other circumstance which +Sherrill had mentioned but not explained; it occurred to Alan now. + +"Miss Sherrill--" he checked himself. + +"What is it?" + +"This afternoon your father said that you believed that Mr. Corvet's +disappearance was in some way connected with you; he said that he did +not think that was so; but do you want to tell me why you thought it?" + +"Yes; I will tell you." She colored quickly. "One of the last things +Mr. Corvet did--in fact, the last thing we know of his doing before he +sent for you--was to come to me and warn me against one of my friends." + +"Warn you, Miss Sherrill? How? I mean, warn you against what?" + +"Against thinking too much of him." She turned away. + +Alan saw in the rear of the hall the man who had been waiting with the +suitcase. It was after midnight now and, for far more than the +intended half hour, Alan had left his father's house unwatched, to be +entered by the front door whenever the man, who had entered it before, +returned with his key. + +"I think I'll come to see your father in the morning," Alan said, when +Constance looked back to him. + +"You won't borrow Simons?" she asked again. + +"Thank you, no." + +"But you'll come over here for breakfast in the morning?" + +"You want me?" + +"Certainly." + +"I'd like to come very much." + +"Then I'll expect you." She followed him to the door when he had put +on his things, and he made no objection when she asked that the man be +allowed to carry his bag around to the other house. When he glanced +back, after reaching the walk, he saw her standing inside the door, +watching through the glass after him. + +When he had dismissed Simons and reentered the house on Astor Street, +he found no evidences of any disturbance while he had been gone. On +the second floor, to the east of the room which had been his father's, +was a bedroom which evidently had been kept as a guest chamber; Alan +carried his suitcase there and made ready for bed. + +The sight of Constance Sherrill standing and watching after him in +concern as he started back to this house, came to him again and again +and, also, her flush when she had spoken of the friend against whom +Benjamin Corvet had warned her. Who was he? It had been impossible at +that moment for Alan to ask her more; besides, if he had asked and she +had told him, he would have learned only a name which he could not +place yet in any connection with her or with Benjamin Corvet. Whoever +he was, it was plain that Constance Sherrill "thought of him"; lucky +man, Alan said to himself. Yet Corvet had warned her not to think of +him.... + +Alan turned back his bed. It had been for him a tremendous day. +Barely twelve hours before he had come to that house, Alan Conrad from +Blue Rapids, Kansas; now ... phrases from what Lawrence Sherrill had +told him of his father were running through his mind as he opened the +door of the room to be able to hear any noise in Benjamin Corvet's +house, of which he was sole protector. The emotion roused by his first +sight of the lake went through him again as he opened the window to the +east. + +Now--he was in bed--he seemed to be standing, a specter before a man +blaspheming Benjamin Corvet and the souls of men dead. "And the hole +above the eye! ... The bullet got you! ... So it's you that got Ben! +... I'll get you! ... You can't save the _Miwaka_!" + +The _Miwaka_! The stir of that name was stronger now even than before; +it had been running through his consciousness almost constantly since +he had heard it. He jumped up and turned on the light and found a +pencil. He did not know how to spell the name and it was not necessary +to write it down; the name had taken on that definiteness and +ineffaceableness of a thing which, once heard, can never again be +forgotten. But, in panic that he might forget, he wrote it, guessing +at the spelling--"_Miwaka_." + +It was a name, of course; but the name of what? It repeated and +repeated itself to him, after he got back into bed, until its very +iteration made him drowsy. + +Outside the gale whistled and shrieked. The wind, passing its last +resistance after its sweep across the prairies before it leaped upon +the lake, battered and clamored in its assault about the house. But as +Alan became sleepier, he heard it no longer as it rattled the windows +and howled under the eaves and over the roof, but as out on the lake, +above the roaring and ice-crunching waves, it whipped and circled with +its chill the ice-shrouded sides of struggling ships. So, with the +roar of surf and gale in his ears, he went to sleep with the sole +conscious connection in his mind between himself and these people, +among whom Benjamin Corvet's summons had brought him, the one name +"_Miwaka_." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +CONSTANCE SHERRILL + +In the morning a great change had come over the lake. The wind still +blew freshly, but no longer fiercely, from the west; and now, from +before the beach beyond the drive, and from the piers and breakwaters +at the harbor mouth, and from all the western shore, the ice had +departed. Far out, a nearly indiscernible white line marked the +ice-floe where it was traveling eastward before the wind; nearer, and +with only a gleaming crystal fringe of frozen snow clinging to the +shore edge, the water sparkled, blue and dimpling, under the morning +sun; multitudes of gulls, hungry after the storm, called to one another +and circled over the breakwaters, the piers, and out over the water as +far as the eye could see; and a half mile off shore, a little work +boat--a shallop twenty feet long--was put-put-ing on some errand along +a path where twelve hours before no horsepower creatable by man could +have driven the hugest steamer. + +Constance Sherrill, awakened by the sunlight reflected from the water +upon her ceiling, found nothing odd or startling in this change; it +roused her but did not surprise her. Except for the short periods of +her visits away from Chicago, she had lived all her life on the shore +of the lake: the water--wonderful, ever altering--was the first sight +each morning. As it made wilder and more grim the desolation of a +stormy day, so it made brighter and more smiling the splendor of the +sunshine and, by that much more, influenced one's feelings. + +Constance held by preference to the seagoing traditions of her family. +Since she was a child, the lake and the life of the ships had delighted +and fascinated her; very early she had discovered that, upon the lake, +she was permitted privileges sternly denied upon land--an arbitrary +distinction which led her to designate water, when she was a little +girl, as her family's "respectable element." For while her father's +investments were, in part, on the water, her mother's property all was +on the land. Her mother, who was a Seaton, owned property somewhere in +the city, in common with Constance's uncles; this property consisted, +as Constance succeeded in ascertaining about the time she was nine, of +large, wholesale grocery buildings. They and the "brand" had been in +the possession of the Seaton family for many years; both Constance's +uncles worked in the big buildings where the canning was done; and, +when Constance was taken to visit them, she found the place most +interesting--the berries and fruit coming up in great steaming +cauldrons; the machines pushing the cans under the enormous faucets +where the preserves ran out and then sealing the cans and pasting the +bright Seaton "brand" about them. The people there were +interesting--the girls with flying fingers sorting fruit, and the men +pounding the big boxes together; and the great shaggy-hoofed horses +which pulled the huge, groaning wagons were most fascinating. She +wanted to ride on one of the wagons; but her request was promptly and +completely squashed. + +It was not "done"; nor was anything about the groceries and the canning +to be mentioned before visitors; Constance brought up the subject once +and found out. It was different about her father's ships. She could +talk about them when she wanted to; and her father often spoke of them; +and any one who came to the house could speak about them. Ships, +apparently, were respectable. + +When she went down to the docks with her father, she could climb all +over them, if she was only careful of her clothes; she could spend a +day watching one of her father's boats discharging grain or another +unloading ore; and, when she was twelve, for a great treat, her father +took her on one of the freighters to Duluth; and for one delightful, +wonderful week she chummed with the captain and mates and wheelmen and +learned all the pilot signals and the way the different lighthouses +winked. + +Mr. Spearman, who recently had become a partner of her father's, was +also on the boat upon that trip. He had no particular duty; he was +just "an owner" like her father; but Constance observed that, while the +captain and the mates and the engineers were always polite and +respectful to her father, they asked Mr. Spearman's opinion about +things in a very different way and paid real attention--not merely +polite attention--when he talked. He was a most desirable sort of +acquisition; for he was a friend who could come to the house at any +time, and yet he, himself, had done all sorts of exciting things. He +had not just gone to Harvard and then become an owner, as Constance's +father had; at fifteen, he had run away from his father's farm back +from the east shore of little Traverse Bay near the northern end of +Lake Michigan. At eighteen, after all sorts of adventures, he had +become mate of a lumber schooner; he had "taken to steam" shortly after +that and had been an officer upon many kinds of ships. Then Uncle +Benny had taken him into partnership. Constance had a most exciting +example of what he could do when the ship ran into a big storm on Lake +Superior. + +Coming into Whitefish Bay, a barge had blundered against the vessel; a +seam started, and water came in so fast that it gained on the pumps. +Instantly, Mr. Spearman, not the captain, was in command and, from the +way he steered the ship to protect the seam and from the scheme he +devised to stay the inrush of water, the pumps began to gain at once, +and the ship went into Duluth safe and dry. Constance liked that in a +man of the sort whom people knew. For, as the most active +partner--though not the chief stockholder--of Corvet, Sherrill and +Spearman, almost every one in the city knew him. He had his bachelor +"rooms" in one of the newest and most fashionable of the apartment +buildings facing the lake just north of the downtown city; he had +become a member of the best city and country clubs; and he was welcomed +quickly along the Drive, where the Sherrills' mansion was coming to be +considered a characteristic "old" Chicago home. + +But little over forty, and appearing even younger, Spearman was +distinctly of the new generation; and Constance Sherrill was only one +of many of the younger girls who found in Henry Spearman refreshing +relief from the youths who were the sons of men but who could never +become men themselves. They were nice, earnest boys with all sorts of +serious Marxian ideas of establishing social justice in the plants +which their fathers had built; and carrying the highest motives into +the city or national politics. But the industrial reformers, Constance +was quite certain, never could have built up the industries with which +they now, so superiorly, were finding fault; the political purifiers +either failed of election or, if elected, seemed to leave politics +pretty much as they had been before. The picture of Spearman, +instantly appealed to and instantly in charge in the emergency, +remained and became more vivid within Constance, because she never saw +him except when he dominated. + +And a decade most amazingly had bridged the abyss which had separated +twelve years and thirty-two. At twenty-two, Constance Sherrill was +finding Henry Spearman--age forty-two--the most vitalizing and +interesting of the men who moved, socially, about the restricted +ellipse which curved down the lake shore south of the park and up Astor +Street. He had, very early, recognized that he possessed the vigor and +courage to carry him far, and he had disciplined himself until the +coarseness and roughness, which had sometimes offended the little girl +of ten years before, had almost vanished. What crudities still came +out, romantically reminded of his hard, early life on the lakes. Had +there been anything in that life of his of which he had not told +her--something worse than merely rough and rugged, which could strike +at her? Uncle Benny's last, dramatic appeal to her had suggested that; +but even at the moment when he was talking to her, fright for Uncle +Benny--not dread that there had been anything wrong in Henry's +life--had most moved her. Uncle Benny very evidently was not himself. +As long as Constance could remember, he had quarreled violently with +Henry; his antagonism to Henry had become almost an obsession; and +Constance had her father's word for it that, a greater part of the +time, Uncle Benny had no just ground for his quarrel with Henry. A +most violent quarrel had occurred upon that last day, and undoubtedly +its fury had carried Uncle Benny to the length of going to Constance as +he did. + +Constance had come to this conclusion during the last gloomy and stormy +days; this morning, gazing out upon the shining lake, clear blue under +the wintry sun, she was more satisfied than before. Summoning her +maid, she inquired first whether anything had been heard since last +night of Mr. Corvet. She was quite sure, if her father had had word, +he would have awakened her; and there was no news. But Uncle Benny's +son, she remembered, was coming to breakfast. + +Uncle Benny's son! That suggested to Constance's mother only something +unpleasant, something to be avoided and considered as little as +possible. But Alan--Uncle Benny's son--was not unpleasant at all; he +was, in fact, quite the reverse. Constance had liked him from the +moment that, confused a little by Benjamin Corvet's absence and +Simons's manner in greeting him, he had turned to her for explanation; +she had liked the way he had openly studied her and approved her, as +she was approving him; she had liked the way he had told her of +himself, and the fact that he knew nothing of the man who proved to be +his father; she had liked very much the complete absence of impulse to +force or to pretend feeling when she had brought him the picture of his +father--when he, amazed at himself for not feeling, had looked at her; +and she had liked most of all his refusal, for himself and for his +father, to accept positive stigma until it should be proved. + +She had not designated any hour for breakfast, and she supposed that, +coming from the country, he would believe breakfast to be early. But +when she got downstairs, though it was nearly nine o'clock, he had not +come; she went to the front window to watch for him, and after a few +minutes she saw him approaching, looking often to the lake as though +amazed by the change in it. + +She went to the door and herself let him in. + +"Father has gone down-town," she told him, as he took off his things. +"Mr. Spearman returns from Duluth this morning, and father wished to +tell him about you as soon as possible. I told father you had come to +see him last night; and he said to bring you down to the office." + +"I overslept, I'm afraid," Alan said. + +"You slept well, then?" + +"Very well--after a while." + +"I'll take you down-town myself after breakfast." + +She said no more but led him into the breakfast room. It was a +delightful, cozy little room, Dutch furnished, with a single wide +window to the east, an enormous hooded fireplace taking up half the +north wall, and blue Delft tiles set above it and paneled in the walls +all about the room. There were the quaint blue windmills, the fishing +boats, the baggy-breeked, wooden-shod folk, the canals and barges, the +dikes and their guardians, and the fishing ship on the Zuyder Zee. + +Alan gazed about at these with quick, appreciative interest. His +quality of instantly noticing and appreciating anything unusual was, +Constance thought, one of his pleasantest and best characteristics. + +"I like those too; I selected them myself in Holland," she observed. + +She took her place beside the coffee pot, and when he remained +standing--"Mother always has her breakfast in bed; that's your place," +she said. + +He took the chair opposite her. There was fruit upon the table; +Constance took an orange and passed the little silver basket across. + +"This is such a little table; we never use it if there's more than two +or three of us; and we like to help ourselves here." + +"I like it very much," Alan said. + +"Coffee right away or later?" + +"Whenever you do. You see," he explained, smiling in a way that +pleased her, "I haven't the slightest idea what else is coming or +whether anything more at all is coming." A servant entered, bringing +cereal and cream; he removed the fruit plates, put the cereal dish and +two bowls before Constance, and went out. "And if any one in Blue +Rapids," Alan went on, "had a man waiting in the dining-room and at +least one other in the kitchen, they would not speak of our activities +here as 'helping ourselves.' I'm not sure just how they would speak of +them; we--the people I was with in Kansas--had a maidservant at one +time when we were on the farm, and when we engaged her, she asked, 'Do +you do your own stretching?' That meant serving from the stove to the +table, usually." + +He was silent for a few moments; when he looked at her across the table +again, he seemed about to speak seriously. His gaze left her face and +then came back. + +"Miss Sherrill," he said gravely, "what is, or was, the _Miwaka_? A +ship?" + +He made no attempt to put the question casually; rather, he had made it +more evident that it was of concern to him by the change in his manner. + +"The _Miwaka_?" Constance said. + +"Do you know what it was?" + +"Yes; I know; and it was a ship." + +"You mean it doesn't exist any more?" + +"No; it was lost a long time ago." + +"On the lakes here?" + +"On Lake Michigan." + +"You mean by lost that it was sunk?" + +"It was sunk, of course; but no one knows what happened to it--whether +it was wrecked or burned or merely foundered." + +The thought of the unknown fate of the ship and crew--of the ship which +had sailed and never reached port and of which nothing ever had been +heard but the beating of the Indian drum--set her blood tingling as it +had done before, when she had been told about the ship, or when she had +told others about it and the superstition connected with it. It was +plain Alan Conrad had not asked about it idly; something about the +_Miwaka_ had come to him recently and had excited his intense concern. + +"Whose ship was it?" he asked. "My father's?" + +"No; it belonged to Stafford and Ramsdell. They were two of the big +men of their time in the carrying trade on the lakes, but their line +has been out of business for years; both Mr. Stafford and Mr. Ramsdell +were lost with the _Miwaka_." + +"Will you tell me about it, and them, please?" + +"I've told you almost all I can about Stafford and Ramsdell, I'm +afraid; I've just heard father say that they were men who could have +amounted to a great deal on the lakes, if they had lived--especially +Mr. Stafford, who was very young. The _Miwaka_ was a great new steel +ship--built the year after I was born; it was the first of nearly a +dozen that Stafford and Ramsdell had planned to build. There was some +doubt among lake men about steel boats at that time; they had begun to +be built very largely quite a few years before, but recently there had +been some serious losses with them. Whether it was because they were +built on models not fitted for the lakes, no one knew; but several of +them had broken in two and sunk, and a good many men were talking about +going back to wood. But Stafford and Ramsdell believed in steel and +had finished this first one of their new boats. + +"She left Duluth for Chicago, loaded with ore, on the first day of +December, with both owners and part of their families on board. She +passed the Soo on the third and went through the Straits of Mackinac on +the fourth into Lake Michigan. After that, nothing was ever heard of +her." + +"So probably she broke in two like the others?" + +"Mr. Spearman and your father both thought so; but nobody ever knew--no +wreckage came ashore--no message of any sort from any one on board. A +very sudden winter storm had come up and was at its worst on the +morning of the fifth. Uncle Benny--your father--told me once, when I +asked him about it, that it was as severe for a time as any he had ever +experienced. He very nearly lost his life in it. He had just finished +laying up one of his boats--the _Martha Corvet_--at Manistee for the +winter; and he and Mr. Spearman, who then was mate of the _Martha +Corvet_, were crossing the lake in a tug with a crew of four men to +Manitowoc, where they were going to lay up more ships. The captain and +one of the deck hands of the tug were washed overboard, and the +engineer was lost trying to save them. Uncle Benny and Mr. Spearman +and the stoker brought the tug in. The storm was worst about five in +the morning, when the _Miwaka_ sunk." + +"How do you know that the _Miwaka_ sunk at five," Alan asked, "if no +one ever heard from the ship?" + +"Oh; that was told by the Drum!" + +"The Drum?" + +"Yes; the Indian Drum! I forgot; of course you didn't know. It's a +superstition that some of the lake men have, particularly those who +come from people at the other end of the lake. The Indian Drum is in +the woods there, they say. No one has seen it; but many people believe +that they have heard it. It's a spirit drum which beats, they say, for +every ship lost on the lake. There's a particular superstition about +it in regard to the _Miwaka_; for the drum beat wrong for the _Miwaka_. +You see, the people about there swear that about five o'clock in the +morning of the fifth, while the storm was blowing terribly, they heard +the drum beating and knew that a ship was going down. They counted the +sounds as it beat the roll of the dead. It beat twenty-four before it +stopped and then began to beat again and beat twenty-four; so, later, +everybody knew it had been beating for the _Miwaka_; for every other +ship on the lake got to port; but there were twenty-five altogether on +the _Miwaka_, so either the drum beat wrong or--" she hesitated. + +"Or what?" + +"Or the drum was right, and some one was saved. Many people believed +that. It was years before the families of the men on board gave up +hope, because of the Drum; maybe some haven't given up hope yet." + +Alan made no comment for a moment. Constance had seen the blood flush +to his face and then leave it, and her own pulse had beat as swiftly as +she rehearsed the superstition. As he gazed at her and then away, it +was plain that he had heard something additional about the +_Miwaka_--something which he was trying to fit into what she told him. + +"That's all anybody knows?" His gaze came back to her at last. + +"Yes; why did you ask about it--the _Miwaka_? I mean, how did you hear +about it so you wanted to know?" + +He considered an instant before replying. "I encountered a reference +to the _Miwaka_--I supposed it must be a ship--in my father's house +last night." + +His manner, as he looked down at his coffee cup, toying with it, +prevented her then from asking more; he seemed to know that she wished +to press it, and he looked up quickly. + +"I met my servant--my father's servant--this morning," he said. + +"Yes; he got back this morning. He came here early to report to father +that he had no news of Uncle Benny; and father told him you were at the +house and sent him over." + +Alan was studying the coffee cup again, a queer expression on his face +which she could not read. + +"He was there when I woke up this morning, Miss Sherrill. I hadn't +heard anybody in the house, but I saw a little table on wheels standing +in the hall outside my door and a spirit lamp and a little coffee pot +on it, and a man bending over it, warming the cup. His back was toward +me, and he had straight black hair, so that at first I thought he was a +Jap; but when he turned around, I saw he was an American Indian." + +"Yes; that was Wassaquam." + +"Is that his name? He told me it was Judah." + +"Yes--Judah Wassaquam. He's a Chippewa from the north end of the lake. +They're very religious there, most of the Indians at the foot of the +lake; and many of them have a Biblical name which they use for a first +name and use their Indian name for a last one." + +"He called me 'Alan' and my father 'Ben.'" + +"The Indians almost always call people by their first names." + +"He said that he had always served 'Ben' his coffee that way before he +got up, and so he had supposed he was to do the same by me; and also +that, long ago, he used to be a deck hand on one of my father's ships." + +"Yes; when Uncle Benny began to operate ships of his own, many of the +ships on the lakes had Indians among the deck hands; some had all +Indians for crews and white men only for officers. Wassaquam was on +the first freighter Uncle Benny ever owned a share in; afterwards he +came here to Chicago with Uncle Benny. He's been looking after Uncle +Benny all alone now for more than ten years--and he's very much devoted +to him, and fully trustworthy; and besides that, he's a wonderful cook; +but I've wondered sometimes whether Uncle Benny wasn't the only city +man in the world who had an Indian body servant." + +"You know a good deal about Indians." + +"A little about the lake Indians, the Chippewas and Pottawatomies in +northern Michigan." + +"Recollection's a funny thing," Alan said, after considering a moment. +"This morning, after seeing Judah and talking to him--or rather hearing +him talk--somehow a story got running in my head. I can't make out +exactly what it was--about a lot of animals on a raft; and there was +some one with them--I don't know who; I can't fit any name to him; but +he had a name." + +Constance bent forward quickly. "Was the name Michabou?" she asked. + +He returned her look, surprised. "That's it; how did you know?" + +"I think I know the story; and Wassaquam would have known it too, I +think, if you'd ask him; but probably he would have thought it impious +to tell it, because he and his people are great Christians now. +Michabou is one of the Indian names for Manitou. What else do you +remember of the story?" + +"Not much, I'm afraid--just sort of scenes here and there; but I can +remember the beginning now that you have given me the name: 'In the +beginning of all things there was only water and Michabou was floating +on the raft with all the animals.' Michabou, it seemed, wanted the +land brought up so that men and animals could live on it, and he asked +one of the animals to go down and bring it up--" + +"The beaver," Constance supplied. + +"Was the beaver the first one? The beaver dived and stayed down a long +time, so long that when he came up he was breathless and completely +exhausted, but he had not been able to reach the bottom. Then Michabou +sent down--" + +"The otter." + +"And he stayed down much longer than the beaver, and when he came up at +last, they dragged him on to the raft quite senseless; but he hadn't +been able to reach the bottom either. So the animals and Michabou +himself were ready to give it up; but then the little muskrat spoke +up--am I right? Was this the muskrat?" + +"Yes." + +"Then you can finish it for me?" + +"He dived and he stayed down, the little muskrat," Constance continued, +"longer than the beaver and the otter both together. Michabou and the +animals waited all day for him to come up, and they watched all through +the night; so then they knew he must be dead. And, sure enough, they +came after a while across the body floating on the water and apparently +lifeless. They dragged him onto the raft and found that his little +paws were all tight shut. They forced open three of the paws and found +nothing in them, but when they opened the last one, they found one +grain of sand tightly clutched in it. The little muskrat had done it; +he'd reached the bottom! And out of that one grain of sand, Michabou +made the world." + +"That's it," he said. "Now what is it?" + +"The Indian story of creation--or one of them." + +"Not a story of the plain Indians surely." + +"No; of the Indians who live about the lakes and so got the idea that +everything was water in the first place--the Indians who live on the +islands and peninsulas. That's how I came to know it." + +"I thought that must be it," Alan said. His hand trembled a little as +he lifted his coffee cup to his lips. + +Constance too flushed a little with excitement; it was a surprisingly +close and intimate thing to have explored with another back into the +concealments of his first child consciousness, to have aided another in +the sensitive task of revealing himself to himself. This which she had +helped to bring back to him must have been one of the first stories +told him; he had been a very little boy, when he had been taken to +Kansas, away from where he must have heard this story--the lakes. She +was a little nervous also from watching the time as told by the tiny +watch on her wrist. Henry's train from Duluth must be in now; and he +had not yet called her, as had been his custom recently, as soon as he +returned to town after a trip. But, in a minute, a servant entered to +inform her that Mr. Spearman wished to speak to her. She excused +herself to Alan and hurried out. Henry was calling her from the +railroad station and, he said, from a most particularly stuffy booth +and, besides having a poor connection, there was any amount of noise +about him; but he was very anxious to see Constance as soon as +possible. Could she be in town that morning and have luncheon with +him? Yes; she was going down-town very soon and, after luncheon, he +could come home with her if he wished. He certainly did wish, but he +couldn't tell yet what he might have to do in the afternoon, but please +would she save the evening for him. She promised and started to tell +him about Alan, then recollected that Henry was going to see her father +immediately at the office. + +Alan was standing, waiting for her, when she returned to the breakfast +room. + +"Ready to go down-town?" she asked. + +"Whenever you are." + +"I'll be ready in a minute. I'm planning to drive; are you afraid?" + +He smiled in his pleasant way as he glanced over her; she had become +conscious of saying that sort of thing to tempt the smile. "Oh, I'll +take the risk." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE DEED IN TRUST + +Her little gasoline-driven car--delicate as though a jeweler had made +it--was waiting for them under the canopy beside the house, when they +went out. She delayed a moment to ask Alan to let down the windows; +the sky was still clear, and the sunshine had become almost warm, +though the breeze was sharp and cold. As the car rolled down the +drive, and he turned for a long look past her toward the lake, she +watched his expression. + +"It's like a great shuttle, the ice there," she commented, "a monster +shuttle nearly three hundred miles long. All winter it moves back and +forth across the lake, from east to west and from west to east as the +winds change, blocking each shore half the time and forcing the winter +boats to fight it always." + +"The gulls go opposite to it, I suppose, sticking to open water." + +"The gulls? That depends upon the weather. 'Sea-gull, sea-gull,'" she +quoted, "'sit on the sand; It's never fair weather when you're on the +land.'" + +Alan started a little. "What was that?" he asked. + +"That rhyme? One which the wives of the lake men teach their children. +Did you remember that too?" + +"After you said it." + +"Can you remember the rest of it?" + +"'Green to Green--Red to Red,'" Alan repeated to himself. "'Green to +green' and then something about--how is it, 'Back her--back and +stopper.'" + +"That's from a lake rhyme too, but another one!" she cried. "And +that's quite a good one. It's one of the pilot rules that every lake +person knows. Some skipper and wheelsman set them to rhyme years ago, +and the lake men teach the rhymes to their children so that they'll +never go wrong with a ship. It keeps them clearer in their heads than +any amount of government printing. Uncle Benny used to say they've +saved any number of collisions. + + "Meeting steamers do not dread," + +she recited, + + "When you see three lights ahead! + Port your helm and show your red. + For passing steamers you should try + To keep this maxim in your eye, + Green to Green--or Red to Red-- + Perfect safety--go ahead. + Both in safety and in doubt, + Always keep a good lookout; + Should there be no room to turn, + Stop your ship and go astern." + + +"Now we're coming to your 'back and stopper': + + "If to starboard Red appear, + 'Tis your duty to keep clear; + Act as judgment says is proper. + Port or starboard--back or stop her! + But when on your port is seen + A steamer with a light of Green, + There's not much for you to do-- + The Green light must look out for you." + + +She had driven the car swiftly on the boulevard to the turn where the +motorway makes west to Rush Street, then it turned south again toward +the bridge. As they reached the approach to the bridge and the cars +congested there, Constance was required to give all her attention to +the steering; not until they were crossing the bridge was she able to +glance at her companion's face. + +To westward, on both sides of the river, summer boats were laid up, +their decks covered with snow. On the other side, still nearer to the +bridge, were some of the winter vessels; and, while the motor was on +the span, the bells began ringing the alarm to clear the bridge so it +could turn to let through a great steamer just in from the lake, the +sun glistening on the ice covering its bows and sides back as far as +Alan could see. + +Forward of the big, black, red-banded funnel, a cloud of steam bellowed +up and floated back, followed by another, and two deep, reverberating +blasts rumbled up the river majestically, imperiously. The shrill +little alarm bells on the bridge jangled more nervously and excitedly, +and the policeman at the south end hastily signalled the motor cars +from the city to stop, while he motioned those still on the bridge to +scurry off; for a ship desired to pass. + +"Can we stop and see it?" Alan appealed, as Constance ran the car from +the bridge just before it began to turn. + +She swung the car to the side of the street and stopped; as he gazed +back, he was--she knew--seeing not only his first great ship close by, +but having his first view of his people--the lake men from whom now he +knew from the feeling he had found within himself, and not only from +what had been told him, that he had come. + +The ship was sheathed in ice from stem to stern; tons of the gleaming, +crystal metal weighed the forecastle; the rail all round had become a +frozen bulwark; the boats were mere hummocks of ice; the bridge was +encased, and from the top of the pilot house hung down giant +stalactites which an axeman was chopping away. Alan could see the +officers on the bridge, the wheelsman, the lookout; he could see the +spurt of water from the ship's side as it expelled with each thrust of +the pumps; he could see the whirlpool about the screw, as slowly, +steadily, with signals clanging clearly somewhere below, the steamer +went through the draw. From up the river ahead of it came the jangling +of bells and the blowing of alarm whistles as the other bridges were +cleared to let the vessel through. It showed its stern now; Alan read +the name and registry aloud: "'_Groton of Escanaba_!' Is that one of +yours, Miss Sherrill; is that one of yours and my--Mr. Corvet's?" + +She shook her head, sorry that she had to say no. "Shall we go on now?" + +The bridge was swinging shut again; the long line of motor cars, which +had accumulated from the boulevard from the city, began slowly to move. +Constance turned the car down the narrow street, fronted by warehouses +which Alan had passed the morning before, to Michigan Avenue, with the +park and harbor to the left. When she glanced now at Alan, she saw +that a reaction of depression had followed excitement at seeing the +steamer pass close by. + +Memory, if he could call it that, had given him a feeling for ships and +for the lake; a single word--_Miwaka_--a childish rhyme and story, +which he might have heard repeated and have asked for a hundred times +in babyhood. But these recollections were only what those of a +three-years' child might have been. Not only did they refuse to +connect themselves with anything else, but by the very finality of +their isolation, they warned him that they--and perhaps a few more +vague memories of similar sort--were all that recollection ever would +give him. He caught himself together and turned his thoughts to the +approaching visit to Sherrill--and his father's offices. + +Observing the towering buildings to his right, he was able to identify +some of the more prominent structures, familiar from photographs of the +city. Constance drove swiftly a few blocks down this boulevard; then, +with a sudden, "Here we are!" she shot the car to the curb and stopped. +She led Alan into one of the tallest and best-looking of the buildings, +where they took an elevator placarded "Express" to the fifteenth floor. + +On several of the doors opening upon the wide marble hall where the +elevator left them, Alan saw the names, "Corvet, Sherrill and +Spearman." As they passed, without entering, one of these doors which +stood propped open, and he looked in, he got his first realization of +the comparatively small land accommodations which a great business +conducted upon the water requires. What he saw within was only one +large room, with hardly more than a dozen, certainly not a score of +desks in it; nearly all the desks were closed, and there were not more +than three or four people in the room, and these apparently +stenographers. Doors of several smaller offices, opening upon the +larger room, bore names, among which he saw "Mr. Corvet" and "Mr. +Spearman." + +"It won't look like that a month from now," Constance said, catching +his expression. "Just now, you know, the straits and all the northern +lakes are locked fast with ice. There's nothing going on now except +the winter traffic on Lake Michigan and, to a much smaller extent, on +Ontario and Erie; we have an interest in some winter boats, but we +don't operate them from here. Next month we will be busy fitting out, +and the month after that all the ships we have will be upon the water." + +She led the way on past to a door farther down the corridor, which bore +merely the name, "Lawrence Sherrill"; evidently Sherrill, who had +interests aside from the shipping business, had offices connected with +but not actually a part of the offices of Corvet, Sherrill, and +Spearman. A girl was on guard on the other side of the door; she +recognized Constance Sherrill at once and, saying that Mr. Sherrill had +been awaiting Mr. Conrad, she opened an inner door and led Alan into a +large, many-windowed room, where Sherrill was sitting alone before a +table-desk. He arose, a moment after the door opened, and spoke a word +to his daughter, who had followed Alan and the girl to the door, but +who had halted there. Constance withdrew, and the girl from the outer +office also went away, closing the door behind her. Sherrill pulled +the "visitor's chair" rather close to his desk and to his own big +leather chair before asking Alan to seat himself. + +"You wanted to tell me, or ask me, something last night, my daughter +has told me," Sherrill said cordially. "I'm sorry I wasn't home when +you came back." + +"I wanted to ask you, Mr. Sherrill," Alan said, "about those facts in +regard to Mr. Corvet which you mentioned to me yesterday but did not +explain. You said it would not aid me to know them; but I found +certain things in Mr. Corvet's house last night which made me want to +know, if I could, everything you could tell me." + +Sherrill opened a drawer and took out a large, plain envelope. + +"I did not tell you about these yesterday, Alan," he said, "not only +because I had not decided how to act in regard to these matters, but +because I had not said anything to Mr. Spearman about them previously, +because I expected to get some additional information from you. After +seeing you, I was obliged to wait for Spearman to get back to town. +The circumstances are such that I felt myself obliged to talk them over +first with him; I have done that this morning; so I was going to send +for you, if you had not come down." + +Sherrill thought a minute, still holding the envelope closed in his +hand. + +"On the day after your father disappeared," he went on, "but before I +knew he was gone--or before any one except my daughter felt any alarm +about him--I received a short note from him. I will show it to you +later, if you wish; its exact wording, however, is unimportant. It had +been mailed very late the night before and apparently at the mail box +near his house or at least, by the postmark, somewhere in the +neighborhood; and for that reason had not been taken up before the +morning collection and did not reach the office until I had been here +and gone away again about eleven o'clock. I did not get it, therefore, +until after lunch. The note was agitated, almost incoherent. It told +me he had sent for you--Alan Conrad, of Blue Rapids, Kansas--but spoke +of you as though you were some one I ought to have known about, and +commended you to my care. The remainder of it was merely an agitated, +almost indecipherable farewell to me. When I opened the envelope, a +key had fallen out. The note made no reference to the key, but +comparing it with one I had in my pocket, I saw that it appeared to be +a key to a safety deposit box in the vaults of a company where we both +had boxes. + +"The note, taken in connection with my daughter's alarm about him, made +it so plain that something serious had happened to Corvet, that my +first thought was merely for him. Corvet was not a man with whom one +could readily connect the thought of suicide; but, Alan, that was the +idea I had. I hurried at once to his house, but the bell was not +answered, and I could not get in. His servant, Wassaquam, has very few +friends, and the few times he has been away from home of recent years +have been when he visited an acquaintance of his--the head porter in a +South Side hotel. I went to the telephone in the house next door and +called the hotel and found Wassaquam there. I asked Wassaquam about +the letter to 'Alan Conrad,' and Wassaquam said Corvet had given it to +him to post early in the evening. Several hours later, Corvet had sent +him out to wait at the mail box for the mail collector to get the +letter back. Wassaquam went out to the mail box, and Corvet came out +there too, almost at once. The mail collector, when he came, told +them, of course, that he could not return the letter; but Corvet +himself had taken the letters and looked them through. Corvet seemed +very much excited when he discovered the letter was not there; and when +the mail man remembered that he had been late on his previous trip and +so must have taken up the letter almost at once after it was mailed, +Corvet's excitement increased on learning that it was already probably +on the train on its way west. He controlled himself later enough at +least to reassure Wassaquam; for an hour or so after, when Corvet sent +Wassaquam away from the house, Wassaquam had gone without feeling any +anxiety about him. + +"I told Wassaquam over the telephone only that something was wrong, and +hurried to my own home to get the key, which I had, to the Corvet +house; but when I came back and let myself into the house, I found it +empty and with no sign of anything having happened. + +"The next morning, Alan, I went to the safe deposit vaults as soon as +they were open. I presented the numbered key and was told that it +belonged to a box rented by Corvet, and that Corvet had arranged about +three days before for me to have access to the box if I presented the +key. I had only to sign my name in their book and open the box. In +it, Alan, I found the pictures of you which I showed you yesterday and +the very strange communications that I am going to show you now." + +Sherrill opened the long envelope from which several thin, folded +papers fell. He picked up the largest of these, which consisted of +several sheets fastened together with a clip, and handed it to Alan +without comment. Alan, as he looked at it and turned the pages, saw +that it contained two columns of typewriting carried from page to page +after the manner of an account. + +The column to the left was an inventory of property and profits and +income by months and years, and the one to the right was a list of +losses and expenditures. Beginning at an indefinite day or month in +the year 1895, there was set down in a lump sum what was indicated as +the total of Benjamin Corvet's holdings at that time. To this, in +sometimes undated items, the increase had been added. In the opposite +column, beginning apparently from the same date in 1895, were the +missing man's expenditures. The painstaking exactness of these left no +doubt of their correctness; they included items for natural +depreciation of perishable properties and, evidently, had been worked +over very recently. Upon the last sheet, the second column had been +deducted from the first, and an apparently purely arbitrary sum of two +hundred thousand dollars had been taken away. From the remainder there +had been taken away approximately one hundred and fifty thousand +dollars more. + +Alan having ascertained that the papers contained only this account, +looked up questioningly to Sherrill; but Sherrill, without speaking, +merely handed him the second of the papers.... This, Alan saw, had +evidently been folded to fit a smaller envelope. Alan unfolded it and +saw that it was a letter written in the same hand which had written the +summons he had received in Blue Rapids and had made the entries in the +little memorandum book of the remittances that had been sent to John +Welton. + +It began simply: + + +Lawrence-- + +This will come to you in the event that I am not able to carry out the +plan upon which I am now, at last, determined. You will find with this +a list of my possessions which, except for two hundred thousand dollars +settled upon my wife which was hers absolutely to dispose of as she +desired and a further sum of approximately one hundred and fifty +thousand dollars presented in memory of her to the Hospital Service in +France, have been transferred to you without legal reservation. + +You will find deeds for all real estate executed and complete except +for recording of the transfer at the county office; bonds, +certificates, and other documents representing my ownership of +properties, together with signed forms for their legal transfer to you, +are in this box. These properties, in their entirety, I give to you in +trust to hold for the young man now known as Alan Conrad of Blue +Rapids, Kansas, to deliver any part or all over to him or to continue +to hold it all in trust for him as you shall consider to be to his +greatest advantage. + +This for the reasons which I shall have told to you or him--I cannot +know which one of you now, nor do I know how I shall tell it. But when +you learn, Lawrence, think as well of me as you can and help him to be +charitable to me. + +With the greatest affection, + BENJAMIN CORVET. + + +Alan, as he finished reading, looked up to Sherrill, bewildered and +dazed. + +"What does it mean, Mr. Sherrill?-- Does it mean that he has gone away +and left everything he had--everything to me?" + +"The properties listed here," Sherrill touched the pages Alan first had +looked at, "are in the box at the vault with the executed forms of +their transfer to me. If Mr. Corvet does not return, and I do not +receive any other instructions, I shall take over his estate as he has +instructed for your advantage." + +"And, Mr. Sherrill, he didn't tell you why? This is all you know?" + +"Yes; you have everything now. The fact that he did not give his +reasons for this, either to you or me, made me think at first that he +might have made his plan known to some one else, and that he had been +opposed--to the extent even of violence done upon him--to prevent his +carrying it out. But the more I have considered this, the less likely +it has seemed to me. Whatever had happened to Corvet that had so much +disturbed and excited him lately, seems rather to have precipitated his +plan than deterred him in it. He may have determined after he had +written this that his actions and the plain indication of his +relationship to you, gave all the explanation he wanted to make. All +we can do, Alan, is to search for him in every way we can. There will +be others searching for him too now; for information of his +disappearance has got out. There have been reporters at the office +this morning making inquiries, and his disappearance will be in the +afternoon papers." + +Sherrill put the papers back in their envelope, and the envelope back +into the drawer, which he relocked. + +"I went over all this with Mr. Spearman this morning," he said. "He is +as much at a loss to explain it as I am." + +He was silent for a few moments. + +"The transfer of Mr. Corvet's properties to me for you," he said +suddenly, "includes, as you have seen, Corvet's interest in the firm of +'Corvet, Sherrill and Spearman.' I went very carefully through the +deeds and transfers in the deposit box, and it was plain that, while he +had taken great care with the forms of transfer for all the properties, +he had taken particular pains with whatever related to his holdings in +this company and to his shipping interests. If I make over the +properties to you, Alan, I shall begin with those; for it seems to me +that your father was particularly anxious that you should take a +personal as well as a financial place among the men who control the +traffic of the lakes. I have told Spearman that this is my intention. +He has not been able to see it my way as yet; but he may change his +views, I think, after meeting you." + +Sherrill got up. Alan arose a little unsteadily. The list of +properties he had read and the letter and Sherrill's statement +portended so much that its meaning could not all come to him at once. +He followed Sherrill through a short private corridor, flanked with +files lettered "Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman," into the large room he +had seen when he came in with Constance. They crossed this, and +Sherrill, without knocking, opened the door of the office marked, "Mr. +Spearman." Alan, looking on past Sherrill as the door opened, saw that +there were some half dozen men in the room, smoking and talking. They +were big men mostly, ruddy-skinned and weather-beaten in look, and he +judged from their appearance, and from the pile of their hats and coats +upon a chair, that they were officers of the company's ships, idle +while the ships were laid up, but reporting now at the offices and +receiving instructions as the time for fitting out approached. + +His gaze went swiftly on past these men to the one who, half seated on +the top of the flat desk, had been talking to them; and his pulse +closed upon his heart with a shock; he started, choked with +astonishment, then swiftly forced himself under control. For this was +the man whom he had met and whom he had fought in Benjamin Corvet's +house the night before--the big man surprised in his blasphemy of +Corvet and of souls "in Hell" who, at sight of an apparition with a +bullet hole above its eye, had cried out in his fright, "You got Ben! +But you won't get me--damn you! Damn you!" + +Alan's shoulders drew up slightly, and the muscles of his hands +tightened, as Sherrill led him to this man. Sherrill put his hand on +the man's shoulder; his other hand was still on Alan's arm. + +"Henry," he said to the man, "this is Alan Conrad. Alan, I want you to +know my partner, Mr. Spearman." + +Spearman nodded an acknowledgment, but did not put out his hand; his +eyes--steady, bold, watchful eyes--seemed measuring Alan attentively; +and in return Alan, with his gaze, was measuring him. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +MR. CORVET'S PARTNER + +The instant of meeting, when Alan recognized in Sherrill's partner the +man with whom he had fought in Corvet's house, was one of swift +readjustment of all his thought--adjustment to a situation of which he +could not even have dreamed, and which left him breathless. But for +Spearman, obviously, it was not that. Following his noncommittal nod +of acknowledgment of Sherrill's introduction and his first steady +scrutiny of Alan, the big, handsome man swung himself off from the desk +on which he sat and leaned against it, facing them more directly. + +"Oh, yes--Conrad," he said. His tone was hearty; in it Alan could +recognize only so much of reserve as might be expected from Sherrill's +partner who had taken an attitude of opposition. The shipmasters, +looking on, could see, no doubt, not even that; except for the +excitement which Alan himself could not conceal, it must appear to them +only an ordinary introduction. + +Alan fought sharply down the swift rush of his blood and the tightening +of his muscles. + +"I can say truly that I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Spearman," he managed. + +There was no recognition of anything beyond the mere surface meaning of +the words in Spearman's slow smile of acknowledgment, as he turned from +Alan to Sherrill. + +"I'm afraid you've taken rather a bad time, Lawrence." + +"You're busy, you mean. This can wait, Henry, if what you're doing is +immediate." + +"I want some of these men to be back in Michigan to-night. Can't we +get together later--this afternoon? You'll be about here this +afternoon?" His manner was not casual; Alan could not think of any +expression of that man as being casual; but this, he thought, came as +near it as Spearman could come. + +"I think I can be here this afternoon," Alan said. + +"Would two-thirty suit you?" + +"As well as any other time." + +"Let's say two-thirty, then." Spearman turned and noted the hour +almost solicitously among the scrawled appointments on his desk pad; +straightening, after this act of dismissal, he walked with them to the +door, his hand on Sherrill's shoulder. + +"Circumstances have put us--Mr. Sherrill and myself--in a very +difficult position, Conrad," he remarked. "We want much to be fair to +all concerned--" + +He did not finish the sentence, but halted at the door. Sherrill went +out, and Alan followed him; exasperation--half outrage yet half +admiration--at Spearman's bearing, held Alan speechless. The blood +rushed hotly to his skin as the door closed behind them, his hands +clenched, and he turned back to the closed door; then he checked +himself and followed Sherrill, who, oblivious to Alan's excitement, led +the way to the door which bore Corvet's name. He opened it, disclosing +an empty room, somewhat larger than Spearman's and similar to it, +except that it lacked the marks of constant use. It was plain that, +since Spearman had chosen to put off discussion of Alan's status, +Sherrill did not know what next to do; he stood an instant in thought, +then, contenting himself with inviting Alan to lunch, he excused +himself to return to his office. When he had gone, closing the door +behind him, Alan began to pace swiftly up and down the room. + +What had just passed had left him still breathless; he felt bewildered. +If every movement of Spearman's great, handsome body had not recalled +to him their struggle of the night before--if, as Spearman's hand +rested cordially on Sherrill's shoulder, Alan had not seemed to feel +again that big hand at his throat--he would almost have been ready to +believe that this was not the man whom he had fought. But he could not +doubt that; he had recognized Spearman beyond question. And Spearman +had recognized him--he was sure of that; he could not for an instant +doubt it; Spearman had known it was Alan whom he had fought in Corvet's +house even before Sherrill had brought them together. Was there not +further proof of that in Spearman's subsequent manner toward him? For +what was all this cordiality except defiance? Undoubtedly Spearman had +acted just as he had to show how undisturbed he was, how indifferent he +might be to any accusation Alan could make. Not having told Sherrill +of the encounter in the house--not having told any one else--Alan could +not tell it now, after Sherrill had informed him that Spearman opposed +his accession to Corvet's estate; or, at least, he could not tell who +the man was. In the face of Spearman's manner toward him to-day, +Sherrill would not believe. If Spearman denied it--and his story of +his return to town that morning made it perfectly certain that he would +deny it--it would be only Alan's word against Spearman's--the word of a +stranger unknown to Sherrill except by Alan's own account of himself +and the inferences from Corvet's acts. There could be no risk to +Spearman in that; he had nothing to fear if Alan blurted an accusation +against him. Spearman, perhaps, even wanted him to do that--hoped he +would do it. Nothing could more discredit Alan than such an +unsustainable accusation against the partner who was opposing Alan's +taking his father's place. For it had been plain that Spearman +dominated Sherrill, and that Sherrill felt confidence in and admiration +toward him. + +Alan grew hot with the realization that, in the interview just past, +Spearman had also dominated him. He had been unable to find anything +adequate to do, anything adequate to answer, in opposition to this man +more than fifteen years older than himself and having a lifelong +experience in dealing with all kinds of men. He would not yield to +Spearman like that again; it was the bewilderment of his recognition of +Spearman that had made him do it. Alan stopped his pacing and flung +himself down in the leather desk-chair which had been Corvet's. He +could hear, at intervals, Spearman's heavy, genial voice addressing the +ship men in his office; its tones--half of comradeship, half of +command--told only too plainly his dominance over those men also. He +heard Spearman's office door open and some of the men go out; after a +time it opened again, and the rest went out. He heard Spearman's voice +in the outer office, then heard it again as Spearman returned alone +into his private office. + +There was a telephone upon Corvet's desk which undoubtedly connected +with the switchboard in the general office. Alan picked up the +receiver and asked for "Mr. Spearman." At once the hearty voice +answered, "Yes." + +"This is Conrad." + +"I thought I told you I was busy, Conrad!" The 'phone clicked as +Spearman hung up the receiver. + +The quality of the voice at the other end of the wire had altered; it +had become suddenly again the harsh voice of the man who had called +down curses upon "Ben" and on men "in Hell" in Corvet's library. + +Alan sat back in his chair, smiling a little. It had not been for him, +then--that pretense of an almost mocking cordiality; Spearman was not +trying to deceive or to influence Alan by that. It had been merely for +Sherrill's benefit; or, rather, it had been because, in Sherrill's +presence, this had been the most effective weapon against Alan which +Spearman could employ. Spearman might, or might not, deny to Alan his +identity with the man whom Alan had fought; as yet Alan did not know +which Spearman would do; but, at least, between themselves there was to +be no pretense about the antagonism, the opposition they felt toward +one another. + +Little prickling thrills of excitement were leaping through Alan, as he +got up and moved about the room again. The room was on a corner, and +there were two windows, one looking to the east over the white and blue +expanse of the harbor and the lake; the other showing the roofs and +chimneys, the towers and domes of Chicago, reaching away block after +block, mile after mile to the south and west, till they dimmed and +blurred in the brown haze of the sunlit smoke. Power and +possession--both far exceeding Alan's most extravagant dream--were +promised him by those papers which Sherrill had shown him. When he had +read down the list of those properties, he had had no more feeling, +that such things could be his than he had had at first that Corvet's +house could be his--until he had heard the intruder moving in that +house. And now it was the sense that another was going to make him +fight for those properties that was bringing to him the realization of +his new power. He "had" something on that man--on Spearman. He did +not know what that thing was; no stretch of his thought, nothing that +he knew about himself or others, could tell him; but, at sight of him, +in the dark of Corvet's house, Spearman had cried out in horror, he had +screamed at him the name of a sunken ship, and in terror had hurled his +electric torch. It was true, Spearman's terror had not been at Alan +Conrad; it had been because Spearman had mistaken him for some one +else--for a ghost. But, after learning that Alan was not a ghost, +Spearman's attitude had not very greatly changed; he had fought, he had +been willing to kill rather than to be caught there. + +Alan thought an instant; he would make sure he still "had" that +something on Spearman and would learn how far it went. He took up the +receiver and asked for Spearman again. + +Again the voice answered--"Yes." + +"I don't care whether you're busy," Alan said evenly. "I think you and +I had better have a talk before we meet with Mr. Sherrill this +afternoon. I am here in Mr. Corvet's office now and will be here for +half an hour; then I'm going out." + +Spearman made no reply but again hung up the receiver. Alan sat +waiting, his watch upon the desk before him--tense, expectant, with +flushes of hot and cold passing over him. Ten minutes passed; then +twenty. The telephone under Corvet's desk buzzed. + +"Mr. Spearman says he will give you five minutes now," the switchboard +girl said. + +Alan breathed deep with relief; Spearman had wanted to refuse to see +him--but he had not refused; he had sent for him within the time Alan +had appointed and after waiting until just before it expired. + +Alan put his watch back into his pocket and, crossing to the other +office, found Spearman alone. There was no pretense of courtesy now in +Spearman's manner; he sat motionless at his desk, his bold eyes fixed +on Alan intently. Alan closed the door behind him and advanced toward +the desk. + +"I thought we'd better have some explanation," he said, "about our +meeting last night." + +"Our meeting?" Spearman repeated; his eyes had narrowed watchfully. + +"You told Mr. Sherrill that you were in Duluth and that you arrived +home in Chicago only this morning. Of course you don't mean to stick +to that story with me?" + +"What are you talking about?" Spearman demanded. + +"Of course, I know exactly where you were a part of last evening; and +you know that I know. I only want to know what explanation you have to +offer." + +Spearman leaned forward. "Talk sense and talk it quick, if you have +anything to say to me!" + +"I haven't told Mr. Sherrill that I found you at Corvet's house last +night; but I don't want you to doubt for a minute that I know you--and +about your damning of Benjamin Corvet and your cry about saving the +_Miwaka_!" + +A flash of blood came to Spearman's face; Alan, in his excitement, was +sure of it; but there was just that flash, no more. He turned, while +Spearman sat chewing his cigar and staring at him, and went out and +partly closed the door. Then, suddenly, he reopened it, looked in, +reclosed it sharply, and went on his way, shaking a little. For, as he +looked back this second time at the dominant, determined, able man +seated at his desk, what he had seen in Spearman's face was fear; fear +of himself, of Alan Conrad of Blue Rapids--yet it was not fear of that +sort which weakens or dismays; it was of that sort which, merely +warning of danger close at hand, determines one to use every means +within his power to save himself. + +Alan, still trembling excitedly, crossed to Corvet's office to await +Sherrill. It was not, he felt sure now, Alan Conrad that Spearman was +opposing; it was not even the apparent successor to the controlling +stock of Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman. That Alan resembled some +one--some one whose ghost had seemed to come to Spearman and might, +perhaps, have come to Corvet--was only incidental to what was going on +now; for in Alan's presence Spearman found a threat--an active, present +threat against himself. Alan could not imagine what the nature of that +threat could be. Was it because there was something still concealed in +Corvet's house which Spearman feared Alan would find? Or was it +connected only with that some one whom Alan resembled? Who was it Alan +resembled? His mother? In what had been told him, in all that he had +been able to learn about himself, Alan had found no mention of his +mother--no mention, indeed, of any woman. There had been mention, +definite mention, of but one thing which seemed, no matter what form +these new experiences of his took, to connect himself with all of +them--mention of a ship, a lost ship--the _Miwaka_. That name had +stirred Alan, when he first heard it, with the first feeling he had +been able to get of any possible connection between himself and these +people here. Spoken by himself just now it had stirred, queerly +stirred, Spearman. What was it, then, that he--Alan--had to do with +the _Miwaka_? Spearman might--must have had something to do with it. +So must Corvet. But himself--he had been not yet three years old when +the _Miwaka_ was lost! Beyond and above all other questions, what had +Constance Sherrill to do with it? + +She had continued to believe that Corvet's disappearance was related in +some way to herself. Alan would rather trust her intuition as to this +than trust to Sherrill's contrary opinion. Yet she, certainly, could +have had no direct connection with a ship lost about the time she was +born and before her father had allied himself with the firm of Corvet +and Spearman. In the misty warp and woof of these events, Alan could +find as yet nothing which could have involved her. But he realized +that he was thinking about her even more than he was thinking about +Spearman--more, at that moment, even than about the mystery which +surrounded himself. + + +Constance Sherrill, as she went about her shopping at Field's, was +feeling the strangeness of the experience she had shared that morning +with Alan when she had completed for him the Indian creation legend and +had repeated the ship rhymes of his boyhood; but her more active +thought was about Henry Spearman, for she had a luncheon engagement +with him at one o'clock. He liked one always to be prompt at +appointments; he either did not keep an engagement at all, or he was on +the minute, neither early nor late, except for some very unusual +circumstance. Constance could never achieve such accurate punctuality, +so several minutes before the hour she went to the agreed corner of the +silverware department. + +She absorbed herself intently with the selection of her purchase as one +o'clock approached. She was sure that, after his three days' absence, +he would be a moment early rather than late; but after selecting what +she wanted, she monopolized twelve minutes more of the salesman's time +in showing her what she had no intention of purchasing, before she +picked out Henry's vigorous step from the confusion of ordinary +footfalls in the aisle behind her. Though she had determined, a few +moments before, to punish him a little, she turned quickly. + +"Sorry I'm late, Connie." That meant that it was no ordinary business +matter that had detained him; but there was nothing else noticeably +unusual in his tone. + +"It's certainly your turn to be the tardy one," she admitted. + +"I'd never take my turn if I could help it--particularly just after +being away; you know that." + +She turned carelessly to the clerk. "I'll take that too,"--she +indicated the trinket which she had examined last. "Send it, please. +I've finished here now, Henry." + +"I thought you didn't like that sort of thing." His glance had gone to +the bit of frippery in the clerk's hand. + +"I don't," she confessed. + +"Then don't buy it. She doesn't want that; don't send it," he directed +the salesman. + +"Very well, sir." + +Henry touched her arm and turned her away. She flushed a little, but +she was not displeased. Any of the other men whom she knew would have +wasted twenty dollars, as lightly as herself, rather than confess, "I +really didn't want anything more; I just didn't want to be seen +waiting." They would not have admitted--those other men--that such a +sum made the slightest difference to her or, by inference, to them; but +Henry was always willing to admit that there had been a time when money +meant much to him, and he gained respect thereby. + +The tea room of such a department store as Field's offers to young +people opportunities for dining together without furnishing reason for +even innocently connecting their names too intimately, if a girl is not +seen there with the same man too often. There is something essentially +casual and unpremeditated about it--as though the man and the girl, +both shopping and both hungry, had just happened to meet and go to +lunch together. As Constance recently had drawn closer to Henry +Spearman in her thought, and particularly since she had been seriously +considering marrying him, she had clung deliberately to this unplanned +appearance about their meetings. She found something thrilling in this +casualness too. Spearman's bigness, which attracted eyes to him always +in a crowd, was merely the first and most obvious of the things which +kept attention on him; there were few women who, having caught sight of +the big, handsome, decisive, carefully groomed man, could look away at +once. If Constance suspected that, ten years before, it might have +been the eyes of shop-girls that followed Spearman with the greatest +interest, she was certain no one could find anything flashy about him +now. What he compelled now was admiration and respect alike for his +good looks and his appearance of personal achievement--a tribute very +different from the tolerance granted those boys brought up as +irresponsible inheritors of privilege like herself. + +As they reached the restaurant and passed between the rows of tables, +women looked up at him; oblivious, apparently, to their gaze, he chose +a table a little removed from the others, where servants hurried to +take his order, recognizing one whose time was of importance. She +glanced across at him, when she had settled herself, and the first +little trivialities of their being together were over. + +"I took a visitor down to your office this morning," she said. + +"Yes," he answered. + +Constance was aware that it was only formally that she had taken Alan +Conrad down to confer with her father; since Henry was there, she knew +her father would not act without his agreement, and that whatever +disposition had been made regarding Alan had been made by him. She +wondered what that disposition had been. + +"Did you like him, Henry?" + +"Like him?" She would have thought that the reply was merely +inattentive; but Henry was never merely that. + +"I hoped you would." + +He did not answer at once. The waitress brought their order, and he +served her; then, as the waitress moved away, he looked across at +Constance with a long scrutiny. + +"You hoped I would!" he repeated, with his slow smile. "Why?" + +"He seemed to be in a difficult position and to be bearing himself +well; and mother was horrid to him." + +"How was she horrid?" + +"About the one thing which, least of all, could be called his +fault--about his relationship to--to Mr. Corvet. But he stood up to +her!" + +The lids drew down a little upon Spearman's eyes as he gazed at her. + +"You've seen a good deal of him, yesterday and to-day, your father +tells me," he observed. + +"Yes." As she ate, she talked, telling him about her first meeting +with Alan and about their conversation of the morning and the queer +awakening in him of those half memories which seemed to connect him in +some way with the lakes. She felt herself flushing now and then with +feeling, and once she surprised herself by finding her eyes wet when +she had finished telling Henry about showing Alan the picture of his +father. Henry listened intently, eating slowly. When she stopped, he +appeared to be considering something. + +"That's all he told you about himself?" he inquired. + +"Yes." + +"And all you told him?" + +"He asked me some things about the lakes and about the _Miwaka_, which +was lost so long ago--he said he'd found some reference to that and +wanted to know whether it was a ship. I told him about it and about +the Drum which made people think that the crew were not all lost." + +"About the Drum! What made you speak of that?" The irritation in his +tone startled her and she looked quickly up at him. "I mean," he +offered, "why did you drag in a crazy superstition like that? You +don't believe in the Drum, Connie!" + +"It would be so interesting if some one really had been saved and if +the Drum had told the truth, that sometimes I think I'd like to believe +in it. Wouldn't you, Henry?" + +"No," he said abruptly. "No!" Then quickly: + +"It's plain enough you like him," he remarked. + +She reflected seriously. "Yes, I do; though I hadn't thought of it +just that way, because I was thinking most about the position he was in +and about--Mr. Corvet. But I do like him." + +"So do I," Spearman said with a seeming heartiness that pleased her. +He broke a piece of bread upon the tablecloth and his big, well-shaped +fingers began to roll it into little balls. "At least I should like +him, Connie, if I had the sort of privilege you have to think whether I +liked or disliked him. I've had to consider him from another point of +view--whether I could trust him or must distrust him." + +"Distrust?" Constance bent toward him impulsively in her surprise. +"Distrust him? In relation to what? Why?" + +"In relation to Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman, Connie--the company +that involves your interests and your father's and mine and the +interests of many other people--small stockholders who have no +influence in its management, and whose interests I have to look after +for them. A good many of them, you know, are our own men--our old +skippers and mates and families of men who have died in our service and +who left their savings in stock in our ships." + +"I don't understand, Henry." + +"I've had to think of Conrad this morning in the same way as I've had +to think of Ben Corvet of recent years--as a threat against the +interests of those people." + +Her color rose, and her pulse quickened. Henry never had talked to +her, except in the merest commonplaces, about his relations with Uncle +Benny; it was a matter in which, she had recognized, they had been +opposed; and since the quarrels between the old friend whom she had +loved from childhood and him, who wished to become now more than a mere +friend to her, had grown more violent, she had purposely avoided +mentioning Uncle Benny to Henry, and he, quite as consciously, had +avoided mentioning Mr. Corvet to her. + +"I've known for a good many years," Spearman said reluctantly, "that +Ben Corvet's brain was seriously affected. He recognized that himself +even earlier, and admitted it to himself when he took me off my ship to +take charge of the company. I might have gone with other people then, +or it wouldn't have been very long before I could have started in as a +ship owner myself; but, in view of his condition, Ben made me promises +that offered me most. Afterwards his malady progressed so that he +couldn't know himself to be untrustworthy; his judgment was impaired, +and he planned and would have tried to carry out many things which +would have been disastrous for the company. I had to fight him--for +the company's sake and for my own sake and that of the others, whose +interests were at stake. Your father came to see that what I was doing +was for the company's good and has learned to trust me. But you--you +couldn't see that quite so directly, of course, and you thought I +didn't--like Ben, that there was some lack in me which made me fail to +appreciate him." + +"No; not that," Constance denied quickly. "Not that, Henry." + +"What was it then, Connie? You thought me ungrateful to him? I +realized that I owed a great deal to him; but the only way I could pay +that debt was to do exactly what I did--oppose him and seem to push +into his place and be an ingrate; for, because I did that, Ben's been a +respected and honored man in this town all these last years, which he +couldn't have remained if I'd let him have his way, or if I told others +why I had to do what I did. I didn't care what others thought about +me; but I did care what you thought; yet if you couldn't see what I was +up against because of your affection for him, why--that was all right +too." + +"No, it wasn't all right," she denied almost fiercely, the flush +flooding her cheeks; a throbbing was in her throat which, for an +instant, stopped her. "You should have told me, Henry; or--I should +have been able to see." + +"I couldn't tell you--dear," he said the last word very distinctly, but +so low that she could scarcely hear. "I couldn't tell you now--if Ben +hadn't gone away as he has and this other fellow come. I couldn't tell +you when you wanted to keep caring so much for your Uncle Benny, and he +was trying to hurt me with you." + +She bent toward him, her lips parted; but now she did not speak. She +never had really known Henry until this moment, she felt; she had +thought of him always as strong, almost brutal, fighting down fiercely, +mercilessly, his opponents and welcoming contest for the joy of +overwhelming others by his own decisive strength and power. And she +had been almost ready to marry that man for his strength and dominance +from those qualities; and now she knew that he was merciful +too--indeed, more than merciful. In the very contest where she had +thought of him as most selfish and regardless of another, she had most +completely misapprehended. + +"I ought to have seen!" she rebuked herself to him. "Surely, I should +have seen that was it!" Her hand, in the reproach of her feeling, +reached toward him across the table; he caught it and held it in his +large, strong hand which, in its touch, was very tender too. She had +never allowed any such demonstration as this before; but now she let +her hand remain in his. + +"How could you see?" he defended her. "He never showed to you the side +he showed to me and--in these last years, anyway--never to me the side +he showed to you. But after what has happened this week, you can +understand now; and you can see why I have to distrust the young fellow +who's come to claim Ben Covert's place." + +"Claim!" Constance repeated; she drew her hand quietly away from his +now. "Why, Henry, I did not know he claimed anything; he didn't even +know when he came here--" + +"He seems, like Ben Corvet," Henry said slowly, "to have the +characteristic of showing one side to you, another to me, Connie. With +you, of course, he claimed nothing; but at the office-- Your father +showed him this morning the instruments of transfer that Ben seems to +have left conveying to him all Ben had--his other properties and his +interest in Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman. I very naturally objected +to the execution of those transfers, without considerable examination, +in view of Corvet's mental condition and of the fact that they put the +controlling stock of Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman in the hands of a +youth no one ever had heard of--and one who, by his own story, never +had seen a ship until yesterday. And when I didn't dismiss my business +with a dozen men this morning to take him into the company, he claimed +occasion to see me alone to threaten me." + +"Threaten you, Henry? How? With what?" + +"I couldn't quite make out myself, but that was his tone; he demanded +an 'explanation' of exactly what, he didn't make clear. He has been +given by Ben, apparently, the technical control of Corvet, Sherrill, +and Spearman. His idea, if I oppose him, evidently is to turn me out +and take the management himself." + +Constance leaned back, confused. "He--Alan Conrad?" she questioned. +"He can't have done that, Henry! Oh, he can't have meant that!" + +"Maybe he didn't; I said I couldn't make out what he did mean," +Spearman said. "Things have come upon him with rather a rush, of +course; and you couldn't expect a country boy to get so many things +straight. He's acting, I suppose, only in the way one might expect a +boy to act who had been brought up in poverty on a Kansas prairie and +was suddenly handed the possible possession of a good many millions of +dollars. It's better to believe that he's only lost his head. I +haven't had opportunity to tell your father these things yet; but I +wanted you to understand why Conrad will hardly consider me a friend." + +"I'll understand you now, Henry," she promised. + +He gazed at her and started to speak; then, as though postponing it on +account of the place, he glanced around and took out his watch. + +"You must go back?" she asked. + +"No; I'm not going back to the office this afternoon, Connie; but I +must call up your father." + +He excused himself and went into the nearest telephone booth. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +VIOLENCE + +At half-past three, Alan left the office. Sherrill had told him an +hour earlier that Spearman had telephoned he would not be able to get +back for a conference that afternoon; and Alan was certain now that in +Spearman's absence Sherrill would do nothing further with respect to +his affairs. + +He halted on the ground floor of the office building and bought copies +of each of the afternoon papers. A line completely across the pink +page of one announced "Millionaire Ship Owner Missing!" The other +three papers, printed at the same hour, did not display the story +prominently; and even the one which did failed to make it the most +conspicuous sensation. A line of larger and blacker type told of a +change in the battle line on the west front and, where the margin might +have been, was the bulletin of some sensation in a local divorce suit. +Alan was some time in finding the small print which went with the +millionaire ship owner heading; and when he found it, he discovered +that most of the space was devoted to the description of Corvet's share +in the development of shipping on the lakes and the peculiarity of his +past life instead of any definite announcement concerning his fate. + +The other papers printed almost identical items under small head-type +at the bottom of their first pages; these items stated that Benjamin +Corvet, the senior but inactive partner of the great shipping firm of +Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman, whose "disappearance" had been made the +subject of sensational rumor, "is believed by his partner, Mr. Henry +Spearman, to have simply gone away for a rest," and that no anxiety was +felt concerning him. Alan found no mention of himself nor any of the +circumstances connected with Corvet's disappearance of which Sherrill +had told him. + +Alan threw the papers away. There was a car line two blocks west, +Sherrill had said, which would take him within a short distance of the +house on Astor Street; but that neighborhood of fashion where the +Sherrills--and now Alan himself--lived was less than a half hour's walk +from the down-town district and, in the present turmoil of his +thoughts, he wanted to be moving. + +Spearman, he reflected as he walked north along the avenue, plainly had +dictated the paragraphs he just had read in the papers. Sherrill, Alan +knew, had desired to keep the circumstances regarding Corvet from +becoming public; and without Sherrill's agreement concealment would +have been impossible, but it was Spearman who had checked the +suspicions of outsiders and determined what they must believe; and, by +so doing, he had made it impossible for Alan to enroll aid from the +newspapers or the police. Alan did not know whether he might have +found it expedient to seek publicity; but now he had not a single proof +of anything he could tell. For Sherrill, naturally, had retained the +papers Corvet had left. Alan could not hope to obtain credence from +Sherrill and, without Sherrill's aid, he could not obtain credence from +any one else. + +Was there, then, no one whom Alan could tell of his encounter with +Spearman in Corvet's house, with probability of receiving belief? Alan +had not been thinking directly of Constance Sherrill, as he walked +swiftly north to the Drive; but she was, in a way, present in all his +thoughts. She had shown interest in him, or at least in the position +he was in, and sympathy; he had even begun to tell her about these +things when he had spoken to her of some event in Corvet's house which +had given him the name "_Miwaka_," and he had asked her if it was a +ship. And there could be no possible consequent peril to her in +telling her; the peril, if there was any, would be only to himself. + +His step quickened. As he approached the Sherrill house, he saw +standing at the curb an open roadster with a liveried chauffeur; he had +seen that roadster, he recognized with a little start, in front of the +office building that morning when Constance had taken him down-town. +He turned into the walk and rang the bell. + +The servant who opened the door knew him and seemed to accept his right +of entry to the house, for he drew back for Alan to enter. Alan went +into the hall and waited for the servant to follow. "Is Miss Sherrill +in?" he asked. + +"I'll see, sir." The man disappeared. Alan, waiting, did not hear +Constance's voice in reply to the announcement of the servant, but +Spearman's vigorous tones. The servant returned. "Miss Sherrill will +see you in a minute, sir." + +Through the wide doorway to the drawing-room, Alan could see the +smaller, portièred entrance to the room beyond--Sherrill's study. The +curtains parted, and Constance and Spearman came into this inner +doorway; they stood an instant there in talk. As Constance started +away, Spearman suddenly drew her back to him and kissed her. Alan's +shoulders spontaneously jerked back, and his hands clenched; he did not +look away and, as she approached, she became aware that he had seen. + +She came to him, very quiet and very flushed; then she was quite pale +as she asked him, "You wanted me?" + +He was white as she, and could not speak at once. "You told me last +night, Miss Sherrill," he said, "that the last thing that Mr. Corvet +did--the last that you know of--was to warn you against one of your +friends. Who was that?" + +She flushed uneasily. "You mustn't attach any importance to that; I +didn't mean you to. There was no reason for what Mr. Corvet said, +except in Mr. Corvet's own mind. He had a quite unreasonable +animosity--" + +"Against Mr. Spearman, you mean." + +She did not answer. + +"His animosity was against Mr. Spearman, Miss Sherrill, wasn't it? +That is the only animosity of Mr. Corvet's that any one has told me +about." + +"Yes." + +"It was against Mr. Spearman that he warned you, then?" + +"Yes." + +"Thank you." He turned and, not waiting for the man, let himself out. +He should have known it when he had seen that Spearman, after +announcing himself as unable to get back to the office, was with +Constance. + +He went swiftly around the block to his own house and let himself in at +the front door with his key. The house was warm; a shaded lamp on the +table in the larger library was lighted, a fire was burning in the open +grate, and the rooms had been swept and dusted. The Indian came into +the hall to take his coat and hat. + +"Dinner is at seven," Wassaquam announced. "You want some change about +that?" + +"No; seven is all right." + +Alan went up-stairs to the room next to Corvet's which he had +appropriated for his own use the night before, and found it now +prepared for his occupancy. His suitcase, unpacked, had been put away +in the closet; the clothing it had contained had been put in the +dresser drawers, and the toilet articles arranged upon the top of the +dresser and in the cabinet of the little connecting bath. So, clearly, +Wassaquam had accepted him as an occupant of the house, though upon +what status Alan could not guess. He had spoken of Wassaquam to +Constance as his servant; but Wassaquam was not that; he was Corvet's +servant--faithful and devoted to Corvet, Constance had said--and Alan +could not think of Wassaquam as the sort of servant that "went with the +house." The Indian's manner toward himself had been noncommittal, even +stolid. + +When Alan came down again to the first floor, Wassaquam was nowhere +about, but he heard sounds in the service rooms on the basement floor. +He went part way down the service stairs and saw the Indian in the +kitchen, preparing dinner. Wassaquam had not heard his approach, and +Alan stood an instant watching the Indian's tall, thin figure and the +quick movements of his disproportionately small, well-shaped hands, +almost like a woman's; then he scuffed his foot upon the stair, and +Wassaquam turned swiftly about. + +"Anybody been here to-day, Judah?" Alan asked. + +"No, Alan. I called tradesmen; they came. There were young men from +the newspapers." + +"They came here, did they? Then why did you say no one came?" + +"I did not let them in." + +"What did you tell them?" + +"Nothing." + +"Why not?" + +"Henry telephoned I was to tell them nothing." + +"You mean Henry Spearman?" + +"Yes." + +"Do you take orders from him, Judah?" + +"I took that order, Alan." + +Alan hesitated. "You've been here in the house all day?" + +"Yes, Alan." + +Alan went back to the first floor and into the smaller library. The +room was dark with the early winter dusk, and he switched on the light; +then he knelt and pulled out one of the drawers he had seen Spearman +searching through the night before, and carefully examined the papers +in it one by one, but found them only ordinary papers. He pulled the +drawer completely out and sounded the wall behind it and the partitions +on both sides but they appeared solid. He put the drawer back in and +went on to examine the next one, and, after that, the others. The +clocks in the house had been wound, for presently the clock in the +library struck six, and another in the hall chimed slowly. An hour +later, when the clocks chimed again, Alan looked up and saw Wassaquam's +small black eyes, deep set in their large eye sockets, fixed on him +intently through the door. How long the Indian had been there, Alan +could not guess; he had not heard his step. + +"What are you looking for, Alan?" the Indian asked. + +Alan reflected a moment. "Mr. Sherrill thought that Mr. Corvet might +have left a record of some sort here for me, Judah. Do you know of +anything like that?" + +"No. That is what you are looking for?" + +"Yes. Do you know of any place where Mr. Corvet would have been likely +to put away anything like that?" + +"Ben put papers in all these drawers; he put them up-stairs, too--where +you have seen." + +"Nowhere else, Judah?" + +"If he put things anywhere else, Alan, I have not seen. Dinner is +served, Alan." + +Alan went to the lavatory on the first floor and washed the dust from +his hands and face; then he went into the dining-room. A place had +been set at the dining table around the corner from the place where, as +the worn rug showed, the lonely occupant of the house had been +accustomed to sit. Benjamin Corvet's armchair, with its worn leather +back, had been left against the wall; so had another unworn armchair +which Alan understood must have been Mrs. Corvet's; and an armless +chair had been set for Alan between their places. Wassaquam, having +served the dinner, took his place behind Alan's chair, ready to pass +him what he needed; but the Indian's silent, watchful presence there +behind him where he could not see his face, disturbed Alan, and he +twisted himself about to look at him. + +"Would you mind, Judah," he inquired, "if I asked you to stand over +there instead of where you are?" + +The Indian, without answering, moved around to the other side of the +table, where he stood facing Alan. + +"You're a Chippewa, aren't you, Judah?" Alan asked. + +"Yes." + +"Your people live at the other end of the lake, don't they?" + +"Yes, Alan." + +"Have you ever heard of the Indian Drum they talk about up there, that +they say sounds when a ship goes down on the lake?" + +The Indian's eyes sparkled excitedly. "Yes," he said. + +"Do you believe in it?" + +"Not just believe; I know. That is old Indian country up there, +Alan--L'arbre Croche--Cross Village--Middle Village. A big town of +Ottawas was there in old days; Pottawatomies too, and Chippewas. +Indians now are all Christians, Catholics, and Methodists who hold camp +meetings and speak beautifully. But some things of the old days are +left. The Drum is like that. Everybody knows that it sounds for those +who die on the lake." + +"How do they know, Judah? How do you yourself know?" + +"I have heard it. It sounded for my father." + +"How was that?" + +"Like this. My father sold some bullocks to a man on Beaver Island. +The man kept store on Beaver Island, Alan. No Indian liked him. He +would not hand anything to an Indian or wrap anything in paper for an +Indian. Say it was like this: An Indian comes in to buy salt pork. +First the man would get the money. Then, Alan, he would take his hook +and pull the pork up out of the barrel and throw it on the dirty floor +for the Indian to pick up. He said Indians must take their food off of +the floor--like dogs. + +"My father had to take the bullocks to the man, across to Beaver +Island. He had a Mackinaw boat, very little, with a sail made brown by +boiling it with tan bark, so that it would not wear out. At first the +Indians did not know who the bullocks were for, so they helped him. He +tied the legs of the bullocks, the front legs and the back legs, then +all four legs together, and the Indians helped him put them in the +boat. When they found out the bullocks were for the man on Beaver +Island, the Indians would not help him any longer. He had to take them +across alone. Besides, it was bad weather, the beginning of a storm. + +"He went away, and my mother went to pick berries--I was small then. +Pretty soon I saw my mother coming back. She had no berries, and her +hair was hanging down, and she was wailing. She took me in her arms +and said my father was dead. Other Indians came around and asked her +how she knew, and she said she had heard the Drum. The Indians went +out to listen." + +"Did you go?" + +"Yes; I went." + +"How old were you, Judah?" + +"Five years." + +"That was the time you heard it?" + +"Yes; it would beat once, then there would be silence; then it would +beat again. It frightened us to hear it. The Indians would scream and +beat their bodies with their hands when the sound came. We listened +until night; there was a storm all the time growing greater in the +dark, but no rain. The Drum would beat once; then nothing; then it +would beat again once--never two or more times. So we knew it was for +my father. It is supposed the feet of the bullocks came untied, and +the bullocks tipped the boat over. They found near the island the body +of one of the bullocks floating in the water, and its feet were untied. +My father's body was on the beach near there." + +"Did you ever hear of a ship called the _Miwaka_, Judah?" + +"That was long ago," the Indian answered. + +"They say that the Drum beat wrong when the _Miwaka_ went down--that it +was one beat short of the right number." + +"That was long ago," Wassaquam merely repeated. + +"Did Mr. Corvet ever speak to you about the _Miwaka_?" + +"No; he asked me once if I had ever heard the Drum. I told him." + +Wassaquam removed the dinner and brought Alan a dessert. He returned +to stand in the place across the table that Alan had assigned to him, +and stood looking down at Alan, steadily and thoughtfully. + +"Do I look like any one you ever saw before, Judah?" Alan inquired of +him. + +"No." + +"Is that what you were thinking?" + +"That is what I was thinking. Will coffee be served in the library, +Alan?" + +Alan crossed to the library and seated himself in the chair where his +father had been accustomed to sit. Wassaquam brought him the single +small cup of coffee, lit the spirit lamp on the smoking stand, and +moved that over; then he went away. When he had finished his coffee, +Alan went into the smaller connecting room and recommenced his +examination of the drawers under the bookshelves. He could hear the +Indian moving about his tasks, and twice Wassaquam came to the door of +the room and looked in on him; but he did not offer to say anything, +and Alan did not speak to him. At ten o'clock, Alan stopped his search +and went back to the chair in the library. He dozed; for he awoke with +a start and a feeling that some one had been bending over him, and +gazed up into Wassaquam's face. The Indian had been scrutinizing him +with intent, anxious inquiry. He moved away, but Alan called him back. + +"When Mr. Corvet disappeared, Judah, you went to look for him up at +Manistique, where he was born--at least Mr. Sherrill said that was +where you went. Why did you think you might find him there?" Alan +asked. + +"In the end, I think, a man maybe goes back to the place where he +began. That's all, Alan." + +"In the end! What do you mean by that? What do you think has become +of Mr. Corvet?" + +"I think now--Ben's dead." + +"What makes you think that?" + +"Nothing makes me think; I think it myself." + +"I see. You mean you have no reason more than others for thinking it; +but that is what you believe." + +"Yes." Wassaquam went away, and Alan heard him on the back stairs, +ascending to his room. + +When Alan went up to his own room, after making the rounds to see that +the house was locked, a droning chant came to him from the third floor. +He paused in the hall and listened, then went on up to the floor above. +A flickering light came to him through the half-open door of a room at +the front of the house; he went a little way toward it and looked in. +Two thick candles were burning before a crucifix, below which the +Indian knelt, prayer book in hand and rocking to and fro as he droned +his supplications. + +A word or two came to Alan, but without them Wassaquam's occupation was +plain; he was praying for the repose of the dead--the Catholic chant +taught to him, as it had been taught undoubtedly to his fathers, by the +French Jesuits of the lakes. The intoned chant for Corvet's soul, by +the man who had heard the Drum, followed and still came to Alan, as he +returned to the second floor. + +He had not been able to determine, during the evening, Wassaquam's +attitude toward him. Having no one else to trust, Alan had been +obliged to put a certain amount of trust in the Indian; so as he had +explained to Wassaquam that morning that the desk and the drawers in +the little room off Corvet's had been forced, and had warned him to see +that no one, who had not proper business there, entered the house. +Wassaquam had appeared to accept this order; but now Wassaquam had +implied that it was not because of Alan's order that he had refused +reporters admission to the house. The developments of the day had +tremendously altered things in one respect; for Alan, the night before, +had not thought of the intruder into the house as one who could claim +an ordinary right of entrance there; but now he knew him to be the one +who--except for Sherrill--might most naturally come to the house; one, +too, for whom Wassaquam appeared to grant a certain right of direction +of affairs there. So, at this thought, Alan moved angrily; the house +was his--Alan's. He had noted particularly, when Sherrill had showed +him the list of properties whose transfer to him Corvet had left at +Sherrill's discretion, that the house was not among them; and he had +understood that this was because Corvet had left Sherrill no discretion +as to the house. Corvet's direct, unconditional gift of the house by +deed to Alan had been one of Sherrill's reasons for believing that if +Corvet had left anything which could explain his disappearance, it +would be found in the house. + +Unless Spearman had visited the house during the day and had obtained +what he had been searching for the night before--and Alan believed he +had not done that--it was still in the house. Alan's hands clenched; +he would not give Spearman such a chance as that again; and he himself +would continue his search of the house--exhaustively, room by room, +article of furniture by article of furniture. + +Alan started and went quickly to the open door of his room, as he heard +voices now somewhere within the house. One of the voices he recognized +as Wassaquam's; the other indistinct, thick, accusing--was unknown to +him; it certainly was not Spearman's. He had not heard Wassaquam go +down-stairs, and he had not heard the doorbell, so he ran first to the +third floor; but the room where he had seen Wassaquam was empty. He +descended again swiftly to the first floor, and found Wassaquam +standing in the front hall, alone. + +"Who was here, Judah?" Alan demanded. + +"A man," the Indian answered stolidly. "He was drunk; I put him out." + +"What did he come for?" + +"He came to see Ben. I put him out; he is gone, Alan." + +Alan flung open the front door and looked out, but he saw no one. + +"What did he want of Mr. Corvet, Judah?" + +"I do not know. I told him Ben was not here; he was angry, but he went +away." + +"Has he ever come here before?" + +"Yes; he comes twice." + +"He has been here twice?" + +"More than that; every year he comes twice, Alan. Once he came +oftener." + +"How long has he been doing that?" + +"Since I can remember." + +"Is he a friend of Mr. Corvet?" + +"No friend--no!" + +"But Mr. Corvet saw him when he came here?" + +"Always, Alan." + +"And you don't know at all what he came about?" + +"How should I know? No; I do not." + +Alan got his coat and hat. The sudden disappearance of the man might +mean only that he had hurried away, but it might mean too that he was +still lurking near the house. Alan had decided to make the circuit of +the house and determine that. But as he came out on to the porch, a +figure more than a block away to the south strode with uncertain step +out into the light of a street lamp, halted and faced about, and shook +his fist back at the house. Alan dragged the Indian out on to the +porch. + +"Is that the man, Judah?" he demanded. + +"Yes, Alan." + +Alan ran down the steps and at full speed after the man. The other had +turned west at the corner where Alan had seen him; but even though Alan +slipped as he tried to run upon the snowy walks, he must be gaining +fast upon him. He saw him again, when he had reached the corner where +the man had turned, traveling westward with that quick uncertain step +toward Clark Street; at that corner the man turned south. But when +Alan reached the corner, he was nowhere in sight. To the south, Clark +Street reached away, garish with electric signs and with a half dozen +saloons to every block. That the man was drunk made it probable he had +turned into one of these places. Alan went into every one of them for +fully a half mile and looked about, but he found no one even resembling +the man he had been following. He retraced his steps for several +blocks, still looking; then he gave it up and returned eastward toward +the Drive. + +The side street leading to the Drive was less well lighted; dark entry +ways and alleys opened on it; but the night was clear. The stars, with +the shining sword of Orion almost overhead, gleamed with midwinter +brightness, and to the west the crescent of the moon was hanging and +throwing faint shadows over the snow. Alan could see at the end of the +street, beyond the yellow glow of the distant boulevard lights, the +smooth, chill surface of the lake. A white light rode above it; now, +below the white light, he saw a red speck--the masthead and port +lanterns of a steamer northward bound. Farther out a second white glow +appeared from behind the obscuration of the buildings and below it a +green speck--a starboard light. The information he had gained that day +enabled him to recognize in these lights two steamers passing one +another at the harbor mouth. + +"Red to red," Alan murmured to himself. "Green to green--Red to red, +perfect safety, go ahead!" he repeated. + +It brought him, with marvelous vividness, back to Constance Sherrill. +Events since he had talked with her that morning had put them far apart +once more; but, in another way, they were being drawn closer together. +For he knew now that she was caught as well as he in the mesh of +consequences of acts not their own. Benjamin Corvet, in the anguish of +the last hours before fear of those consequences had driven him away, +had given her a warning against Spearman so wild that it defeated +itself; for Alan merely to repeat that warning, with no more than he +yet knew, would be equally futile. But into the contest between +Spearman and himself--that contest, he was beginning to feel, which +must threaten destruction either to Spearman or to him--she had +entered. Her happiness, her future, were at stake; her fate, he was +certain now, depended upon discovery of those events tied tight in the +mystery of Alan's own identity which Spearman knew, and the threat of +which at moments appalled him. Alan winced as there came before him in +the darkness of the street the vision of Constance in Spearman's arms +and of the kiss that he had seen that afternoon. + +He staggered, slipped, fell suddenly forward upon his knees under a +stunning, crushing blow upon his head from behind. Thought, +consciousness almost lost, he struggled, twisting himself about to +grasp at his assailant. He caught the man's clothing, trying to drag +himself up; fighting blindly, dazedly, unable to see or think, he +shouted aloud and then again, aloud. He seemed in the distance to hear +answering cries; but the weight and strength of the other was bearing +him down again to his knees; he tried to slip aside from it, to rise. +Then another blow, crushing and sickening, descended on his head; even +hearing left him and, unconscious, he fell forward on to the snow and +lay still. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A WALK BESIDE THE LAKE + +"The name seems like Sherrill," the interne agreed. "He said it before +when we had him on the table up-stairs; and he has said it now twice +distinctly--Sherrill." + +"His name, do you think?" + +"I shouldn't say so; he seems trying to speak to some one named +Sherrill." + +The nurse waited a few minutes. "Yes; that's how it seems to me, sir. +He said something that sounded like 'Connie' a while ago, and once he +said 'Jim.' There are only four Sherrills in the telephone book, two +of them in Evanston and one way out in Minoota." + +"The other?" + +"They're only about six blocks from where he was picked up; but they're +on the Drive--the Lawrence Sherrills." + +The interne whistled softly and looked more interestedly at his +patient's features. He glanced at his watch, which showed the hour of +the morning to be half-past four. "You'd better make a note of it," he +said. "He's not a Chicagoan; his clothes were made somewhere in +Kansas. He'll be conscious some time during the day; there's only a +slight fracture, and-- Perhaps you'd better call the Sherrill house, +anyway. If he's not known there, no harm done; and if he's one of +their friends and he should..." + +The nurse nodded and moved off. + +Thus it was that at a quarter to five Constance Sherrill was awakened +by the knocking of one of the servants at her father's door. Her +father went down-stairs to the telephone instrument where he might +reply without disturbing Mrs. Sherrill. Constance, kimona over her +shoulders, stood at the top of the stairs and waited. It became plain +to her at once that whatever had happened had been to Alan Conrad. + +"Yes.... Yes.... You are giving him every possible care? ... At once." + +She ran part way down the stairs and met her father as he came up. He +told her of the situation briefly. + +"He was attacked on the street late last night; he was unconscious when +they found him and took him to the hospital, and has been unconscious +ever since. They say it was an ordinary street attack for robbery. I +shall go at once, of course; but you can do nothing. He would not know +you if you came; and of course he is in competent hands. No; no one +can say yet how seriously he is injured." + +She waited in the hall while her father dressed, after calling the +garage on the house telephone for him and ordering the motor. When he +had gone, she returned anxiously to her own rooms; he had promised to +call her after reaching the hospital and as soon as he had learned the +particulars of Alan's condition. It was ridiculous, of course, to +attach any responsibility to her father or herself for what had +happened to Alan--a street attack such as might have happened to any +one--yet she felt that they were in part responsible. Alan Conrad had +come to Chicago, not by their direction, but by Benjamin Corvet's; but +Uncle Benny being gone, they had been the ones who met him, they had +received him into their own house; but they had not thought to warn him +of the dangers of the city and, afterward, they had let him go to live +alone in the house in Astor Street with no better adviser than +Wassaquam. Now, and perhaps because they had not warned him, he had +met injury and, it might be, more than mere injury; he might be dying. + +She walked anxiously up and down her room, clutching her kimona about +her; it would be some time yet before she could hear from her father. +She went to the telephone on the stand beside her bed and called Henry +Spearman at his apartments. His servant answered; and, after an +interval, Henry's voice came to her. She told him all that she knew of +what had occurred. + +"Do you want me to go over to the hospital?" he asked at once. + +"No; father has gone. There is nothing any one can do. I'll call you +again as soon as I hear from father." + +He seemed to appreciate from her tone the anxiety she felt; for he set +himself to soothe and encourage her. She listened, answered, and then +hung up the receiver, anxious not to interfere with the expected call +from her father. She moved about the room again, oppressed by the long +wait, until the 'phone rang, and she sprang to it; it was her father +calling from the hospital. Alan had had a few moments' consciousness, +but Sherrill had not been allowed to see him; now, by the report of the +nurse, Alan was sleeping, and both nurse and internes assured Sherrill +that, this being the case, there was no reason for anxiety concerning +him; but Sherrill would wait at the hospital a little longer to make +sure. Constance's breath caught as she answered him, and her eyes +filled with tears of relief. She called Henry again, and he evidently +had been waiting, for he answered at once; he listened without comment +to her repetition of her father's report. + +"All right," he said, when she had finished. "I'm coming over, Connie." + +"Now?" + +"Yes; right away." + +"You must give me time to dress!" His assumption of right to come to +her at this early hour recalled to her forcibly the closer relation +which Henry now assumed as existing between them; indeed, as more than +existing, as progressing. And had not she admitted that relation by +telephoning to him during her anxiety? She had not thought how that +must appear to him; she had not thought about it at all; she had just +done it. + +She had been one of those who think of betrothal in terms of question +and answer, of a moment when decision is formulated and spoken; she had +supposed that, by withholding reply to Henry's question put even before +Uncle Benny went away, she was thereby maintaining the same relation +between Henry and herself. But now she was discovering that this was +not so; she was realizing that Henry had not required formal answer to +him because he considered that such answer had become superfluous; her +yes, if she accepted him now, would not establish a new bond, it would +merely acknowledge what was already understood. She had accepted +that--had she not--when, in the rush of her feeling, she had thrust her +hand into his the day before; she had accepted it, even more +undeniably, when he had seized her and kissed her. + +Not that she had sought or even consciously permitted, that; it had, +indeed, surprised her. While they were alone together, and he was +telling her things about himself, somewhat as he had at the table at +Field's, Alan Conrad was announced, and she had risen to go. Henry had +tried to detain her; then, as he looked down at her, hot impulse had +seemed to conquer him; he caught her, irresistibly; amazed, bewildered, +she looked up at him, and he bent and kissed her. The power of his +arms about her--she could feel them yet, sometimes--half frightened, +half enthralled her. But his lips against her cheek--she had turned +her lips away so that his pressed her cheek! She had been quite unable +to know how she had felt then, because at that instant she had realized +that she was seen. So she had disengaged herself as quickly as +possible and, after Alan was gone, she had fled to her room without +going back to Henry at all. + +How could she have expected Henry to have interpreted that flight from +him as disapproval when she had not meant it as that; when, indeed, she +did not know herself what was stirring in her that instinct to go away +alone? She had not by that disowned the new relation which he had +accepted as established between them. And did she wish to disown it +now? What had happened had come sooner and with less of her will +active in it than she had expected; but she knew it was only what she +had expected to come. The pride she had felt in being with him was, +she realized, only anticipatory of the pride she would experience as +his wife. When she considered the feeling of her family and her +friends, she knew that, though some would go through the formal +deploring that Henry had not better birth, all would be satisfied and +more than satisfied; they would even boast about Henry a little, and +entertain him in her honor, and show him off. There was no one--now +that poor Uncle Benny was gone--who would seriously deplore it at all. + +Constance had recognized no relic of uneasiness from Uncle Benny's last +appeal to her; she understood that thoroughly. Or, at least, she _had_ +understood that; now was there a change in the circumstances of that +understanding, because of what had happened to Alan, that she found +herself re-defining to herself her relation with Henry? No; it had +nothing to do with Henry, of course; it referred only to Benjamin +Corvet. Uncle Benny had "gone away" from his house on Astor Street, +leaving his place there to his son, Alan Conrad. Something which had +disturbed and excited Alan had happened to him on the first night he +had passed in that house; and now, it appeared, he had been prevented +from passing a second night there. What had prevented him had been an +attempted robbery upon the street, her father had said. But suppose it +had been something else than robbery. + +She could not formulate more definitely this thought, but it persisted; +she could not deny it entirely and shake it off. + +To Alan Conrad, in the late afternoon of that day, this same thought +was coming far more definitely and far more persistently. He had been +awake and sane since shortly after noonday. The pain of a head which +ached throbbingly and of a body bruised and sore was beginning to give +place to a feeling merely of lassitude--a languor which revisited +incoherence upon him when he tried to think. He shifted himself upon +his bed and called the nurse. + +"How long am I likely to have to stay here?" he asked her. + +"The doctors think not less than two weeks, Mr. Conrad." + +He realized, as he again lay silent, that he must put out of his head +now all expectation of ever finding in Corvet's house any such record +as he had been looking for. If there had been a record, it +unquestionably would be gone before he could get about again to seek +it; and he could not guard against its being taken from the house; for, +if he had been hopeless of receiving credence for any accusation he +might make against Spearman while he was in health, how much more +hopeless was it now, when everything he would say could be put to the +credit of his injury and to his delirium! He could not even give +orders for the safeguarding of the house and its contents--his own +property--with assurance that they would be carried out. + +The police and hospital attendants, he had learned, had no suspicion of +anything but that he had been the victim of one of the footpads who, +during that month, had been attacking and robbing nightly. Sherrill, +who had visited him about two o'clock, had showed that he suspected no +other possibility. Alan could not prove otherwise; he had not seen his +assailant's face; it was most probable that if he had seen it, he would +not have recognized it. But the man who had assailed him had meant to +kill; he had not been any ordinary robber. That purpose, blindly +recognized and fought against by Alan in their struggle, had been +unmistakable. Only the chance presence of passers-by, who had heard +Alan's shouts and responded to them, had prevented the execution of his +purpose, and had driven the man to swift flight for his own safety. + +Alan had believed, in his struggle with Spearman in Corvet's library, +that Spearman might have killed rather than have been discovered there. +Were there others to whom Alan's presence had become a threat so +serious that they would proceed even to the length of calculated +murder? He could not know that. The only safe plan was to assume that +persons, in number unknown, had definite, vital interest in his +"removal" by violence or otherwise, and that, among them, he must +reckon Henry Spearman; and he must fight them alone. For Sherrill's +liking for him, even Constance Sherrill's interest and sympathy were +nullified in practical intent by their admiration for and their +complete confidence in Spearman. It did not matter that Alan might +believe that, in fighting Spearman, he was fighting not only for +himself but for her; he knew now certainly that he must count her as +Spearman's; her! Things swam before him again dizzily as he thought of +her; and he sank back and closed his eyes. + +A little before six Constance Sherrill and Spearman called to inquire +after him and were admitted for a few moments to his room. She came to +him, bent over him, while she spoke the few words of sympathy the nurse +allowed to her; she stood back then while Spearman spoke to him. In +the succeeding days, he saw her nearly every day, accompanied always by +her father or Spearman; it was the full two weeks the nurse had +allotted for his remaining in the hospital before he saw her alone. + +They had brought him home, the day before--she and her father, in the +motor--to the house on Astor Street. He had insisted on returning +there, refusing the room in their house which they had offered; but the +doctor had enjoined outdoors and moderate exercise for him, and she had +made him promise to come and walk with her. He went to the Sherrill +house about ten o'clock, and they walked northward toward the park. + +It was a mild, sunny morning with warm wind from the south, which +sucked up the last patches of snow from the lawns and dried the tiny +trickles of water across the walks. Looking to the land, one might say +that spring soon would be on the way; but, looking to the lake, +midwinter held. The counterscrap of concrete, beyond the withered sod +that edged the Drive, was sheathed in ice; the frozen spray-hummocks +beyond steamed in the sun; and out as far as one could see, floes +floated close together, exposing only here and there a bit of blue. +Wind, cold and chilling, wafted off this ice field, taking the warm +south breeze upon its flanks. + +Glancing up at her companion from time to time, Constance saw the color +coming to his face, and he strode beside her quite steadily. Whatever +was his inheritance, his certainly were stamina and vitality; a little +less--or a little dissipation of them--and he might not have recovered +at all, much less have leaped back to strength as he had done. For +since yesterday, the languor which had held him was gone. + +They halted a minute near the south entrance of the park at the St. +Gaudens' "Lincoln," which he had not previously seen. The gaunt, sad +figure of the "rail-splitter" in his ill-fitting clothes, seemed to +recall something to him; for he glanced swiftly at her as they turned +away. + +"Miss Sherrill," he asked, "have you ever stayed out in the country?" + +"I go to northern Michigan, up by the straits, almost every summer for +part of the time, at least; and once in a while we open the house in +winter too for a week or so. It's quite wild--trees and sand and shore +and the water. I've had some of my best times up there." + +"You've never been out on the plains?" + +"Just to pass over them on the train on the way to the coast." + +"That would be in winter or in spring; I was thinking about the plains +in late summer, when we--Jim and Betty, the children of the people I +was with in Kansas--" + +"I remember them." + +"When we used to play at being pioneers in our sunflower shacks." + +"Sunflower shacks?" she questioned. + +"I was dreaming we were building them again when I was delirious just +after I was hurt, it seems. I thought that I was back in Kansas and +was little again. The prairie was all brown as it is in late summer, +brown billows of dried grass which let you see the chips of limestone +and flint scattered on the ground beneath; and in the hollows there +were acres and acres of sunflowers, three times as tall as either Jim +or I, and with stalks as thick as a man's wrist, where Jim and Betty +and I ... and you, Miss Sherrill, were playing." + +"I?" + +"We cut paths through the sunflowers with a corn knife," Alan +continued, not looking at her, "and built houses in them by twining the +cut stalks in and out among those still standing. I'd wondered, you +see, what you must have been like when you were a little girl, so, I +suppose, when I was delirious, I saw you that way." + +She had looked up at him a little apprehensively, afraid that he was +going to say something more; but his look reassured her. + +"Then that," she hazarded, "must have been how the hospital people +learned our name. I'd wondered about that; they said you were +unconscious first, and then delirious and when you spoke you said, +among other names, mine--Connie and Sherrill." + +He colored and glanced away. "I thought they might have told you that, +so I wanted you to know. They say that in a dream, or in delirium, +after your brain establishes the first absurdity--like your playing out +among the sunflowers with me when we were little--everything else is +consistent. I wouldn't call a little girl 'Miss Sherrill,' of course. +Ever since I've known you, I couldn't help thinking a great deal about +you; you're not like any one else I've ever known. But I didn't want +you to think I thought of you--familiarly." + +"I speak of you always as Alan to father," she said. + +He was silent for a moment. "They lasted hardly for a day--those +sunflower houses, Miss Sherrill," he said quietly. "They withered +almost as soon as they were made. Castles in Kansas, one might say! +No one could live in them." + +Apprehensive again, she colored. He had recalled to her, without +meaning to do so, she thought, that he had seen her in Spearman's arms; +she was quite sure that recollection of this was in his mind. But in +spite of this--or rather, exactly because of it--she understood that he +had formed his own impression of the relation between Henry and herself +and that, consequently, he was not likely to say anything more like +this. + +They had walked east, across the damp, dead turf to where the Drive +leaves the shore and is built out into the lake; as they crossed to it +on the smooth ice of the lagoon between, he took her arm to steady her. + +"There is something I have been wanting to ask you," she said. + +"Yes." + +"That night when you were hurt--it was for robbery, they said. What do +you think about it?" She watched him as he looked at her and then +away; but his face was completely expressionless. + +"The proceedings were a little too rapid for me to judge, Miss +Sherrill." + +"But there was no demand upon you to give over your money before you +were attacked?" + +"No." + +She breathed a little more quickly. "It must be a strange sensation," +she observed, "to know that some one has tried to kill you." + +"It must, indeed." + +"You mean you don't think that he tried to kill you?" + +"The police captain thinks not; he says it was the work of a man new to +the blackjack, and he hit harder and oftener than he needed. He says +that sort are the dangerous ones--that one's quite safe in the hands of +an experienced slugger, as you would be with the skilful man in any +line. I never thought of it that way before. He almost made it into +an argument for leaving the trained artists loose on the streets, for +the safety of the public, instead of turning the business over to boys +only half educated." + +"What do you think about the man yourself?" Constance persisted. + +"The apprentice who practiced on me?" + +She waited, watching his eyes. "I was hardly in a condition, Miss +Sherrill, to appreciate anything about the man at all. Why do you ask?" + +"Because--" She hesitated an instant, "if you were attacked to be +killed, it meant that you must have been attacked as the son of--Mr. +Corvet. Then that meant--at least it implied, that Mr. Corvet was +killed, that he did not go away. You see that, of course." + +"Were you the only one who thought that? Or did some one speak to you +about it?" + +"No one did; I spoke to father. He thought--" + +"Yes." + +"Well, if Mr. Corvet was murdered--I'm following what father thought, +you understand--it involved something a good deal worse perhaps than +anything that could have been involved if he had only gone away. The +facts we had made it certain that--if what had happened to him was +death at the hands of another--he must have foreseen that death and, +seeking no protection for himself ... it implied, that he preferred to +die rather than to ask protection--that there was something whose +concealment he thought mattered even more to him than life. It--it +might have meant that he considered his life was ... due to whomever +took it." Her voice, which had become very low, now ceased. She was +speaking to Alan of his father--a father whom he had never known, and +whom he could not have recognized by sight until she showed him the +picture a few weeks before; but she was speaking of his father. + +"Mr. Sherrill didn't feel that it was necessary for him to do anything, +even though he thought that?" + +"If Mr. Corvet was dead, we could do him no good, surely, by telling +this to the police; if the police succeeded in finding out all the +facts, we would be doing only what Uncle Benny did not wish--what he +preferred death to. We could not tell the police about it without +telling them all about Mr. Corvet too. So father would not let himself +believe that you had been attacked to be killed. He had to believe the +police theory was sufficient." + +Alan made no comment at once. "Wassaquam believes Mr. Corvet is dead," +he said finally. "He told me so. Does your father believe that?" + +"I think he is beginning to believe it." + +They had reached the little bridge that breaks the Drive and spans the +channel through which the motor boats reach harbor in the lagoon; he +rested his arms upon the rail of the bridge and looked down into the +channel, now frozen. He seemed to her to consider and to decide upon +something. + +"I've not told any one," he said, now watching her, "how I happened to +be out of the house that night. I followed a man who came there to the +house. Wassaquam did not know his name. He did not know Mr. Corvet +was gone; for he came there to see Mr. Corvet. He was not an ordinary +friend of Mr. Corvet's; but he had come there often; Wassaquam did not +know why. Wassaquam had sent the man away, and I ran out after him; +but I could not find him." + +He stopped an instant, studying her. "That was not the first man who +came to the house," he went on quickly, as she was about to speak. "I +found a man in Mr. Corvet's house the first night that I spent there. +Wassaquam was away, you remember, and I was alone in the house." + +"A man there in the house?" she repeated. + +"He wasn't there when I entered the house--at least I don't think he +was. I heard him below, after I had gone up-stairs. I came down then +and saw him. He was going through Mr. Corvet's things--not the silver +and all that, but through his desks and files and cases. He was +looking for something--something which he seemed to want very much; +when I interfered, it greatly excited him." + +They had turned back from the bridge and were returning along the way +that they had come; but now she stopped and looked up at him. + +"What happened when you 'interfered'?" + +"A queer thing." + +"What?" + +"I frightened him." + +"Frightened him?" She had appreciated in his tone more significance +than the casual meaning of the words. + +"He thought I was a ghost." + +"A ghost. Whose ghost?" + +He shrugged. "I don't know; some one whom he seemed to have known +pretty well--and whom Mr. Corvet knew, he thought." + +"Why didn't you tell us this before?" + +"At least--I am telling you now, Miss Sherrill. I frightened him, and +he got away. But I had seen him plainly. I can describe him.... +You've talked with your father of the possibility that something might +'happen' to me such as, perhaps, happened to Mr. Corvet. If anything +does happen to me, a description of the man may ... prove useful." + +He saw the color leave her face, and her eyes brighten; he accepted +this for agreement on her part. Then clearly and definitely as he +could, he described Spearman to her. She did not recognize the +description; he had known she would not. Had not Spearman been in +Duluth? Beyond that, was not connection of Spearman with the prowler +in Corvet's house the one connection of all most difficult for her to +make? But he saw her fixing and recording the description in her mind. + +They were silent as they went on toward her home. He had said all he +could, or dared to say; to tell her that the man had been Spearman +would not merely have awakened her incredulity; it would have destroyed +credence utterly. A definite change in their relation to one another +had taken place during their walk. The fullness, the frankness of the +sympathy there had been between them almost from their first meeting, +had gone; she was quite aware, he saw, that he had not frankly answered +her questions; she was aware that in some way he had drawn back from +her and shut her out from his thoughts about his own position here. +But he had known that this must be so; it had been his first definite +realization after his return to consciousness in the hospital when, +knowing now her relation to Spearman, he had found all questions which +concerned his relations with the people here made immeasurably more +acute by the attack upon him. + +She asked him to come in and stay for luncheon, as they reached her +home, but she asked it without urging; at his refusal she moved slowly +up the steps; but she halted when she saw that he did not go on. + +"Miss Sherrill," he said, looking up at her, "how much money is there +in your house?" + +She smiled, amused and a little perplexed; then sobered as she saw his +intentness on her answer. + +"What do you mean?" she asked. + +"I mean--how much is ordinarily kept there?" + +"Why, very little in actual cash. We pay everything by +check--tradesmen and servants; and even if we happen not to have a +charge account where we make a purchase, they know who we are and are +always willing to charge it to us." + +"Thank you. It would be rather unusual then for you--or your +neighbors--to have currency at hand exceeding the hundreds?" + +"Exceeding the hundreds? That means in the thousands--or at least one +thousand; yes, for us, it would be quite unusual." + +She waited for him to explain why he had asked; it was not, she felt +sure, for any reason which could readily suggest itself to her. But he +only thanked her again and lifted his hat and moved away. Looking +after him from the window after she had entered the house, she saw him +turn the corner in the direction of Astor Street. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A CALLER + +As the first of the month was approaching, Wassaquam had brought his +household bills and budget to Alan that morning directly after +breakfast. The accounts, which covered expenses for the month just +ending and a small amount of cash to be carried for the month +beginning, were written upon a sheet of foolscap in neat, unshaded +writing exactly like the models in a copybook--each letter formed as +carefully and precisely as is the work done upon an Indian basket. The +statement accounted accurately for a sum of cash in hand upon the first +of February, itemized charged expenses, and totaled the bills. For +March, Wassaquam evidently proposed a continuance of the establishment +upon the present lines. To provide for that, and to furnish Alan with +whatever sums he needed, Sherrill had made a considerable deposit in +Alan's name in the bank where he carried his own account; and Alan had +accompanied Sherrill to the bank to be introduced and had signed the +necessary cards in order to check against the deposit; but, as yet, he +had drawn nothing. + +Alan had required barely half of the hundred dollars which Benjamin +Corvet had sent to Blue Rapids, for his expenses in Chicago; and he had +brought with him from "home" a hundred dollars of his own. He had used +that for his personal expenses since. The amount which Wassaquam now +desired to pay the bills was much more than Alan had on hand; but that +amount was also much less than the eleven hundred dollars which the +servant listed as cash on hand. This, Wassaquam stated, was in +currency and kept by him. Benjamin always had had him keep that much +in the house; Wassaquam would not touch that sum now for the payment of +current expenses. + +This sum of money kept inviolate troubled Alan. Constance Sherrill's +statement that, for her family at least, to keep such a sum would have +been unusual, increased this trouble; it did not, however, preclude the +possibility that others than the Sherrills might keep such amounts of +cash on hand. On the first of the month, therefore Alan drew upon his +new bank account to Wassaquam's order; and in the early afternoon +Wassaquam went to the bank to cash his check--one of the very few +occasions when Alan had been left in the house alone; Wassaquam's +habit, it appeared, was to go about on the first of the month and pay +the tradesmen in person. + +Some two hours later, and before Wassaquam could have been expected +back, Alan, in the room which had become his, was startled by a sound +of heavy pounding, which came suddenly to him from a floor below. +Shouts--heavy, thick, and unintelligible--mingled with the pounding. +He ran swiftly down the stairs, then on and down the service stairs +into the basement. The door to the house from the areaway was shaking +to irregular, heavy blows, which stopped as Alan reached the lower +hallway; the shouts continued still a moment more. Now that the noise +of pounding did not interfere, Alan could make out what the man was +saying: "Ben Corvet!"--the name was almost unintelligible--"Ben Corvet! +Ben!" Then the shouts stopped too. + +Alan sped to the door and turned back the latch. The door bore back +upon him, not from a push, but from a weight without which had fallen +against it. A big, heavy man, with a rough cap and mackinaw coat, +would have fallen upon the floor, if Alan had not caught him. His +weight in Alan's arms was so dull, so inert that, if violence had been +his intention, there was nothing to be feared from him now. Alan +looked up, therefore, to see if any one had come with him. The alley +and the street were clear. The snow in the area-way showed that the +man had come to the door alone and with great difficulty; he had fallen +once upon the walk. Alan dragged the man into the house and went back +and closed the door. + +He returned and looked at him. The man was like, very like the one +whom Alan had followed from the house on the night when he was +attacked; certainty that this was the same man came quickly to him. He +seized the fellow again and dragged him up the stairs and to the lounge +in the library. The warmth revived him; he sat up, coughing and +breathing quickly and with a loud, rasping wheeze. The smell of liquor +was strong upon him; his clothes reeked with the unclean smell of +barrel houses. + +He was, or had been, a very powerful man, broad and thick through with +overdeveloped--almost distorting--muscles in his shoulders; but his +body had become fat and soft, his face was puffed, and his eyes watery +and bright; his brown hair, which was shot all through with gray, was +dirty and matted; he had three or four days' growth of beard. He was +clothed as Alan had seen deck hands on the steamers attired; he was not +less than fifty, Alan judged, though his condition made estimate +difficult. When he sat up and looked about, it was plain that whiskey +was only one of the forces working upon him--the other was fever which +burned up and sustained him intermittently. + +"'Lo!" he greeted Alan. "Where's shat damn Injin, hey? I knew Ben +Corvet was shere--knew he was shere all time. 'Course he's shere; he +got to be shere. That's shright. You go get 'im!" + +"Who are you?" Alan asked. + +"Say, who'r _you_? What t'hells syou doin' here? Never see you before +... go--go get Ben Corvet. Jus' say Ben Corvet, Lu--luke's shere. Ben +Corvet'll know Lu--luke all right; alwaysh, alwaysh knows me...." + +"What's the matter with you?" Alan had drawn back but now went to the +man again. The first idea that this might have been merely some old +sailor who had served Benjamin Corvet or, perhaps, had been a comrade +in the earlier days, had been banished by the confident arrogance of +the man's tone--an arrogance not to be explained, entirely, by whiskey +or by the fever. + +"How long have you been this way?" Alan demanded. "Where did you come +from?" He put his hand on the wrist; it was very hot and dry; the +pulse was racing, irregular; at seconds it seemed to stop; for other +seconds it was continuous. The fellow coughed and bent forward. "What +is it--pneumonia?" Alan tried to straighten him up. + +"Gi' me drink! ... Go get Ben Corvet, I tell you! ... Get Ben Corvet +quick! Say--yous shear? You get me Ben Corvet; you better get Ben +Corvet; you tell him Lu--uke's here; won't wait any more; goin' t'have +my money now ... sright away, your shear? Kick me out s'loon; I guess +not no more. Ben Corvet give me all money I want or I talk!" + +"Talk!" + +"Syou know it! I ain't goin'...." He choked up and tottered back; +Alan, supporting him, laid him down and stayed beside him until his +coughing and choking ceased, and there was only the rattling rasp of +his breathing. When Alan spoke to him again, Luke's eyes opened, and +he narrated recent experiences bitterly; all were blamed to Ben +Corvet's absence; Luke, who had been drinking heavily a few nights +before, had been thrown out when the saloon was closed; that was Ben +Corvet's fault; if Ben Corvet had been around, Luke would have had +money, all the money any one wanted; no one would have thrown out Luke +then. Luke slept in the snow, all wet. When he arose, the saloon was +open again, and he got more whiskey, but not enough to get him warm. +He hadn't been warm since. That was Ben Corvet's fault. Ben Corvet +better be 'round now; Luke wouldn't stand any more. + +Alan felt of the pulse again; he opened the coat and under-flannels and +felt the heaving chest. He went to the hall and looked in the +telephone directory. He remembered the name of the druggist on the +corner of Clark Street and he telephoned him, giving the number on +Astor Street. + +"I want a doctor right away," he said. "Any good doctor; the one that +you can get quickest." The druggist promised that a physician would be +there within a quarter of an hour. Alan went back to Luke, who was +silent now except for the gasp of his breath; he did not answer when +Alan spoke to him, except to ask for whiskey. Alan, gazing down at +him, felt that the man was dying; liquor and his fever had sustained +him only to bring him to the door; now the collapse had come; the +doctor, even if he arrived very soon, could do no more than perhaps +delay the end. Alan went up-stairs and brought down blankets and put +them over Luke; he cut the knotted laces of the soaked shoes and pulled +them off; he also took off the mackinaw and the undercoat. The fellow, +appreciating that care was being given him, relaxed; he slept deeply +for short periods, stirred and started up, then slept again. Alan +stood watching, a strange, sinking tremor shaking him. This man had +come there to make a claim--a claim which many times before, +apparently, Benjamin Corvet had admitted. Luke came to Ben Corvet for +money which he always got--all he wanted--the alternative to giving +which was that Luke would "talk." Blackmail, that meant, of course; +blackmail which not only Luke had told of, but which Wassaquam too had +admitted, as Alan now realized. Money for blackmail--that was the +reason for that thousand dollars in cash which Benjamin Corvet always +kept at the house. + +Alan turned, with a sudden shiver of revulsion, toward his father's +chair in place before the hearth; there for hours each day his father +had sat with a book or staring into the fire, always with what this man +knew hanging over him, always arming against it with the thousand +dollars ready for this man, whenever he came. Meeting blackmail, +paying blackmail for as long as Wassaquam had been in the house, for as +long as it took to make the once muscular, powerful figure of the +sailor who threatened to "talk" into the swollen, whiskey-soaked hulk +of the man dying now on the lounge. + +For his state that day, the man blamed Benjamin Corvet. Alan, forcing +himself to touch the swollen face, shuddered at thought of the truth +underlying that accusation. Benjamin Corvet's act--whatever it might +be that this man knew--undoubtedly had destroyed not only him who paid +the blackmail but him who received it; the effect of that act was still +going on, destroying, blighting. Its threat of shame was not only +against Benjamin Corvet; it threatened also all whose names must be +connected with Corvet's. Alan had refused to accept any stigma in his +relationship with Corvet; but now he could not refuse to accept it. +This shame threatened Alan; it threatened also the Sherrills. Was it +not because of this that Benjamin Corvet had objected to Sherrill's +name appearing with his own in the title of the ship-owning firm? And +was it not because of this that Corvet's intimacy with Sherrill and his +comradeship with Constance had been alternated by times in which he had +frankly avoided them both? What Sherrill had told Alan and even +Corvet's gifts to him had not been able to make Alan feel that without +question Corvet was his father, but now shame and horror were making +him feel it; in horror at Corvet's act--whatever it might be--and in +shame at Corvet's cowardice, Alan was thinking of Benjamin Corvet as +his father. This shame, this horror, were his inheritance. + +He left Luke and went to the window to see if the doctor was coming. +He had called the doctor because in his first sight of Luke he had not +recognized that Luke was beyond the aid of doctors and because to +summon a doctor under such circumstances was the right thing to do; but +he had thought of the doctor also as a witness to anything Luke might +say. But now--did he want a witness? He had no thought of concealing +anything for his own sake or for his father's; but he would, at least, +want the chance to determine the circumstances under which it was to be +made public. + +He hurried back to Luke. "What is it, Luke?" he cried to him. "What +can you tell? Listen! Luke--Luke, is it about the _Miwaka_--the +_Miwaka_? Luke!" + +Luke had sunk into a stupor; Alan shook him and shouted in his ear +without awakening response. As Alan straightened and stood hopelessly +looking down at him, the telephone bell rang sharply. Thinking it +might be something about the doctor, he went to it and answered it. +Constance Sherrill's voice came to him; her first words made it clear +that she was at home and had just come in. + +"The servants tell me some one was making a disturbance beside your +house a while ago," she said, "and shouting something about Mr. Corvet. +Is there something wrong there? Have you discovered something?" + +He shook excitedly while, holding his hand over the transmitter lest +Luke should break out again and she should hear it, he wondered what he +should say to her. He could think of nothing, in his excitement, which +would reassure her and merely put her off; he was not capable of +controlling his voice so as to do that. + +"Please don't ask me just now, Miss Sherrill," he managed. "I'll tell +you what I can--later." + +His reply, he recognized, only made her more certain that there was +something the matter, but he could not add anything to it. He found +Luke, when he went back to him, still in coma; the blood-shot veins +stood out against the ghastly grayness of his face, and his stertorous +breathing sounded through the rooms. + + +Constance Sherrill had come in a few moments before from an afternoon +reception; the servants told her at once that something was happening +at Mr. Corvet's. They had heard shouts and had seen a man pounding +upon the door there, but they had not taken it upon themselves to go +over there. She had told the chauffeur to wait with the motor and had +run at once to the telephone and called Alan; his attempt to put her +off made her certain that what had happened was not finished but was +still going on. Her anxiety and the sense of their responsibility for +Alan overrode at once all other thought. She told the servants to call +her father at the office and tell him something was wrong at Mr. +Corvet's; then she called her maid and hurried out to the motor. + +"To Mr. Corvet's--quickly!" she directed. + +Looking through the front doors of her car as it turned into Astor +Street, she saw a young man, carrying a doctor's case, run up the steps +of Corvet's house. This, quite unreasonably since she had just talked +with Alan, added to her alarm; she put her hand on the catch of the +door and opened it a little so as to be ready to leave the car as soon +as it stopped. As the car drew to the curb, she sprang out, and +stopped only long enough to tell the chauffeur to be attentive and to +wait ready to come into the house, if he was called. + +The man with the bag--Constance recognized him as a young doctor who +was starting in practice in the neighborhood--was just being admitted +as she and her maid reached the steps. Alan stood holding the door +open and yet blocking entrance when she came up. The sight of him told +her that it was not physical hurt that happened to him, but his face +showed her there had been basis for her fright. + +"You must not come in!" he denied her; but she followed the doctor so +that Alan could not close the door upon her. He yielded then, and she +and her maid went on into the hall. + +She started as she saw the figure upon the couch in the library, and as +the sound of its heavy breathing reached her; and the wild fancy which +had come to her when the servants had told her of what was going on--a +fancy that Uncle Benny had come back--was banished instantly. + +Alan led her into the room across from the library. + +"You shouldn't have come in," he said. "I shouldn't have let you in; +but--you saw him." + +"Yes." + +"Do you know him?" + +"Know him?" She shook her head. + +"I mean, you've never seen him before?" + +"No." + +"His name is Luke--he speaks of himself by that name. Did you ever +hear my father mention a man named Luke?" + +"No; never." + +Luke's voice cut suddenly their conversation; the doctor probably had +given him some stimulant. + +"Where'sh Ben Corvet?" Luke demanded arrogantly of the doctor. "You go +get Ben Corvet! Tell Ben Corvet I want drink right away. Tell Ben +Corvet I want my thousan' dollar...!" + +Constance turned swiftly to her maid. "Go out to the car and wait for +me," she commanded. + +Luke's muffled, heavy voice went on; moments while he fought for breath +interrupted it. + +"You hear me, you damn Injin! ... You go tell Ben Corvet I want my +thousan' dollars, or I make it two nex' time! You hear me; you go tell +Ben Corvet.... You let me go, you damn Injin!"... + +Through the doorway to the library they could see the doctor force Luke +back upon the couch; Luke fought him furiously; then, suddenly as he +had stirred to strength and fury, Luke collapsed again. His voice went +on a moment more, rapidly growing weaker: + +"You tell Ben Corvet I want my money, or I'll tell. He knows what I'll +tell.... You don't know, you Injin devil.... Ben Corvet knows, and I +know.... Tell him I'll tell ... I'll tell ... I'll tell!" The +threatening voice stopped suddenly. + +Constance, very pale, again faced Alan. "Of course, I understand," she +said. "Uncle Benny has been paying blackmail to this man. For years, +perhaps...." She repeated the word after an instant, in a frightened +voice, "Blackmail!" + +"Won't you please go, Miss Sherrill?" Alan urged her. "It was good of +you to come; but you mustn't stay now. He's--he's dying, of course." + +She seated herself upon a chair. "I'm going to stay with you," she +said simply. It was not, she knew, to share the waiting for the man in +the next room to die; in that, of itself, there could be nothing for +him to feel. It was to be with him while realization which had come to +her was settling upon him too--realization of what this meant to him. +He was realizing that, she thought; he had realized it; it made him, at +moments, forget her while, listening for sounds from the other room, he +paced back and forth beside the table or stood staring away, clinging +to the portières. He left her presently, and went across the hall to +the doctor. The man on the couch had stirred as though to start up +again; the voice began once more, but now its words were wholly +indistinguishable, meaningless, incoherent. They stopped, and Luke lay +still; the doctor--Alan was helping him now--arranged a quite inert +form upon the couch. The doctor bent over him. + +"Is he dead?" Constance heard Alan ask. + +"Not yet," the doctor answered; "but it won't be long, now." + +"There's nothing you can do for him?" + +The doctor shook his head. + +"There's nothing you can do to make him talk--bring him to himself +enough so that he will tell what he keeps threatening to tell?" + +The doctor shrugged. "How many times, do you suppose, he's been drunk +and still not told? Concealment is his established habit now. It's an +inhibition; even in wandering, he stops short of actually telling +anything." + +"He came here--" Alan told briefly to the doctor the circumstances of +the man's coming. The doctor moved back from the couch to a chair and +sat down. + +"I'll wait, of course," he said, "until it's over." He seemed to want +to say something else, and after a moment he came out with it. "You +needn't be afraid of my talking outside ... professional secrecy, of +course." + +Alan came back to Constance. Outside, the gray of dusk was spreading, +and within the house it had grown dark; Constance heard the doctor turn +on a light, and the shadowy glow of a desk lamp came from the library. +Alan walked to and fro with uneven steps; he did not speak to her, nor +she to him. It was very quiet in the library; she could not even hear +Luke's breathing now. Then she heard the doctor moving; Alan went to +the light and switched it on, as the doctor came out to them. + +"It's over," he said to Alan. "There's a law covers these cases; you +may not be familiar with it. I'll make out the death +certificate--pneumonia and a weak heart with alcoholism. But the +police have to be notified at once; you have no choice as to that. +I'll look after those things for you, if you want." + +"Thank you; if you will." Alan went with the doctor to the door and +saw him drive away. Returning, he drew the library portières; then, +coming back to Constance, he picked up her muff and collar from the +chair where she had thrown them, and held them out to her. + +"You'll go now, Miss Sherrill," he said. "Indeed, you mustn't stay +here--your car's still waiting, and--you mustn't stay here ... in this +house!" + +He was standing, waiting to open the door for her, almost where he had +halted on that morning, a few weeks ago, when he had first come to the +house in answer to Benjamin Corvet's summons; and she was where she had +stood to receive him. Memory of how he had looked then--eager, +trembling a little with excitement, expecting only to find his father +and happiness--came to her; and as it contrasted with the way she saw +him now, she choked queerly as she tried to speak. He was very white, +but quite controlled; lines not upon his face before had come there. + +"Won't you come over home with me," she said, "and wait for father +there till we can think this thing out together?" + +Her sweetness almost broke him down. "This ... together! Think this +out! Oh, it's plain enough, isn't it? For years--for as long as +Wassaquam has been here, my father has been seeing that man and paying +blackmail to him twice a year, at least! He lived in that man's power. +He kept money in the house for him always! It wasn't anything +imaginary that hung over my father--or anything created in his own +mind. It was something real--real; it was disgrace--disgrace and +worse--something he deserved; and that he fought with blackmail money, +like a coward! Dishonor--cowardice--blackmail!" + +She drew a little nearer to him. "You didn't want me to know," she +said. "You tried to put me off when I called you on the telephone; +and--when I came here, you wanted me to go away before I heard. Why +didn't you want me to know? If he was your father, wasn't he +our--friend? Mine and my father's? You must let us help you." + +As she approached, he had drawn back from her. "No; this is mine!" he +denied her. "Not yours or your father's. You have nothing to do with +this. Didn't he try in little cowardly ways to keep you out of it? +But he couldn't do that; your friendship meant too much to him; he +couldn't keep away from you. But I can--I can do that! You must go +out of this house; you must never come in here again!" + +Her eyes filled, as she watched him; never had she liked him so much as +now, as he moved to open the door for her. + +"I thought," he said almost wistfully, "it seemed to me that, whatever +he had done, it must have been mostly against me. His leaving +everything to me seemed to mean that I was the one that he had wronged, +and that he was trying to make it up to me. But it isn't that; it +can't be that! It is something much worse than that! ... Oh, I'm glad +I haven't used much of his money! Hardly any--not more than I can give +back! It wasn't the money and the house he left me that mattered; what +he really left me was just this ... dishonor, shame..." + +The doorbell rang, and Alan turned to the door and threw it open. In +the dusk the figure of the man outside was not at all recognizable; but +as he entered with heavy and deliberate steps, passing Alan without +greeting and going straight to Constance, Alan saw by the light in the +hall that it was Spearman. + +"What's up?" Spearman asked. "They tried to get your father at the +office and then me, but neither of us was there. They got me +afterwards at the club. They said you'd come over here; but that must +have been more than two hours ago." + +His gaze went on past her to the drawn hangings of the room to the +right; and he seemed to appreciate their significance; for his face +whitened under its tan, and an odd hush came suddenly upon him. + +"Is it Ben, Connie?" he whispered. "Ben ... come back?" + +He drew the curtains partly open. The light in the library had been +extinguished, and the light that came from the hall swayed about the +room with the movement of the curtains and gave a momentary semblance +of life to the face of the man upon the couch. Spearman drew the +curtains quickly together again, still holding to them and seeming for +an instant to cling to them; then he shook himself together, threw the +curtains wide apart, and strode into the room. He switched on the +light and went directly to the couch; Alan followed him. + +"He's--dead?" + +"Who is he?" Alan demanded. + +Spearman seemed to satisfy himself first as to the answer to his +question. "How should I know who he is?" he asked. "There used to be +a wheelsman on the _Martha Corvet_ years ago who looked like him; or +looked like what this fellow may have looked like once. I can't be +sure." + +He turned to Constance. "You're going home, Connie? I'll see you over +there. I'll come back about this afterward, Conrad." + +Alan followed them to the door and closed it after them. He spread the +blankets over Luke. Luke's coats, which Alan had removed, lay upon a +chair, and he looked them over for marks of identification; the +mackinaw bore the label of a dealer in Manitowoc--wherever that might +be; Alan did not know. A side pocket produced an old briar: there was +nothing else. Then Alan walked restlessly about, awaiting Spearman. +Spearman, he believed, knew this man; Spearman had not even ventured +upon modified denial until he was certain that the man was dead; and +then he had answered so as not to commit himself, pending learning from +Constance what Luke had told. + +But Luke had said nothing about Spearman. It had been Corvet, and +Corvet alone, of whom Luke had spoken; it was Corvet whom he had +accused; it was Corvet who had given him money. Was it conceivable, +then, that there had been two such events in Corvet's life? That one +of these events concerned the _Miwaka_ and Spearman and some one--some +one "with a bullet hole above his eye"--who had "got" Corvet; and that +the other event had concerned Luke and something else? It was not +conceivable, Alan was sure; it was all one thing. If Corvet had had to +do with the _Miwaka_, then Luke had had to do with it too. And +Spearman? But if Spearman had been involved in that guilty thing, had +not Luke known it? Then why had not Luke mentioned Spearman? Or had +Spearman not been really involved? Had it been, perhaps, only evidence +of knowledge of what Corvet had done that Spearman had tried to +discover and destroy? + +Alan went to the door and opened it, as he heard Spearman upon the +steps again. Spearman waited only until the door had been reclosed +behind him. + +"Well, Conrad, what was the idea of bringing Miss Sherrill into this?" + +"I didn't bring her in; I tried the best I could to keep her out." + +"Out of what--exactly?" + +"You know better than I do. You know exactly what it is. You know +that man, Spearman; you know what he came here for. I don't mean +money; I mean you know why he came here for money, and why he got it. +I tried, as well as I could, to make him tell me; but he wouldn't do +it. There's disgrace of some sort here, of course--disgrace that +involves my father and, I think, you too. If you're not guilty with my +father, you'll help me now; if you are guilty, then, at least, your +refusal to help will let me know that." + +"I don't know what you're talking about." + +"Then why did you come back here? You came back here to protect +yourself in some way." + +"I came back, you young fool, to say something to you which I didn't +want Miss Sherrill to hear. I didn't know, when I took her away, how +completely you'd taken her into--your father's affairs. I told you +this man may have been a wheelsman on the Corvet; I don't know more +about him than that; I don't even know that certainly. Of course, I +knew Ben Corvet was paying blackmail; I've known for years that he was +giving up money to some one. I don't know who he paid it to; or for +what." + +The strain of the last few hours was telling upon Alan; his skin +flushed hot and cold by turns. He paced up and down while he +controlled himself. + +"That's not enough, Spearman," he said finally. "I--I've felt you, +somehow, underneath all these things. The first time I saw you, you +were in this house doing something you ought not to have been doing; +you fought me then; you would have killed me rather than not get away. +Two weeks ago, some one attacked me on the street--for robbery, they +said; but I know it wasn't robbery--" + +"You're not so crazy as to be trying to involve me in that--" + +There came a sound to them from the hall, a sound unmistakably denoting +some presence. Spearman jerked suddenly up; Alan, going to the door +and looking into the hall, saw Wassaquam. The Indian evidently had +returned to the house some time before; he had been bringing to Alan +now the accounts which he had settled. He seemed to have been standing +in the hall for some time, listening; but he came in now, looking +inquiringly from one to the other of them. + +"Not friends?" he inquired. "You and Henry?" + +Alan's passion broke out suddenly. "We're anything but that, Judah. I +found him, the first night I got here and while you were away, going +through my father's things. I fought with him, and he ran away. He +was the one that broke into my father's desks; maybe you'll believe +that, even if no one else will." + +"Yes?" the Indian questioned. "Yes?" It was plain that he not only +believed but that believing gave him immense satisfaction. He took +Alan's arm and led him into the smaller library. He knelt before one +of the drawers under the bookshelves--the drawer, Alan recalled, which +he himself had been examining when he had found Wassaquam watching him. +He drew out the drawer and dumped its contents out upon the floor; he +turned the drawer about then, and pulled the bottom out of it. Beneath +the bottom which he had removed appeared now another bottom and a few +sheets of paper scrawled in an uneven hand and with different colored +inks. + +At sight of them, Spearman, who had followed them into the room, +uttered an oath and sprang forward. The Indian's small dark hand +grasped Spearman's wrist, and his face twitched itself into a fierce +grin which showed how little civilization had modified in him the +aboriginal passions. But Spearman did not try to force his way; +instead, he drew back suddenly. + +Alan stooped and picked up the papers and put them in his pocket. If +the Indian had not been there, it would not have been so easy for him +to do that, he thought. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE LAND OF THE DRUM + +Alan went with Wassaquam into the front library, after the Indian had +shown Spearman out. + +"This was the man, Judah, who came for Mr. Corvet that night I was +hurt?" + +"Yes, Alan," Wassaquam said. + +"He was the man, then, who came here twice a year, at least, to see Mr. +Corvet." + +"Yes." + +"I was sure of it," Alan said. Wassaquam had made no demonstration of +any sort since he had snatched at Spearman's wrist to hold him back +when Alan had bent to the drawer. Alan could define no real change now +in the Indian's manner; but he knew that, since Wassaquam had found him +quarreling with Spearman, the Indian somehow had "placed" him more +satisfactorily. The reserve, bordering upon distrust, with which +Wassaquam had observed Alan, certainly was lessened. It was in +recognition of this that Alan now asked, "Can you tell me now why he +came here, Judah?" + +"I have told you I do not know," Wassaquam replied. "Ben always saw +him; Ben gave him money. I do not know why." + +Alan had been holding his hand over the papers which he had thrust into +his pocket; he went back into the smaller library and spread them under +the reading lamp to examine them. Sherrill had assumed that Corvet had +left in the house a record which would fully explain what had thwarted +his life, and would shed light upon what had happened to Corvet, and +why he had disappeared; Alan had accepted this assumption. The careful +and secret manner in which these pages had been kept, and the +importance which Wassaquam plainly had attached to them--and which must +have been a result of his knowing that Corvet regarded them of the +utmost importance--made Alan certain that he had found the record which +Sherrill had believed must be there. Spearman's manner, at the moment +of discovery, showed too that this had been what he had been searching +for in his secret visit to the house. + +But, as Alan looked the pages over now, he felt a chill of +disappointment and chagrin. They did not contain any narrative +concerning Benjamin Corvet's life; they did not even relate to a single +event. They were no narrative at all. They were--in his first +examination of them, he could not tell what they were. + +They consisted in all of some dozen sheets of irregular size, some of +which had been kept much longer than others, a few of which even +appeared fresh and new. The three pages which Alan thought, from their +yellowed and worn look, must be the oldest, and which must have been +kept for many years, contained only a list of names and addresses. +Having assured himself that there was nothing else on them, he laid +them aside. The remaining pages, which he counted as ten in number, +contained nearly a hundred brief clippings from newspapers; the +clippings had been very carefully cut out, they had been pasted with +painful regularity on the sheets, and each had been dated across its +face--dates made with many different pens and with many different inks, +but all in the same irregular handwriting as the letter which Alan had +received from Benjamin Corvet. + +Alan, his fingers numb in his disappointment, turned and examined all +these pages; but they contained nothing else. He read one of the +clippings, which was dated "Feb. 1912." + + +The passing away of one of the oldest residents of Emmet county +occurred at the poor farm on Thursday of last week. Mr. Fred Westhouse +was one of four brothers brought by their parents into Emmet county in +1846. He established himself here as a farmer and was well known among +our people for many years. He was nearly the last of his family, which +was quite well off at one time, Mr. Westhouse's three brothers and his +father having perished in various disasters upon the lake. His wife +died two years ago. He is survived by a daughter, Mrs. Arthur Pearl, +of Flint. + + +He read another: + + +Hallford-Spens. On Tuesday last Miss Audrey Hallford, daughter of Mr. +and Mrs. Bert Hallford, of this place, was united in the bonds of holy +matrimony to Mr. Robert Spens, of Escanaba. Miss Audrey is one of our +most popular young ladies and was valedictorian of her class at the +high school graduation last year. All wish the young couple well. + + +He read another: + + +Born to Mr. and Mrs. Hal French, a daughter, Saturday afternoon last. +Miss Vera Arabella French, at her arrival weighed seven and one-half +pounds. + + +This clipping was dated, in Benjamin Corvet's hand, "Sturgeon Bay, +Wis., Aug. 1914." Alan put it aside in bewilderment and amaze and took +up again the sheets he first had looked at. The names and addresses on +these oldest, yellowed pages had been first written, it was plain, all +at the same time and with the same pen and ink, and each sheet in the +beginning had contained seven or eight names. Some of these original +names and even the addresses had been left unchanged, but most of them +had been scratched out and altered many times--other and quite +different names had been substituted; the pages had become finally +almost illegible, crowded scrawls, rewritten again and again in +Corvet's cramped hand. Alan strained forward, holding the first sheet +to the light. + +[Illustration: list of names and addresses] + +Alan seized the clippings he had looked at before and compared them +swiftly with the page he had just read; two of the names--Westhouse and +French--were the same as those upon this list. Suddenly he grasped the +other pages of the list and looked them through for his own name; but +it was not there. He dropped the sheets upon the table and got up and +began to stride about the room. + +He felt that in this list and in these clippings there must be, +somehow, some one general meaning--they must relate in some way to one +thing; they must have deeply, intensely concerned Benjamin Corvet's +disappearance and his present fate, whatever that might be, and they +must concern Alan's fate as well. But in their disconnection, their +incoherence, he could discern no common thread. What conceivable bond +could there have been uniting Benjamin Corvet at once with an old man +dying upon a poor farm in Emmet County, wherever that might be, and +with a baby girl, now some two years old, in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin? +He bent suddenly and swept the pages into the drawer of the table and +reclosed the drawer, as he heard the doorbell ring and Wassaquam went +to answer it. It was the police, Wassaquam came to tell him, who had +come for Luke's body. + +Alan went out into the hall to meet them. The coroner's man either had +come with them or had arrived at the same time; he introduced himself +to Alan, and his inquiries made plain that the young doctor whom Alan +had called for Luke had fully carried out his offer to look after these +things, for the coroner was already supplied with an account of what +had taken place. A sailor formerly employed on the Corvet ships, the +coroner's office had been told, had come to the Corvet house, ill and +seeking aid; Mr. Corvet not being at home, the people of the house had +taken the man in and called the doctor; but the man had been already +beyond doctors' help and had died in a few hours of pneumonia and +alcoholism; in Mr. Corvet's absence it had been impossible to learn the +sailor's full name. + +Alan left corroboration of this story mostly to Wassaquam, the +servant's position in the house being more easily explicable than his +own; but he found that his right there was not questioned, and that the +police accepted him as a member of the household. He suspected that +they did not think it necessary to push inquiry very actively in such a +home as this. + +After the police had gone, he called Wassaquam into the library and +brought the lists and clippings out again. + +"Do you know at all what these are, Judah?" he asked. + +"No, Alan. I have seen Ben have them, and take them out and put them +back. That is all I know." + +"My father never spoke to you about them?" + +"Once he spoke to me; he said I was not to tell or speak of them to any +one, or even to him." + +"Do you know any of these people?" + +He gave the lists to Wassaquam, who studied them through attentively, +holding them to the lamp. + +"No, Alan." + +"Have you ever heard any of their names before?" + +"That may be. I do not know. They are common names." + +"Do you know the places?" + +"Yes--the places. They are lake ports or little villages on the lakes. +I have been in most of them, Alan. Emmet County, Alan, I came from +there. Henry comes from there too." + +"Henry Spearman?" + +"Yes." + +"Then that is where they hear the Drum." + +"Yes, Alan." + +"My father took newspapers from those places, did he not?" + +Wassaquam looked over the addresses again. "Yes; from all. He took +them for the shipping news, he said. And sometimes he cut pieces out +of them--these pieces, I see now; and afterward I burned the papers; he +would not let me only throw them away." + +"That's all you know about them, Judah?" + +"Yes, Alan; that is all." + +Alan dismissed the Indian, who, stolidly methodical in the midst of +these events, went down-stairs and commenced to prepare a dinner which +Alan knew he could not eat. Alan got up and moved about the rooms; he +went back and looked over the lists and clippings once more; then he +moved about again. How strange a picture of his father did these +things call up to him! When he had thought of Benjamin Corvet before, +it had been as Sherrill had described him, pursued by some thought he +could not conquer, seeking relief in study, in correspondence with +scientific societies, in anything which could engross him and shut out +memory. But now he must think of him, not merely as one trying to +forget; what had thwarted Corvet's life was not only in the past; it +was something still going on. It had amazed Sherrill to learn that +Corvet, for twenty years, had kept trace of Alan; but Corvet had kept +trace in the same way and with the same secrecy of many other +people--of about a score of people. When Alan thought of Corvet, alone +here in his silent house, he must think of him as solicitous about +these people; as seeking for their names in the newspapers which he +took for that purpose, and as recording the changes in their lives. +The deaths, the births, the marriages among these people had been of +the intensest interest to Corvet. + +It was possible that none of these people knew about Corvet; Alan had +not known about him in Kansas, but had known only that some unknown +person had sent money for his support. But he appreciated that it did +not matter whether they knew about him or not; for at some point common +to all of them, the lives of these people must have touched Corvet's +life. When Alan knew what had been that point of contact, he would +know about Corvet; he would know about himself. + +Alan had seen among Corvet's books a set of charts of the Great Lakes. +He went and got that now and an atlas. Opening them upon the table, he +looked up the addresses given on Corvet's list. They were most of +them, he found, towns about the northern end of the lake; a very few +were upon other lakes--Superior and Huron--but most were upon or very +close to Lake Michigan. These people lived by means of the lake; they +got their sustenance from it, as Corvet had lived, and as Corvet had +got his wealth. Alan was feeling like one who, bound, has been +suddenly unloosed. From the time when, coming to see Corvet, he had +found Corvet gone until now, he had felt the impossibility of +explaining from anything he knew or seemed likely to learn the mystery +which had surrounded himself and which had surrounded Corvet. But +these names and addresses! They indeed offered something to go upon, +though Luke now was forever still, and his pockets had told Alan +nothing. + +He found Emmet County on the map and put his finger on it. Spearman, +Wassaquam had said came from there. "The Land of the Drum!" he said +aloud. Deep and sudden feeling stirred in him as he traced out this +land on the chart--the little towns and villages, the islands and +headlands, their lights and their uneven shores. A feeling of "home" +had come to him, a feeling he had not had on coming to Chicago. There +were Indian names and French up there about the meetings of the great +waters. Beaver Island! He thought of Michabou and the raft. The +sense that he was of these lakes, that surge of feeling which he had +felt first in conversation with Constance Sherrill was strengthened an +hundredfold; he found himself humming a tune. He did not know where he +had heard it; indeed, it was not the sort of tune which one knows from +having heard; it was the sort which one just knows. A rhyme fitted +itself to the hum, + + "Seagull, seagull sit on the sand, + It's never fair weather when you're on the land." + + +He gazed down at the lists of names which Benjamin Corvet had kept so +carefully and so secretly; these were his father's people too; these +ragged shores and the islands studding the channels were the lands +where his father had spent the most active part of his life. There, +then--these lists now made it certain--that event had happened by which +that life had been blighted. Chicago and this house here had been for +his father only the abode of memory and retribution. North, there by +the meeting of the waters, was the region of the wrong which was done. + +"That's where I must go!" he said aloud. "That's where I must go!" + + +Constance Sherrill, on the following afternoon, received a telephone +call from her father; he was coming home earlier than usual, he said; +if she had planned to go out, would she wait until after he got there? +She had, indeed, just come in and had been intending to go out again at +once; but she took off her wraps and waited for him. The afternoon's +mail was upon a stand in the hall. She turned it over, looking through +it--invitations, social notes. She picked from among them an envelope +addressed to herself in a firm, clear hand, which, unfamiliar to her, +still queerly startled her, and tore it open. + + +Dear Miss Sherrill, she read, + +I am closing for the time being, the house which, for default of other +ownership, I must call mine. The possibility that what has occurred +here would cause you and your father anxiety about me in case I went +away without telling you of my intention is the reason for this note. +But it is not the only reason. I could not go away without telling you +how deeply I appreciate the generosity and delicacy you and your father +have shown to me in spite of my position here and of the fact that I +had no claim at all upon you. I shall not forget those even though +what happened here last night makes it impossible for me to try to see +you again or even to write to you. + +ALAN CONRAD. + + +She heard her father's motor enter the drive and ran to him with the +letter in her hand. + +"He's written to you then," he said, at sight of it. + +"Yes." + +"I had a note from him this afternoon at the office, asking me to hold +in abeyance for the time being the trust that Ben had left me and +returning the key of the house to me for safekeeping." + +"Has he already gone?" + +"I suppose so; I don't know." + +"We must find out." She caught up her wraps and began to put them on. +Sherrill hesitated, then assented; and they went round the block +together to the Corvet house. The shades, Constance saw as they +approached, were drawn; their rings at the doorbell brought no +response. Sherrill, after a few instants' hesitation, took the key +from his pocket and unlocked the door and they went in. The rooms, she +saw, were all in perfect order; summer covers had been put upon the +furniture; protecting cloths had been spread over the beds up-stairs. +Her father tried the water and the gas, and found they had been turned +off. After their inspection, they came out again at the front door, +and her father closed it with a snapping of the spring lock. + +Constance, as they walked away, turned and looked back at the old +house, gloomy and dark among its newer, fresher-looking neighbors; and +suddenly she choked, and her eyes grew wet. That feeling was not for +Uncle Benny; the drain of days past had exhausted such a surge of +feeling for him. That which she could not wink away was for the boy +who had come to that house a few weeks ago and for the man who just now +had gone. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE THINGS FROM CORVET'S POCKETS + +"Miss Constance Sherrill, + Harbor Springs, Michigan." + +The address, in large scrawling letters, was written across the brown +paper of the package which had been brought from the post office in the +little resort village only a few moments before. The paper covered a +shoe box, crushed and old, bearing the name of S. Klug, Dealer in Fine +Shoes, Manitowoc, Wisconsin. The box, like the outside wrapping, was +carefully tied with string. + +Constance, knowing no one in Manitowoc and surprised at the nature of +the package, glanced at the postmark on the brown paper which she had +removed; it too was stamped Manitowoc. She cut the strings about the +box and took off the cover. A black and brown dotted silk cloth filled +the box; and, seeing it, Constance caught her breath. It was--at least +it was very like--the muffler which Uncle Benny used to wear in winter. +Remembering him most vividly as she had seen him last, that stormy +afternoon when he had wandered beside the lake, carrying his coat until +she made him put it on, she recalled this silk cloth, or one just like +it, in his coat pocket; she had taken it from his pocket and put it +around his neck. + +She started with trembling fingers to take it from the box; then, +realizing from the weight of the package that the cloth was only a +wrapping or, at least, that other things were in the box, she hesitated +and looked around for her mother. But her mother had gone out; her +father and Henry both were in Chicago; she was alone in the big summer +"cottage," except for servants. Constance picked up box and wrapping +and ran up to her room. She locked the door and put the box upon the +bed; now she lifted out the cloth. It was a wrapping, for the heavier +things came with it; and now, also, it revealed itself plainly as the +scarf--Uncle Benny's scarf! A paper fluttered out as she began to +unroll it--a little cross-lined leaf evidently torn from a pocket +memorandum book. It had been folded and rolled up. She spread it out; +writing was upon it, the small irregular letters of Uncle Benny's hand. + +"Send to Alan Conrad," she read; there followed a Chicago address--the +number of Uncle Benny's house on Astor Street. Below this was another +line: + +"Better care of Constance Sherrill (Miss)." There followed the +Sherrills' address upon the Drive. And to this was another correction: + +"Not after June 12th; then to Harbor Springs, Mich. Ask some one of +that; be sure the date; after June 12th." + +Constance, trembling, unrolled the scarf; now coins showed from a fold, +next a pocket knife, ruined and rusty, next a watch--a man's large gold +watch with the case queerly pitted and worn completely through in +places, and last a plain little band of gold of the size for a woman's +finger--a wedding ring. Constance, gasping and with fingers shaking so +from excitement that she could scarcely hold these objects, picked them +up and examined them--the ring first. + +It very evidently was, as she had immediately thought, a wedding ring +once fitted for a finger only a trifle less slender than her own. One +side of the gold band was very much worn, not with the sort of wear +which a ring gets on a hand, but by some different sort of abrasion. +The other side of the band was roughened and pitted but not so much +worn; the inside still bore the traces of an inscription. "As long as +we bo ... all live," Constance could read, and the date "June 2, 1891." + +It was in January, 1896, Constance remembered, that Alan Conrad had +been brought to the people in Kansas; he then was "about three years +old." If this wedding ring was his mother's, the date would be about +right; it was a date probably something more than a year before Alan +was born. Constance put down the ring and picked up the watch. +Wherever it had lain, it had been less protected than the ring; the +covers of the case had been almost eroded away, and whatever initialing +or other marks there might have been upon the outside were gone. But +it was like Uncle Benny's watch--or like one of his watches. He had +several, she knew, presented to him at various times--watches almost +always were the testimonials given to seamen for acts of sacrifice and +bravery. She remembered finding some of those testimonials in a drawer +at his house once where she was rummaging, when she was a child. One +of them had been a watch just like this, large and heavy. The spring +which operated the cover would not work, but Constance forced the cover +open. + +There, inside the cover as she had thought it would be, was engraved +writing. Sand had seeped into the case; the inscription was +obliterated in part. + +"For his courage and skill in seam ... master of ... which he brought +to the rescue of the passengers and crew of the steamer _Winnebago_ +foundering ... Point, Lake Erie, November 26th, 1890, this watch is +donated by the Buffalo Merchants' Exchange." + +Uncle Benny's name, evidently, had been engraved upon the outside. +Constance could not particularly remember the rescue of the people of +the _Winnebago_; 1890 was years before she was born, and Uncle Benny +did not tell her that sort of thing about himself. + +The watch, she saw now, must have lain in water, for the hands under +the crystal were rusted away and the face was all streaked and cracked. +She opened the back of the watch and exposed the works; they too were +rusted and filled with sand. Constance left the watch open and, +shivering a little, she gently laid it down upon her bed. The pocket +knife had no distinguishing mark of any sort; it was just a man's +ordinary knife with the steel turned to rust and with sand in it too. +The coins were abraded and pitted discs--a silver dollar, a half dollar +and three quarters, not so much abraded, three nickels, and two pennies. + +Constance choked, and her eyes filled with tears. These +things--plainly they were the things found in Uncle Benny's +pockets--corroborated only too fully what Wassaquam believed and what +her father had been coming to believe.--that Uncle Benny was dead. The +muffler and the scrap of paper had not been in water or in sand. The +paper was written in pencil; it had not even been moistened or it would +have blurred. There was nothing upon it to tell how long ago it had +been written; but it had been written certainly before June twelfth. +"After June 12th," it said. + +That day was August the eighteenth. + +It was seven months since Uncle Benny had gone away. After his strange +interview with her that day and his going home, had Uncle Benny gone +out directly to his death? There was nothing to show that he had not; +the watch and coins must have lain for many weeks, for months, in water +and in sand to become eroded in this way. But, aside from this, there +was nothing that could be inferred regarding the time or place of Uncle +Benny's death. That the package had been mailed from Manitowoc meant +nothing definite. Some one--Constance could not know whom--had had the +muffler and the scrawled leaf of directions; later, after lying in +water and in sand, the things which were to be "sent" had come to that +some one's hand. Most probably this some one had been one who was +going about on ships; when his ship had touched at Manitowoc, he had +executed his charge. + +Constance left the articles upon the bed and threw the window more +widely open. She trembled and felt stirred and faint, as she leaned +against the window, breathing deeply the warm air, full of life and +with the scent of the evergreen trees about the house. + +The "cottage" of some twenty rooms stood among the pines and hemlocks +interspersed with hardwood on "the Point," where were the great fine +summer homes of the wealthier "resorters." White, narrow roads, just +wide enough for two automobiles to pass abreast, wound like a labyrinth +among the tree trunks; and the sound of the wind among the pine needles +was mingled with the soft lapping of water. To south and east from her +stretched Little Traverse--one of the most beautiful bits of water of +the lakes; across from her, beyond the wrinkling water of the bay, the +larger town--Petoskey--with its hilly streets pitching down steeply to +the water's edge and the docks, and with its great resort hotels, was +plainly visible. To westward, from the white life-saving station and +the lighthouse, the point ran out in shingle, bone white, outcropping +above the water; then for miles away the shallow water was treacherous +green and white to where at the north, around the bend of the shore, it +deepened and grew blue again, and a single white tower--Ile-aux-Galets +Light--kept watch above it. + +This was Uncle Benny's country. Here, twenty-five years before, he had +first met Henry, whose birthplace--a farm, deserted now--was only a few +miles back among the hills. Here, before that, Uncle Benny had been a +young man, active, vigorous, ambitious. He had loved this country for +itself and for its traditions, its Indian legends and fantastic +stories. Half her own love for it--and, since her childhood, it had +been to her a region of delight--was due to him and to the things he +had told her about it. Distinct and definite memories of that +companionship came to her. This little bay, which had become now for +the most part only a summer playground for such as she, had been once a +place where he and other men had struggled to grow rich swiftly; he had +outlined for her the ruined lumber docks and pointed out to her the +locations of the dismantled sawmills. It was he who had told her the +names of the freighters passing far out, and the names of the +lighthouses, and something about each. He had told her too about the +Indians. She remembered one starry night when he had pointed out to +her in the sky the Indian "Way of Ghosts," the Milky Way, along which, +by ancient Indian belief, the souls of Indians traveled up to heaven; +and how, later, lying on the recessed seat beside the fireplace where +she could touch the dogs upon the hearth, he had pointed out to her +through the window the Indian "Way of Dogs" among the constellations, +by which the dogs too could make that journey. It was he who had told +her about Michabou and the animals; and he had been the first to tell +her of the Drum. + +The disgrace, unhappiness, the threat of something worse, which must +have made death a relief to Uncle Benny, she had seen passed on now to +Alan. What more had come to Alan since she had last heard of him? +Some terrible substance to his fancies which would assail him again as +she had seen him assailed after Luke had come? Might another attack +have been made upon him similar to that which he had met in Chicago? + +Word had reached her father through shipping circles in May and again +in July which told of inquiries regarding Uncle Benny which made her +and her father believe that Alan was searching for his father upon the +lakes. Now these articles which had arrived made plain to her that he +would never find Uncle Benny; he would learn, through others or through +themselves, that Uncle Benny was dead. Would he believe then that +there was no longer any chance of learning what his father had done? +Would he remain away because of that, not letting her see or hear from +him again? + +She went back and picked up the wedding ring. + +The thought which had come to her that this was Alan's mother's wedding +ring, had fastened itself upon her with a sense of certainty. It +defended that unknown mother; it freed her, at least, from the stigma +which Constance's own mother had been so ready to cast. Constance +could not yet begin to place Uncle Benny in relation to that ring; but +she was beginning to be able to think of Alan and his mother. She held +the little band of gold very tenderly in her hand; she was glad that, +as the accusation against his mother had come through her people, she +could tell him soon of this. She could not send the ring to him, not +knowing where he was; that was too much risk. But she could ask him to +come to her; this gave that right. + +She sat thoughtful for several minutes, the ring clasped warmly in her +hand; then she went to her desk and wrote: + + +Mr. John Welton, + Blue Rapids, Kansas. + +Dear Mr. Welton: + +It is possible that Alan Conrad has mentioned me--or at least told you +of my father--in connection with his stay in Chicago. After Alan left +Chicago, my father wrote, twice to his Blue Rapids address, but +evidently he had instructed the postmaster there to forward his mail +and had not made any change in those instructions, for the letters were +returned to Alan's address and in that way came back to us. We did not +like to press inquiries further than that, as of course he could have +communicated with us if he had not felt that there was some reason for +not doing so. Now, however, something of such supreme importance to +him has come to us that it is necessary for us to get word to him at +once. If you can tell me any address at which he can be reached by +telegraph or mail--or where a messenger can find him--it will oblige us +very much and will be to his interest. + + +She hesitated, about to sign it; then, impulsively, she added: + + +I trust you know that we have Alan's interest at heart and that you can +safely tell us anything you may know as to where he is or what he may +be doing. We all liked him here so very much.... + + +She signed her name. There were still two other letters to write. +Only the handwriting of the address upon the package, the Manitowoc +postmark and the shoe box furnished clue to the sender of the ring and +the watch and the other things. Constance herself could not trace +those clues, but Henry or her father could. She wrote to both of them, +therefore, describing the articles which had come and relating what she +had done. Then she rang for a servant and sent the letters to the +post. They were in time to catch the "dummy" train around the bay and, +at Petoskey, would get into the afternoon mail. The two for Chicago +would be delivered early the next morning, so she could expect replies +from Henry and her father on the second day; the letter to Kansas, of +course, would take much longer than that. + +But the next noon she received a wire from Henry that he was "coming +up." It did not surprise her, as she had expected him the end of the +week. + +Late that evening, she sat with her mother on the wide, screened +veranda. The breeze among the pines had died away; the lake was calm. +A half moon hung midway in the sky, making plain the hills about the +bay and casting a broadening way of silver on the mirror surface of the +water. The lights of some boat turning in between the points and +moving swiftly caught her attention. As it entered the path of the +moonlight, its look was so like that of Henry's power yacht that she +arose. She had not expected him until morning; but now the boat was so +near that she could no longer doubt that it was his. He must have +started within an hour of the receipt of her letter and had been +forcing his engines to their fastest all the way up. + +He had done that partly, perhaps, for the sheer sport of speed; but +partly also for the sake of being sooner with her. It was his way, as +soon as he had decided to leave business again and go to her, to arrive +as soon as possible; that had been his way recently, particularly. So +the sight of the yacht stirred her warmly and she watched while it ran +in close, stopped and instantly dropped a dingey from the davits. She +saw Henry in the stern of the little boat; it disappeared in the shadow +of a pier ... she heard, presently, the gravel of the walk crunch under +his quick steps, and then she saw him in the moonlight among the trees. +The impetuousness, almost the violence of his hurry to reach her, sent +its thrill through her. She went down on the path to meet him. + +"How quickly you came!" + +"You let yourself think you needed me, Connie!" + +"I did..." + +He had caught her hand in his and he held it while he brought her to +the porch and exchanged greetings with her mother. Then he led her on +past and into the house. + +When she saw his face, in the light, there were signs of strain in it; +she could feel strain now in his fingers which held hers strongly but +tensely too. + +"You're tired, Henry!" + +He shook his head. "It's been rotten hot in Chicago; then I guess I +was mentally stoking all the way up here, Connie. When I got started, +I wanted to see you to-night ... but first, where are the things you +wanted me to see?" + +She ran up-stairs and brought them down to him. Her hands were shaking +now as she gave them to him; she could not exactly understand why; but +her tremor increased as she saw his big hands fumbling as he unwrapped +the muffler and shook out the things it enclosed. He took them up one +by one and looked at them, as she had done. His fingers were steady +now but only by mastering of control, the effort for which amazed her. + +He had the watch in his hands. + +"The inscription is inside the front," she said. + +She pried the cover open again and read, with him, the words engraved +within. + +"'As master of...' What ship was he master of then, Henry, and how did +he rescue the _Winnebago's_ people?" + +"He never talked to me about things like that, Connie. This is all?" + +"Yes." + +"And nothing since to show who sent them?" + +"No." + +"Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman will send some one to Manitowoc to make +inquiries." Henry put the things back in the box. "But of course, +this is the end of Benjamin Corvet." + +"Of course," Constance said. She was shaking again and, without +willing it, she withdrew a little from Henry. He caught her hand again +and drew her back toward him. His hand was quite steady. + +"You know why I came to you as quick as I could? You know why I--why +my mind was behind every thrust of the engines?" + +"No." + +"You don't? Oh, you know; you must know now!" + +"Yes, Henry," she said. + +"I've been patient, Connie. Till I got your letter telling me this +about Ben, I'd waited for your sake--for our sakes--though it seemed at +times it was impossible. You haven't known quite what's been the +matter between us these last months, little girl; but I've known. +We've been engaged; but that's about all there's been to it. Don't +think I make little of that; you know what I mean. You've been mine; +but--but you haven't let me realize it, you see. And I've been +patient, for I knew the reason. It was Ben poisoning your mind against +me." + +"No! No, Henry!" + +"You've denied it; I've recognized that you've denied it, not only to +me and to your people but to yourself. I, of course, knew, as I know +that I am here with your hand in mine, and as we will stand before the +altar together, that he had no cause to speak against me. I've waited, +Connie, to give him a chance to say to you what he had to say; I wanted +you to hear it before making you wholly mine. But now there's no need +to wait any longer, you and I. Ben's gone, never to come back. I was +sure of that by what you wrote me, so this time when I started to you I +brought with me--this." + +He felt in his pocket and brought out a ring of plain gold; he held it +before her so that she could see within it her own initials and his and +a blank left for the date. Her gaze went from it for an instant to the +box where he had put back the other ring--Alan's mother's. Feeling for +her long ago gazing thus, as she must have, at that ring, held her for +a moment. Was it because of that that Constance found herself cold now? + +"You mean you want me to marry you--at once, Henry?" + +He drew her to him powerfully; she felt him warm, almost rough with +passions. Since that day when, in Alan Conrad's presence, he had +grasped and kissed her, she had not let him "realize" their engagement, +as he had put it. + +"Why not?" he turned her face up to his now. "Your mother's here; your +father will follow soon; or, if you will, we'll run away--Constance! +You've kept me off so long! You don't believe there's anything against +me, dear? Do you? Do you? + +"No; no! Of course not!" + +"Then we're going to be married.... We're going to be married, aren't +we? Aren't we, Constance?" + +"Yes; yes, of course." + +"Right away, we'll have it then; up here; now!" + +"No; not now, Henry. Not up here!" + +"Not here? Why not?" + +She could give no answer. He held her and commanded her again; only +when he frightened her, he ceased. + +"Why _must_ it be at once, Henry? I don't understand!" + +"It's not must, dear," he denied. "It's just that I want you so!" + +When would it be, he demanded then; before spring, she promised at +last. But that was all he could make her say. And so he let her go. + +The next evening, in the moonlight, she drove him to Petoskey. He had +messages to send and preferred to trust the telegraph office in the +larger town. Returning they swung out along the country roads. The +night was cool here on the hills, under the stars; the fan-shaped glare +from their headlights, blurring the radiance of the moon, sent dancing +before them swiftly-changing, distorted shadows of the dusty bushes +beside the road. Topping a rise, they came suddenly upon his +birthplace. She had not designed coming to that place, but she had +taken a turn at his direction, and now he asked her to stop the car. +He got out and paced about, calling to her and pointing out the +desirableness of the spot as the site for their country home. She sat +in the motor, watching him and calling back to him. + +The house was small, log built, the chinks between the logs stopped +with clay. Across the road from it, the silver bark of the birch trees +gleamed white among the black-barked timber. Smells of rank vegetation +came to her from these woods and from the weed-grown fields about and +beyond the house. There had been a small garden beside the house once; +now neglected strawberry vines ran riot among the weed stems, and a +clump of sunflowers stood with hanging, full-blown heads under the +August moon. + +She gazed proudly at Henry's strong, well proportioned figure moving +about in the moonlight, and she was glad to think that a boy from this +house had become the man that he was. But when she tried to think of +him as a child here, her mind somehow showed her Alan playing about the +sunflowers; and the place was not here; it was the brown, Kansas +prairie of which he had told her. + +"Sunflower houses," she murmured to herself. "Sunflower houses. They +used to cut the stalks and build shacks with them." + +"What's that?" Henry said; he had come back near her. + +The warm blood rushed to her face. "Nothing," she said, a little +ashamed. She opened the door beside her. "Come; we'll go back home +now." + +Coming from that poor little place, and having made of himself what he +had, Henry was such a man as she would be ever proud to have for a +husband; there was no man whom she had known who had proved himself as +much a man as he. Yet now, as she returned to the point, she was +thinking of this lake country not only as Henry's land but as Alan +Conrad's too. In some such place he also had been born--born by the +mother whose ring waited him in the box in her room. + +Alan, upon the morning of the second of these days, was driving +northward along the long, sandy peninsula which separates the blue +waters of Grand Traverse from Lake Michigan; and, thinking of her, he +knew that she was near. He not only had remembered that she would be +north at Harbor Point this month; he had seen in one of the Petoskey +papers that she and her mother were at the Sherrill summer home. His +business now was taking him nearer them than he had been at any time +before; and, if he wished to weaken, he might convince himself that he +might learn from her circumstances which would aid him in his task. +But he was not going to her for help; that was following in his +father's footsteps. When he knew everything, then--not till then--he +could go to her; for then he would know exactly what was upon him and +what he should do. + +His visits to the people named on those sheets written by his father +had been confusing at first; he had had great difficulty in tracing +some of them at all; and, afterwards, he could uncover no certain +connection either between them and Benjamin Corvet or between +themselves. But recently, he had been succeeding better in this latter. + +He had seen--he reckoned them over again--fourteen of the twenty-one +named originally on Benjamin Corvet's lists; that is, he had seen +either the individual originally named, or the surviving relative +written in below the name crossed off. He had found that the crossing +out of the name meant that the person was dead, except in the case of +two who had left the country and whose whereabouts were as unknown to +their present relatives as they had been to Benjamin Corvet, and the +case of one other, who was in an insane asylum. + +He had found that no one of the persons whom he saw had known Benjamin +Corvet personally; many of them did not know him at all, the others +knew him only as a name. But, when Alan proceeded, always there was +one connotation with each of the original names; always one +circumstance bound all together. When he had established that +circumstance as influencing the fortunes of the first two on his lists, +he had said to himself, as the blood pricked queerly under the skin, +that the fact might be a mere coincidence. When he established it also +as affecting the fate of the third and of the fourth and of the fifth, +such explanation no longer sufficed; and he found it in common to all +fourteen, sometimes as the deciding factor of their fate, sometimes as +only slightly affecting them, but always it was there. + +In how many different ways, in what strange, diverse manifestations +that single circumstance had spread to those people whom Alan had +interviewed! No two of them had been affected alike, he reckoned, as +he went over his notes of them. Now he was going to trace those +consequences to another. To what sort of place would it bring him +to-day and what would he find there? He knew only that it would be +quite distinct from the rest. + +The driver beside whom he sat on the front seat of the little +automobile was an Indian; an Indian woman and two round-faced silent +children occupied the seat behind. He had met these people in the +early morning on the road, bound, he discovered, to the annual camp +meeting of the Methodist Indians at Northport. They were going his +way, and they knew the man of whom he was in search; so he had hired a +ride of them. The region through which they were traveling now was of +farms, but interspersed with desolate, waste fields where blackened +stumps and rotting windfalls remained after the work of the lumberers. +The hills and many of the hollows were wooded; there were even places +where lumbering was still going on. To his left across the water, the +twin Manitous broke the horizon, high and round and blue with haze. To +his right, from the higher hilltops, he caught glimpses of Grand +Traverse and of the shores to the north, rising higher, dimmer, and +more blue, where they broke for Little Traverse and where Constance +Sherrill was, two hours away across the water; but he had shut his mind +to that thought. + +The driver turned now into a rougher road, bearing more to the east. + +They passed people more frequently now--groups in farm wagons, or +groups or single individuals, walking beside the road. All were going +in the same direction as themselves, and nearly all were Indians, drab +dressed figures attired obviously in their best clothes. Some walked +barefoot, carrying new shoes in their hands, evidently to preserve them +from the dust. They saluted gravely Alan's driver, who returned their +salutes--"B'jou!" "B'jou!" + +Traveling eastward, they had lost sight of Lake Michigan; and suddenly +the wrinkled blueness of Grand Traverse appeared quite close to them. +The driver turned aside from the road across a cleared field where ruts +showed the passing of many previous vehicles; crossing this, they +entered the woods. Little fires for cooking burned all about them, and +nearer were parked an immense number of farm wagons and buggies, with +horses unharnessed and munching grain. Alan's guide found a place +among these for his automobile, and they got out and went forward on +foot. All about them, seated upon the moss or walking about, were +Indians, family groups among which children played. A platform had +been built under the trees; on it some thirty Indians, all men, sat in +straight-backed chairs; in front of and to the sides of the platform, +an audience of several hundred occupied benches, and around the borders +of the meeting others were gathered, merely observing. A very old +Indian, with inordinately wrinkled skin and dressed in a frock coat, +was addressing these people from the platform in the Indian tongue. + +Alan halted beside his guide. He saw among the drab-clad figures +looking on, the brighter dresses and sport coats of summer visitors who +had come to watch. The figure of a girl among these caught his +attention, and he started; then swiftly he told himself that it was +only his thinking of Constance Sherrill that made him believe this was +she. But now she had seen him; she paled, then as quickly flushed, and +leaving the group she had been with, came toward him. + +He had no choice now whether he would avoid her or not; and his +happiness at seeing her held him stupid, watching her. Her eyes were +very bright and with something more than friendly greeting; there was +happiness in them too. His throat shut together as he recognized this, +and his hand closed warmly over the small, trembling hand which she put +out to him. All his conscious thought was lost for the moment in the +mere realization of her presence; he stood, holding her hand, oblivious +that there were people looking; she too seemed careless of that. Then +she whitened again and withdrew her hand; she seemed slightly confused. +He was confused as well; it was not like this that he had meant to +greet her; he caught himself together. + +Cap in hand, he stood beside her, trying to look and to feel as any +ordinary acquaintance of hers would have looked. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE OWNER OF THE WATCH + +"So they got word to you!" Constance exclaimed; she seemed still +confused. "Oh, no--of course they couldn't have done that! They've +hardly got my letter yet." + +"Your letter?" Alan asked. + +"I wrote to Blue Rapids," she explained. "Some things came--they were +sent to me. Some things of Uncle Benny's which were meant for you +instead of me." + +"You mean you've heard from him?" + +"No--not that." + +"What things, Miss Sherrill?" + +"A watch of his and some coins and--a ring." She did not explain the +significance of those things, and he could not tell from her mere +enumeration of them and without seeing them that they furnished proof +that his father was dead. She could not inform him of that, she felt, +just here and now. + +"I'll tell you about that later. You--you were coming to Harbor Point +to see us?" + +He colored. "I'm afraid not. I got as near as this to you because +there is a man--an Indian--I have to see." + +"An Indian? What is his name? You see, I know quite a lot of them." + +"Jo Papo." + +She shook her head. "No; I don't know him." + +She had drawn him a little away from the crowd about the meeting. His +blood was beating hard with recognition of her manner toward him. +Whatever he was, whatever the disgrace might be that his father had +left to him, she was still resolute to share in it. He had known she +would be so. She found a spot where the moss was covered with dry pine +needles and sat down upon the ground. + +"Sit down," she invited; "I want you to tell me what you have been +doing." + +"I've been on the boats." He dropped down upon the moss beside her. +"It's a--wonderful business, Miss Sherrill; I'll never be able to go +away from the water again. I've been working rather hard at my new +profession--studying it, I mean. Until yesterday I was a not very +highly honored member of the crew of the package freighter _Oscoda_; I +left her at Frankfort and came up here." + +"Is Wassaquam with you?" + +"He wasn't on the _Oscoda_; but he was with me at first. Now, I +believe, he has gone back to his own people--to Middle Village." + +"You mean you've been looking for Mr. Corvet in that way?" + +"Not exactly that." He hesitated; but he could see no reason for not +telling what he had been doing. He had not so much hidden from her and +her father what he had found in Benjamin Corvet's house; rather, he had +refrained from mentioning it in his notes to them when he left Chicago +because he had thought that the lists would lead to an immediate +explanation; they had not led to that, but only to a suggestion, +indefinite as jet. He had known that, if his search finally developed +nothing more than it had, he must at last consult Sherrill and get +Sherrill's aid. + +"We found some writing, Miss Sherrill," he said, "in the house on Astor +Street that night after Luke came." + +"What writing?" + +He took the lists from his pocket and showed them to her. She +separated and looked through the sheets and read the names written in +the same hand that had written the directions upon the slip of paper +that came to her four days before, with the things from Uncle Benny's +pockets. + +"My father had kept these very secretly," he explained. "He had them +hidden. Wassaquam knew where they were, and that night after Luke was +dead and you had gone home, he gave them to me." + +"After I had gone home? Henry went back to see you that night; he had +said he was going back, and afterwards I asked him, and he told me he +had seen you again. Did you show him these?" + +"He saw them--yes." + +"He was there when Wassaquam showed you where they were?" + +"Yes." + +A little line deepened between her brows, and she sat thoughtful. + +"So you have been going about seeing these people," she said. "What +have you found out?" + +"Nothing definite at all. None of them knew my father; they were only +amazed to find that any one in Chicago had known their names." + +She got up suddenly. "You don't mind if I am with you when you talk +with this Indian?" + +He arose and looked around for the guide who had brought him. His +guide had been standing near, evidently waiting until Alan's attention +was turned his way; he gestured now toward a man, a woman, and several +children who were lunching, seated about a basket on the ground. The +man--thin, patient and of medium size--was of the indefinite age of the +Indian, neither young nor yet old. It was evident that life had been +hard for the man; he looked worn and undernourished; his clothing was +the cast-off suit of some one much larger which had been inexpertly +altered to make it fit him. As Alan and Constance approached them, the +group turned on them their dark, inexpressive eyes, and the woman got +up, but the man remained seated on the ground. + +"I'm looking for Jo Papo," Alan explained. + +"What you want?" the squaw asked. "You got work?" The words were +pronounced with difficulty and evidently composed most of her English +vocabulary. + +"I want to see him, that's all." Alan turned to the man. "You're Jo +Papo, aren't you?" + +The Indian assented by an almost imperceptible nod. + +"You used to live near Escanaba, didn't you?" + +Jo Papo considered before replying; either his scrutiny of Alan +reassured him, or he recalled nothing having to do with his residence +near Escanaba which disturbed him. "Yes; once," he said. + +"Your father was Azen Papo?" + +"He's dead," the Indian replied. "Not my father, anyway. Grandfather. +What about him?" + +"That's what I want to ask you," Alan said. "When did he die and how?" + +Jo Papo got up and stood leaning his back against a tree. So far from +being one who was merely curious about Indians, this stranger perhaps +was coming about an Indian claim--to give money maybe for injustices +done in the past. + +"My grandfather die fifteen years ago," he informed them. "From cough, +I think." + +"Where was that?" Alan asked. + +"Escanaba--near there." + +"What did he do?" + +"Take people to shoot deer--fish--a guide. I think he plant a little +too." + +"He didn't work on the boats?" + +"No; my father, he work on the boats." + +"What was his name?" + +"Like me; Jo Papo too. He's dead." + +"What is your Indian name?" + +"Flying Eagle." + +"What boats did your father work on?" + +"Many boats." + +"What did he do?" + +"Deck hand." + +"What boat did he work on last?" + +"Last? How do I know? He went away one year and didn't come back? I +suppose he was drowned from a boat." + +"What year was that?" + +"I was little then; I do not know." + +"How old were you?" + +"Maybe eight years; maybe nine or ten." + +"How old are you now?" + +"Thirty, maybe." + +"Did you ever hear of Benjamin Corvet?" + +"Who?" + +"Benjamin Corvet." + +"No." + +Alan turned to Constance; she had been listening intently, but she made +no comment. "That is all, then," he said to Papo; "if I find out +anything to your advantage, I'll let you know." He had aroused, he +understood, expectations of benefit in these poor Indians. Something +rose in Alan's throat and choked him. Those of whom Benjamin Corvet +had so laboriously kept trace were, very many of them, of the sort of +these Indians; that they had never heard of Benjamin Corvet was not +more significant than that they were people of whose existence Benjamin +Corvet could not have been expected to be aware. What conceivable bond +could there have been between Alan's father and such poor people as +these? Had his father wronged these people? Had he owed them +something? This thought, which had been growing stronger with each +succeeding step of Alan's investigations, chilled and horrified him +now. Revolt against his father more active than ever before seized +him, revolt stirring stronger with each recollection of his interviews +with the people upon his list. As they walked away, Constance +appreciated that he was feeling something deeply; she too was stirred. + +"They all--all I have talked to--are like that," he said to her. "They +all have lost some one upon the lakes." + +In her feeling for him, she had laid her hand upon his arm; now her +fingers tightened to sudden tenseness. "What do you mean?" she asked. + +"Oh, it is not definite yet--not clear!" She felt the bitterness in +his tone. "They have not any of them been able to make it wholly clear +to me. It is like a record that has been--blurred. These original +names must have been written down by my father many years ago--many, +most of those people, I think--are dead; some are nearly forgotten. +The only thing that is fully plain is that in every case my inquiries +have led me to those who have lost one, and sometimes more than one +relative upon the lakes." + +Constance thrilled to a vague horror; it was not anything to which she +could give definite reason. His tone quite as much as what he said was +its cause. His experience plainly had been forcing him to bitterness +against his father; and he did not know with certainty yet that his +father was dead. + +She had not found it possible to tell him that yet; now consciously she +deferred telling him until she could take him to her home and show him +what had come. The shrill whistling of the power yacht in which she +and her party had come recalled to her that all were to return to the +yacht for luncheon, and that they must be waiting for her. + +"You'll lunch with us, of course," she said to Alan, "and then go back +with us to Harbor Point. It's a day's journey around the two bays; but +we've a boat here." + +He assented, and they went down to the water where the white and brown +power yacht, with long, graceful lines, lay somnolently in the +sunlight. A little boat took them out over the shimmering, smooth +surface to the ship; swells from a faraway freighter swept under the +beautiful, burnished craft, causing it to roll lazily as they boarded +it. A party of nearly a dozen men and girls, with an older woman +chaperoning them, lounged under the shade of an awning over the after +deck. They greeted her gaily and looked curiously at Alan as she +introduced him. + +As he returned their rather formal acknowledgments and afterward fell +into general conversation with them, she became for the first time +fully aware of how greatly he had changed from what he had been when he +had come to them six months before in Chicago. These gay, wealthy +loungers would have dismayed him then, and he would have been equally +dismayed by the luxury of the carefully appointed yacht; now he was not +thinking at all about what these people might think of him. In return, +they granted him consideration. It was not, she saw that they accepted +him as one of their own sort, or as some ordinary acquaintance of hers; +if they accounted for him to themselves at all, they must believe him +to be some officer employed upon her father's ships. He looked like +that--with his face darkened and reddened by the summer sun and in his +clothing like that of a ship's officer ashore. He had not weakened +under the disgrace which Benjamin Corvet had left to him, whatever that +might be; he had grown stronger facing it. A lump rose in her throat +as she realized that the lakes had been setting their seal upon him, as +upon the man whose strength and resourcefulness she loved. + +"Have you worked on any of our boats?" she asked him, after luncheon +had been finished, and the anchor of the ship had been raised. + +A queer expression came upon his face. "I've thought it best not to do +that, Miss Sherrill," he replied. + +She did not know why the next moment she should think of Henry. + +"Henry was going to bring us over in his yacht--the _Chippewa_," she +said. "But he was called away suddenly yesterday on business to St. +Ignace and used his boat to go over there." + +"He's at Harbor Point, then." + +"He got there a couple of nights ago and will be back again to-night or +to-morrow morning." + +The yacht was pushing swiftly, smoothly, with hardly a hum from its +motors, north along the shore. He watched intently the rolling, wooded +hills and the ragged little bays and inlets. His work and his +investigatings had not brought him into the neighborhood before, but +she found that she did not have to name the places to him; he knew them +from the charts. + +"Grand Traverse Light," he said to her as a white tower showed upon +their left. Then, leaving the shore, they pushed out across the wide +mouth of the larger bay toward Little Traverse. He grew more silent as +they approached it. + +"It is up there, isn't it," he asked, pointing, "that they hear the +Drum?" + +"Yes; how did you know the place?" + +"I don't know it exactly; I want you to show me." + +She pointed out to him the copse, dark, primeval, blue in its contrast +with the lighter green of the trees about it and the glistening white +of the shingle and of the more distant sand bluffs. He leaned forward, +staring at it, until the changed course of the yacht, as it swung about +toward the entrance to the bay, obscured it. They were meeting other +power boats now of their yacht's own size and many smaller; they passed +white-sailed sloops and cat-boats, almost becalmed, with girls and boys +diving from their sides and swimming about. As they neared the Point, +a panorama of play such as, she knew, he scarcely could have seen +before, was spread in front of them. The sun gleamed back from the +white sides and varnished decks and shining brasswork of a score or +more of cruising yachts and many smaller vessels lying in the anchorage. + +"The Chicago to Mackinac yacht race starts this week, and the cruiser +fleet is working north to be in at the finish," she offered. Then she +saw he was not looking at these things; he was studying with a strange +expression the dark, uneven hills which shut in the two towns and the +bay. + +"You remember how the ship rhymes you told me and that about Michabou +and seeing the ships made me feel that I belonged here on the lakes," +he reminded her. "I have felt something--not recognition exactly, but +something that was like the beginning of recognition--many times this +summer when I saw certain places. It's like one of those dreams, you +know, in which you are conscious of having had the same dream before. +I feel that I ought to know this place." + +They landed only a few hundred yards from the cottage. After bidding +good-by to her friends, they went up to it together through the trees. +There was a small sun room, rather shut off from the rest of the house, +to which she led him. Leaving him there, she ran upstairs to get the +things. + +She halted an instant beside the door, with the box in her hands, +before she went back to him, thinking how to prepare him against the +significance of these relics of his father. She need not prepare him +against the mere fact of his father's death; he had been beginning to +believe that already; but these things must have far more meaning for +him than merely that. They must frustrate one course of inquiry for +him at the same time they opened another; they would close for him +forever the possibility of ever learning anything about himself from +his father; they would introduce into his problem some new, some +unknown person--the sender of these things. + +She went in and put the box down upon the card table. + +"The muffler in the box was your father's," she told him. "He had it +on the day he disappeared. The other things," her voice choked a +little, "are the things he must have had in his pockets. They've been +lying in water and sand--" + +He gazed at her. "I understand," he said after an instant. "You mean +that they prove his death." + +She assented gently, without speaking. As he approached the box, she +drew back from it and slipped away into the next room. She walked up +and down there, pressing her hands together. He must be looking at the +things now, unrolling the muffler.... What would he be feeling as he +saw them? Would he be glad, with that same gladness which had mingled +with her own sorrow over Uncle Benny, that his father was gone--gone +from his guilt and his fear and his disgrace? Or would he resent that +death which thus left everything unexplained to him? He would be +looking at the ring. That, at least, must bring more joy than grief to +him. He would recognize that it must be his mother's wedding ring; if +it told him that his mother must be dead, it would tell him that she +had been married, or had believed that she was married! + +Suddenly she heard him calling her. "Miss Sherrill!" His voice had a +sharp thrill of excitement. + +She hurried toward the sun room. She could see him through the +doorway, bending over the card table with the things spread out upon +its top in front of him. + +"Miss Sherrill!" he called again. + +"Yes." + +He straightened; he was very pale. "Would coins that my father had in +his pocket all have been more than twenty years old?" + +She ran and bent beside him over the coins. "Twenty years!" she +repeated. She was making out the dates of the coins now herself; the +markings were eroded, nearly gone in some instances, but in every case +enough remained to make plain the date. "Eighteen-ninety--1893--1889," +she made them out. Her voice hushed queerly. "What does it mean?" she +whispered. + +He turned over and reexamined the articles with hands suddenly +steadying. "There are two sets of things here," he concluded. "The +muffler and paper of directions--they belonged to my father. The other +things--it isn't six months or less than six months that they've lain +in sand and water to become worn like this; it's twenty years. My +father can't have had these things; they were somewhere else, or some +one else had them. He wrote his directions to that person--after June +twelfth, he said, so it was before June twelfth he wrote it; but we +can't tell how long before. It might have been in February, when he +disappeared; it might have been any time after that. But if the +directions were written so long ago, why weren't the things sent to you +before this? Didn't the person have the things then? Did we have to +wait to get them? Or--was it the instructions to send them that he +didn't have? Or, if he had the instructions, was he waiting to receive +word when they were to be sent?" + +"To receive word?" she echoed. + +"Word from my father! You thought these things proved my father was +dead. I think they prove he is alive! Oh, we must think this out!" + +He paced up and down the room; she sank into a chair, watching him. +"The first thing that we must do," he said suddenly, "is to find out +about the watch. What is the 'phone number of the telegraph office?" + +She told him, and he went out to the telephone; she sprang up to follow +him, but checked herself and merely waited until he came back. + +"I've wired to Buffalo," he announced. "The Merchants' Exchange, if it +is still in existence, must have a record of the presentation of the +watch. At any rate, the wreck of the _Winnebago_ and the name of the +skipper of the other boat must be in the files of the newspapers of +that time." + +"Then you'll stay here with us until an answer comes." + +"If we get a reply by to-morrow morning; I'll wait till then. If not, +I'll ask you to forward it to me. I must see about the trains and get +back to Frankfort. I can cross by boat from there to Manitowoc--that +will be quickest. We must begin there, by trying to find out who sent +the package." + +"Henry Spearman's already sent to have that investigated." + +Alan made no reply; but she saw his lips draw tighter quickly. "I must +go myself as soon as I can," he said, after a moment. + +She helped him put the muffler and the other articles back into the +box; she noticed that the wedding ring was no longer with them. He had +taken that, then; it had meant to him all that she had known it must +mean.... + +In the morning she was up very early; but Alan, the servants told her, +had risen before she had and had gone out. The morning, after the cool +northern night, was chill. She slipped a sweater on and went out on +the veranda, looking about for him. An iridescent haze shrouded the +hills and the bay; in it she heard a ship's bell strike twice; then +another struck twice--then another--and another--and another. The haze +thinned as the sun grew warmer, showing the placid water of the bay on +which the ships stood double--a real ship and a mirrored one. She saw +Alan returning, and knowing from the direction from which he came that +he must have been to the telegraph office, she ran to meet him. + +"Was there an answer?" she inquired eagerly. + +He took a yellow telegraph sheet from his pocket and held it for her to +read. + +"Watch presented Captain Caleb Stafford, master of propeller freighter +_Marvin Halch_ for rescue of crew and passengers of sinking steamer +_Winnebago_ off Long Point, Lake Erie." + +She was breathing quickly in her excitement. "Caleb Stafford!" she +exclaimed. "Why, that was Captain Stafford of Stafford and Ramsdell! +They owned the _Miwaka_!" + +"Yes," Alan said. + +"You asked me about that ship--the _Miwaka_--that first morning at +breakfast!" + +"Yes." + +A great change had come over him since last night; he was under emotion +so strong that he seemed scarcely to dare to speak lest it master +him--a leaping, exultant impulse it was, which he fought to keep down. + +"What is it, Alan?" she asked. "What is it about the _Miwaka_? You +said you'd found some reference to it in Uncle Benny's house. What was +it? What did you find there?" + +"The man--" Alan swallowed and steadied himself and repeated--"the man +I met in the house that night mentioned it." + +"The man who thought you were a ghost?" + +"Yes." + +"How--how did he mention it?" + +"He seemed to think I was a ghost that had haunted Mr. Corvet--the +ghost from the _Miwaka_; at least he shouted out to me that I couldn't +save the _Miwaka_!" + +"Save the _Miwaka_! What do you mean, Alan? The _Miwaka_ was lost +with all her people--officers and crew--no one knows how or where!" + +"All except the one for whom the Drum didn't beat!" + +"What's that?" Blood pricked in her cheeks. "What do you mean, Alan?" + +"I don't know yet; but I think I'll soon find out!" + +"No; you can tell me more now, Alan. Surely you can. I must know. I +have the right to know. Yesterday, even before you found out about +this, you knew things you weren't telling me--things about the people +you'd been seeing. They'd all lost people on the lakes, you said; but +you found out more than that." + +"They'd all lost people on the _Miwaka_!" he said. "All who could tell +me where their people were lost; a few were like Jo Papo we saw +yesterday, who knew only the year his father was lost; but the time +always was the time that the _Miwaka_ disappeared!" + +"Disappeared!" she repeated. Her veins were pricking cold. What did +he know, what could any one know of the _Miwaka_, the ship of which +nothing ever was heard except the beating of the Indian Drum? She +tried to make him say more; but he looked away now down to the lake. + +"The _Chippewa_ must have come in early this morning," he said. "She's +lying in the harbor; I saw her on my way to the telegraph office. If +Mr. Spearman has come back with her, tell him I'm sorry I can't wait to +see him." + +"When are you going?" + +"Now." + +She offered to drive him to Petoskey, but he already had arranged for a +man to take him to the train. + +She went to her room after he was gone and spread out again on her bed +the watch--now the watch of Captain Stafford of the _Miwaka_--with the +knife and coins of more than twenty years ago which came with it. The +meaning of them now was all changed; she felt that; but what the new +meaning might be could not yet come to her. Something of it had come +to Alan; that, undoubtedly, was what had so greatly stirred him; but +she could not yet reassemble her ideas. Yet a few facts had become +plain. + +A maid came to say that Mr. Spearman had come up from his boat for +breakfast with her and was downstairs. She went down to find Henry +lounging in one of the great wicker chairs in the living room. He +arose and came toward her quickly; but she halted before he could seize +her. + +"I got back, Connie--" + +"Yes; I heard you did." + +"What's wrong, dear?" + +"Alan Conrad has been here, Henry." + +"He has? How was that?" + +She told him while he watched her intently. "He wired to Buffalo about +the watch. He got a reply which he brought to me half an hour ago." + +"Yes?" + +"The watch belonged to Captain Stafford who was lost with the _Miwaka_, +Henry." + +He made no reply; but waited. + +"You may not have known that it was his; I mean, you may not have known +that it was he who rescued the people of the _Winnebago_, but you must +have known that Uncle Benny didn't." + +"Yes; I knew that, Connie," he answered evenly. + +"Then why did you let me think the watch was his and that he must +be--dead?" + +"That's all's the matter? You had thought he was dead. I believed it +was better for you--for every one--to believe that." + +She drew a little away from him, with hands clasped behind her back, +gazing intently at him. "There was some writing found in Uncle Benny's +house in Astor Street--a list of names of relatives of people who had +lost their lives upon the lake. Wassaquam knew where those things +were. Alan says they were given to him in your presence." + +She saw the blood rise darkly under his skin. "That is true, Connie." + +"Why didn't you tell me about that?" + +He straightened as if with anger. "Why should I? Because he thought +that I should? What did he tell you about those lists?" + +"I asked you, after you went back, if anything else had happened, +Henry, and you said, 'nothing.' I should not have considered the +finding of those lists 'nothing.'" + +"Why not? What were they but names? What has he told you they were, +Connie? What has he said to you?" + +"Nothing--except that his father had kept them very secretly; but he's +found out they were names of people who had relatives on the _Miwaka_!" + +"What?" + +Recalling how her blood had run when Alan had told her that, Henry's +whiteness and the following suffusion of his face did not surprise her. + +He turned away a moment and considered. "Where's Conrad now, Connie?" + +"He's gone to Frankfort to cross to Manitowoc." + +"To get deeper into that mess, I suppose. He'll only be sorry." + +"Sorry?" + +"I told that fellow long ago not to start stirring these matters up +about Ben Corvet, and particularly I told him that he was not to bring +any of it to you. It's not--a thing that a man like Ben covered up for +twenty years till it drove him crazy is sure not to be a thing for a +girl to know. Conrad seems to have paid no attention to me. But I +should think by this time he ought to begin to suspect what sort of +thing he's going to turn up. I don't know; but I certainly +suspect--Ben leaving everything to that boy, whom no one had heard of, +and the sort of thing which has come up since. It's certainly not +going to be anything pleasant for any of us, Connie--for you, or your +father, or for me, or for anybody who'd cared for Ben, or had been +associated with him. Least of all, I should say, would it prove +anything pleasant for Conrad. Ben ran away from it, because he knew +what it was; why doesn't this fellow let him stay away from it?" + +"He--I mean Alan, Henry," she said, "isn't thinking about himself in +this; he isn't thinking about his father. He believes--he is certain +now--that, whatever his father did, he injured some one; and his idea +in going ahead--he hasn't told it to me that way, but I know--is to +find out the whole matter in order that he may make recompense. It's a +terrible thing, whatever happened. He knows that, and I know; but he +wants--and I want him for his sake, even for Uncle Benny's sake--to see +it through." + +"Then it's a queer concern you've got for Ben! Let it alone, I tell +you." + +She stood flushed and perplexed, gazing at him. She never had seen him +under stronger emotion. + +"You misunderstood me once, Connie!" he appealed. "You'll understand +me now!" + +She had been thinking about that injustice she had done him in her +thought--about his chivalry to his partner and former benefactor, when +Uncle Benny was still keeping his place among men. Was Henry now +moved, in a way which she could not understand, by some other +obligation to the man who long ago had aided him? Had Henry hazarded +more than he had told her of the nature of the thing hidden which, if +she could guess it, would justify what he said? + +In the confusion of her thought, one thing came clearly which troubled +her and of which she could not speak. The watch of Captain Stafford's +and the ring and the coins, which had made her believe that Uncle Benny +was dead, had not been proof of that to Henry. Yet he had taken +advantage of her belief, without undeceiving her, to urge her to marry +him at once. + +She knew of the ruthlessness of Henry's business life; he had forced +down, overcome all who opposed him, and he had made full use for his +own advantage of other men's mistakes and erroneous beliefs and +opinions. If he had used her belief in Uncle Benny's death to hasten +their marriage, it was something which others--particularly she--could +pardon and accept. + +If she was drawn to him for his strength and dominance, which sometimes +ran into ruthlessness, she had no right to complain if he turned it +thus upon her. + +She had made Alan promise to write her, if he was not to return, +regarding what he learned; and a letter came to her on the fourth day +from him in Manitowoc. The postoffice employees had no recollection, +he said, of the person who had mailed the package; it simply had been +dropped by some one into the receptacle for mailing packages of that +sort. They did not know the handwriting upon the wrapper, which he had +taken with him; nor was it known at the bank or in any of the stores +where he had shown it. The shoe dealer had no recollection of that +particular box. Alan, however, was continuing his inquiries. + +In September he reported in a brief, totally impersonal note, that he +was continuing with the investigations he had been making previous to +his visit to Harbor Point; this came from Sarnia, Ontario. In October +he sent a different address where he could be found in case anything +more came, such as the box which had come to Constance in August. + +She wrote to him in reply each time; in lack of anything more important +to tell him, she related some of her activities and inquired about his. +After she had written him thus twice, he replied, describing his life +on the boats pleasantly and humorously; then, though she immediately +replied, she did not hear from him again. + +She had returned to Chicago late in September and soon was very busy +with social affairs, benefits, and bazaars which were given that fall +for the Red Cross and the different Allied causes; a little later came +a series of the more personal and absorbing luncheons and dances and +dinners for her and for Henry, since their engagement, which long had +been taken for granted by every one who knew them, was announced now. +So the days drifted into December and winter again. + +The lake, beating against the esplanade across the Drive before +Constance's windows, had changed its color; it had no longer its autumn +blue and silver; it was gray, sluggish with floating needle-points of +ice held in solution. The floe had not yet begun to form, but the +piers and breakwaters had white ice caps frozen from spray--harbingers +of the closing of navigation. The summer boats, those of Corvet, +Sherrill, and Spearman with the rest, were being tied up. The birds +were gone; only the gulls remained--gray, clamorous shapes circling and +calling to one another across the water. Early in December the +newspapers announced the closing of the locks at the "Soo" by the ice. + +That she had not heard from Alan was beginning to recur to Constance +with strange insistence. He must have left the boats by now, unless he +had found work on one of those few which ran through the winter. + +He and his occupation, instead of slipping from her thoughts with time, +absorbed her more and more. Soon after he had gone to Manitowoc and he +had written that he had discovered nothing, she had gone to the office +of the Petoskey paper and, looking back over the twenty-year-old files, +she had read the account of the loss of the _Miwaka_, with all on +board. That fate was modified only by the Indian Drum beating short. +So one man from the _Miwaka_ had been saved somehow, many believed. If +that could have been, there was, or there had been, some one alive +after the ship "disappeared"--Alan's word went through her with a +chill--who knew what had happened to the ship and who knew of the fate +of his shipmates. + +She had gone over the names again; if there was meaning in the Drum, +who was the man who had been saved and visited that fate on Benjamin +Corvet? Was it Luke? There was no Luke named among the crew; but such +men often went by many names. If Luke had been among the crew of the +_Miwaka_ and had brought from that lost ship something which threatened +Uncle Benny that, at least, explained Luke. + +Then another idea had seized her. Captain Caleb Stafford was named +among the lost, of course; with him had perished his son, a boy of +three. That was all that was said, and all that was to be learned of +him, the boy. + +Alan had been three then. This was wild, crazy speculation. The ship +was lost with all hands; only the Drum, believed in by the +superstitious and the most ignorant, denied that. The Drum said that +one soul had been saved. How could a child of three have been saved +when strong men, to the last one, had perished? And, if he had been +saved, he was Stafford's son. Why should Uncle Benny have sent him +away and cared for him and then sent for him and, himself disappearing, +leave all he had to--Stafford's son? + +Or was he Stafford's son? Her thought went back to the things which +had been sent--the things from a man's pockets with a wedding ring +among them. She had believed that the ring cleared the mother's name; +might it in reality only more involve it? Why had it come back like +this to the man by whom, perhaps, it had been given? Henry's words +came again and again to Constance: "It's a queer concern you've got for +Ben. Leave it alone, I tell you!" He knew then something about Uncle +Benny which might have brought on some terrible thing which Henry did +not know but might guess? Constance went weak within. Uncle Benny's +wife had left him, she remembered. Was it better, after all, to "leave +it alone?" + +But it wasn't a thing which one could command one's mind to leave +alone; and Constance could not make herself try to, so long as it +concerned Alan. Coming home late one afternoon toward the middle of +December, she dismissed the motor and stood gazing at the gulls. The +day was chill, gray; the air had the feel, and the voices of the gulls +had the sound to her, which precede the coming of a severe storm. The +gulls recalled sharply to her the day when Alan first had come to them, +and how she had been the one first to meet him and the child verse +which had told him that he too was of the lakes. + +She went on into the house. A telegraph envelope addressed to her +father was on the table in the hall. A servant told her the message +had come an hour before, and that he had telephoned to Mr. Sherrill's +office, but Mr. Sherrill was not in. There was no reason for her +thinking that the message might be from Alan except his presence in her +thoughts, but she went at once to the telephone and called her father. +He was in now, and he directed her to open the message and read it to +him. + +"Have some one," she read aloud; she choked in her excitement at what +came next--"Have some one who knew Mr. Corvet well enough to recognize +him, even if greatly changed, meet Carferry Number 25 Manitowoc +Wednesday this week. Alan Conrad." + +Her heart was beating fast. "Are you there?" she said into the 'phone. + +"Yes." + +"Whom shall you send?" + +There was an instant's silence. "I shall go myself," her father +answered. + +She hung up the receiver. Had Alan found Uncle Benny? He had found, +apparently, someone whose semblance to the picture she had showed him +was marked enough to make him believe that person might be Benjamin +Corvet; or he had heard of some one who, from the account he had +received, he thought might be. She read again the words of the +telegram ... "even if greatly changed!" and she felt startling and +terrifying warning in that phrase. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +OLD BURR OF THE FERRY + +It was in late November and while the coal carrier _Pontiac_, on which +he was serving as lookout, was in Lake Superior that Alan first heard +of Jim Burr. The name spoken among some other names in casual +conversation by a member of the crew, stirred and excited him; the name +James Burr, occurring on Benjamin Corvet's list, had borne opposite it +the legend "All disappeared; no trace," and Alan, whose investigations +had accounted for all others whom the list contained, had been able +regarding Burr only to verify the fact that at the address given no one +of this name was to be found. + +He questioned the oiler who had mentioned Burr. The man had met Burr +one night in Manitowoc with other men, and something about the old man +had impressed both his name and image on him; he knew no more than +that. At Manitowoc!--the place from which Captain Stafford's watch had +been sent to Constance Sherrill and where Alan had sought for, but had +failed to find, the sender! Had Alan stumbled by chance upon the one +whom Benjamin Corvet had been unable to trace? Had Corvet, after his +disappearance, found Burr? Had Burr been the sender, under Corvet's +direction, of those things? Alan speculated upon this. The man might +well, of course, be some other Jim Burr; there were probably many men +by that name. Yet the James Burr of Corvet's list must have been such +a one as the oiler described--a white haired old man. + +Alan could not leave the _Pontiac_ and go at once to Manitowoc to seek +for Burr; for he was needed where he was. The season of navigation on +Lake Superior was near its close. In Duluth skippers were clamoring +for cargoes; ships were lading in haste for a last trip before ice +closed the lake's outlet at the Soo against all ships. It was fully a +week later and after the Pontiac had been laden again and had repassed +the length of Lake Superior that Alan left the vessel at Sault Ste. +Marie and took the train for Manitowoc. + +The little lake port of Manitowoc, which he reached in the late +afternoon, was turbulent with the lake season's approaching close. +Long lines of bulk freighters, loaded and tied up to wait for spring, +filled the river; their released crews rioted through the town. Alan +inquired for the seamen's drinking place, where his informant had met +Jim Burr; following the directions he received he made his way along +the river bank until he found it. The place was neat, immaculate; a +score of lakemen sat talking at little tables or leaned against the +bar. Alan inquired of the proprietor for Jim Burr. + +The proprietor knew old Jim Burr--yes. Burr was a wheelsman on +Carferry Number 25. He was a lakeman, experienced and capable; that +fact, some months before, had served as introduction for him to the +frequenters of this place. When the ferry was in harbor and his duties +left him idle, Burr came up and waited there, occupying always the same +chair. He never drank; he never spoke to others unless they spoke +first to him, but then he talked freely about old days on the lakes, +about ships which had been lost and about men long dead. + +Alan decided that there could be no better place to interview old Burr +than here; he waited therefore, and in the early evening the old man +came in. + +Alan watched him curiously as, without speaking to any one, he went to +the chair recognized as his and sat down. He was a slender but +muscularly built man seeming about sixty-five, but he might be +considerably younger or older than that. His hair was completely +white; his nose was thin and sensitive; his face was smoothly placid, +emotionless, contented; his eyes were queerly clouded, deepset and +intent. + +Those whose names Alan had found on Corvet's list had been of all ages, +young and old; but Burr might well have been a contemporary of Corvet +on the lakes. Alan moved over and took a seat beside the old man. + +"You're from No. 25?" he asked, to draw him into conversation. + +"Yes." + +"I've been working on the carrier _Pontiac_ as lookout. She's on her +way to tie up at Cleveland, so I left her and came on here. You don't +know whether there's a chance for me to get a place through the winter +on No. 25?" + +Old Burr reflected. "One of our boys has been talking of leaving. I +don't know when he expects to go. You might ask." + +"Thank you; I will. My name's Conrad--Alan Conrad." + +He saw no recognition of the name in Burr's reception of it; but he had +not expected that. None of those on Benjamin Corvet's list had had any +knowledge of Alan Conrad or had heard the name before. + +Alan was silent, watching the old man; Burr, silent too, seemed +listening to the conversation which came to them from the tables near +by, where men were talking of cargoes, and of ships and of men who +worked and sailed upon them. + +"How long have you been on the lakes?" Alan inquired. + +"All my life." The question awakened reminiscence in the old man. "My +father had a farm. I didn't like farming. The schooners--they were +almost all schooners in those days--came in to load with lumber. When +I was nine years old, I ran away and got on board a schooner. I've +been at it, sail or steam, ever since." + +"Do you remember the _Miwaka_?" + +"The _Miwaka_?" + +Old Burr turned abruptly and studied Alan with a slow scrutiny which +seemed to look him through and through; yet while his eyes remained +fixed on Alan suddenly they grew blank. He was not thinking now of +Alan, but had turned his thoughts within himself. + +"I remember her--yes. She was lost in '95," he said. "In '95," he +repeated. + +"You lost a nephew with her, didn't you?" + +"A nephew--no. That is a mistake. I lost a brother." + +"Where were you living then?" + +"In Emmet County, Michigan." + +"When did you move to Point Corbay, Ontario?" + +"I never lived at Point Corbay." + +"Did any of your family live there?" + +"No." Old Burr looked away from Alan, and the queer cloudiness of his +eyes became more evident. + +"Why, do you ask all this?" he said irritably. "What have they been +telling you about me? I told you about myself; our farm was in Emmet +County, but we had a liking for the lake. One of my brothers was lost +in '95 with the _Miwaka_ and another in '99 with the _Susan Hart_." + +"Did you know Benjamin Corvet?" Alan asked. + +Old Burr stared at him uncertainly. "I know who he is, of course." + +"You never met him?" + +"No." + +"Did you receive a communication from him some time this year?" + +"From him? From Benjamin Corvet? No." Old Burr's uneasiness seemed +to increase. "What sort of communication?" + +"A request to send some things to Miss Constance Sherrill at Harbor +Point." + +"I never heard of Miss Constance Sherrill. To send what things?" + +"Several things--among them a watch which had belonged to Captain +Stafford of the _Miwaka_." + +Old Burr got up suddenly and stood gazing down at Alan. "A watch of +Captain Stafford's?--no," he said agitatedly. "No!" + +He moved away and left the place; and Alan sprang up and followed him. + +He was not, it seemed probable to Alan now, the James Burr of Corvet's +list; at least Alan could not see how he could be that one. Among the +names of the crew of the _Miwaka_ Alan had found that of a Frank Burr, +and his inquiries had informed him that this man was a nephew of the +James Burr who had lived near Port Corbay and had "disappeared" with +all his family. Old Burr had not lived at Port Corbay--at least, he +claimed not to have lived there; he gave another address and assigned +to himself quite different connections. For every member of the crew +of the _Miwaka_ there had been a corresponding, but different name upon +Corvet's list--the name of a close relative. If old Burr was not +related to the Burr on Corvet's list, what connection could he have +with the _Miwaka_, and why should Alan's questions have agitated him +so? Alan would not lose sight of old Burr until he had learned the +reason for that. + +He followed, as the old man crossed the bridge and turned to his left +among the buildings on the river front. Burr's figure, vague in the +dusk, crossed the railroad yards and made its way to where a huge black +bulk, which Alan recognized as the ferry, loomed at the waterside. He +disappeared aboard it. Alan, following him, gazed about. + +A long, broad, black boat the ferry was, almost four hundred feet to +the tall, bluff bow. Seen from the stem, the ship seemed only an +unusually rugged and powerful steam freighter; viewed from the beam, +the vessel appeared slightly short for its freeboard; only when +observed from the stern did its distinguishing peculiarity become +plain; for a few feet only above the water line, the stern was all cut +away, and the long, low cavern of the deck gleamed with rails upon +which the electric lights glinted. Save for the supports of the +superstructure and where the funnels and ventilator pipes passed up +from below, that whole strata of the ship was a vast car shed; its +tracks, running to the edge of the stern, touched tracks on the dock. +A freight engine was backing loaded cars from a train of sixteen cars +upon the rails on the starboard side; another train of sixteen big box +cars waited to go aboard on the tracks to the port of the center +stanchions. When the two trains were aboard, the great vessel--"No. +25," in big white stencil upon her black sides were her distinguishing +marks--would thrust out into the ice and gale for the Michigan shore +nearly eighty miles away. + +Alan thrilled a little at his inspection of the ferry. He had not seen +close at hand before one of these great craft which, throughout the +winter, brave ice and storm after all--or nearly all--other lake boats +are tied up. He had not meant to apply there when he questioned old +Burr about a berth on the ferry; he had used that merely as a means of +getting into conversation with the old man. But now he meant to apply; +for it would enable him to find out more about old Burr. + +He went forward between the tracks upon the deck to the companionway, +and ascended and found the skipper and presented his credentials. No +berth on the ferry was vacant yet but one soon would be, and Alan was +accepted in lieu of the man who was about to leave; his wages would not +begin until the other man left, but in the meantime he could remain +aboard the ferry if he wished. Alan elected to remain aboard. The +skipper called a man to assign quarters to Alan, and Alan, going with +the man, questioned him about Burr. + +All that was known definitely about old Burr on the ferry, it appeared, +was that he had joined the vessel in the early spring. Before +that--they did not know; he might be an old lakeman who, after spending +years ashore, had returned to the lakes for a livelihood. He had +represented himself as experienced and trained upon the lakes, and he +had been able to demonstrate his fitness; in spite of his age he was +one of the most capable of the crew. + +The next morning, Alan approached old Burr in the crew's quarters and +tried to draw him into conversation again about himself; but Burr only +stared at him with his intent and oddly introspective eyes and would +not talk upon this subject. A week passed; Alan, established as a +lookout now on No. 25 and carrying on his duties, saw Burr daily and +almost every hour; his watch coincided with Burr's watch at the +wheel--they went on duty and were relieved together. Yet better +acquaintance did not make the old man more communicative; a score of +times Alan attempted to get him to tell more about himself, but he +evaded Alan's questions and, if Alan persisted, he avoided him. Then, +on an evening bitter cold with the coming of winter, clear and filled +with stars, Alan, just relieved from watch, stood by the pilothouse as +Burr also was relieved. The old man paused beside him, looking to the +west. + +"Have you ever been in Sturgeon's Bay?" he asked. + +"In Wisconsin? No." + +"There is a small house there--and a child; born," he seemed figuring +the date, "Feb. 12, 1914." + +"A relative of yours?" + +"Yes." + +"One of your brothers' children or grandchildren?" + +"I had no brothers," old Burr said quietly. + +Alan stared at him, amazed. "But you told me about your brothers and +about their being lost in wrecks on the lake; and about your home in +Emmet County!" + +"I never lived in Emmet County," old Burr replied. "Some one else must +have told you that about me. I come from Canada--of French-Canadian +descent. My family were of the Hudson Bay people. I was a guide and +hunter until recently. Only a few years ago I came onto the lakes, but +my cousin came here before I did. It is his child." + +Old Burr moved away and Alan turned to the mate. + +"What do you make of old Burr?" he asked. + +"He's a romancer. We get 'em that way once in a while--old liars! +He'll give you twenty different accounts of himself--twenty different +lives. None of them is true. I don't know who he is or where he came +from, but it's sure he isn't any of the things he says he is." + +Alan turned away, chill with disappointment. It was only that, +then--old Burr was a romancer after the manner of some old seamen. He +constructed for his own amusement these "lives." He was not only not +the Burr of Corvet's list; he was some one not any way connected with +the _Miwaka_ or with Corvet. Yet Alan, upon reflection, could not +believe that it was only this. Burr, if he had wished to do that, +might perhaps merely have simulated agitation when Alan questioned him +about the _Miwaka_; but why should he have wished to simulate it? Alan +could conceive of no condition which by any possibility could have +suggested such simulation to the old man. + +He ceased now, however, to question Burr since questioning either had +no result at all or led the old man to weaving fictions; in response +the old man became by degrees more communicative. He told Alan, at +different times, a number of other "lives" which he claimed as his own. +In only a few of these lives had he been, by his account, a seaman; he +had been a multitude of other things--in some a farmer, in others a +lumberjack or a fisherman; he had been born, he told, in a half-dozen +different places and came of as many different sorts of people. + +On deck, one night, listening while old Burr related his sixth or +seventh life, excitement suddenly seized Alan. Burr, in this life +which he was telling, claimed to be an Englishman born in Liverpool. +He had been, he said, a seaman in the British navy; he had been present +at the shelling of Alexandria; later, because of some difficulty which +he glossed over, he had deserted and had come to "the States"; he had +been first a deckhand then the mate of a tramp schooner on the lakes. +Alan, gazing at the old man, felt exultation leaping and throbbing +within him. He recognized this "life"; he knew in advance its +incidents. This life which old Burr was rehearsing to him as his own, +was the actual life of Munro Burkhalter, one of the men on Corvet's +list regarding whom Alan had been able to obtain full information! + +Alan sped below, when he was relieved from watch, and got out the +clippings left by Corvet and the notes of what he himself had learned +in his visits to the homes of these people. His excitement grew +greater as he pored over them; he found that he could account, with +their aid, for all that old Burr had told him. Old Burr's "lives" were +not, of course, his; yet neither were they fictions. They--their +incidents, at least--were actualities. They were woven from the lives +of those upon Corvet's list! Alan felt his skin prickling and the +blood beating fast in his temples. How could Burr have known these +incidents? Who could he be to know them all? To what man, but one, +could all of them be known? Was old Burr ... Benjamin Corvet? + +Alan could give no certain answer to that question. He could not find +any definite resemblance in Burr's placid face to the picture of Corvet +which Constance had shown him. Yet, as regarded his age and his +physical characteristics, there was nothing to make his identity with +Benjamin Corvet impossible. Sherrill or others who had known Benjamin +Corvet well, might be able to find resemblances which Alan could not. +And, whether Burr was or was not Corvet, he was undeniably some one to +whom the particulars of Corvet's life were known. + +Alan telegraphed that day to Sherrill; but when the message had gone +doubt seized him. He awaited eagerly the coming of whoever Sherrill +might send and the revelations regarding Corvet which might come then; +but at the same time he shrunk from that revelation. He himself had +become, he knew, wholly of the lakes now; his life, whatever his future +might be, would be concerned with them. Yet he was not of them in the +way he would have wished to be; he was no more than a common seaman. + +Benjamin Corvet, when he went away, had tried to leave his place and +power among lakemen to Alan; Alan, refusing to accept what Corvet had +left until Corvet's reason should be known, had felt obliged also to +refuse friendship with the Sherrills. When revelation came, would it +make possible Alan's acceptance of the place Corvet had prepared for +him, or would it leave him where he was? Would it bring him nearer to +Constance Sherrill, or would it set him forever away from her? + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +A GHOST SHIP + +"Colder some to-night, Conrad." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Strait's freezing over, they say." + +"Pretty stiff ice outside here already, sir." + +The skipper glanced out and smiled confidently but without further +comment; yet he took occasion to go down and pass along the car deck +and observe the men who under direction of the mate were locking the +lugs under the car wheels, as the trains came on board. The wind, +which had risen with nightfall to a gale off the water, whipped snow +with it which swirled and back-eddied with the switching cars into the +great, gaping stern of the ferry. + +Officially, and to chief extent in actuality, navigation now had +"closed" for the winter. Further up the harbor, beyond Number 25, +glowed the white lanterns marking two vessels moored and "laid up" till +spring; another was still in the active process of "laying up." Marine +insurance, as regards all ordinary craft, had ceased; and the +Government at sunrise, five days before, had taken the warning lights +from the Straits of Mackinaw, from Ile-aux-Galets, from north Manitou, +and the Fox Islands; and the light at Beaver Island had but five nights +more to burn. + +Alan followed as the captain went below, and he went aft between the +car tracks, watching old Burr. Having no particular duty when the boat +was in dock, old Burr had gone toward the steamer "laying up," and now +was standing watching with absorption the work going on. There was a +tug a little farther along, with steam up and black smoke pouring from +its short funnel. Old Burr observed this boat too and moved up a +little nearer. Alan, following the wheelsman, came opposite the stern +of the freighter; the snow let through enough of the light from the +dock to show the name _Stoughton_. It was, Alan knew, a Corvet, +Sherrill, and Spearman ship. He moved closer to old Burr and watched +him more intently. + +"What's the matter?" he asked, as the old man halted and, looking down +at the tug, shook his head. + +"They're crossing," the wheelsman said aloud, but more to himself than +to Alan. "They're laying her up here," he jerked his head toward the +_Stoughton_. "Then they're crossing to Manitowoc on the tug." + +"What's the matter with that?" Alan cried. + +Burr drew up his shoulders and ducked his head down as a gust blew. It +was cold, very cold indeed in that wind, but the old man had on a +mackinaw and, out on the lake, Alan had seen him on deck coatless in +weather almost as cold as this. + +"It's a winter storm," Alan cried. "It's like it that way; but +to-day's the 15th, not the 5th of December!" + +"That's right," Burr agreed. "That's right." + +The reply was absent, as though Alan had stumbled upon what he was +thinking, and Burr had no thought yet to wonder at it. + +"And it's the _Stoughton_ they're laying up, not the--" he stopped and +stared at Burr to let him supply the word and, when the old man did +not, he repeated again--"not the--" + +"No," Burr agreed again, as though the name had been given. "No." + +"It was the _Martha Corvet_ you laid up, wasn't it?" Alan cried +quickly. "Tell me--that time on the 5th--it was the _Martha Corvet_?" + +Burr jerked away; Alan caught him again and, with physical strength, +detained him. "Wasn't it that?" he demanded. "Answer me; it was the +_Martha Corvet_?" + +The wheelsman struggled; he seemed suddenly terrified with the terror +which, instead of weakening, supplied infuriated strength. He threw +Alan off for an instant and started to flee back toward the ferry; and +now Alan let him go, only following a few steps to make sure that the +wheelsman returned to Number 25. + +Watching old Burr until he was aboard the ferry, Alan spun about and +went back to the _Stoughton_. + +Work of laying up the big steamer had been finished, and in the +snow-filled dusk her crew were coming ashore. Alan, boarding, went to +the captain's cabin, where he found the _Stoughton's_ master making +ready to leave the ship. The captain, a man of forty-five or fifty, +reminded Alan vaguely of one of the shipmasters who had been in +Spearman's office when Alan first went there in the spring. If he had +been there, he showed no recollection of Alan now, but good-humoredly +looked up for the stranger to state his business. + +"I'm from Number 25," Alan introduced himself. "This is a Corvet, +Sherrill, and Spearman ship. Do you know Mr. Corvet when you see him, +sir?" + +"Know Ben Corvet?" the captain repeated. The manner of the young man +from the car ferry told him it was not an idle question. "Yes; I know +Ben Corvet. I ain't seen him much in late years." + +"Will you come with me for a few minutes then, Captain?" Alan asked. +As the skipper stared at him and hesitated, Alan made explanation, "Mr. +Corvet has been missing for months. His friends have said he's been +away somewhere for his health; but the truth is, he's been missing. +There's a man I want you to look at, Captain--if you used to know Mr. +Corvet." + +"I've heard of that." The captain moved alertly now. "Where is he?" + +Alan led the master to the Ferry. Old Burr had left the car deck; they +found him on his way to the wheelhouse. + +The _Stoughton's_ skipper stared. "That the man?" he demanded. + +"Yes, sir. Remember to allow for his clothes and his not being shaved +and that something has happened." + +The _Stoughton's_ skipper followed to the wheelhouse and spoke to Burr. +Alan's blood beat fast as he watched this conversation. Once or twice +more the skipper seemed surprised; but it was plain that his first +interest in Burr quickly had vanished; when he left the wheelhouse, he +returned to Alan indulgently. "You thought that was Mr. Corvet?" he +asked, amused. + +"You don't think so?" Alan asked. + +"Ben Corvet like that? Did you ever see Ben Corvet?" + +"Only his picture," Alan confessed. "But you looked queer when you +first saw Burr." + +"That was a trick of his eyes. Say, they did give me a start. Ben +Corvet had just that sort of trick of looking through a man." + +"And his eyes were like that?" + +"Sure. But Ben Corvet couldn't be like that!" + +Alan prepared to go on duty. He would not let himself be disappointed +by the skipper's failure to identify old Burr; the skipper had known +immediately at sight of the old man that he was the one whom Alan +thought was Corvet, and he had found a definite resemblance. It might +well have been only the impossibility of believing that Corvet could +have become like this which had prevented fuller recognition. Mr. +Sherrill, undoubtedly, would send some one more familiar with Benjamin +Corvet and who might make proper allowances. + +Alan went forward to his post as a blast from the steam whistle of the +switching engine, announcing that the cars all were on board, was +answered by a warning blast from the ferry. On the car decks the +trains had been secured in place; and, because of the roughness of the +weather, the wheels had been locked upon the tracks with additional +chains as well as with the blocks and chains usually used. Orders now +sounded from the bridge; the steel deck began to shake with the +reverberations of the engines; the mooring lines were taken in; the +rails upon the fantail of the ferry separated from the rails upon the +wharf, and clear water showed between. Alan took up his slow pace as +lookout from rail to rail across the bow, straining his eyes forward +into the thickness of the snow-filled night. + +Because of the severe cold, the watches had been shortened. Alan would +be relieved from time to time to warm himself, and then he would return +to duty again. Old Burr at the wheel would be relieved and would go on +duty at the same hours as Alan himself. Benjamin Corvet! The fancy +reiterated itself to him. Could he be mistaken? Was that man, whose +eyes turned alternately from the compass to the bow of the ferry as it +shifted and rose and fell, the same who had sat in that lonely chair +turned toward the fireplace in the house on Astor Street? Were those +hands, which held the steamer to her course, the hands which had +written to Alan in secret from the little room off his bedroom and +which pasted so carefully the newspaper clippings concealed in the +library? + +Regularly at the end of every minute, a blast from the steam whistle +reverberated; for a while, signals from the shore answered; for a few +minutes the shore lights glowed through the snow. Then the lights were +gone, and the eddies of the gale ceased to bring echoes of the +obscuration signals. Steadily, at short, sixty-second intervals, the +blast of Number 25's warning burst from the whistle; then that too +stopped. The great ferry was on the lake alone; in her course, Number +25 was cutting across the lanes of all ordinary lake travel; but now, +with ordinary navigation closed, the position of every other ship upon +the lake was known to the officers, and formal signals were not thought +necessary. Flat floes, driven by wind and wave, had windrowed in their +course; as Number 25, which was capable of maintaining two thirds its +open water speed when running through solid "green" ice two feet thick, +met this obstruction, its undercut bow rose slightly; the ice, crushed +down and to the sides, hurled, pounding and scraping, under the keel +and along the black, steel sides of the ship; Alan could hear the hull +resounding to the buffeting as it hurled the floes away, and more came, +or the wind threw them back. The water was washing high--higher than +Alan had experienced seas before. The wind, smashing almost straight +across the lake from the west, with only a gust or two from the north, +was throwing up the water in great rushing ridges on which the bow of +Number 25 rose jerkily up and up, suddenly to fall, as the support +passed on, so that the next wave washed nearly to the rail. + +Alan faced the wind with mackinaw buttoned about his throat; to make +certain his hearing, his ears were unprotected. They numbed +frequently, and he drew a hand out of the glove to rub them. The +windows to protect the wheelsman had been dropped, as the snow had +gathered on the glass; and at intervals, as he glanced back, he could +see old Burr's face as he switched on a dim light to look at the +compass. The strange placidity which usually characterized the old +man's face had not returned to it since Alan had spoken with him on the +dock; its look was intent and queerly drawn. Was old Burr beginning to +remember--remember that he was Benjamin Corvet? Alan did not believe +it could be that; again and again he had spoken Corvet's name to him +without effect. Yet there must have been times when, if he was +actually Corvet, he had remembered who he was. He must have remembered +that when he had written directions to some one to send those things to +Constance Sherrill; or, a strange thought had come to Alan, had he +written those instructions to himself? Had there been a moment when he +had been so much himself that he had realized that he might not be +himself again and so had written the order which later, mechanically, +he had obeyed? This certainly would account for the package having +been mailed at Manitowoc and for Alan's failure to find out by whom it +had been mailed. It would account too for the unknown handwriting upon +the wrapper, if some one on the ferry had addressed the package for the +old man. He must inquire whether any one among the crew had done that. + +What could have brought back that moment of recollection to Corvet, +Alan wondered; the finding of the things which he had sent? What might +bring another such moment? Would his seeing the Sherrills again--or +Spearman--act to restore him? + +For half an hour Alan paced steadily at the bow. The storm was +increasing noticeably in fierceness; the wind-driven snowflakes had +changed to hard pellets which, like little bullets, cut and stung the +face; and it was growing colder. From a cabin window came the blue +flash of the wireless, which had been silent after notifying the shore +stations of their departure. It had commenced again; this was unusual. +Something still more unusual followed at once; the direction of the +gale seemed slowly to shift, and with it the wash of the water; instead +of the wind and the waves coming from dead ahead now, they moved to the +port beam, and Number 25, still pitching with the thrust through the +seas, also began to roll. This meant, of course, that the steamer had +changed its course and was making almost due north. It seemed to Alan +to force its engines faster; the deck vibrated more. Alan had not +heard the orders for this change and could only speculate as to what it +might mean. + +His relief came after a few minutes more. + +"Where are we heading?" Alan asked. + +"Radio," the relief announced. "The _H. C. Richardson_ calling; she's +up by the Manitous." + +"What sort of trouble?" + +"She's not in trouble; it's another ship." + +"What ship?" + +"No word as to that." + +Alan, not delaying to question further, went back to the cabins. + +These stretched aft, behind the bridge, along the upper deck, some +score on each side of the ship; they had accommodations for almost a +hundred passengers; but on this crossing only a few were occupied. +Alan had noticed some half dozen men--business men, no doubt, forced to +make the crossing and, one of them, a Catholic priest, returning +probably to some mission in the north; he had seen no women among them. +A little group of passengers were gathered now in the door of or just +outside the wireless cabin, which was one of the row on the starboard +side. Stewards stood with them and the cabin maid; within, and bending +over the table with the radio instrument, was the operator with the +second officer beside him. The violet spark was rasping, and the +operator, his receivers strapped over his ears, strained to listen. He +got no reply, evidently, and he struck his key again; now, as he +listened, he wrote slowly on a pad. + +"You got 'em?" some one cried. "You got 'em now?" + +The operator continued to write; the second mate, reading, shook his +head, "It's only the _Richardson_ again." + +"What is it?" Alan asked the officer. + +"The _Richardson_ heard four blasts of a steam whistle about an hour +ago when she was opposite the Manitous. She answered with the whistle +and turned toward the blasts. She couldn't find any ship." The +officer's reply was interrupted by some of the others. "Then ... that +was a few minutes ago ... they heard the four long again.... They'd +tried to pick up the other ship with radio before.... Yes; we got that +here.... Tried again and got no answer.... But they heard the blasts +for half an hour.... They said they seemed to be almost beside the +ship once.... But they didn't see anything. Then the blasts stopped +... sudden, cut off short in the middle as though something +happened.... She was blowing distress all right.... The +_Richardson's_ searching again now.... Yes, she's searching for boats." + +"Any one else answered?" Alan asked. + +"Shore stations on both sides." + +"Do they know what ship it is?" + +"No." + +"What ship might be there now?" + +The officer could not answer that. He had known where the _Richardson_ +must be; he knew of no other likely to be there at this season. The +spray from the waves had frozen upon Alan; ice gleamed and glinted from +the rail and from the deck. Alan's shoulders drew up in a spasm. The +_Richardson_, they said, was looking for boats; how long could men live +in little boats exposed to that gale and cold? + +He turned back to the others about the radio cabin; the glow from +within showed him faces as gray as his; it lighted a face on the +opposite side of the door--a face haggard with dreadful fright. Old +Burr jerked about as Alan spoke to him and moved away alone; Alan +followed him and seized his arm. + +"What's the matter?" Alan demanded, holding to him. + +"The four blasts!" the wheelsman repeated. "They heard the four +blasts!" He iterated it once more. + +"Yes," Alan urged. "Why not?" + +"But where no ship ought to be; so they couldn't find the ship--they +couldn't find the ship!" Terror, of awful abjectness, came over the +old man. He freed himself from Alan and went forward. + +Alan followed him to the quarters of the crew, where night lunch for +the men relieved from watch had been set out, and took a seat at the +table opposite him. The louder echoing of the steel hull and the roll +and pitching of the vessel, which set the table with its dishes +swaying, showed that the sea was still increasing, and also that they +were now meeting heavier ice. At the table men computed that Number 25 +had now made some twenty miles north off its course, and must therefore +be approaching the neighborhood where the distress signals had been +heard; they speculated uselessly as to what ship could have been in +that part of the lake and made the signals. Old Burr took no part in +this conversation, but listened to it with frightened eyes, and +presently got up and went away, leaving his coffee unfinished. + +Number 25 was blowing its steam whistle again at the end of every +minute. + +Alan, after taking a second cup of coffee, went aft to the car deck. +The roar and echoing tumult of the ice against the hull here drowned +all other sounds. The thirty-two freight cars, in their four long +lines, stood wedged and chained and blocked in place; they tipped and +tilted, rolled and swayed like the stanchions and sides of the ship, +fixed and secure. Jacks on the steel deck under the edges of the cars, +kept them from rocking on their trucks. Men paced watchfully between +the tracks, observing the movement of the cars. The cars creaked and +groaned, as they worked a little this way and that; the men sprang with +sledges and drove the blocks tight again or took an additional turn +upon the jacks. + +As Alan ascended and went forward to his duty, the increase in the +severity of the gale was very evident; the thermometer, the wheelsman +said, had dropped below zero. Ice was making rapidly on the hull of +the ferry, where the spray, flying thicker through the snow, was +freezing as it struck. The deck was all ice now underfoot, and the +rails were swollen to great gleaming slabs which joined and grew +together; a parapet of ice had appeared on the bow; and all about the +swirling snow screen shut off everything. A searchlight which had +flared from the bridge while Alan was below, pierced that screen not a +ship's length ahead, or on the beam, before the glare dimmed to a glow +which served to show no more than the fine, flying pellets of the +storm. Except for the noise of the wind and the water, there had been +no echo from beyond that screen since the shore signals were lost; now +a low, far-away sound came down the wind; it maintained itself for a +few seconds, ceased, and then came again, and continued at uneven +intervals longer than the timed blasts of Number 25's whistle. It +might be the horn of some struggling sailing vessel, which in spite of +the storm and the closed season was braving the seas; at the end of +each interval of silence, the horn blew twice now; the echo came abeam, +passed astern, and was no longer to be heard. How far away its origin +had been, Alan could only guess; probably the sailing vessel, away to +windward, had not heard the whistle of Number 25 at all. + +Alan saw old Burr who, on his way to the wheelhouse, had halted to +listen too. For several minutes the old man stood motionless; he came +on again and stopped to listen. There had been no sound for quite five +minutes now. + +"You hear 'em?" Burr's voice quavered in Alan's ear. "You hear 'em?" + +"What?" Alan asked. + +"The four blasts! You hear 'em now? The four blasts!" + +Burr was straining as he listened, and Alan stood still too; no sound +came to him but the noise of the storm. "No," he replied. "I don't +hear anything. Do you hear them now?" + +Burr stood beside him without making reply; the searchlight, which had +been pointed abeam, shot its glare forward, and Alan could see Burr's +face in the dancing reflection of the flare. The man had never more +plainly resembled the picture of Benjamin Corvet; that which had been +in the picture, that strange sensation of something haunting him, was +upon this man's face, a thousand times intensified; but instead of +distorting the features away from all likeness to the picture, it made +it grotesquely identical. + +And Burr was hearing something--something distinct and terrifying; but +he seemed not surprised, but rather satisfied that Alan had not heard. +He nodded his head at Alan's denial, and, without reply to Alan's +demand, he stood listening. Something bent him forward; he +straightened; again the something came; again he straightened. Four +times Alan counted the motions. Burr was hearing again the four long +blasts of distress! But there was no noise but the gale. "The four +blasts!" He recalled old Burr's terror outside the radio cabin. The +old man was hearing blasts which were not blown! + +He moved on and took the wheel. He was a good wheelsman; the vessel +seemed to be steadier on her course and, somehow, to steam easier when +the old man steered. His illusions of hearing could do no harm, Alan +considered; they were of concern only to Burr and to him. + +Alan, relieving the lookout at the bow, stood on watch again. The +ferry thrust on alone; in the wireless cabin the flame played steadily. +They had been able to get the shore stations again on both sides of the +lake and also the _Richardson_. As the ferry had worked northward, the +_Richardson_ had been working north too, evidently under the impression +that the vessel in distress, if it had headway, was moving in that +direction. By its position, which the _Richardson_ gave, the steamers +were about twenty miles apart. + +Alan fought to keep his thought all to his duty; they must be now very +nearly at the position where the _Richardson_ last had heard the four +long blasts; searching for a ship or for boats, in that snow, was +almost hopeless. With sight even along the searchlight's beam +shortened to a few hundred yards, only accident could bring Number 25 +up for rescue, only chance could carry the ship where the shouts--or +the blasts of distress if the wreck still floated and had steam--would +be heard. + +Half numbed by the cold, Alan stamped and beat his arms about his body; +the swing of the searchlight in the circle about the ship had become +long ago monotonous, purely mechanical, like the blowing of the +whistle; Alan stared patiently along the beam as it turned through the +sector where he watched. They were meeting frequent and heavy floes, +and Alan gave warning of these by hails to the bridge; the bridge +answered and when possible the steamer avoided the floes; when it could +not do that, it cut through them. The windrowed ice beating and +crushing under the bows took strange, distorted, glistening shapes. +Now another such shape appeared before them; where the glare dissipated +to a bare glow in the swirling snow, he saw a vague shadow. The man +moving the searchlight failed to see it, for he swung the beam on. The +shadow was so dim, so ghostly, that Alan sought for it again before he +hailed; he could see nothing now, yet he was surer, somehow, that he +had seen. + +"Something dead ahead, sir!" he shouted back to the bridge. + +The bridge answered the hail as the searchlight pointed forward again. +A gust carried the snow in a fierce flurry which the light failed to +pierce; from the flurry suddenly, silently, spar by spar, a shadow +emerged--the shadow of a ship. It was a steamer, Alan saw, a long, +low-lying old vessel without lights and without smoke from the funnel +slanting up just forward of the after deckhouse; it rolled in the +trough of the sea. The sides and all the lower works gleamed in +ghostly phosphorescence, it was refraction of the searchlight beam from +the ice sheathing all the ship, Alan's brain told him; but the sight of +that soundless, shimmering ship materializing from behind the screen of +snow struck a tremor through him. + +"Ship!" he hailed. "Ahead! Dead ahead, sir! Ship!" + +The shout of quick commands echoed to him from the bridge. Underfoot +he could feel a new tumult of the deck; the engines, instantly stopped, +were being set full speed astern. But Number 25, instead of sheering +off to right or to left to avoid the collision, steered straight on. + +The struggle of the engines against the momentum of the ferry told that +others had seen the gleaming ship or, at least, had heard the hail. +The skipper's instant decision had been to put to starboard; he had +bawled that to the wheelsman, "Hard over!" But, though the screws +turned full astern, Number 25 steered straight on. The flurry was +blowing before the bow again; back through the snow the ice-shrouded +shimmer ahead retreated. Alan leaped away and up to the wheelhouse. + +Men were struggling there--the skipper, a mate, and old Burr, who had +held the wheel. He clung to it yet, as one in a trance, fixed, staring +ahead; his arms, stiff, had been holding Number 25 to her course. The +skipper struck him and beat him away, while the mate tugged at the +wheel. Burr was torn from the wheel now, and he made no resistance to +the skipper's blows; but the skipper, in his frenzy, struck him again +and knocked him to the deck. + +Slowly, steadily, Number 25 was responding to her helm. The bow +pointed away, and the beam of the ferry came beside the beam of the +silent steamer; they were very close now, so close that the +searchlight, which had turned to keep on the other vessel, shot above +its shimmering deck and lighted only the spars; and, as the water rose +and fell between them, the ships sucked closer. Number 25 shook with +an effort; it seemed opposing with all the power of its screws some +force fatally drawing it on--opposing with the last resistance before +giving way. Then, as the water fell again, the ferry seemed to slip +and be drawn toward the other vessel; they mounted, side by side ... +crashed ... recoiled ... crashed again. That second crash threw all +who had nothing to hold by, flat upon the deck; then Number 25 moved +by; astern her now the silent steamer vanished in the snow. + +Gongs boomed below; through the new confusion and the cries of men, +orders began to become audible. Alan, scrambling to his knees, put an +arm under old Burr, half raising him; the form encircled by his arm +struggled up. The skipper, who had knocked Burr away from the wheel, +ignored him now. The old man, dragging himself up and holding to Alan, +was staring with terror at the snow screen behind which the vessel had +disappeared. His lips moved. + +"It was a ship!" he said; he seemed sneaking more to himself than to +Alan. + +"Yes"; Alan said. "It was a ship; and you thought--" + +"It wasn't there!" the wheelsman cried. "It's--it's been there all the +time all night, and I'd--I'd steered through it ten times, twenty +times, every few minutes; and then--that time it was a ship!" + +Alan's excitement grew greater; he seized the old man again. "You +thought it was the _Miwaka_!" Alan exclaimed. "The _Miwaka_! And you +tried to steer through it again." + +"The _Miwaka_!" old Burr's lips reiterated the word. "Yes; yes--the +_Miwaka_!" + +He struggled, writhing with some agony not physical. Alan tried to +hold him, but now the old man was beside himself with dismay. He broke +away and started aft. The captain's voice recalled Alan to himself, as +he was about to follow, and he turned back to the wheelhouse. + +The mate was at the wheel. He shouted to the captain about following +the other ship; neither of them had seen sign of any one aboard it. +"Derelict!" the skipper thought. The mate was swinging Number 25 about +to follow and look at the ship again; and the searchlight beam swept +back and forth through the snow; the blasts of the steam whistle, which +had ceased after the collision, burst out again. As before, no +response came from behind the snow. The searchlight picked up the +silent ship again; it had settled down deeper now by the bow, Alan saw; +the blow from Number 25 had robbed it of its last buoyancy; it was +sinking. It dove down, then rose a little--sounds came from it +now--sudden, explosive sounds; air pressure within hurled up a hatch; +the tops of the cabins blew off, and the stem of the ship slipped down +deep again, stopped, then dove without halt or recovery this time, and +the stern, upraised with the screw motionless, met the high wash of a +wave, and went down with it and disappeared. + +No man had shown himself; no shout had been heard; no little boat was +seen or signalled. + +The second officer, who had gone below to ascertain the damage done to +the ferry, came up to report. Two of the compartments, those which had +taken the crush of the collision, had flooded instantly; the bulkheads +were holding--only leaking a little, the officer declared. Water was +coming into a third compartment, that at the stern; the pumps were +fighting this water. The shock had sprung seams elsewhere; but if the +after compartment did not fill, the pumps might handle the rest. + +Soddenness already was coming into the response of Number 25 to the +lift of the waves; the ferry rolled less to the right as she came +about, beam to the waves, and she dropped away more dully and deeply to +the left; the ship was listing to port and the lift of the ice-heaped +bow told of settling by the stern. Slowly Number 25 circled about, her +engines holding bare headway; the radio, Alan heard, was sending to the +_Richardson_ and to the shore stations word of the finding and sinking +of the ship and of the damage done to Number 25; whether that damage +yet was described in the dispatches as disaster, Alan did not know. +The steam whistle, which continued to roar, maintained the single, +separated blasts of a ship still seaworthy and able to steer and even +to give assistance. Alan was at the bow again on lookout duty, ordered +to listen and to look for the little boats. + +He gave to that duty all his conscious attention; but through his +thought, whether he willed it or not, ran a riotous exultation. As he +paced from side to side and hailed and answered hails from the bridge, +and while he strained for sight and hearing through the gale-swept +snow, the leaping pulse within repeated, "I've found him! I've found +him!" Alan held no longer possibility of doubt of old Burr's identity +with Benjamin Corvet, since the old man had made plain to him that he +was haunted by the _Miwaka_. Since that night in the house on Astor +Street, when Spearman shouted to Alan that name, everything having to +do with the secret of Benjamin Corvet's life had led, so far as Alan +could follow it, to the _Miwaka_; all the change, which Sherrill +described but could not account for, Alan had laid to that. Corvet +only could have been so haunted by that ghostly ship, and there had +been guilt of some awful sort in the old man's cry. Alan had found the +man who had sent him away to Kansas when he was a child, who had +supported him there and then, at last, sent for him; who had +disappeared at his coming and left him all his possessions and his +heritage of disgrace, who had paid blackmail to Luke, and who had sent, +last, Captain Stafford's watch and the ring which came with it--the +wedding ring. + +Alan pulled his hand from his glove and felt in his pocket for the +little band of gold. What would that mean to him now; what of that was +he to learn? And, as he thought of that, Constance Sherrill came more +insistently before him. What was he to learn for her, for his friend +and Benjamin Corvet's friend, whom he, Uncle Benny, had warned not to +care for Henry Spearman, and then had gone away to leave her to marry +him? For she was to marry him, Alan had read. + +It was with this that cold terror suddenly closed over him. Would he +learn anything now from Benjamin Corvet, though he had found him? Only +for an instant--a fleeting instant--had Benjamin Corvet's brain become +clear as to the cause of his hallucination; consternation had +overwhelmed him then, and he struggled free to attempt to mend the +damage he had done. + +More serious damage than first reported! The pumps certainly must be +losing their fight with the water in the port compartment aft; for the +bow steadily was lifting, the stern sinking. The starboard rail too +was raised, and the list had become so sharp that water washed the deck +abaft the forecastle to port. And the ferry was pointed straight into +the gale now; long ago she had ceased to circle and steam slowly in +search for boats; she struggled with all her power against the wind and +the seas, a desperate insistence throbbing in the thrusts of the +engines; for Number 25 was fleeing--fleeing for the western shore. She +dared not turn to the nearer eastern shore to expose that shattered +stern to the seas. + +Four bells beat behind Alan; it was two o'clock. Relief should have +come long before; but no one came. He was numbed now; ice from the +spray crackled upon his clothing when he moved, and it fell in flakes +upon the deck. The stark figure on the bridge was that of the second +officer; so the thing which was happening below--the thing which was +sending strange, violent, wanton tremors through the ship--was serious +enough to call the skipper below, to make him abandon the bridge at +this time! The tremors, quite distinct from the steady tremble of the +engines and the thudding of the pumps, came again. Alan, feeling them, +jerked up and stamped and beat his arms to regain sensation. Some one +stumbled toward him from the cabins now, a short figure in a great +coat. It was a woman, he saw as she hailed him--the cabin maid. + +"I'm taking your place!" she shouted to Alan. "You're wanted--every +one's wanted on the car deck! The cars--" The gale and her fright +stopped her voice as she struggled for speech, "The cars--the cars are +loose!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +"HE KILLED YOUR FATHER" + +Alan ran aft along the starboard side, catching at the rail as the deck +tilted; the sounds within the hull and the tremors following each sound +came to him more distinctly as he advanced. Taking the shortest way to +the car deck, he turned into the cabins to reach the passengers' +companionway. The noises from the car deck, no longer muffled by the +cabins, clanged and resounded in terrible tumult; with the clang and +rumble of metal, rose shouts and roars of men. + +To liberate and throw overboard heavily loaded cars from an endangered +ship was so desperate an undertaking and so certain to cost life that +men attempted it only in final extremities, when the ship must be +lightened at any cost. Alan had never seen the effect of such an +attempt, but he had heard of it as the fear which sat always on the +hearts of the men who navigate the ferries--the cars loose on a +rolling, lurching ship! He was going to that now. Two figures +appeared before him, one half supporting, half dragging the other. +Alan sprang and offered aid; but the injured man called to him to go +on; others needed him. Alan went past them and down the steps to the +car deck. Half-way down, the priest whom he had noticed among the +passengers stood staring aft, a tense, black figure; beside him other +passengers were clinging to the handrail and staring down in awestruck +fascination. The lowest steps had been crushed back and half up-torn; +some monstrous, inanimate thing was battering about below; but the +space at the foot of the steps was clear at that moment. Alan leaped +over the ruin of the steps and down upon the car deck. + +A giant iron casting six feet high and yards across and tons in weight, +tumbled and ground before him; it was this which had swept away the +steps; he had seen it, with two others like it, upon a flat car which +had been shunted upon one of the tracks on the starboard side of the +ferry, one of the tracks on his left now as he faced the stern. He +leaped upon and over the great casting, which turned and spun with the +motion of the ship as he vaulted it. The car deck was a pitching, +swaying slope; the cars nearest him were still upon their tracks, but +they tilted and swayed uglily from side to side; the jacks were gone +from under them; the next cars already were hurled from the rails, +their wheels screaming on the steel deck, clanging and thudding +together in their couplings. + +Alan ran aft between them. All the crew who could be called from deck +and engine room and firehold were struggling at the fantail, under the +direction of the captain, to throw off the cars. The mate was working +as one of the men, and with him was Benjamin Corvet. The crew already +must have loosened and thrown over the stern three cars from the two +tracks on the port side; for there was a space vacant; and as the train +charged into that space and the men threw themselves upon it, Alan +leaped with them. + +The leading car--a box car, heavily laden--swayed and shrieked with the +pitching of the ship. Corvet sprang between it and the car coupled +behind; he drew out the pin from the coupling, and the men with +pinch-bars attacked the car to isolate it and force it aft along the +track. It moved slowly at first; then leaped its length; sharply with +the lift of the deck, it stopped, toppled toward the men who, yelling +to one another, scrambled away. The hundred-ton mass swung from side +to side; the ship dropped swiftly to starboard, and the stern went +down; the car charged, and its aftermost wheels left the deck; it swung +about, slewed, and jammed across both port tracks. The men attacked it +with dismay; Corvet's shout called them away and rallied them farther +back; they ran with him to the car from which he had uncoupled it. + +It was a flat car laden with steel beams. At Corvet's command, the +crew ranged themselves beside it with bars. The bow of the ferry rose +to some great wave and, with a cry to the men, Corvet pulled the pin. +The others thrust with their bars, and the car slid down the sloping +track; and Corvet, caught by some lashing of the beams, came with it. +The car crashed into the box car, splintered it, turned it, shoved it, +and thrust it over the fantail into the water; the flat car, telescoped +into it, was dragged after. Alan leaped upon it and catching at +Corvet, freed him and flung him down to the deck, and dropped with him. +A cheer rose as the car cleared the fantail, dove, and disappeared. + +Alan clambered to his feet. Corvet already was back among the cars +again, shouting orders; the mate and the men who had followed him +before leaped at his yells. The lurch which had cleared the two cars +together had jumped others away from the rails. They hurtled from side +to side, splintering against the stanchions which stayed them from +crashing across the center line of the ship; rebounding, they battered +against the cars on the outer tracks and crushed them against the side +of the ship. The wedges, blocks, and chains which had secured them +banged about on the deck, useless; the men who tried to control these +cars, dodging as they charged, no longer made attempt to secure the +wheels. Corvet called them to throw ropes and chains to bind the loads +which were letting go; the heavier loads--steel beams, castings, +machinery--snapped their lashings, tipped from their flat cars and +thundered down the deck. The cars tipped farther, turned over; others +balanced back; it was upon their wheels that they charged forward, half +riding one another, crashing and demolishing, as the ferry pitched; it +was upon their trucks that they tottered and battered from side to side +as the deck swayed. Now the stern again descended; a line of cars +swept for the fantail. Corvet's cry came to Alan through the screaming +of steel and the clangor of destruction. Corvet's cry sent men with +bars beside the cars as the fantail dipped into the water; Corvet, +again leading his crew, cleared the leader of those madly charging cars +and ran it over the stern. + +The fore trucks fell and, before the rear trucks reached the edge, the +stern lifted and caught the car in the middle; it balanced, half over +the water, half over the deck. Corvet crouched under the car with a +crowbar; Alan and two others went with him; they worked the car on +until the weight of the end over the water tipped it down; the balance +broke, and the car tumbled and dived. Corvet, having cleared another +hundred tons, leaped back, calling to the crew. + +They followed him again, unquestioning, obedient. Alan followed close +to him. It was not pity which stirred him now for Benjamin Corvet; nor +was it bitterness; but it certainly was not contempt. Of all the ways +in which he had fancied finding Benjamin Corvet, he had never thought +of seeing him like this! + +It was, probably, only for a flash; but the great quality of leadership +which he once had possessed, which Sherrill had described to Alan and +which had been destroyed by the threat over him, had returned to him in +this desperate emergency which he had created. How much or how little +of his own condition Corvet understood, Alan could not tell; it was +plain only that he comprehended that he had been the cause of the +catastrophe, and in his fierce will to repair it he not only +disregarded all risk to himself; he also had summoned up from within +him and was spending the last strength of his spirit. But he was +spending it in a losing fight. + +He got off two more cars; yet the deck only dipped lower, and water +washed farther and farther up over the fantail. New avalanches of iron +descended as box cars above burst open; monstrous dynamo drums, +broad-banded steel wheels and splintered crates of machinery battered +about. Men, leaping from before the charging cars, got caught in the +murderous melee of iron and steel and wheels; men's shrill cries came +amid the scream of metal. Alan, tugging at a crate which had struck +down a man, felt aid beside him and, turning, he saw the priest whom he +had passed on the stairs. The priest was bruised and bloody; this was +not his first effort to aid. Together they lifted an end of the crate; +they bent--Alan stepped back, and the priest knelt alone, his lips +repeating the prayer for absolution. Screams of men came from behind; +and the priest rose and turned. He saw men caught between two wrecks +of cars crushing together; there was no moment to reach them; he stood +and raised his arms to them, his head thrown back, his voice calling to +them, as they died, the words of absolution. + +Three more cars at the cost of two more lives the crew cleared, while +the sheathing of ice spread over the steel inboard, and dissolution of +all the cargo became complete. Cut stone and motor parts, chasses and +castings, furniture and beams, swept back and forth, while the cars, +burst and splintered, became monstrous missiles hurtling forward, +sidewise, aslant, recoiling. Yet men, though scattered singly, tried +to stay them by ropes and chains while the water washed higher and +higher. Dimly, far away, deafened out by the clangor, the steam +whistle of Number 25 was blowing the four long blasts of distress; Alan +heard the sound now and then with indifferent wonder. All destruction +had come for him to be contained within this car deck; here the ship +loosed on itself all elements of annihilation; who could aid it from +without? Alan caught the end of a chain which Corvet flung him and, +though he knew it was useless, he carried it across from one stanchion +to the next. Something, sweeping across the deck, caught him and +carried him with it; it brought him before the coupled line of trucks +which hurtled back and forth where the rails of track three had been. +He was hurled before them and rolled over; something cold and heavy +pinned him down; and upon him, the car trucks came. + +But, before them, something warm and living--a hand and bare arm +catching him quickly and pulling at him, tugged him a little farther +on. Alan, looking up, saw Corvet beside him; Corvet, unable to move +him farther, was crouching down there with him. Alan yelled to him to +leap, to twist aside and get out of the way; but Corvet only crouched +closer and put his arms over Alan; then the wreckage came upon them, +driving them apart. As the movement stopped, Alan still could see +Corvet dimly by the glow of the incandescent lamps overhead; the truck +separated them. It bore down upon Alan, holding him motionless and, on +the other side, it crushed upon Corvet's legs. + +He turned over, as far as he could, and spoke to Alan. "You have been +saving me, so now I tried to save you," he said simply. "What reason +did you have for doing that? Why have you been keeping by me?" + +"I'm Alan Conrad of Blue Rapids, Kansas," Alan cried to him. "And +you're Benjamin Corvet! You know me; you sent for me! Why did you do +that?" + +Corvet made no reply to this. Alan, peering at him underneath the +truck, could see that his hands were pressed against his face and that +his body shook. Whether this was from some new physical pain from the +movement of the wreckage, Alan did not know till he lowered his hands +after a moment; and now he did not heed Alan or seem even to be aware +of him. + +"Dear little Connie!" he said aloud. "Dear little Connie! She mustn't +marry him--not him! That must be seen to. What shall I do, what shall +I do?" + +Alan worked nearer him. "Why mustn't she marry him?" he cried to +Corvet. "Why? Ben Corvet, tell me! Tell me why!" + +From above him, through the clangor of the cars, came the four blasts +of the steam whistle. The indifference with which Alan had heard them +a few minutes before had changed now to a twinge of terror. When men +had been dying about him, in their attempts to save the ship, it had +seemed a small thing for him to be crushed or to drown with them and +with Benjamin Corvet, whom he had found at last. But Constance! +Recollection of her was stirring in Corvet the torture of will to live; +in Alan--he struggled and tried to free himself. As well as he could +tell by feeling, the weight above him confined but was not crushing +him; yet what gain for her if he only saved himself and not Corvet too? +He turned back to Corvet. + +"She's going to marry him, Ben Corvet!" he called. "They're betrothed; +and they're going to be married, she and Henry Spearman!" + +"Who are you?" Corvet seemed only with an effort to become conscious +of Alan's presence. + +"I'm Alan Conrad, whom you used to take care of. I'm from Blue Rapids. +You know about me; are you my father, Ben Corvet? Are you my father or +what--what are you to me?" + +"Your father?" Corvet repeated. "Did he tell you that? He killed your +father." + +"Killed him? Killed him how?" + +"Of course. He killed them all--all. But your father--he shot him; he +shot him through the head!" + +Alan twinged. Sight of Spearman came before him as he had first seen +Spearman, cowering in Corvet's library in terror at an apparition. +"And the bullet hole above the eye!" So that was the hole made by the +shot Spearman fired which had killed Alan's father--which shot him +through the head! Alan peered at Corvet and called to him. + +"Father Benitot!" Corvet called in response, not directly in reply to +Alan's question, rather in response to what those questions stirred. +"Father Benitot!" he appealed. "Father Benitot!" + +Some one, drawn by the cry, was moving wreckage near them. A hand and +arm with a torn sleeve showed; Alan could not see the rest of the +figure, but by the sleeve he recognized that it was the mate. + +"Who's caught here?" he called down. + +"Benjamin Corvet of Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman, ship owners of +Chicago," Corvet's voice replied deeply, fully; there was authority in +it and wonder too--the wonder of a man finding himself in a situation +which his recollection cannot explain. + +"Ben Corvet!" the mate shouted in surprise; he cried it to the others, +those who had followed Corvet and obeyed him during the hour before and +had not known why. The mate tried to pull the wreckage aside and make +his way to Corvet; but the old man stopped him. "The priest, Father +Benitot! Send him to me. I shall never leave here; send Father +Benitot!" + +The word was passed without the mate moving away. The mate, after a +minute, made no further attempt to free Corvet; that indeed was +useless, and Corvet demanded his right of sacrament from the priest who +came and crouched under the wreckage beside him. + +"Father Benitot!" + +"I am not Father Benitot. I am Father Perron of L'Anse." + +"It was to Father Benitot of St. Ignace I should have gone, Father! ..." + +The priest got a little closer as Corvet spoke, and Alan heard only +voices now and then through the sounds of clanging metal and the drum +of ice against the hull. The mate and his helpers were working to get +him free. They had abandoned all effort to save the ship; it was +settling. And with the settling, the movement of the wreckage +imprisoning Alan was increasing. This movement made useless the +efforts of the mate; it would free Alan of itself in a moment, if it +did not kill him; it would free or finish Corvet too. But he, as Alan +saw him, was wholly oblivious of that now. His lips moved quietly, +firmly; and his eyes were fixed steadily on the eyes of the priest. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +MR. SPEARMAN GOES NORTH + +The message, in blurred lettering and upon the flimsy tissue paper of a +carbon copy--that message which had brought tension to the offices of +Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman and had called Constance Sherrill and +her mother downtown where further information could be more quickly +obtained--was handed to Constance by a clerk as soon as she entered her +father's office. She reread it; it already had been repeated to her +over the telephone. + +"4:05 A. M. Frankfort Wireless station has received following message +from No. 25: 'We have Benjamin Corvet, of Chicago, aboard.'" + +"You've received nothing later than this?" she asked. + +"Nothing regarding Mr. Corvet, Miss Sherrill," the clerk replied. + +"Or regarding-- Have you obtained a passenger list?" + +"No passenger list was kept, Miss Sherrill." + +"The crew?" + +"Yes; we have just got the names of the crew." He took another copied +sheet from among the pages and handed it to her, and she looked swiftly +down the list of names until she found that of Alan Conrad. + +Her eyes filled, blinding her, as she put the paper down, and began to +take off her things. She had been clinging determinedly in her thought +to the belief that Alan might not have been aboard the ferry. Alan's +message, which had sent her father north to meet the ship, had implied +plainly that some one whom Alan believed might be Uncle Benny was on +Number 25; she had been fighting, these last few hours, against +conviction that therefore Alan must be on the ferry too. + +She stood by the desk, as the clerk went out, looking through the +papers which he had left with her. + +"What do they say?" her mother asked. + +Constance caught herself together. + +"Wireless signals from No. 25," she read aloud, "were plainly made out +at shore stations at Ludington, Manitowoc, and Frankfort until about +four o'clock, when--" + +"That is, until about six hours ago, Constance." + +"Yes, mother, when the signals were interrupted. The steamer +_Richardson_, in response to whose signals No. 25 made the change in +her course which led to disaster, was in communication until about four +o'clock; Frankfort station picked up one message shortly after four, +and same message was also recorded by Carferry Manitoulin in southern +end of lake; subsequently all efforts to call No. 25 failed of response +until 4:35 when a message was picked up at once by Manitowoc, +Frankfort, and the _Richardson_. Information, therefore, regarding the +fate of the ferry up to that hour received at this office (Corvet, +Sherrill, and Spearman) consists of the following..." + +Constance stopped reading aloud and looked rapidly down the sheet and +then over the next. What she was reading was the carbon of the report +prepared that morning and sent, at his rooms, to Henry, who was not yet +down. It did not contain therefore the last that was known; and she +read only enough of it to be sure of that. + +"After 4:10, to repeated signals to Number 25 from _Richardson_ and +shore stations--'Are you in danger?' 'Shall we send help?' 'Are you +jettisoning cars?' 'What is your position?'--no replies were received. +The _Richardson_ continued therefore to signal, 'Report your position +and course; we will stand by,' at the same time making full speed +toward last position given by Number 25. At 4:35, no other message +having been obtained from Number 25 in the meantime, Manitowoc and +Frankfort both picked up the following: 'S.O.S. Are taking water fast. +S.O.S. Position probably twenty miles west N. Fox. S.O.S.' The +S.O.S. has been repeated, but without further information since." + +The report made to Henry ended here. Constance picked up the later +messages received in response to orders to transmit to Corvet, +Sherrill, and Spearman copies of all signals concerning Number 25 which +had been received or sent. She sorted out from them those dated after +the hour she just had read: + +"4:40, Manitowoc is calling No. 25, 'No. 26 is putting north to you. +Keep in touch.' + +"4:43, No. 26 is calling No. 25, 'What is your position?' + +"4:50, the _Richardson_ is calling No. 25, 'We must be approaching you. +Are you giving whistle signals?' + +"4:53, No. 25 is replying to _Richardson_, 'Yes; will continue to +signal. Do you hear us?' + +"4:59, Frankfort is calling No. 25, 'What is your condition?' + +"5:04, No. 25 is replying to Frankfort, 'Holding bare headway; stern +very low.' + +"5:10, No. 26 is calling No. 25, 'Are you throwing off cars?' + +"5:14, Petoskey is calling Manitowoc, 'We are receiving S.O.S. What is +wrong?' Petoskey has not previously been in communication with shore +stations or ships. + +"5:17, No. 25 is signalling No. 26, 'Are throwing off cars; have +cleared eight; work very difficult. We are sinking.' + +"5:20, No. 25 is calling the _Richardson_, 'Watch for small boats. +Position doubtful because of snow and changes of course; probably due +west N. Fox, twenty to thirty miles.' + +"5:24, No. 26 is calling No. 25, 'Are you abandoning ship?' + +"5:27, No. 25 is replying to No. 26, 'Second boat just getting safely +away with passengers; first boat was smashed. Six passengers in second +boat, two injured of crew, cabin maid, boy and two men.' + +"5:30, Manitowoc and Frankfort are calling No. 25, 'Are you abandoning +ship?' + +"5:34, No. 25 is replying to Manitowoc, 'Still trying to clear cars; +everything is loose below...' + +"5:40, Frankfort is calling Manitowoc, 'Do you get anything now?' + +"5:45, Manitowoc is calling the _Richardson_, 'Do you get anything? +Signals have stopped here.' + +"5:48, The _Richardson_ is calling Petoskey, 'We get nothing now. Do +you?' + +"6:30, Petoskey is calling Manitowoc, 'Signals after becoming +indistinct, failed entirely about 5:45, probably by failure of ship's +power to supply current. Operator appears to have remained at key. +From 5:25 to 5:43 we received disconnected messages, as follows: 'Have +cleared another car ... they are sticking to it down there ... +engine-room crew is also sticking ... hell on car deck ... everything +smashed ... they won't give up ... sinking now ... we're going ... +good-by ... stuck to end ... all they could ... know that ... hand it +to them ... have cleared another car ... sink ... S.O.... Signals then +entirely ceased.'" + +There was no more than this. Constance let the papers fall back upon +the desk and looked to her mother; Mrs. Sherrill loosened her fur +collar and sat back, breathing more comfortably. Constance quickly +shifted her gaze and, trembling and with head erect, she walked to the +window and looked out. The meaning of what she had read was quite +clear; her mother was formulating it. + +"So they are both lost, Mr. Corvet and his--son," Mrs. Sherrill said +quietly. + +Constance did not reply, either to refuse or to concur in the +conclusion. There was not anything which was meant to be merciless in +that conclusion; her mother simply was crediting what probably had +occurred. Constance could not in reason refuse to accept it too; yet +she was refusing it. She had not realized, until these reports of the +wireless messages told her that he was gone, what companionship with +Alan had come to mean to her. She had accepted it as always to be +existent, somehow--a companionship which might be interrupted often but +always to be formed again. It amazed her to find how firm a place he +had found in her world of those close to her with whom she must always +be intimately concerned. + +Her mother arose and came beside her. "May it not be better, +Constance, that it has happened this way?" + +"Better!" Constance cried. She controlled herself. + +It was only what Henry had said to her months ago when Alan had left +her in the north in the search which had resulted in the finding of +Uncle Benny--"Might it not be better for him not to find out?" Henry, +who could hazard more accurately than any one else the nature of that +strange secret which Alan now must have "found out," had believed it; +her mother, who at least had lived longer in the world than she, also +believed it. There came before Constance the vision of Alan's defiance +and refusal to accept the stigma suggested in her father's recital to +him of his relationship to Mr. Corvet. There came to her sight of him +as he had tried to keep her from entering Uncle Benny's house when Luke +was there, and then her waiting with him through the long hour and his +dismissal of her, his abnegation of their friendship. And at that time +his disgrace was indefinite; last night had he learned something worse +than he had dreaded? + +The words of his telegram took for her more terrible significance for +the moment. "Have some one who knew Mr. Corvet well enough to +recognize him even if greatly changed meet..." Were the broken, +incoherent words of the wireless the last that she should hear of him, +and of Uncle Benny, after that? "They are sticking to it ... down +there ... they won't give up ... sinking ... they have cleared another +car ... sink..." Had it come as the best way for them both? + +"The _Richardson_ is searching for boats, mother," Constance returned +steadily, "and Number 26 must be there too by now." + +Her mother looked to the storm. Outside the window which overlooked +the lake from two hundred feet above the street, the sleet-like snow +was driving ceaselessly; all over the western basin of the great lakes, +as Constance knew--over Huron, over Michigan, and Superior--the storm +was established. Its continuance and severity had claimed a front-page +column in the morning papers. Duluth that morning had reported +temperature of eighteen below zero and fierce snow; at Marquette it was +fifteen below; there was driving snow at the Soo, at Mackinac, and at +all ports along both shores. She pictured little boats, at the last +moment, getting away from the ferry, deep-laden with injured and +exhausted men; how long might those men live in open boats in a gale +and with cold like that? The little clock upon her father's desk +marked ten o'clock; they had been nearly five hours in the boats now, +those men. + +Constance knew that as soon as anything new was heard, it would be +brought to her; yet, with a word to her mother, she went from her +father's room and down the corridor into the general office. A hush of +expectancy held this larger room; the clerks moved silently and spoke +to one another in low voices; she recognized in a little group of men +gathered in a corner of the room some officers of Corvet, Sherrill, and +Spearman's ships. Others among them, whom she did not know, were +plainly seamen too--men who knew "Ben" Corvet and who, on hearing he +was on the ferry, had come in to learn what more was known; the +business men and clubmen, friends of Corvet's later life, had not heard +it yet. There was a restrained, professional attentiveness among these +seamen, as of those in the presence of an event which any day might +happen to themselves. They were listening to the clerk who had +compiled the report, who was telephoning now, and Constance, waiting, +listened too to learn what he might be hearing. But he put down the +receiver as he saw her. + +"Nothing more, Miss Sherrill," he reported. "The _Richardson_ has +wirelessed that she reached the reported position of the sinking about +half-past six o'clock. She is searching but has found nothing." + +"She's keeping on searching, though?" + +"Yes; of course." + +"It's still snowing there?" + +"Yes, Miss Sherrill. We've had a message from your father. He has +gone on to Manistique; it's more likely that wreckage or survivors will +be brought in there." + +The telephone switchboard beside Constance suddenly buzzed, and the +operator, plugging in a connection, said: "Yes, sir; at once," and +through the partitions of the private office on the other side, a man's +heavy tones came to Constance. That was Henry's office and, in timbre, +the voice was his, but it was so strange in other characteristics of +expression that she waited an instant before saying to the clerk, + +"Mr. Spearman has come in?" + +The clerk hesitated, but the continuance of the tone from the other +side of the partition made reply superfluous. "Yes, Miss Sherrill." + +"Did you tell him that mother and I were here?" + +The clerk considered again before deciding to reply in the affirmative. +There evidently was some trouble with the telephone number which Henry +had called; the girl at the switchboard was apologizing in frightened +panic, and Henry's voice, loud and abusive, came more plainly through +the partition. Constance started to give an instruction to the clerk; +then, as the abuse burst out again, she changed her plan and went to +Henry's door and rapped. Whether no one else rapped in that way or +whether he realized that she might have come into the general office, +she did not know; but at once his voice was still. He made no answer +and no move to open the door; so, after waiting a moment, she turned +the knob and went in. + +Henry was seated at his desk, facing her, his big hands before him; one +of them held the telephone receiver. He lifted it slowly and put it +upon the hook beside the transmitter as he watched her with steady, +silent, aggressive scrutiny. His face was flushed a little--not much; +his hair was carefully brushed, and there was something about his +clean-shaven appearance and the set of his perfectly fitting coat, one +which he did not ordinarily wear to business, which seemed studied. He +did not rise; only after a moment he recollected that he had not done +so and came to his feet. "Good morning, Connie," he said. "Come in. +What's the news?" + +There was something strained and almost menacing in his voice and in +his manner which halted her. She in some way--or her presence at that +moment--appeared to be definitely disturbing him. It frightened him, +she would have thought, except that the idea was a contradiction. +Henry frightened? But if he was not, what emotion now controlled him? + +The impulse which had brought her into his office went from her. She +had not seen nor heard from Henry directly since before Alan's telegram +had come late yesterday afternoon; she had heard from her father only +that he had informed Henry; that was all. + +"I've no news, Henry," she said. "Have you?" She closed the door +behind her before moving closer to him. She had not known what he had +been doing, since he had heard of Alan's telegram; but she had supposed +that he was in some way coöperating with her father, particularly since +word had come of the disaster to the ferry. + +"How did you happen to be here, Connie?" he asked. + +She made no reply but gazed at him, studying him. The agitation which +he was trying to conceal was not entirely consequent to her coming in +upon him; it had been ruling him before. It had underlain the loudness +and abuse of his words which she had overheard. That was no capricious +outburst of temper or irritation; it had come from something which had +seized and held him in suspense, in dread--in dread; there was no other +way to define her impression to herself. When she had opened the door +and come in, he had looked up in dread, as though preparing himself for +whatever she might announce. Now that the door shut them in alone, he +approached her with arms offered. She stepped back, instinctively +avoiding his embrace; and he stopped at once, but he had come quite +close to her now. + +That she had detected faintly the smell of liquor + +about him was not the whole reason for her drawing back. He was not +drunk; he was quite himself so far as any influence of that kind was +concerned. Long ago, when he was a young man on the boats, he had +drunk a good deal; he had confessed to her once; but he had not done so +for years. Since she had known him, he had been among the most careful +of her friends; it was for "efficiency" he had said. The drink was +simply a part--indeed, only a small part--of the subtle strangeness and +peculiarity she marked in him. If he had been drinking now, it was, +she knew, no temptation, no capricious return to an old appetite. If +not appetite, then it was for the effect--to brace himself. Against +what? Against the thing for which he had prepared himself when she +came upon him? + +As she stared at him, the clerk's voice came to her suddenly over the +partition which separated the office from the larger room where the +clerk was receiving some message over the telephone. Henry +straightened, listened; as the voice stopped, his great, finely shaped +head sank between his shoulders; he fumbled in his pocket for a cigar, +and his big hands shook as he lighted it, without word of excuse to +her. A strange feeling came to her that he felt what he dreaded +approaching and was no longer conscious of her presence. + +She heard footsteps in the larger room coming toward the office door. +Henry was in suspense. A rap came at the door. He whitened and took +the cigar from his mouth and wet his lips. + +"Come in," he summoned. + +One of the office girls entered, bringing a white page of paper with +three or four lines of purple typewriting upon it which Constance +recognized must be a transcript of a message just received. + +She started forward at sight of it, forgetting everything else; but he +took the paper as though he did not know she was there. He merely held +it until the girl had gone out; even then he stood folding and +unfolding it, and his eyes did not drop to the sheet. + +The girl had said nothing at all but, having seen her, Constance was +athrill; the girl had not been a bearer of bad news, that was sure; she +brought some sort of good news! Constance, certain of it, moved nearer +to Henry to read what he held. He looked down and read. + +"What is it, Henry?" + +His muscular reaction, as he read, had drawn the sheet away from her; +he recovered himself almost instantly and gave the paper to her; but, +in that instant, Constance herself was "prepared." She must have +deceived herself the instant before! This bulletin must be something +dismaying to what had remained of hope. + +"8:35 A.M., Manitowoc, Wis.," she read. "The schooner _Anna S. +Solwerk_ has been sighted making for this port. She is not close +enough for communication, but two lifeboats, additional to her own, can +be plainly made out. It is believed that she must have picked up +survivors of No. 25. She carries no wireless, so is unable to report. +Tugs are going out to her." + +"Two lifeboats!" Constance cried. "That could mean that they all are +saved or nearly all; doesn't it, Henry; doesn't it?" + +He had read some other significance in it, she thought, or, from his +greater understanding of conditions in the storm, he had been able to +hold no hope from what had been reported. That was the only way she +could explain to herself as he replied to her; that the word meant to +him that men were saved and that therefore it was dismaying to him, +could not come to her at once. When it came now, it went over her +first only in the flash of incredulous question. + +"Yes," he said to her. "Yes." And he went out of the room to the +outer office. She turned and watched him and then followed to the +door. He had gone to the desk of the girl who had brought him the +bulletin, and Constance heard his voice, strained and queerly +unnatural. "Call Manitowoc on the long distance. Get the harbor +master. Get the names of the people that the _Solwerk_ picked up." + +He stayed beside the girl while she started the call. "Put them on my +wire when you get them," he commanded and turned back to his office. +"Keep my wire clear for that." + +Constance retreated into the room as he approached. He did not want +her there now, she knew; for that reason--if she yet definitely +understood no other--she meant to remain. If he asked her to go, she +intended to stay; but he did not ask her. He wished her to go away; in +every word which he spoke to her, in every moment of their silent +waiting, was his desire to escape her; but he dared not--dared not--go +about that directly. + +The feeling of that flashed over her to her stupefaction. Henry and +she were waiting for word of the fate of Uncle Benny and Alan, and +waiting opposed! She was no longer doubting it as she watched him; she +was trying to understand. The telephone buzzer under his desk sounded; +she drew close as he took up his receiver. + +"Manitowoc?" he said. "I want to know what you've heard from the +_Solwerk_.... You hear me? ... The men the _Solwerk_ picked up. You +have the names yet?" + +"..." + +"The _Benton_?" + +"..." + +"Oh, I understand! All from the _Benton_. I see! ... No; never mind +their names. How about Number 25? Nothing more heard from them?" + +Constance had caught his shoulder while he was speaking and now clung +to it. Release--release of strain was going through him; she could +feel it, and she heard it in his tones and saw it in his eyes. + +"The steamer Number 25 rammed proves to have been the _Benton_," he +told her. "The men are all from her. They had abandoned her in the +small boats, and the _Solwerk_ picked them up before the ferry found +her." + +He was not asking her to congratulate him upon the relief he felt; he +had not so far forgotten himself as that. But it was plain to her that +he was congratulating himself; it had been fear that he was feeling +before--fear, she was beginning to understand, that those on the ferry +had been saved. She shrank a little away from him. Benjamin Corvet +had not been a friend of Henry's--they had quarreled; Uncle Benny had +caused trouble; but nothing which she had understood could explain fear +on Henry's part lest Uncle Benny should be found safe. Henry had not +welcomed Alan; but now Henry was hoping that Alan was dead. Henry's +words to her in the north, after Alan had seen her there, iterated +themselves to her: "I told that fellow Conrad not to keep stirring up +these matters about Ben Corvet.... Conrad doesn't know what he'll turn +up; I don't know either. But it's not going to be anything +pleasant...." Only a few minutes ago she had still thought of these +words as spoken only for Alan's sake and for Uncle Benny's; now she +could not think of them so. This fear of news from the north could not +be for their sake; it was for Henry's own. Had all the warnings been +for Henry's sake too? + +Horror and amazement flowed in upon her with her realization of this in +the man she had promised to marry; and he seemed now to appreciate the +effect he was producing upon her. He tried obviously to pull himself +together; he could not do that fully; yet he managed a manner assertive +of his right over her. + +"Connie," he cried to her, "Connie!" + +She drew back from him as he approached her; she was not yet +consciously denying his right. What was controlling him, what might +underlie his hope that they were dead, she could not guess; she could +not think or reason about that now; what she felt was only overwhelming +desire to be away from him where she could think connectedly. For an +instant she stared at him, all her body tense; then, as she turned and +went out, he followed her, again calling her name. But, seeing the +seamen in the larger office, he stopped, and she understood he was not +willing to urge himself upon her in their presence. + +She crossed the office swiftly; in the corridor she stopped to compose +herself before she met her mother. She heard Henry's voice speaking to +one of the clerks, and flushed hotly with horror. Could she be certain +of anything about him now? Could she be certain even that news which +came through these employees of his would not be kept from her or only +so much given her as would serve Henry's purpose and enable him to +conceal from her the reason for his fear? She pushed the door open. + +"I'm willing to go home now, mother, if you wish," she said steadily. + +Her mother arose at once. "There is no more news, Constance?" + +"No; a schooner has picked up the crew of the ship the ferry rammed; +that is all." + +She followed her mother, but stopped in the ante-room beside the desk +of her father's private secretary. + +"You are going to be here all day, Miss Bennet?" she asked. + +"Yes, Miss Sherrill." + +"Will you please try to see personally all messages which come to +Corvet, Sherrill and Spearman, or to Mr. Spearman about the men from +Number 25, and telephone them to me yourself?" + +"Certainly, Miss Sherrill." + +When they had gone down to the street and were in the car, Constance +leaned back, closing her eyes; she feared her mother might wish to talk +with her. The afternoon papers were already out with news of the loss +of the ferry; Mrs. Sherrill stopped the car and bought one, but +Constance looked at it only enough to make sure that the reporters had +been able to discover nothing more than she already knew; the newspaper +reference to Henry was only as to the partner of the great Chicago ship +owner, Benjamin Corvet, who might be lost with the ship. + +She called Miss Bennet as soon as she reached home; but nothing more +had been received. Toward three o'clock, Miss Bennet called her, but +only to report that the office had heard again from Mr. Sherrill. He +had wired that he was going on from Manistique and would cross the +Straits from St. Ignace; messages from him were to be addressed to +Petoskey. He had given no suggestion that he had news; and there was +no other report except that vessels were still continuing the search +for survivors, because the Indian Drum, which had been beating, was +beating "short," causing the superstitious to be certain that, though +some of the men from Number 25 were lost, some yet survived. + +Constance thrilled as she heard that. She did not believe in the Drum; +at least she had never thought she had really believed in it; she had +only stirred to the idea of its being true. But if the Drum was +beating, she was glad it was beating short. It was serving, at least, +to keep the lake men more alert. She wondered what part the report of +the Drum might have played in her father's movements. None, probably; +for he, of course, did not believe in the Drum. His move was plainly +dictated by the fact that, with the western gale, drift from the ferry +would be toward the eastern shore. + +A little later, as Constance stood at the window, gazing out at the +snow upon the lake, she drew back suddenly out of sight from the +street, as she saw Henry's roadster appear out of the storm and stop +before the house. + +She had been apprehensively certain that he would come to her some time +during the day; he had been too fully aware of the effect he made upon +her not to attempt to remove that effect as soon as he could. As he +got out of the car, shaking the snowflakes from his great fur coat and +from his cap, looking up at the house before he came in and not knowing +that he was observed, she saw something very like triumph in his +manner. Her pulses stopped, then raced, at that; triumph for him! +That meant, if he brought news, it was good news for him; it must be +then, bad news for her. + +She waited in the room where she was. She heard him in the hall, +taking off his coat and speaking to the servant, and he appeared then +at the door. The strain he was under had not lessened, she could see; +or rather, if she could trust her feeling at sight of him, it had +lessened only slightly, and at the same time his power to resist it had +been lessening too. His hands and even his body shook; but his head +was thrust forward, and he stared at her aggressively, and, plainly, he +had determined in advance to act toward her as though their +relationship had not been disturbed. + +"I thought you'd want to know, Connie," he said, "so I came straight +out. The _Richardson's_ picked up one of the boats from the ferry." + +"Uncle Benny and Alan Conrad were not in it," she returned; the triumph +she had seen in him had told her that. + +"No; it was the first boat put off by the ferry, with the passengers +and cabin maid and some injured men of the crew." + +"Were they--alive?" her voice hushed tensely. + +"Yes; that is, they were able to revive them all; but it didn't seem +possible to the _Richardson's_ officers that any one could be revived +who had been exposed much longer than that; so the _Richardson's_ given +up the search, and some of the other ships that were searching have +given up too, and gone on their course." + +"When did you hear that, Henry? I was just speaking with the office." + +"A few minutes ago; a news wire got it before any one else; it didn't +come through the office." + +"I see; how many were in the boat?" + +"Twelve, Connie." + +"Then all the vessels up there won't give up yet!" + +"Why not?" + +"I was just talking with Miss Bennet, Henry; she's heard again from the +other end of the lake. The people up there say the Drum is beating, +but it's beating short still!" + +"Short!" + +She saw Henry stiffen. "Yes," she said swiftly. "They say the Drum +began sounding last night, and that at first it sounded for only two +lives; it's kept on beating, but still is beating only for four. There +were thirty-nine on the ferry--seven passengers and thirty-two crew. +Twelve have been saved now; so until the Drum raises the beats to +twenty-seven there is still a chance that some one will be saved." + +Henry made no answer; his hands fumbled purposelessly with the lapels +of his coat, and his bloodshot eyes wandered uncertainly. Constance +watched him with wonder at the effect of what she had told. When she +had asked him once about the Drum, he had professed the same scepticism +which she had; but he had not held it; at least he was not holding it +now. The news of the Drum had shaken him from his triumph over Alan +and Uncle Benny and over her. It had shaken him so that, though he +remained with her some minutes more, he seemed to have forgotten the +purpose of reconciliation with her which had brought him to the house. +When a telephone call took her out of the room, she returned to find +him gone to the dining-room; she heard a decanter clink there against a +glass. He did not return to her again, but she heard him go. The +entrance door closed after him, and the sound of his starting motor +came. Then alarm, stronger even than that she had felt during the +morning, rushed upon her. + +She dined, or made a pretence of dining, with her mother at seven. Her +mother's voice went on and on about trifles, and Constance did not try +to pay attention. Her thought was following Henry with ever sharpening +apprehension. She called the office in mid-evening; it would be open, +she knew, for messages regarding Uncle Benny and Alan would be expected +there. A clerk answered; no other news had been received; she then +asked Henry's whereabouts. + +"Mr. Spearman went north late this afternoon, Miss Sherrill," the clerk +informed her. + +"North? Where?" + +"We are to communicate with him this evening to Grand Rapids; after +that, to Petoskey." + +Constance could hear her own heart beat. Why had Henry gone, she +wondered; not, certainly, to aid the search. Had he gone to--hinder it? + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE WATCH UPON THE BEACH + +Constance went up to her own rooms; she could hear her mother speaking, +in a room on the same floor, to one of the maids; but for her present +anxiety, her mother offered no help and could not even be consulted. +Nor could any message she might send to her father explain the +situation to him. She was throbbing with determination and action, as +she found her purse and counted the money in it. She never in her life +had gone alone upon an extended journey, much less been alone upon a +train over night. If she spoke of such a thing now, she would be +prevented; no occasion for it would be recognized; she would not be +allowed to go, even if "properly accompanied." She could not, +therefore, risk taking a handbag from the house; so she thrust +nightdress and toilet articles into her muff and the roomy pocket of +her fur coat. She descended to the side door of the house and, +unobserved, let herself out noiselessly on to the carriage drive. She +gained the street and turned westward at the first corner to a street +car which would take her to the railway station. + +There was a train to the north every evening; it was not, she knew, +such a train as ran in the resort season, and she was not certain of +the exact time of its departure; but she would be in time for it. The +manner of buying a railway ticket and of engaging a berth were unknown +to her--there had been servants always to do these things--but she +watched others and did as they did. On the train, the berths had been +made up; people were going to bed behind some of the curtains. She +procured a telegraph blank and wrote a message to her mother, telling +her that she had gone north to join her father. When the train had +started, she gave the message to the porter, directing him to send it +from the first large town at which they stopped. + +She left the light burning in its little niche at the head of the +berth; she had no expectation that she could sleep; shut in by the +green curtains, she drew the covers up about her and stared upward at +the paneled face of the berth overhead. Then new frightened distrust +of the man she had been about to marry flowed in upon her and became +all her thought. + +She had not promised Uncle Benny that she would not marry Henry; her +promise had been that she would not engage herself to that marriage +until she had seen Uncle Benny again. Uncle Benny's own act--his +disappearance---had prevented her from seeing him; for that reason she +had broken her promise; and, from its breaking, something terrifying, +threatening to herself had come. She had been amazed at what she had +seen in Henry; but she was appreciating now that, strangely, in her +thought of him there was no sense of loss to herself. Her feeling of +loss, of something gone from her which could not be replaced, was for +Alan. She had had admiration for Henry, pride in him; had she mistaken +what was merely admiration for love? She had been about to marry him; +had it been only his difference from the other men she knew that had +made her do that? Unconsciously to herself, had she been growing to +love Alan? + +Constance could not, as yet, place Henry's part in the strange +circumstances which had begun to reveal themselves with Alan's coming +to Chicago; but Henry's hope that Uncle Benny and Alan were dead was +beginning to make that clearer. She lay without voluntary movement in +her berth, but her bosom was shaking with the thoughts which came to +her. + +Twenty years before, some dreadful event had altered Uncle Benny's +life; his wife had known--or had learned--enough of that event so that +she had left him. It had seemed to Constance and her father, +therefore, that it must have been some intimate and private event. +They had been confirmed in believing this, when Uncle Benny, in madness +or in fear, had gone away, leaving everything he possessed to Alan +Conrad. But Alan's probable relationship to Uncle Benny had not been +explanation; she saw now that it had even been misleading. For a +purely private event in Uncle Benny's life--even terrible +scandal--could not make Henry fear, could not bring terror of +consequences to himself. That could be only if Henry was involved in +some peculiar and intimate way with what had happened to Uncle Benny. +If he feared Uncle Benny's being found alive and feared Alan's being +found alive too, now that Alan had discovered Uncle Benny, it was +because he dreaded explanation of his own connection with what had +taken place. + +Constance raised her window shade slightly and looked out. It was +still snowing; the train was running swiftly among low sand hills, +snow-covered, and only dimly visible through snow and dark. A +deep-toned, steady roar came to her above the noises of the train. The +lake! Out there, Alan and Uncle Benny were fighting, still struggling +perhaps, against bitter cold and ice and rushing water for their lives. +She must not think of that! + +Uncle Benny had withdrawn himself from men; he had ceased to be active +in his business and delegated it to others. This change had been +strangely advantageous to Henry. Henry had been hardly more than a +common seaman then. He had been a mate--the mate on one of Uncle +Benny's ships. Quite suddenly he had become Uncle Benny's partner. +Henry had explained this to her by saying that Uncle Benny had felt +madness coming on him and had selected him as the one to take charge. +But Uncle Benny had not trusted Henry; he had been suspicious of him; +he had quarreled with him. How strange, then, that Uncle Benny should +have advanced and given way to a man whom he could not trust! + +It was strange, too, that if--as Henry had said--their quarrels had +been about the business, Uncle Benny had allowed Henry to remain in +control. + +Their quarrels had culminated on the day that Uncle Benny went away. +Afterward Uncle Benny had come to her and warned her not to marry +Henry; then he had sent for Alan. There had been purpose in these acts +of Uncle Benny's; had they meant that Uncle Benny had been on the verge +of making explanation--that explanation which Henry feared--and that he +had been--prevented? Her father had thought this; at least, he had +thought that Uncle Benny must have left some explanation in his house. +He had told Alan that, and had given Alan the key to the house so that +he could find it. Alan had gone to the house-- + +In the house Alan had found some one who had mistaken him for a ghost, +a man who had cried out at sight of him something about a ship--about +the _Miwaka_, the ship of whose loss no one had known anything except +by the sounding of the Drum. What had the man been doing in the house? +Had he too been looking for the explanation--the explanation that Henry +feared? Alan had described the man to her; that description had not +had meaning for her before; but now remembering that description she +could think of Henry as the only one who could have been in that house! +Henry had fought with Alan there! Afterwards, when Alan had been +attacked upon the street, had Henry anything to do with that? + +Henry had lied to her about being in Duluth the night he had fought +with Alan; he had not told her the true cause of his quarrels with +Uncle Benny; he had wished her to believe that Uncle Benny was dead +when the wedding ring and watch came to her--the watch which had been +Captain Stafford's of the _Miwaka_! Henry had urged her to marry him +at once. Was that because he wished the security that her father--and +she--must give her husband when they learned the revelation which Alan +or Uncle Benny might bring? + +If so, then that revelation had to do with the _Miwaka_. It was of the +_Miwaka_ that Henry had cried out to Alan in the house; they were the +names of the next of kin of those on the _Miwaka_ that Uncle Benny had +kept. That was beginning to explain to her something of the effect on +Henry of the report that the Drum was telling that some on Ferry Number +25 were alive, and why he had hurried north because of that. The +Drum--so superstition had said--had beat the roll of those who died +with the _Miwaka_; had beaten for all but one! No one of those who +accepted the superstition had ever been able to explain that; but Henry +could! He knew something more about the _Miwaka_ than others knew. He +had encountered the _Miwaka_ somehow or encountered some one saved from +the _Miwaka_; he knew, then, that the Drum had beaten correctly for the +_Miwaka_, that one was spared as the Drum had told! Who had that one +been? Alan? And was he now among those for whom the Drum had not yet +beat? + +She recalled that, on the day when the _Miwaka_ was lost, Henry and +Uncle Benny had been upon the lake in a tug. Afterwards Uncle Benny +had grown rich; Henry had attained advancement and wealth. Her +reasoning had brought her to the verge of a terrible discovery. If she +could take one more step forward in her thought, it would make her +understand it all. But she could not yet take that step. + +In the morning, at Traverse City--where she got a cup of coffee and +some toast in the station eating house--she had to change to a day +coach. It had grown still more bitterly cold; the wind which swept the +long brick-paved platform of the station was arctic; and even through +the double windows of the day coach she could feel its chill. The +points of Grand Traverse Bay were frozen across; frozen across too was +Torch Lake; to north of that, ice, snow-covered, through which frozen +rushes protruded, marked the long chain of little lakes known as the +"Intermediates." The little towns and villages, and the rolling fields +with their leafless trees or blackened stumps, lay under drifts. It +had stopped snowing, however, and she found relief in that; searchers +upon the lake could see small boats now--if there were still small +boats to be seen. + +To the people in her Pullman, the destruction of the ferry had been +only a news item competing for interest with other news on the front +pages of their newspapers; but to these people in the day coach, it was +an intimate and absorbing thing. They spoke by name of the crew as of +persons whom they knew. A white lifeboat, one man told her, had been +seen south of Beaver Island; another said there had been two boats. +They had been far off from shore, but, according to the report cabled +from Beaver, there had appeared to be men in them; the men--her +informant's voice hushed slightly--had not been rowing. Constance +shuddered. She had heard of things like that on the quick-freezing +fresh water of the lakes--small boats adrift crowded with men sitting +upright in them, ice-coated, frozen, lifeless! + +Petoskey, with its great hotels closed and boarded up, and its curio +shops closed and locked, was blocked with snow. She went from the +train directly to the telegraph office. If Henry was in Petoskey, they +would know at that office where he could be found; he would be keeping +in touch with them. The operator in charge of the office knew her, and +his manner became still more deferential when she asked after Henry. + +Mr. Spearman, the man said, had been at the office early in the day; +there had been no messages for him; he had left instructions that any +which came were to be forwarded to him through the men who, under his +direction, were patroling the shore for twenty miles north of Little +Traverse, watching for boats. The operator added to the report she had +heard upon the train. One lifeboat and perhaps two had been seen by a +farmer who had been on the ice to the south of Beaver; the second boat +had been far to the south and west of the first one; tugs were cruising +there now; it had been many hours, however, after the farmer had seen +the boats before he had been able to get word to the town at the north +end of the island--St. James--so that the news could be cabled to the +mainland. Fishermen and seamen, therefore, regarded it as more likely, +from the direction and violence of the gale, that the boats, if they +continued to float, would be drifted upon the mainland than that they +would be found by the tugs. + +Constance asked after her father. Mr. Sherrill and Mr. Spearman, the +operator told her, had been in communication that morning; Mr. Sherrill +had not come to Petoskey; he had taken charge of the watch along the +shore at its north end. It was possible that the boats might drift in +there; but men of experience considered it more probable that the boats +would drift in farther south where Mr. Spearman was in charge. + +Constance crossed the frozen edges of the bay by sledge to Harbor +Point. The driver mentioned Henry with admiration and with pride in +his acquaintance with him; it brought vividly to her the recollection +that Henry's rise in life was a matter of personal congratulation to +these people as lending luster to the neighborhood and to themselves. +Henry's influence here was far greater than her own or her father's; if +she were to move against Henry or show him distrust, she must work +alone; she could enlist no aid from these. + +And her distrust now had deepened to terrible dread. She had not been +able before this to form any definite idea of how Henry could threaten +Alan and Uncle Benny; she had imagined only vague interference and +obstruction of the search for them; she had not foreseen that he could +so readily assume charge of the search and direct, or misdirect, it. + +At the Point she discharged the sledge and went on foot to the house of +the caretaker who had charge of the Sherrill cottage during the winter. +Getting the keys from him, she let herself into the house. The +electric light had been cut off, and the house was darkened by +shutters, but she found a lamp and lit it. Going to her room, she +unpacked a heavy sweater and woolen cap and short fur coat--winter +things which were left there against use when they opened the house +sometimes out of season--and put them on. Then she went down and found +her snowshoes. Stopping at the telephone, she called long distance and +asked them to locate Mr. Sherrill, if possible, and instruct him to +move south along the shore with whomever he had with him. She went out +then, and fastened on her snowshoes. + +It had grown late. The early December dusk--the second dusk since +little boats had put off from Number 25--darkened the snow-locked land. +The wind from the west cut like a knife, even through her fur coat. +The pine trees moaned and bent, with loud whistlings of the wind among +their needles; the leafless elms and maples crashed their limbs +together; above the clamor of all other sounds, the roaring of the lake +came to her, the booming of the waves against the ice, the shatter of +floe on floe. No snow had fallen for a few hours, and the sky was even +clearing; ragged clouds scurried before the wind and, opening, showed +the moon. + +Constance hurried westward and then north, following the bend of the +shore. The figure of a man--one of the shore patrols--pacing the ice +hummocks of the beach and staring out upon the lake, appeared vaguely +in the dusk when she had gone about two miles. He seemed surprised at +seeing a girl, but less surprised when he had recognized her. Mr. +Spearman, he told her, was to the north of them upon the beach +somewhere, he did not know how far; he could not leave his post to +accompany her, but he assured her that there were men stationed all +along the shore. She came, indeed, three quarters of a mile farther +on, to a second man; about an equal distance beyond, she found a third, +but passed him and went on. + +Her legs ached now with the unaccustomed travel upon snowshoes; the +cold, which had been only a piercing chill at first, was stopping +feeling, almost stopping thought. When clouds covered the moon, +complete darkness came; she could go forward only slowly then or must +stop and wait; but the intervals of moonlight were growing longer and +increasing in frequency. As the sky cleared, she went forward quickly +for many minutes at a time, straining her gaze westward over the +tumbling water and the floes. It came to her with terrifying +apprehension that she must have advanced at least three miles since she +had seen the last patrol; she could not have passed any one in the +moonlight without seeing him, and in the dark intervals she had +advanced so little that she could not have missed one that way either. + +She tried to go faster as she realized this; but now travel had become +more difficult. There was no longer any beach. High, precipitous +bluffs, which she recognized as marking Seven Mile Point, descended +here directly to the hummocked ice along the water's edge. She fell +many times, traveling upon these hummocks; there were strange, +treacherous places between the hummocks where, except for her +snowshoes, she would have broken through. Her skirt was torn; she lost +one of her gloves and could not stop to look for it; she fell again and +sharp ice cut her ungloved hand and blood froze upon her finger tips. +She did not heed any of these things. + +She was horrified to find that she was growing weak, and that her +senses were becoming confused. She mistook at times floating ice, +metallic under the moonlight, for boats; her heart beat fast then while +she scrambled part way up the bluff to gain better sight and so +ascertained her mistake. Deep ravines at places broke the shores; +following the bend of the bluffs, she got into these ravines and only +learned her error when she found that she was departing from the shore. +She had come, in all, perhaps eight miles; and she was "playing out"; +other girls, she assured herself--other girls would not have weakened +like this; they would have had strength to make certain no boats were +there, or at least to get help. She had seen no houses; those, she +knew, stood back from the shore, high upon the bluffs, and were not +easy to find; but she scaled the bluff now and looked about for lights. +The country was wild and wooded, and the moonlight showed only the +white stretches of the shrouding snow. + +She descended to the beach again and went on; her gaze continued to +search the lake, but now, wherever there was a break in the bluffs, she +looked toward the shore as well. At the third of these breaks, the +yellow glow of a window appeared, marking a house in a hollow between +snow-shrouded hills. She turned eagerly that way; she could go only +very slowly now. There was no path; at least, if there was, the snow +drifts hid it. Through the drifts a thicket projected; the pines on +the ravine sides overhead stood so close that only a silver tracery of +the moonlight came through; beyond the pines, birch trees, stripped of +their bark, stood black up to the white boughs. + +Constance climbed over leafless briars and through brush and came upon +a clearing perhaps fifty yards across, roughly crescent shaped, as it +followed the configuration of the hills. Dead cornstalks, above the +snow, showed ploughed ground; beyond that, a little, black cabin +huddled in the further point of the crescent, and Constance gasped with +disappointment as she saw it. She had expected a farmhouse; but this +plainly was not even that. The framework was of logs or poles which +had been partly boarded over; and above the boards and where they were +lacking, black building paper had been nailed, secured by big tin +discs. The rude, weather-beaten door was closed; smoke, however, came +from a pipe stuck through the roof. + +She struggled to the door and knocked upon it, and receiving no reply, +she beat upon it with both fists. + +"Who's here?" she cried. "Who's here?" + +The door opened then a very little, and the frightened face of an +Indian woman appeared in the crack. The woman evidently had +expected--and feared--some arrival, and was reassured when she saw only +a girl. She threw the door wider open, and bent to help unfasten +Constance's snowshoes; having done that, she led her in and closed the +door. + +Constance looked swiftly around the single room of the cabin. There +was a cot on one side; there was a table, home carpentered; there were +a couple of boxes for clothing or utensils. The stove, a good range +once in the house of a prosperous farmer, had been bricked up by its +present owners so as to hold fire. Dried onions and yellow ears of +corn hung from the rafters; on the shelves were little birchbark +canoes, woven baskets, and porcupine quill boxes of the ordinary sort +made for the summer trade. Constance recognized the woman now as one +who had come sometimes to the Point to sell such things, and who could +speak fairly good English. The woman clearly had recognized Constance +at once. + +"Where is your man?" Constance had caught the woman's arm. + +"They sent for him to the beach. A ship has sunk." + +"Are there houses near here? You must run to one of them at once. +Bring whoever you can get; or if you won't do that, tell me where to +go." + +The woman stared at her stolidly and moved away. "None near," she +said. "Besides, you could not get somebody before some one will come." + +"Who is that?" + +"He is on the beach--Henry Spearman. He comes here to warm himself. +It is nearly time he comes again." + +"How long has he been about here?" + +"Since before noon. Sit down. I will make you tea." + +Constance gazed at her; the woman was plainly glad of her coming. Her +relief--relief from that fear she had been feeling when she opened the +door--was very evident. It was Henry, then, who had frightened her. + +The Indian woman set a chair for her beside the stove, and put water in +a pan to heat; she shook tea leaves from a box into a bowl and brought +a cup. + +"How many on that ship?" + +"Altogether there were thirty-nine," Constance replied. + +"Some saved?" + +"Yes; a boat was picked up yesterday morning with twelve." + +The woman seemed making some computation which was difficult for her. + +"Seven are living then," she said. + +"Seven? What have you heard? What makes you think so?" + +"That is what the Drum says." + +The Drum! There was a Drum then! At least there was some sound which +people heard and which they called the Drum. For the woman had heard +it. + +The woman shifted, checking something upon her fingers, while her lips +moved; she was not counting, Constance thought; she was more likely +aiding herself in translating something from Indian numeration into +English. "Two, it began with," she announced. "Right away it went to +nine. Sixteen then--that was this morning very early. Now, all day +and to-night, it has been giving twenty. That leaves seven. It is not +known who they may be." + +She opened the door and looked out. The roar of the water and the +wind, which had come loudly, increased, and with it the wood noises. +The woman was not looking about now, Constance realized; she was +listening. Constance arose and went to the door too. The Drum! Blood +prickled in her face and forehead; it prickled in her finger tips. The +Drum was heard only, it was said, in time of severest storm; for that +reason it was heard most often in winter. It was very seldom heard by +any one in summer; and she was of the summer people. Sounds were +coming from the woods now. Were these reverberations the roll of the +Drum which beat for the dead? Her voice was uncontrolled as she asked +the woman: + +"Is that the Drum?" + +The woman shook her head. "That's the trees." + +Constance's shoulders shook convulsively together. When she had +thought about the Drum--and when she had spoken of it with others who, +themselves, never had heard it--they always had said that, if there +were such a sound, it was trees. She herself had heard those strange +wood noises, terrifying sometimes until their source was +known--wailings like the cry of some one in anguish, which were caused +by two crossed saplings rubbing together; thunderings, which were only +some smaller trees beating against a great hollow trunk when a strong +wind veered from a certain direction. But this Indian woman must know +all such sounds well; and to her the Drum was something distinct from +them. The woman specified that now. + +"You'll know the Drum when you hear it." + +Constance grew suddenly cold. For twenty lives, the woman said, the +Drum had beat; that meant to her, and to Constance too now, that seven +were left. Indefinite, desperate denial that all from the ferry must +be dead--that denial which had been strengthened by the news that at +least one boat had been adrift near Beaver--altered in Constance to +conviction of a boat with seven men from the ferry, seven dying, +perhaps, but not yet dead. Seven out of twenty-seven! The score were +gone; the Drum had beat for them in little groups as they had died. +When the Drum beat again, would it beat beyond the score? + +The woman drew back and closed the door; the water was hot now, and she +made the tea and poured a cup for Constance. As she drank it, +Constance was listening for the Drum; the woman too was listening. +Having finished the tea, Constance returned to the door and reopened +it; the sounds outside were the same. A solitary figure appeared +moving along the edge of the ice--the figure of a tall man, walking on +snowshoes; moonlight distorted the figure, and it was muffled too in a +great coat which made it unrecognizable. He halted and stood looking +out at the lake and then, with a sudden movement, strode on; he halted +again, and now Constance got the knowledge that he was not looking; he +was listening as she was. He was not merely listening; his body swayed +and bent to a rhythm--he was counting something that he heard. +Constance strained her ears; but she could hear no sound except those +of the waters and the wind. + +"Is the Drum sounding now?" she asked the woman. + +"No." + +Constance gazed again at the man and found his motion quite +unmistakable; he was counting--if not counting something that he heard, +or thought he heard, he was recounting and reviewing within himself +something that he had heard before--some irregular rhythm which had +become so much a part of him that it sounded now continually within his +own brain; so that, instinctively, he moved in cadence to it. He +stepped forward again now, and turned toward the house. + +Her breath caught as she spoke to the woman. "Mr. Spearman is coming +here now!" + +Her impulse was to remain where she was, lest he should think she was +afraid of him; but realization came to her that there might be +advantage in seeing him before he knew that she was there, so she +reclosed the door and drew back into the cabin. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE SOUNDING OF THE DRUM + +Noises of the wind and the roaring of the lake made inaudible any sound +of his approach to the cabin; she heard his snowshoes, however, scrape +the cabin wall as, after taking them off, he leaned them beside the +door. He thrust the door open then and came in; he did not see her at +first and, as he turned to force the door shut again against the wind, +she watched him quietly. She understood at once why the Indian woman +had been afraid of him. His face was bloodless, yellow, and +swollen-looking, his eyes bloodshot, his lips strained to a thin, +straight line. + +He saw her now and started and, as though sight of her confused him, he +looked away from the woman and then back to Constance before he seemed +certain of her. + +"Hello!" he said tentatively. "Hello!" + +"I'm here, Henry." + +"Oh; you are! You are!" He stood drawn up, swaying a little as he +stared at her; whiskey was upon his breath, and it became evident in +the heat of the room; but whiskey could not account for this condition +she witnessed in him. Neither could it conceal that condition; some +turmoil and strain within him made him immune to its effects. + +She had realized on her way up here what, vaguely, that strain within +him must be. Guilt--guilt of some awful sort connected him, and had +connected Uncle Benny, with the _Miwaka_--the lost ship for which the +Drum had beaten the roll of the dead. Now dread of revelation of that +guilt had brought him here near to the Drum; he had been alone upon the +beach twelve hours, the woman had said--listening, counting the beating +of the Drum for another ship, fearing the survival of some one from +that ship. Guilt was in his thought now--racking, tearing at him. But +there was something more than that; what she had seen in him when he +first caught sight of her was fear--fear of her, of Constance Sherrill. + +He was fully aware, she now understood, that he had in a measure +betrayed himself to her in Chicago; and he had hoped to cover up and to +dissemble that betrayal with her. For that reason she was the last +person in the world whom he wished to find here now. + +"The point is," he said heavily, "why are you here?" + +"I decided to come up last night." + +"Obviously." He uttered the word slowly and with care. "Unless you +came in a flying machine. Who came with you?" + +"No one; I came alone. I expected to find father at Petoskey; he +hadn't been there, so I came on here." + +"After him?" + +"No; after you, Henry." + +"After me?" She had increased the apprehension in him, and he +considered and scrutinized her before he ventured to go on. "Because +you wanted to be up here with me, eh, Connie?" + +"Of course not!" + +"What's that?" + +"Of course not!" + +"I knew it!" he moved menacingly. She watched him quite without fear; +fear was for him, she felt, not her. Often she had wished that she +might have known him when he was a young man; now, she was aware that, +in a way, she was having that wish. Under the surface of the man whose +strength and determination she had admired, all the time had been this +terror--this guilt. If Uncle Benny had carried it for a score of +years, Henry had had it within him too. This had been within him all +the time! + +"You came up here about Ben Corvet?" he challenged. + +"Yes--no!" + +"Which do you mean?" + +"No." + +"I know then. For him, then--eh. For him!" + +"For Alan Conrad? Yes," she said. + +"I knew it!" he repeated. "He's been the trouble between you and me +all the time!" + +She made no denial of that; she had begun to know during the last two +days that it was so. + +"So you came to find him?" Henry went on. + +"Yes, Henry. Have you any news?" + +"News?" + +"News of the boats?" + +"News!" he iterated. "News to-night! No one'll have more'n one news +to-night!" + +From his slow, heavy utterance, a timbre of terrible satisfaction +betrayed itself; his eyes widened a little as he saw it strike +Constance, then his lids narrowed again. He had not meant to say it +that way; yet, for an instant, satisfaction to him had become +inseparable from the saying, before that was followed by fright--the +fright of examination of just what he had said or of what she had made +of it. + +"He'll be found!" she defied him. + +"Be found?" + +"Some are dead," she admitted, "but not all. Twenty are dead; but +seven are not!" + +She looked for confirmation to the Indian woman, who nodded: "Yes." He +moved his head to face the woman, but his eyes, unmoving, remained +fixed on Constance. + +"Seven?" he echoed. "You say seven are not! How do you know?" + +"The Drum has been beating for twenty, but not for more!" Constance +said. Thirty hours before, when she had told Henry of the Drum, she +had done it without belief herself, without looking for belief in him. +But now, whether or not she yet believed or simply clung to the +superstition for its shred of hope, it gave her a weapon to terrify +him; for he believed--believed with all the unreasoning horror of his +superstition and the terror of long-borne and hidden guilt. + +"The Drum, Henry!" she repeated. "The Drum you've been listening to +all day upon the beach--the Indian Drum that sounded for the dead of +the _Miwaka_; sounded, one by one, for all who died! But it didn't +sound for him! It's been sounding again, you know; but, again, it +doesn't sound for him, Henry, not for him!" + +"The _Miwaka_! What do you mean by that? What's that got to do with +this?" His swollen face was thrust forward at her; there was threat +against her in his tense muscles and his bloodshot eyes. + +She did not shrink back from him, or move; and now he was not waiting +for her answer. Something--a sound--had caught him about. Once it +echoed, low in its reverberation but penetrating and quite distinct. +It came, so far as direction could be assigned to it, from the trees +toward the shore; but it was like no forest sound. Distinct too was it +from any noise of the lake. It was like a Drum! Yet, when the echo +had gone, it was a sensation easy to deny--a hallucination, that was +all. But now, low and distinct it came again; and, as before, +Constance saw it catch Henry and hold him. His lips moved, but he did +not speak; he was counting. "Two," she saw his lips form. + +The Indian woman passed them and opened the door, and now the sound, +louder and more distinct, came again. + +"The Drum!" she whispered, without looking about. "You hear? Three, +I've heard. Now four! It will beat twenty; then we will know if more +are dead!" + +The door blew from the woman's hand, and snow, swept up from the drifts +of the slope, swirled into the room; the draft blew the flame of the +lamp in a smoky streak up the glass chimney and snuffed it out. The +moonlight painted a rectangle on the floor; the moonlight gave a green, +shimmering world without. Hurried spots of cloud shuttered away the +moon for moments, casting shadows which swept raggedly up the slope +from the shore. The woman seized the door and, tugging it about +against the gale, she slammed it shut. She did not try at once to +relight the lamp. + +The sound of the Drum was continuing, the beats a few seconds apart. +The opening of the door outside had seemed to Constance to make the +beats come louder and more distinct; but the closing of the door did +not muffle them again. "Twelve," Constance counted to herself. The +beats had seemed to be quite measured and regular at first; but now +Constance knew that this was only roughly true; they beat rather in +rhythm than at regular intervals. Two came close together and there +was a longer wait before the next; then three sounded before the +measure--a wild, leaping rhythm. She recalled having heard that the +strangeness of Indian music to civilized ears was its time; the drums +beat and rattles sounded in a different time from the song which they +accompanied; there were even, in some dances, three different times +contending for supremacy. Now this seemed reproduced in the strange, +irregular sounding of the Drum; she could not count with certainty +those beats. "Twenty--twenty-one--twenty-two!" Constance caught +breath and waited for the next beat; the time of the interval between +the measures of the rhythm passed, and still only the whistle of the +wind and the undertone of water sounded. The Drum had beaten its roll +and, for the moment, was done. + +"Now it begins again," the woman whispered. "Always it waits and then +it begins over." + +Constance let go her breath; the next beat then would not mean another +death. Twenty-two, had been her count, as nearly as she could count at +all; the reckoning agreed with what the woman had heard. Two had died, +then, since the Drum last had beat, when its roll was twenty. Two more +than before; that meant five were left! Yet Constance, while she was +appreciating this, strained forward, staring at Henry; she could not be +certain, in the flickering shadows of the cabin, of what she was seeing +in him; still less, in the sudden stoppage of heart and breathing that +it brought, could she find coherent answer to its meaning. But still +it turned her weak, then spurred her with a vague and terrible impulse. + +The Indian woman lifted the lamp chimney waveringly and scratched a +match and, with unsteady hands, lighted the wick; Constance caught up +her woolen hood from the table and put it on. Her action seemed to +call Henry to himself. + +"What are you going to do?" he demanded. + +"I'm going out." + +He moved between her and the door. "Not alone, you're not!" His heavy +voice had a deep tone of menace in it; he seemed to consider and decide +something about her. "There's a farmhouse about a mile back; I'm going +to take you over there and leave you with those people." + +"I will not go there!" + +He swore. "I'll carry you then!" + +She shrank back from him as he lurched toward her with hands +outstretched to seize her; he followed her, and she avoided him again; +if his guilt and terror had given her mental ascendency over him, his +physical strength could still force her to his will and, realizing the +impossibility of evading him or overcoming him, she stopped. + +"Not that!" she cried. "Don't touch me!" + +"Come with me then!" he commanded; and he went to the door and laid his +snowshoes on the snow and stepped into them, stooping and tightening +the straps; he stood by while she put on hers. He did not attempt +again to put hands upon her as they moved away from the little cabin +toward the woods back of the clearing; but went ahead, breaking the +trail for her with his snowshoes. He moved forward slowly; he could +travel, if he had wished, three feet to every two that she could cover, +but he seemed not wishing for speed but rather for delay. They reached +the trees; the hemlock and pine, black and swaying, shifted their +shadows on the moonlit snow; bare maples and beeches, bent by the gale, +creaked and cracked; now the hemlock was heavier. The wind, which +wailed among the branches of the maples, hissed loudly in the needles +of the hemlocks; snow swept from the slopes and whirled and drove about +them, and she sucked it in with her breath. All through the wood were +noises; a moaning came from a dark copse of pine and hemlock to their +right, rose and died away; a wail followed--a whining, whimpering +wail--so like the crying of a child that it startled her. Shadows +seemed to detach themselves, as the trees swayed, to tumble from the +boughs and scurry over the snow; they hid, as one looked at them, then +darted on and hid behind the tree trunks. + +Henry was barely moving; now he slowed still more. A deep, dull +resonance was booming above the wood; it boomed again and ran into a +rhythm. No longer was it above; at least it was not only above; it was +all about them--here, there, to right and to left, before, behind--the +booming of the Drum. Doom was the substance of that sound of the Drum +beating the roll of the dead. Could there be abiding in the wood a +consciousness which counted that roll? Constance fought the mad +feeling that it brought. The sound must have some natural cause, she +repeated to herself--waves washing in some strange conformation of the +ice caves on the shore, wind reverberating within some great hollow +tree trunk as within the pipe of an organ. But Henry was not denying +the Drum! + +He had stopped in front of her, half turned her way; his body swayed +and bent to the booming of the Drum, as his swollen lips counted its +soundings. She could see him plainly in the moonlight, yet she drew +nearer to him as she followed his count. "Twenty-one," he +counted--"Twenty-two!" The Drum was still going on. +"Twenty-four--twenty-five--twenty-six!" Would he count another? + +He did not; and her pulses, which had halted, leaped with relief; and +through her comprehension rushed. It was thus she had seen him +counting in the cabin, but so vaguely that she had not been certain of +it, but only able to suspect. Then the Drum had stopped short of +twenty-six, but he had not stopped counting because of that; he had +made the sounds twenty-six, when she and the woman had made them, +twenty-two; now he had reckoned them twenty-six, though the Drum, as +she separated the sound from other noises, still went on! + +He moved on again, descending the steep side of a little ravine, and +she followed. One of his snowshoes caught in a protruding root and, +instead of slowing to free it with care, he pulled it violently out, +and she heard the dry, seasoned wood crack. He looked down, swore; saw +that the wood was not broken through and went on; but as he reached the +bottom of the slope, she leaped downward from a little height behind +him and crashed down upon his trailing snowshoe just behind the heel. +The rending snap of the wood came beneath her feet. Had she broken +through his shoe or snapped her own? She sprang back, as he cried out +and swung in an attempt to grasp her; he lunged to follow her, and she +ran a few steps away and stopped. At his next step, his foot entangled +in the mesh of the broken snowshoe, and he stooped, cursing, to strip +it off and hurl it from him; then he tore off the one from the other +foot, and threw it away, and lurched after her again; but now he sank +above his knees and floundered in the snow. She stood for a moment +while the half-mad, half-drunken figure struggled toward her along the +side of the ravine; then she ran to where the tree trunks hid her from +him, but where she could look out from the shadow and see him. He +gained the top of the slope and turned in the direction she had gone; +assured then, apparently, that she had fled in fear of him, he started +back more swiftly toward the beach. She followed, keeping out of his +sight among the trees. + +To twenty-six, he had counted--to twenty-six, each time! That told +that he knew one was living among those who had been upon the ferry! +The Drum--it was not easy to count with exactness those wild, +irregularly leaping sounds; one might make of them almost what one +wished--or feared! And if, in his terror here, Henry made the count +twenty-six, it was because he knew--he knew that one was living! What +one? It could only be one of two to dismay him so; there had been only +two on the ferry whose rescue he had feared; only two who, living, he +would have let lie upon this beach which he had chosen and set aside +for his patrol, while he waited for him to die! + +She forced herself on, unsparingly, as she saw Henry gain the shore and +as, believing himself alone, he hurried northward. She went with him, +paralleling his course among the trees. On the wind-swept ridges of +the ice, where there was little snow, he could travel for long +stretches faster than she; she struggled to keep even with him, her +lungs seared by the cold air as she gasped for breath. But she could +not rest; she could not let herself be exhausted. Merciless minute +after minute she raced him thus-- A dark shape--a figure lay stretched +upon the ice ahead! Beyond and still farther out, something which +seemed the fragments of a lifeboat tossed up and down where the waves +thundered and gleamed at the edge of the floe. + +Henry's pace quickened; hers quickened desperately too. She left the +shelter of the trees and scrambled down the steep pitch of the bluff, +shouting, crying aloud. Henry turned about and saw her; he halted, and +she passed him with a rush and got between him and the form upon the +ice, before she turned and faced him. + +Defeat--defeat of whatever frightful purpose he had had--was his now +that she was there to witness what he might do; and in his realization +of that, he burst out in oaths against her-- He advanced; she stood, +confronting--he swayed slightly in his walk and swung past her and +away; he went past those things on the beach and kept on along the ice +hummocks toward the north. + +She ran to the huddled figure of the man in mackinaw and cap; his face +was hidden partly by the position in which he lay and partly by the +drifting snow; but, before she swept the snow away and turned him to +her, she knew that he was Alan. + +She cried to him and, when he did not answer, she shook him to get him +awake; but she could not rouse him. Praying in wild whispers to +herself, she opened his jacket and felt within his clothes; he was +warm--at least he was not frozen within! No; and there seemed some +stir of his heart! She tried to lift him, to carry him; then to drag +him. But she could not; he fell from her arms into the snow again, and +she sat down, pulling him upon her lap and clasping him to her. She +must have aid, she must get him to some house, she must take him out of +the terrible cold; but dared she leave him? Might Henry return, if she +went away? She arose and looked about. Far up the shore she saw his +figure rising and falling with his flight over the rough ice. A sound +came to her too, the low, deep reverberation of the Drum beating once +more along the shore and in the woods and out upon the lake; and it +seemed to her that Henry's figure, in the stumbling steps of its +flight, was keeping time to the wild rhythm of that sound. And she +stooped to Alan and covered him with her coat, before leaving him; for +she feared no longer Henry's return. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE FATE OF THE "MIWAKA" + +"So this isn't your house, Judah?" + +"No, Alan; this is an Indian's house, but it is not mine. It is Adam +Enos' house. He and his wife went somewhere else when you needed this." + +"He helped to bring me here then?" + +"No, Alan. They were alone here--she and Adam's wife. When she found +you, they brought you here--more than a mile along the beach. Two +women!" + +Alan choked as he put down the little porcupine quill box which had +started this line of inquiry. Whatever questions he had asked of Judah +or of Sherrill these last few days had brought him very quickly back to +her. Moved by some intuitive certainty regarding Spearman, she had +come north; she had not thought of peril to herself; she had struggled +alone across dangerous ice in storm--a girl brought up as she had been! +She had found him--Alan--with life almost extinct upon the beach; she +and the Indian woman, Wassaquam had just said, had brought him along +the shore. How had they managed that, he wondered; they had somehow +got him to this house which, in his ignorance of exactly where he was +upon the mainland, he had thought must be Wassaquam's; she had gone to +get help-- His throat closed up, and his eyes filled as he thought of +this. + +In the week during which he had been cared for here, Alan had not seen +Constance; but there had been a peculiar and exciting alteration in +Sherrill's manner toward him, he had felt; it was something more than +merely liking for him that Sherrill had showed, and Sherrill had spoken +of her to him as Constance, not, as he had called her always before, +"Miss Sherrill" or "my daughter." Alan had had dreams which had seemed +impossible of fulfilment, of dedicating his life and all that he could +make of it to her; now Sherrill's manner had brought to him something +like awe, as of something quite incredible. + +When he had believed that disgrace was his--disgrace because he was +Benjamin Corvet's son--he had hidden, or tried to hide, his feeling +toward her; he knew now that he was not Corvet's son; Spearman had shot +his father, Corvet had said. But he could not be certain yet who his +father was or what revelation regarding himself might now be given. +Could he dare to betray that he was thinking of Constance as--as he +could not keep from thinking? He dared not without daring to dream +that Sherrill's manner meant that she could care for him; and that he +could not presume. What she had undergone for him--her venture alone +up the beach and that dreadful contest which had taken place between +her and Spearman--must remain circumstances which he had learned but +from which he could not yet take conclusions. + +He turned to the Indian. + +"Has anything more been heard of Spearman, Judah?" + +"Only this, Alan; he crossed the Straits the next day upon the ferry +there. In Mackinaw City he bought liquor at a bar and took it with +him; he asked there about trains into the northwest. He has gone, +leaving all he had. What else could he do?" + +Alan crossed the little cabin and looked out the window over the +snow-covered slope, where the bright sun was shining. It was very +still without; there was no motion at all in the pines toward the +ice-bound shore; and the shadow of the wood smoke rising from the cabin +chimney made almost a straight line across the snow. Snow had covered +any tracks that there had been upon the beach where those who had been +in the boat with him had been found dead. He had known that this must +be; he had believed them beyond aid when he had tried for the shore to +summon help for them and for himself. The other boat, which had +carried survivors of the wreck, blown farther to the south, had been +able to gain the shore of North Fox Island; and as these men had not +been so long exposed before they were brought to shelter, four men +lived. Sherrill had told him their names; they were the mate, the +assistant engineer, a deckhand and Father Perron, the priest who had +been a passenger but who had stayed with the crew till the last. +Benjamin Corvet had perished in the wreckage of the cars. + +As Alan went back to his chair, the Indian watched him and seemed not +displeased. + +"You feel good now, Alan?" Wassaquam asked. + +"Almost like myself, Judah." + +"That is right then. It was thought you would be like that to-day." +He looked at the long shadows and at the height of the early morning +sun, estimating the time of day. "A sled is coming soon now." + +"We're going to leave here, Judah?" + +"Yes, Alan." + +Was he going to see her then? Excitement stirred him, and he turned to +Wassaquam to ask that; but suddenly he hesitated and did not inquire. + +Wassaquam brought the mackinaw and cap which Alan had worn on Number +25; he took from the bed the new blankets which had been furnished by +Sherrill. They waited until a farmer appeared driving a team hitched +to a low, wide-runnered sled. The Indian settled Alan on the sled, and +they drove off. + +The farmer looked frequently at Alan with curious interest; the sun +shone down, dazzling, and felt almost warm in the still air. +Wassaquam, with regard for the frostbite from which Alan had been +suffering, bundled up the blankets around him; but Alan put them down +reassuringly. They traveled south along the shore, rounded into Little +Traverse Bay, and the houses of Harbor Point appeared among their +pines. Alan could see plainly that these were snow-weighted and +boarded up without sign of occupation; but he saw that the Sherrill +house was open; smoke rose from the chimney, and the windows winked +with the reflection of a red blaze within. He was so sure that this +was their destination that he started to throw off the robes. + +"Nobody there now," Wassaquam indicated the house. "At Petoskey; we go +on there." + +The sled proceeded across the edge of the bay to the little city; even +before leaving the bay ice, Alan saw Constance and her father; they +were walking at the water front near to the railway station, and they +came out on the ice as they recognized the occupants of the sled. + +Alan felt himself alternately weak and roused to strength as he saw +her. The sled halted and, as she approached, he stepped down. Their +eyes encountered, and hers looked away; a sudden shyness, which sent +his heart leaping, had come over her. He wanted to speak to her, to +make some recognition to her of what she had done, but he did not dare +to trust his voice; and she seemed to understand that. He turned to +Sherrill instead. An engine and tender coupled to a single car stood +at the railway station. + +"We're going to Chicago?" he inquired of Sherrill. + +"Not yet, Alan--to St. Ignace. Father Perron--the priest, you +know--went to St. Ignace as soon as he recovered from his exposure. He +sent word to me that he wished to see me at my convenience; I told him +that we would go to him as soon as you were able." + +"He sent no other word than that?" + +"Only that he had a very grave communication to make to us." + +Alan did not ask more; at mention of Father Perron he had seemed to +feel himself once more among the crashing, charging freight cars on the +ferry and to see Benjamin Corvet, pinned amid the wreckage and speaking +into the ear of the priest. + + +Father Perron, walking up and down upon the docks close to the railway +station at St. Ignace, where the tracks end without bumper or blocking +of any kind above the waters of the lake, was watching south directly +across the Straits. It was mid-afternoon and the ice-crusher _Ste. +Marie_, which had been expected at St. Ignace about this time, was +still some four miles out. During the storm of the week before, the +floes had jammed into that narrow neck between the great lakes of +Michigan and Huron until, men said, the Straits were ice-filled to the +bottom; but the _Ste. Marie_ and the _St. Ignace_ had plied steadily +back and forth. + +Through a stretch where the ice-crusher now was the floes had changed +position, or new ice was blocking the channel; for the _Ste. Marie_, +having stopped, was backing; now her funnels shot forth fresh smoke, +and she charged ahead. The priest clenched his hands as the steamer +met the shock and her third propeller--the one beneath her bow--sucked +the water out from under the floe and left it without support; she met +the ice barrier, crashed some of it aside; she broke through, recoiled, +halted, charged, climbed up the ice and broke through again. As she +drew nearer now in her approach, the priest walked back toward the +railway station. + +It was not merely a confessional which Father Perron had taken from the +lips of the dying man on Number 25; it was an accusation of crime +against another man as well; and the confession and accusation both had +been made, not only to gain forgiveness from God, but to right terrible +wrongs. If the confession left some things unexplained, it did not +lack confirmation; the priest had learned enough to be certain that it +was no hallucination of madness. He had been charged definitely to +repeat what had been told him to the persons he was now going to meet; +so he watched expectantly as the _Ste. Marie_ made its landing. A +train of freight cars was upon the ferry, but a single passenger coach +was among them, and the switching engine brought this off first. A +tall, handsome man whom Father Perron thought must be the Mr. Sherrill +with whom he had communicated appeared upon the car platform; the young +man from Number 25 followed him, and the two helped down a young and +beautiful girl. + +They recognized the priest by his dress and came toward him at once. + +"Mr. Sherrill?" Father Perron inquired. + +Sherrill assented, taking the priest's hand and introducing his +daughter. + +"I am glad to see you safe, Mr. Stafford." The priest had turned to +Alan. "We have thanks to offer up for that, you and I!" + +"I am his son, then! I thought that must be so." + +Alan trembled at the priest's sign of confirmation. There was no shock +of surprise in this; he had suspected ever since August, when Captain +Stafford's watch and the wedding ring had so strangely come to +Constance, that he might be Stafford's son. His inquiries had brought +him, at that time, to St. Ignace, as Father Perron's had brought him +now; but he had not been able to establish proof of any connection +between himself and the baby son of Captain Stafford who had been born +in that town. + +He looked at Constance, as they followed the priest to the motor which +was waiting to take them to the house of old Father Benitot, whose +guest Father Perron was; she was very quiet. What would that grave +statement which Father Perron was to make to them mean to him--to Alan? +Would further knowledge about that father whom he had not known, but +whose blood was his and whose name he now must bear, bring pride or +shame to him? + +A bell was tolling somewhere, as they followed the priest into Father +Benitot's small, bare room which had been prepared for their interview. +Father Perron went to a desk and took therefrom some notes which he had +made. He did not seem, as he looked through these notes, to be +refreshing his memory; rather he seemed to be seeking something which +the notes did not supply; for he put them back and reclosed the desk. + +"What I have," he said, speaking more particularly to Sherrill, "is the +terrible, not fully coherent statement of a dying man. It has given me +names--also it has given me facts. But isolated. It does not give +what came before or what came after; therefore, it does not make plain. +I hope that, as Benjamin Corvet's partner, you can furnish what I lack." + +"What is it you want to know?" Sherrill asked. + +"What were the relations between Benjamin Corvet and Captain Stafford?" + +Sherrill thought a moment. + +"Corvet," he replied, "was a very able man; he had insight and mental +grasp--and he had the fault which sometimes goes with those, a +hesitancy of action. Stafford was an able man too, considerably +younger than Corvet. We, ship owners of the lakes, have not the world +to trade in, Father Perron, as they have upon the sea; if you observe +our great shipping lines you will find that they have, it would seem, +apportioned among themselves the traffic of the lakes; each line has +its own connections and its own ports. But this did not come through +agreement, but through conflict; the strong have survived and made a +division of the traffic; the weak have died. Twenty years ago, when +this conflict of competing interests was at its height, Corvet was the +head of one line, Stafford was head of another, and the two lines had +very much the same connections and competed for the same cargoes." + +"I begin to see!" Father Perron exclaimed. "Please go on." + +"In the early nineties both lines still were young; Stafford had, I +believe, two ships; Corvet had three." + +"So few? Yes; it grows plainer!" + +"In 1894, Stafford managed a stroke which, if fate had not intervened, +must have assured the ultimate extinction of Corvet's line or its +absorption into Stafford's. Stafford gained as his partner Franklin +Ramsdell, a wealthy man whom he had convinced that the lake traffic +offered chances of great profit; and this connection supplied him with +the capital whose lack had been hampering him, as it was still +hampering Corvet. The new firm--Stafford and Ramsdell--projected the +construction, with Ramsdell's money, of a number of great steel +freighters. The first of these--the _Miwaka_, a test ship whose +experience was to guide them in the construction of the rest--was +launched in the fall of 1895, and was lost on its maiden trip with both +Stafford and Ramsdell aboard. The Stafford and Ramsdell interests +could not survive the death of both owners and disappeared from the +lakes. Is this what you wanted to know?" + +The priest nodded. Alan leaned tensely forward, watching; what he had +heard seemed to have increased and deepened the priest's feeling over +what he had to tell and to have aided his comprehension of it. + +"His name was Caleb Stafford," Father Perron began. "(This is what +Benjamin Corvet told to me, when he was dying under the wreckage on the +ferry.) 'He was as fair and able a man as the lakes ever knew. I had +my will of most men in the lake trade in those days; but I could not +have my will of him. With all the lakes to trade in, he had to pick +out for his that traffic which I already had chosen for my own. But I +fought him fair, Father--I fought him fair, and I would have continued +to do that to the end. + +"'I was at Manistee, Father, in the end of the season--December fifth +of 1895. The ice had begun to form very early that year and was +already bad; there was cold and a high gale. I had laid up one of my +ships at Manistee, and I was crossing that night upon a tug to +Manitowoc, where another was to be laid up. I had still a third one +lading upon the northern peninsula at Manistique for a last trip which, +if it could be made, would mean a good profit from a season which so +far, because of Stafford's competition, had been only fair. After +leaving Manistee, it grew still more cold, and I was afraid the ice +would close in on her and keep her where she was, so I determined to go +north that night and see that she got out. None knew, Father, except +those aboard the tug, that I had made that change. + +"'At midnight, Father, to westward of the Foxes, we heard the four +blasts of a steamer in distress--the four long blasts which have +sounded in my soul ever since! We turned toward where we saw the +steamer's lights; we went nearer and, Father, it was his great, new +ship--the _Miwaka_! We had heard two days before that she had passed +the Soo; we had not known more than that of where she was. She had +broken her new shaft, Father, and was intact except for that, but +helpless in the rising sea...'" + +The priest broke off. "The _Miwaka_! I did not understand all that +that had meant to him until just now--the new ship of the rival line, +whose building meant for him failure and defeat! + +"There is no higher duty than the rescue of those in peril at sea. +He--Benjamin Corvet, who told me this--swore to me that, at the +beginning none upon the tug had any thought except to give aid. A +small line was drifted down to the tug and to this a hawser was +attached which they hauled aboard. There happened then the first of +those events which led those upon the tug into doing a great wrong. +He--Benjamin Corvet--had taken charge of the wheel of the tug; three +men were handling the hawser in ice and washing water at the stern. +The whistle accidentally blew, which those on the _Miwaka_ understood +to mean that the hawser had been secured, so they drew in the slack; +the hawser, tightened unexpectedly by the pitching of the sea, caught +and crushed the captain and deckhand of the tug and threw them into the +sea. + +"Because they were short-handed now upon the tug, and also because +consultation was necessary over what was to be done, the young owner of +the _Miwaka_, Captain Stafford, came down the hawser onto the tug after +the line had been put straight. He came to the wheelhouse, where +Benjamin Corvet was, and they consulted. Then Benjamin Corvet learned +that the other owner was aboard the new ship as well--Ramsdell--the man +whose money you have just told me had built this and was soon to build +other ships. I did not understand before why learning that affected +him so much. + +"'Stafford wanted us' (this is what Benjamin Corvet said) 'to tow him +up the lake; I would not do that, but I agreed to tow him to +Manistique. The night was dark, Father--no snow, but frightful wind +which had been increasing until it now sent the waves washing clear +across the tug. We had gone north an hour when, low upon the water to +my right, I saw a light, and there came to me the whistling of a buoy +which told me that we were passing nearer than I would have wished, +even in daytime, to windward of Boulder Reef. There are, Father, no +people on that reef; its sides of ragged rock go straight down forty +fathoms into the lake. + +"'I looked at the man with me in the wheelhouse--at Stafford--and hated +him! I put my head out at the wheelhouse door and looked back at the +lights at the new, great steamer, following safe and straight at the +end of its towline. I thought of my two men upon the tug who had been +crushed by clumsiness of those on board that ship; and how my own ships +had had a name for never losing a man and that name would be lost now +because of the carelessness of Stafford's men! And the sound of the +shoal brought the evil thought to me. Suppose I had not happened +across his ship; would it have gone upon some reef like this and been +lost? I thought that if now the hawser should break, I would be rid of +that ship and perhaps of the owner who was on board as well. We could +not pick up the tow line again so close to the reef. The steamer would +drift down upon the rocks--'" + +Father Perron hesitated an instant. "I bear witness," he said +solemnly, "that Benjamin Corvet assured me--his priest--that it was +only a thought; the evil act which it suggested was something which he +would not do or even think of doing. But he spoke something of what +was in his mind to Stafford, for he said: + +"'I must look like a fool to you to keep on towing your ship!' + +"They stared, he told me, into one another's eyes, and Stafford grew +uneasy. + +"'We'd have been all right,' he answered, 'until we had got help, if +you'd left us where we were!' He too listened to the sound of the buoy +and of the water dashing on the shoal. 'You are taking us too close,' +he said--'too close!' He went aft then to look at the tow line." + +Father Perron's voice ceased; what he had to tell now made his face +whiten as he arranged it in his memory. Alan leaned forward a little +and then, with an effort, sat straight. Constance turned and gazed at +him; but he dared not look at her. He felt her hand warm upon his; it +rested there a moment and moved away. + +"There was a third man in the wheelhouse when these things were +spoken," Father Perron said, "the mate of the ship which had been laid +up at Manistee." + +"Henry Spearman," Sherrill supplied. + +"That is the name. Benjamin Corvet told me of that man that he was +young, determined, brutal, and set upon getting position and wealth for +himself by any means. He watched Corvet and Stafford while they were +speaking, and he too listened to the shoal until Stafford had come +back; then he went aft. + +"'I looked at him, Father,' Benjamin Corvet said to me, 'and I let him +go--not knowing. He came back and looked at me once more, and went +again to the stern; Stafford had been watching him as well as I, and he +sprang away from me now and scrambled after him. The tug leaped +suddenly; there was no longer any tow holding it back, for the hawser +had parted; and I knew, Father, the reason was that Spearman had cut it! + +"'I rang for the engine to be slowed, and I left the wheel and went +aft; some struggle was going on at the stern of the tug; a flash came +from there and the cracking of a shot. Suddenly all was light about me +as, aware of the breaking of the hawser and alarmed by the shot, the +searchlight of the _Miwaka_ turned upon the tug. The cut end of the +hawser was still upon the tug, and Spearman had been trying to clear +this when Stafford attacked him; they fought, and Stafford struck +Spearman down. He turned and cried out against me--accusing me of +having ordered Spearman to cut the line. He held up the cut end toward +Ramsdell on the _Miwaka_ and cried out to him and showed by pointing +that it had been cut. Blood was running from the hand with which he +pointed, for he had been shot by Spearman; and now again and a second +and a third time, from where he lay upon the deck, Spearman fired. The +second of those shots killed the engineer who had rushed out where I +was on the deck; the third shot went through Stafford's head. The +_Miwaka_ was drifting down upon the reef; her whistle sounded again and +again the four long blasts. The fireman, who had followed the engineer +up from below, fawned on me! I was safe for all of him, he said; I +could trust Luke--Luke would not tell! He too thought I had ordered +the doing of that thing! + +"'From the _Miwaka_, Ramsdell yelled curses at me, threatening me for +what he thought that I had done! I looked at Spearman as he got up +from the deck, and I read the thought that had been in him; he had +believed that he could cut the hawser in the dark, none seeing, and +that our word that it had been broken would have as much strength as +any accusation Stafford could make. He had known that to share a +secret such as that with me would "make" him on the lakes; for the loss +of the _Miwaka_ would cripple Stafford and Ramsdell and strengthen me; +and he could make me share with him whatever success I made. But +Stafford had surprised him at the hawser and had seen. + +"'I moved to denounce him, Father, as I realized this; I moved--but +stopped. He had made himself safe against accusation by me! +None--none ever would believe that he had done this except by my order, +if he should claim that; and he made plain that he was going to claim +that. He called me a fool and defied me. Luke--even my own man, the +only one left on the tug with us--believed it! And there was murder in +it now, with Stafford dying there upon the deck and with the certainty +that all those on the _Miwaka_ could not be saved. I felt the noose as +if it had been already tied about my neck! And I had done no wrong, +Father! I had only thought wrong! + +"'So long as one lived among those on the _Miwaka_ who had seen what +was done, I knew I would be hanged; yet I would have saved them if I +could. But, in my comprehension of what this meant, I only stared at +Stafford where he lay and then at Spearman, and I let him get control +of the tug. The tug, whose wheel I had lashed, heading her into the +waves, had been moving slowly. Spearman pushed me aside and went to +the wheelhouse; he sent Luke to the engines, and from that moment Luke +was his. He turned the tug about to where we still saw the lights of +the _Miwaka_. The steamer had struck upon the reef; she hung there for +a time; and Spearman--he had the wheel and Luke, at his orders, was at +the engine--held the tug off and we beat slowly to and fro until the +_Miwaka_ slipped off and sank. Some had gone down with her, no doubt; +but two boats had got off, carrying lights. They saw the tug +approaching and cried out and stretched their hands to us; but Spearman +stopped the tug. They rowed towards us then, but when they got near, +Spearman moved the tug away from them, and then again stopped. They +cried out again and rowed toward us; again he moved the tug away, and +then they understood and stopped rowing and cried curses at us. One +boat soon drifted far away; we knew of its capsizing by the +extinguishing of its light. The other capsized near to where we were. +Those in it who had no lifebelts and could not swim, sank first. Some +could swim and, for a while they fought the waves.'" + +Alan, as he listened, ceased consciously to separate the priest's voice +from the sensations running through him. His father was Stafford, +dying at Corvet's feet while Corvet watched the death of the crew of +the _Miwaka_; Alan himself, a child, was floating with a lifebelt among +those struggling in the water whom Spearman and Corvet were watching +die. Memory; was it that which now had come to him? No; rather it was +a realization of all the truths which the priest's words were bringing +together and arranging rightly for him. + +He, a child, saved by Corvet from the water because he could not bear +witness, seemed to be on that tug, sea-swept and clad in ice, crouching +beside the form of his father while Corvet stood aghast--Corvet, still +hearing the long blasts of distress from the steamer which was gone, +still hearing the screams of the men who were drowned. Then, when all +were gone who could tell, Spearman turned the tug to Manitowoc.... Now +again the priest's voice became audible to Alan. + +Alan's father died in the morning. All day they stayed out in the +storm, avoiding vessels. They dared not throw Stafford's body +overboard or that of the engineer, because, if found, the bullet holes +would have aroused inquiry. When night came again, they had taken the +two ashore at some wild spot and buried them; to make identification +harder, they had taken the things that they had with them and buried +them somewhere else. The child--Alan--Corvet had smuggled ashore and +sent away; he had told Spearman later that the child had died. + +"Peace--rest!" Father Perron said in a deep voice. "Peace to the dead!" + +But for the living there had been no peace. Spearman had forced Corvet +to make him his partner; Corvet had tried to take up his life again, +but had not been able. His wife, aware that something was wrong with +him, had learned enough so that she had left him. Luke had come and +come and come again for blackmail, and Corvet had paid him. Corvet +grew rich; those connected with him prospered; but with Corvet lived +always the ghosts of those he had watched die with the _Miwaka_--of +those who would have prospered with Stafford except for what had been +done. Corvet had secretly sought and followed the fate of the kin of +those people who had been murdered to benefit him; he found some of +their families destroyed; he found almost all poor and struggling. And +though Corvet paid Luke to keep the crime from disclosure, yet Corvet +swore to himself to confess it all and make such restitution as he +could. But each time that the day he had appointed with himself +arrived, he put it off and off and paid Luke again and again. Spearman +knew of his intention and sometimes kept him from it. But Corvet had +made one close friend; and when that friend's daughter, for whom Corvet +cared now most of all in the world, had been about to marry Spearman, +Corvet defied the cost to himself, and he gained strength to oppose +Spearman. So he had written to Stafford's son to come; he had prepared +for confession and restitution; but, after he had done this and while +he waited, something had seemed to break in his brain; too long preyed +upon by terrible memories, and the ghosts of those who had gone, and by +the echo of their voices crying to him from the water, Corvet had +wandered away; he had come back, under the name of one of those whom he +had wronged, to the lake life from which he had sprung. Only now and +then, for a few hours, he had intervals when he remembered all; in one +of these he had dug up the watch and the ring and other things which he +had taken from Captain Stafford's pockets and written to himself +directions of what to do with them, when his mind again failed. + +And for Spearman, strong against all that assailed Corvet, there had +been always the terror of the Indian Drum--the Drum which had beat +short for the _Miwaka_, the Drum which had known that one was saved! +That story came from some hint which Luke had spread, Corvet thought; +but Spearman, born near by the Drum, believed that the Drum had known +and that the Drum had tried to tell; all through the years Spearman had +dreaded the Drum which had tried to betray him. + +So it was by the Drum that, in the end, Spearman was broken. + +The priest's voice had stopped, as Alan slowly realized; he heard +Sherrill's voice speaking to him. + +"It was a trust that he left you, Alan; I thought it must be that--a +trust for those who suffered by the loss of your father's ship. I +don't know yet how it can be fulfilled; and we must think of that." + +"That's how I understand it," Alan said. + +Fuller consciousness of what Father Perron's story meant to him was +flowing through him now. Wrong, great wrong there had been, as he had +known there must be; but it had not been as he had feared, for he and +his had been among the wronged ones. The name--the new name that had +come to him--he knew what that must be: Robert Alan Stafford; and there +was no shadow on it. He was the son of an honest man and a good woman; +he was clean and free; free to think as he was thinking now of the girl +beside him; and to hope that she was thinking so of him. + +Through the tumult in his soul he became aware of physical feelings +again, and of Sherrill's hand put upon his shoulder in a cordial, +friendly grasp. Then another hand, small and firm, touched his, and he +felt its warm, tightening grasp upon his fingers; he looked up, and his +eyes filled and hers, he saw, were brimming too. + + +They walked together, later in the day, up the hill to the small, white +house which had been Caleb Stafford's. Alan had seen the house before +but, not knowing then whether the man who had owned it had or had not +been his father, he had merely looked at it from the outside. There +had been a small garden filled with flowers before it then; now yard +and roofs were buried deep in snow. The woman who came to the door was +willing to show them through the house; it had only five rooms. One of +those upon the second floor was so much larger and pleasanter than the +rest that they became quite sure that it was the one in which Alan had +been born, and where his young mother soon afterward had died. + +They were very quiet as they stood looking about. + +"I wish we could have known her," Constance said. + +The woman, who had showed them about, had gone to another room and left +them alone. + +"There seems to have been no picture of her and nothing of hers left +here that any one can tell me about; but," Alan choked, "it's good to +be able to think of her as I can now." + +"I know," Constance said. "When you were away, I used to think of you +as finding out about her and--and I wanted to be with you. I'm glad +I'm with you now, though you don't need me any more!" + +"Not need you!" + +"I mean--no one can say anything against her now!" + +Alan drew nearer her, trembling. + +"I can never thank you--I can never tell you what you did for me, +believing in--her and in me, no matter how things looked. And then, +coming up here as you did--for me!" + +"Yes, it was for you, Alan!" + +"Constance!" He caught her. She let him hold her; then, still +clinging to him, she put him a little away. + +"The night before you came to the Point last summer, Alan, he--he had +just come and asked me again. I'd promised; but we motored that +evening to his place and--there were sunflowers there, and I knew that +night I couldn't love him." + +"Because of the sunflowers?" + +"Sunflower houses, Alan, they made me think of; do you remember?" + +"Remember!" + +The woman was returning to them now and, perhaps, it was as well; for +not yet, he knew, could he ask her all that he wished; what had +happened was too recent yet for that. But to him, Spearman--half mad +and fleeing from the haunts of men--was beginning to be like one who +had never been; and he knew she shared this feeling. The light in her +deep eyes was telling him already what her answer to him would be; and +life stretched forth before him full of love and happiness and hope. + + + + +THE END + + + + + + +ZANE GREY'S NOVELS + + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS + +A New York society girl buys a ranch which becomes the center of +frontier warfare. Her loyal superintendent rescues her when she is +captured by bandits. A surprising climax brings the story to a +delightful close. + + +THE RAINBOW TRAIL + +The story of a young clergyman who becomes a wanderer in the great +western uplands--until at last love and faith awake. + + +DESERT GOLD + +The story describes the recent uprising along the border, and ends with +the finding of the gold which two prospectors had willed to the girl +who is the story's heroine. + + +RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE + +A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when Mormon +authority ruled. The prosecution of Jane Withersteen is the theme of +the story. + + +THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN + +This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo Jones, +known as the preserver of the American bison, across the Arizona desert +and of a trip in "that wonderful country of deep cañons and giant +pines." + + +THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT + +A lovely girl, who has been reared among Mormons, learns to love a +young New Englander. The Mormon religion, however, demands that the +girl shall become the second wife of one of the Mormons--Well, that's +the problem of this great story. + + +THE SHORT STOP + +The young hero, tiring of his factory grind, starts out to win fame and +fortune as professional ball player. His hard knocks at the start are +followed by such success as clean sportsmanship, courage and honesty +ought to win. + + +BETTY ZANE + +This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautiful +young sister of Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers. + + +THE LONE STAR RANGER + +After killing a man in self defense, Buck Duane becomes an outlaw along +the Texas border. In a camp on the Mexican side of the river, he finds +a young girl held prisoner, and in attempting to rescue her, brings +down upon himself the wrath of her captors and henceforth is hunted on +one side by honest men, on the other by outlaws. + + +THE BORDER LEGION + +Joan Randle, in a spirit of anger, sent Jim Cleve out to a lawless +Western mining camp, to prove his mettle. Then realizing that she +loved him--she followed him out. On her way, she is captured by a +bandit band, and trouble begins when she shoots Kells, the leader--and +nurses him to health again. Here enters another romance--when Joan, +disguised as an outlaw, observes Jim, in the throes of dissipation. A +gold strike, a thrilling robbery--gambling and gun play carry you along +breathlessly. + + +THE LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS. + +By Helen Cody Wetmore and Zane Grey + +The life story of Colonel William F. Cody, "Buffalo Bill," as told by +his sister and Zane Grey. It begins with his boyhood in Iowa and his +first encounter with an Indian. We see "Bill" as a pony express rider, +then near Fort Sumter as Chief of the Scouts, and later engaged in the +most dangerous Indian campaigns. There is also a very interesting +account of the travels of "The Wild West" Show. No character in public +life makes a stronger appeal to the imagination of America than +"Buffalo Bill," whose daring and bravery made him famous. + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + +JACK LONDON'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list + + +JOHN BARLEYCORN. Illustrated by H. T. Dunn. + +This remarkable book is a record of the author's own amazing +experiences. This big, brawny world rover, who has been acquainted +with alcohol from boyhood, comes out boldly against John Barleycorn. +It is a string of exciting adventures, yet it forcefully conveys an +unforgetable idea and makes a typical Jack London book. + + +THE VALLEY OF THE MOON. Frontispiece by George Harper. + +The story opens in the city slums where Billy Roberts, teamster and +ex-prize fighter, and Saxon Brown, laundry worker, meet and love and +marry. They tramp from one end of California to the other, and in the +Valley of the Moon find the farm paradise that is to be their salvation. + + +BURNING DAYLIGHT. Four illustrations. + +The story of an adventurer who went to Alaska and laid the foundations +of his fortune before the gold hunters arrived. Bringing his fortunes +to the States he is cheated out of it by a crowd of money kings, and +recovers it only at the muzzle of his gun. He then starts out as a +merciless exploiter on his own account. Finally he takes to drinking +and becomes a picture of degeneration. About this time he falls in +love with his stenographer and wins her heart but not her hand and +then--but read the story! + + +A SON OF THE SUN. Illustrated by A. O. Fischer and C. W. Ashley. + +David Grief was once a light-haired, blue-eyed youth who came from +England to the South Seas in search of adventure. Tanned like a native +and as lithe as a tiger, he became a real son of the sun. The life +appealed to him and he remained and became very wealthy. + + +THE CALL OF THE WILD. Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin and Charles +Livingston Bull. Decorations by Charles E. Hooper. + +A book of dog adventures as exciting as any man's exploits could be. +Here is excitement to stir the blood and here is picturesque color to +transport the reader to primitive scenes. + + +THE SEA WOLF. Illustrated by W. J. Aylward. + +Told by a man whom Fate suddenly swings from his fastidious life into +the power of the brutal captain of a sealing schooner. A novel of +adventure warmed by a beautiful love episode that every reader will +hail with delight. + + +WHITE FANG. Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull. + +"White Fang" is part dog, part wolf and all brute, living in the frozen +north; he gradually comes under the spell of man's companionship, and +surrenders all at the last in a fight with a bull dog. Thereafter he +is man's loving slave. + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + +B. M. Bower's Novels + +Thrilling Western Romances + +Large 12 mos. Handsomely bound in cloth. Illustrated + + +CHIP, OF THE FLYING U + +A breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of Chip and Delia +Whitman are charmingly and humorously told. Chip's jealousy of Dr. +Cecil Grantham, who turns out to be a big, blue eyed young woman is +very amusing. A clever, realistic story of the American Cow-puncher. + + +THE HAPPY FAMILY + +A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of eighteen +jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst them, we find +Ananias Green, known as Andy, whose imaginative powers cause many +lively and exciting adventures. + + +HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT + +A realistic story of the plains, describing a gay party of Easterners +who exchange a cottage at Newport for the rough homeliness of a Montana +ranch-house. The merry-hearted cowboys, the fascinating Beatrice, and +the effusive Sir Redmond, become living, breathing personalities. + + +THE RANGE DWELLERS + +Here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist. +Spirited action, a range feud between two families, and a Romeo and +Juliet courtship make this a bright, jolly, entertaining story, without +a dull page. + + +THE LURE OF DIM TRAILS + +A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author, among the +cowboys of the West, in search of "local color" for a new novel. "Bud" +Thurston learns many a lesson while following "the lure of the dim +trails" but the hardest, and probably the most welcome, is that of love. + + +THE LONESOME TRAIL + +"Weary" Davidson leaves the ranch for Portland, where conventional city +life palls on him. A little branch of sage brush, pungent with the +atmosphere of the prairie, and the recollection of a pair of large +brown eyes soon compel his return. A wholesome love story. + + +THE LONG SHADOW + +A vigorous Western story, sparkling with the free, outdoor, life of a +mountain ranch. Its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play the game +of life fearlessly and like men. It is a fine love story from start to +finish. + + +Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction. + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK + + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP'S + +DRAMATIZED NOVELS + + +Original, sincere and courageous--often amusing--the kind that are +making theatrical history. + + +MADAME X. By Alexandra Bisson and J. W. McConaughy. Illustrated with +scenes from the play. + +A beautiful Parisienne became an outcast because her husband would not +forgive an error of her youth. Her love for her son is the great final +influence in her career. A tremendous dramatic success. + + +THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens. + +An unconventional English woman and an inscrutable stranger meet and +love in an oasis of the Sahara. Staged this season with magnificent +cast and gorgeous properties. + + +THE PRINCE OF INDIA. By Lew. Wallace. + +A glowing romance of the Byzantine Empire, presenting with +extraordinary power the siege of Constantinople, and lighting its +tragedy with the warm underflow of an Oriental romance. As a play it +is a great dramatic spectacle. + + +TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY. By Grace Miller White. Illust. by Howard +Chandler Christy. + +A girl from the dregs of society, loves a young Cornell University +student, and it works startling changes in her life and the lives of +those about her. The dramatic version is one of the sensations of the +season. + + +YOUNG WALLINGFORD. By George Randolph Chester. Illust. by F. R. +Gruger and Henry Raleigh. + +A series of clever swindles conducted by a cheerful young man, each of +which is just on the safe side of a State's prison offence. As +"Get-Rich-Quick Wallingford," it is probably the most amusing expose of +money manipulation ever seen on the stage. + + +THE INTRUSION OF JIMMY. By P. G. Wodehouse. Illustrations by Will +Grefe. + +Social and club life in London and New York, an amateur burglary +adventure and a love story. Dramatized under the title of "A Gentleman +of Leisure," it furnishes hours of laughter to the play-goers. + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK + + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP'S + +DRAMATIZED NOVELS + + +THE KIND THAT ARE MAKING THEATRICAL HISTORY + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +WITHIN THE LAW. By Bayard Veiller & Marvin Dana. Illustrated by Wm. +Charles Cooke. + +This is a novelization of the immensely successful play which ran for +two years in New York and Chicago. + +The plot of this powerful novel is of a young woman's revenge directed +against her employer who allowed her to be sent to prison for three +years on a charge of theft, of which she was innocent. + + +WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY. By Robert Carlton Brown. Illustrated with +scenes from the play. + +This is a narrative of a young and innocent country girl who is +suddenly thrown into the very heart of New York, "the land of her +dreams," where she is exposed to all sorts of temptations and dangers. + +The story of Mary is being told in moving pictures and played in +theatres all over the world. + + +THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM. By David Belasco. Illustrated by John Rae. + +This is a novelization of the popular play in which David Warfield, as +Old Peter Grimm, scored such a remarkable success. + +The story is spectacular and extremely pathetic but withal, powerful, +both as a book and as a play. + + +THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens. + +This novel is an intense, glowing epic of the great desert, sunlit +barbaric, with its marvelous atmosphere of vastness and loneliness. + +It is a book of rapturous beauty, vivid in word painting. The play has +been staged with magnificent cast and gorgeous properties. + + +BEN HUR. A Tale of the Christ By General Lew Wallace. + +The whole world has placed this famous Religious-Historical Romance on +a height of pre-eminence which no other novel of its time has reached. +The clashing of rivalry and the deepest human passions, the perfect +reproduction of brilliant Roman life, and the tense, fierce atmosphere +of the arena have kept their deep fascination. A tremendous dramatic +success. + + +BOUGHT AND PAID FOR. By George Broadhurst and Arthur Hornblow. +Illustrated with scenes from the play. + +A stupendous arraignment of modern marriage which has created an +interest on the stage that is almost unparalleled. The scenes are laid +in New York, and deal with conditions among both the rich and poor. + +The interest of the story turns on the day-by-day developments which +show the young wife the price she has paid. + + +_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK + + + +JOHN FOX, JR'S. + +STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list. + + +THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE. + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +The "lonesome pine" from which the story takes its name was a tall tree +that stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. The fame of the +pine lured a young engineer through Kentucky to catch the trail, and +when he finally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but +the _foot-prints of a girl_. And the girl proved to be lovely, +piquant, and the trail of these girlish foot-prints led the young +engineer a madder chase than "the trail of the lonesome pine." + + +THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as "Kingdom Come." +It is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural and honest, from which +often springs the flower of civilization. + +"Chad." the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor whence he +came--he had just wandered from door to door since early childhood, +seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who gladly fathered and +mothered this waif about whom there was such a mystery--a charming +waif, by the way, who could play the banjo better that anyone else in +the mountains. + + +A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND. + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland, the lair of +moonshiner and feudsman. The knight is a moonshiner's son, and the +heroine a beautiful girl perversely christened "The Blight." Two +impetuous young Southerners fall under the spell of "The Blight's" +charms and she learns what a large part jealousy and pistols have in +the love making of the mountaineers. + +Included in this volume is "Hell fer-Sartain" and other stories, some +of Mr. Fox's most entertaining Cumberland valley narratives. + + +_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Indian Drum, by +William MacHarg and Edwin Balmer + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INDIAN DRUM *** + +***** This file should be named 33065-8.txt or 33065-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/0/6/33065/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/33065-8.zip b/33065-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1ae9669 --- /dev/null +++ b/33065-8.zip diff --git a/33065-h.zip b/33065-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..772a7b0 --- /dev/null +++ b/33065-h.zip diff --git a/33065-h/33065-h.htm b/33065-h/33065-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6855c64 --- /dev/null +++ b/33065-h/33065-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16400 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of The Indian Drum, +by William MacHarg and Edwin Balmer +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +H4.h4center { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-align: center } + +IMG.imgcenter { margin-left: auto; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: auto; } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Indian Drum, by William MacHarg and Edwin Balmer + +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 Indian Drum + +Author: William MacHarg + Edwin Balmer + +Illustrator: W. T. Benda + +Release Date: July 3, 2010 [EBook #33065] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INDIAN DRUM *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="As Constance started away, Spearman suddenly drew her back to him and kissed her." BORDER="2" WIDTH="430" HEIGHT="655"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 430px"> +As Constance started away, Spearman suddenly drew her back to him and kissed her. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE INDIAN DRUM +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +WILLIAM MacHARG +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AND +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +EDWIN BALMER +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +FRONTISPIECE BY +<BR> +W. T. BENDA +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +NEW YORK +<BR> +GROSSET & DUNLAP +<BR> +PUBLISHERS +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +<I>Copyright, 1917,</I> +<BR> +BY EDWIN BALMER +<BR><BR> +<I>All rights reserved</I> +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">THE MAN WHOM THE STORM HAUNTED</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">WHO IS ALAN CONRAD?</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">DISCUSSION OF A SHADOW</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">"ARRIVED SAFE; WELL"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">AN ENCOUNTER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">CONSTANCE SHERRILL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">THE DEED IN TRUST</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">MR. CORVET'S PARTNER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">VIOLENCE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">A WALK BESIDE THE LAKE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">A CALLER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">THE LAND OF THE DRUM</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">THE THINGS FROM CORVET'S POCKETS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">THE OWNER OF THE WATCH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">OLD BURR OF THE FERRY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">A GHOST SHIP</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">"HE KILLED YOUR FATHER"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">MR. SPEARMAN GOES NORTH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">THE WATCH UPON THE BEACH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">THE SOUNDING OF THE DRUM</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">THE FATE OF THE MIWAKA</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +THE INDIAN DRUM +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE MAN WHOM THE STORM HAUNTED +</H4> + +<P> +Near the northern end of Lake Michigan, where the bluff-bowed +ore-carriers and the big, low-lying, wheat-laden steel freighters from +Lake Superior push out from the Straits of Mackinac and dispute the +right of way, in the island divided channel, with the white-and-gold, +electric lighted, wireless equipped passenger steamers bound for +Detroit and Buffalo, there is a copse of pine and hemlock back from the +shingly beach. From this copse—dark, blue, primeval, silent at most +times as when the Great Manitou ruled his inland waters—there comes at +time of storm a sound like the booming of an old Indian drum. This +drum beat, so the tradition says, whenever the lake took a life; and, +as a sign perhaps that it is still the Manitou who rules the waters in +spite of all the commerce of the cities, the drum still beats its roll +for every ship lost on the lake, one beat for every life. +</P> + +<P> +So—men say—they heard and counted the beatings of the drum to +thirty-five upon the hour when, as afterward they learned, the great +steel steamer <I>Wenota</I> sank with twenty-four of its crew and eleven +passengers; so—men say—they heard the requiem of the five who went +down with the schooner <I>Grant</I>; and of the seventeen lost with the +<I>Susan Hart</I>; and so of a score of ships more. Once only, it is told, +has the drum counted wrong. +</P> + +<P> +At the height of the great storm of December, 1895, the drum beat the +roll of a sinking ship. One, two, three—the hearers counted the drum +beats, time and again, in their intermitted booming, to twenty-four. +They waited, therefore, for report of a ship lost with twenty-four +lives; no such news came. The new steel freighter <I>Miwaka</I>, on her +maiden trip during the storm with twenty-five—not twenty-four—aboard +never made her port; no news was ever heard from her; no wreckage ever +was found. On this account, throughout the families whose fathers, +brothers, and sons were the officers and crew of the <I>Miwaka</I>, there +stirred for a time a desperate belief that one of the men on the +<I>Miwaka</I> was saved; that somewhere, somehow, he was alive and might +return. The day of the destruction of the <I>Miwaka</I> was fixed as +December fifth by the time at which she passed the government lookout +at the Straits; the hour was fixed as five o'clock in the morning only +by the sounding of the drum. +</P> + +<P> +The region, filled with Indian legend and with memories of wrecks, +encourages such beliefs as this. To northward and to westward a half +dozen warning lights—Ile-aux-Galets ("Skilligalee" the lake men call +it), Waugaushance, Beaver, and Fox Islands—gleam spectrally where the +bone-white shingle outcrops above the water, or blur ghostlike in the +haze; on the dark knolls topping the glistening sand bluffs to +northward, Chippewas and Ottawas, a century and a half ago, quarreled +over the prisoners after the massacre at Fort Mackinac; to southward, +where other hills frown down upon Little Traverse Bay, the black-robed +priests in their chapel chant the same masses their predecessors +chanted to the Indians of that time. So, whatever may be the origin of +that drum, its meaning is not questioned by the forlorn descendants of +those Indians, who now make beadwork and sweet-grass baskets for their +summer trade, or by the more credulous of the white fishermen and +farmers; men whose word on any other subject would receive +unquestioning credence will tell you they have heard the drum. +</P> + +<P> +But at bottom, of course, this is only the absurdest of superstitions, +which can affect in no way men who to-day ship ore in steel bottoms to +the mills of Gary and carry gasoline-engine reaped and threshed wheat +to the elevators of Chicago. It is recorded, therefore, only as a +superstition which for twenty-years has been connected with the loss of +a great ship. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +Storm—the stinging, frozen sleet-slash of the February norther +whistling down the floe-jammed length of the lake—was assaulting +Chicago. Over the lake it was a white, whirling maelstrom, obscuring +at midafternoon even the lighthouses at the harbor entrance; beyond +that, the winter boats trying for the harbor mouth were bellowing +blindly at bay before the jammed ice, and foghorns and sirens echoed +loudly in the city in the lulls of the storm. +</P> + +<P> +Battering against the fronts of the row of club buildings, fashionable +hotels, and shops which face across the narrow strip of park to the +lake front in downtown Chicago, the gale swirled and eddied the sleet +till all the wide windows, warm within, were frosted. So heavy was +this frost on the panes of the Fort Dearborn Club—one of the staidest +of the down-town clubs for men—that the great log fires blazing on the +open hearths added appreciable light as well as warmth to the rooms. +</P> + +<P> +The few members present at this hour of the afternoon showed by their +lazy attitudes and the desultoriness of their conversation the dulling +of vitality which warmth and shelter bring on a day of cold and storm. +On one, however, the storm had had a contrary effect. With swift, +uneven steps he paced now one room, now another; from time to time he +stopped abruptly by a window, scraped from it with finger nail the +frost, stared out for an instant through the little opening he had +made, then resumed as abruptly his nervous pacing with a manner so +uneasy and distraught that, since his arrival at the club an hour +before, none even among those who knew him best had ventured to speak +to him. +</P> + +<P> +There are, in every great city, a few individuals who from their +fullness of experience in an epoch of the city's life come to epitomize +that epoch in the general mind; when one thinks of a city or of a +section of the country in more personal terms than its square miles, +its towering buildings, and its censused millions, one must think of +those individuals. Almost every great industry owns one and seldom +more than one; that often enough is not, in a money sense, the +predominant figure of his industry; others of his rivals or even of his +partners may be actually more powerful than he; but he is the +personality; he represents to the outsiders the romance and mystery of +the secrets and early, naked adventures of the great achievement. +Thus, to think of the great mercantile establishments of State Street +is to think immediately of one man; another very vivid and picturesque +personality stands for the stockyards; another rises from the wheat +pit; one more from the banks; one from the steel works. The man who +was pacing restlessly and alone the rooms of the Fort Dearborn Club on +this stormy afternoon was the man who, to most people, bodied forth the +life underlying all other commerce thereabouts but the least known, the +life of the lakes. +</P> + +<P> +The lakes, which mark unmistakably those who get their living from +them, had put their marks on him. Though he was slight in frame with a +spare, almost ascetic leanness, he had the wiry strength and endurance +of the man whose youth had been passed upon the water. He was very +close to sixty now, but his thick, straight hair was still jet black +except for a slash of pure white above one temple; his brows were black +above his deep blue eyes. Unforgettable eyes, they were; they gazed at +one directly with surprising, disconcerting intrusion into one's +thoughts; then, before amazement altered to resentment, one realized +that, though he was still gazing, his eyes were vacant with +speculation—a strange, lonely withdrawal into himself. His +acquaintances, in explaining him to strangers, said he had lived too +much by himself of late; he and one man servant shared the great house +which had been unchanged—and in which nothing appeared to have been +worn out or have needed replacing—since his wife left him, suddenly +and unaccountably, about twenty years before. At that time he had +looked much the same as now; since then, the white slash upon his +temple had grown a bit broader perhaps; his nose had become a trifle +aquiline, his chin more sensitive, his well formed hands a little more +slender. People said he looked more French, referring to his father +who was known to have been a skin-hunter north of Lake Superior in the +50's but who later married an English girl at Mackinac and settled down +to become a trader in the woods of the North Peninsula, where Benjamin +Corvet was born. +</P> + +<P> +During his boyhood, men came to the peninsula to cut timber; young +Corvet worked with them and began building ships. Thirty-five years +ago, he had been only one of the hundreds with his fortune in the fate +of a single bottom; but to-day in Cleveland, in Duluth, in Chicago, +more than a score of great steamers under the names of various +interdependent companies were owned or controlled by him and his two +partners, Sherrill and young Spearman. +</P> + +<P> +He was a quiet, gentle-mannered man. At times, however, he suffered +from fits of intense irritability, and these of late had increased in +frequency and violence. It had been noticed that these outbursts +occurred generally at times of storm upon the lake, but the mere threat +of financial loss through the destruction of one or even more of his +ships was not now enough to cause them; it was believed that they were +the result of some obscure physical reaction to the storm, and that +this had grown upon him as he grew older. +</P> + +<P> +To-day his irritability was so marked, his uneasiness so much greater +than any one had seen it before, that the attendant whom Corvet had +sent, a half hour earlier, to reserve his usual table for him in the +grill—"the table by the second window"—had started away without +daring to ask whether the table was to be set for one or more. Corvet +himself had corrected the omission: "For two," he had shot after the +man. Now, as his uneven footsteps carried him to the door of the +grill, and he went in, the steward, who had started forward at sight of +him, suddenly stopped, and the waiter assigned to his table stood +nervously uncertain, not knowing whether to give his customary greeting +or to efface himself as much as possible. +</P> + +<P> +The tables, at this hour, were all unoccupied. Corvet crossed to the +one he had reserved and sat down; he turned immediately to the window +at his side and scraped on it a little clear opening through which he +could see the storm outside. Ten minutes later he looked up sharply +but did not rise, as the man he had been awaiting—Spearman, the +younger of his two partners—came in. +</P> + +<P> +Spearman's first words, audible through the big room, made plain that +he was late to an appointment asked by Corvet; his acknowledgment of +this took the form of an apology, but one which, in tone different from +Spearman's usual bluff, hearty manner, seemed almost contemptuous. He +seated himself, his big, powerful hands clasped on the table, his gray +eyes studying Corvet closely. As Corvet, without acknowledging the +apology, took the pad and began to write an order for both, Spearman +interfered; he had already lunched; he would take only a cigar. The +waiter took the order and went away. +</P> + +<P> +When he returned, the two men were obviously in bitter quarrel. +Corvet's tone, low pitched but violent, sounded steadily in the room, +though his words were inaudible. The waiter, as he set the food upon +the table, felt relief that Corvet's outburst had fallen on other +shoulders than his. +</P> + +<P> +It had fallen, in fact, upon the shoulders best able to bear it. +Spearman—still called, though he was slightly over forty now, "young" +Spearman—was the power in the great ship-owning company of Corvet, +Sherrill, and Spearman. Corvet had withdrawn, during recent years, +almost entirely from active life; some said the sorrow and +mortification of his wife's leaving him had made him choose more and +more the seclusion of his library in the big lonely house on the North +Shore, and had given Spearman the chance to rise; but those most +intimately acquainted with the affairs of the great ship-owning firm +maintained that Spearman's rise had not been granted him but had been +forced by Spearman himself. In any case, Spearman was not the one to +accept Corvet's irritation meekly. +</P> + +<P> +For nearly an hour, the quarrel continued with intermitted truces of +silence. The waiter, listening, as waiters always do, caught at times +single sentences. +</P> + +<P> +"You have had that idea for some time?" he heard from Corvet. +</P> + +<P> +"We have had an understanding for more than a month." +</P> + +<P> +"How definite?" +</P> + +<P> +Spearman's answer was not audible, but it more intensely agitated +Corvet; his lips set; a hand which held his fork clasped and unclasped +nervously; he dropped his fork and, after that, made no pretense of +eating. +</P> + +<P> +The waiter, following this, caught only single words. +"Sherrill"—that, of course, was the other partner. "Constance"—that +was Sherrill's daughter. The other names he heard were names of ships. +But, as the quarrel went on, the manners of the two men changed; +Spearman, who at first had been assailed by Corvet, now was assailing +him. Corvet sat back in his seat, while Spearman pulled at his cigar +and now and then took it from his lips and gestured with it between his +fingers, as he jerked some ejaculation across the table. +</P> + +<P> +Corvet leaned over to the frosted window, as he had done when alone, +and looked out. Spearman shot a comment which made Corvet wince and +draw back from the window; then Spearman rose. He delayed, standing, +to light another cigar deliberately and with studied slowness. Corvet +looked up at him once and asked a question, to which Spearman replied +with a snap of the burnt match down on the table; he turned abruptly +and strode from the room. Corvet sat motionless. +</P> + +<P> +The revulsion to self-control, sometimes even to apology, which +ordinarily followed Corvet's bursts of irritation had not come to him; +his agitation plainly had increased. He pushed from him his uneaten +luncheon and got up slowly. He went out to the coat room, where the +attendant handed him his coat and hat. He hung the coat upon his arm. +The doorman, acquainted with him for many years, ventured to suggest a +cab. Corvet, staring strangely at him, shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"At least, sir," the man urged, "put on your coat." +</P> + +<P> +Corvet ignored him. +</P> + +<P> +He winced as he stepped out into the smarting, blinding swirl of sleet, +but his shrinking was not physical; it was mental, the unconscious +reaction to some thought the storm called up. The hour was barely four +o'clock, but so dark was it with the storm that the shop windows were +lit; motorcars, slipping and skidding up the broad boulevard, with +headlights burning; kept their signals clattering constantly to warn +other drivers blinded by the snow. The sleet-swept sidewalks were +almost deserted; here or there, before a hotel or one of the shops, a +limousine came to the curb, and the passengers dashed swiftly across +the walk to shelter. +</P> + +<P> +Corvet, still carrying his coat upon his arm, turned northward along +Michigan Avenue, facing into the gale. The sleet beat upon his face +and lodged in the folds of his clothing without his heeding it. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly he aroused. "One—two—three—four!" he counted the long, +booming blasts of a steam whistle. A steamer out on that snow-shrouded +lake was in distress. The sound ceased, and the gale bore in only the +ordinary storm and fog signals. Corvet recognized the foghorn at the +lighthouse at the end of the government pier; the light, he knew, was +turning white, red, white, red, white behind the curtain of sleet; +other steam vessels, not in distress, blew their blasts; the long four +of the steamer calling for help cut in again. +</P> + +<P> +Corvet stopped, drew up his shoulders, and stood staring out toward the +lake, as the signal blasts of distress boomed and boomed again. Color +came now into his pale cheeks for an instant. A siren swelled and +shrieked, died away wailing, shrieked louder and stopped; the four +blasts blew again, and the siren wailed in answer. +</P> + +<P> +A door opened behind Corvet; warm air rushed out, laden with sweet, +heavy odors—chocolate and candy; girls' laughter, exaggerated +exclamations, laughter again came with it; and two girls holding their +muffs before their faces passed by. +</P> + +<P> +"See you to-night, dear." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; I'll be there—if he comes." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he'll come!" +</P> + +<P> +They ran to different limousines, scurried in, and the cars swept off. +</P> + +<P> +Corvet turned about to the tearoom from which they had come; he could +see, as the door opened again, a dozen tables with their white cloths, +shining silver, and steaming little porcelain pots; twenty or thirty +girls and young women were refreshing themselves, pleasantly, after +shopping or fittings or a concert; a few young men were sipping +chocolate with them. The blast of the distress signal, the scream of +the siren, must have come to them when the door was opened; but, if +they heard it at all, they gave it no attention; the clatter and +laughter and sipping of chocolate and tea was interrupted only by those +who reached quickly for a shopping list or some filmy possession +threatened by the draft. They were as oblivious to the lake in front +of their windows, to the ship struggling for life in the storm, as +though the snow were a screen which shut them into a distant world. +</P> + +<P> +To Corvet, a lake man for forty years, there was nothing strange in +this. Twenty miles, from north to south, the city—its business +blocks, its hotels and restaurants, its homes—faced the water and, +except where the piers formed the harbor, all unprotected water, an +open sea where in times of storm ships sank and grounded, men fought +for their lives against the elements and, losing, drowned and died; and +Corvet was well aware that likely enough none of those in that tearoom +or in that whole building knew what four long blasts meant when they +were blown as they were now, or what the siren meant that answered. +But now, as he listened to the blasts which seemed to have grown more +desperate, this profoundly affected Corvet. He moved once to stop one +of the couples coming from the tearoom. They hesitated, as he stared +at them; then, when they had passed him, they glanced back. Corvet +shook himself together and went on. +</P> + +<P> +He continued to go north. He had not seemed, in the beginning, to have +made conscious choice of this direction; but now he was following it +purposely. He stopped once at a shop which sold men's things to make a +telephone call. He asked for Miss Sherrill when the number answered; +but he did not wish to speak to her, he said; he wanted merely to be +sure she would be there if he stopped in to see her in half an hour. +Then—north again. He crossed the bridge. Now, fifteen minutes later, +he came in sight of the lake once more. +</P> + +<P> +Great houses, the Sherrill house among them, here face the Drive, the +bridle path, the strip of park, and the wide stone esplanade which +edges the lake. Corvet crossed to this esplanade. It was an ice-bank +now; hummocks of snow and ice higher than a man's head shut off view of +the floes tossing and crashing as far out as the blizzard let one see; +but, dislodged and shaken by the buffeting of the floe, they let the +gray water swell up from underneath and wash around his feet as he went +on. He did not stop at the Sherrill house or look toward it, but went +on fully a quarter of a mile beyond it; then he came back, and with an +oddly strained and queer expression and attitude, he stood staring out +into the lake. He could not hear the distress signals now. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly he turned. Constance Sherrill, seeing him from a window of +her home, had caught a cape about her and run out to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Uncle Benny!" she hailed him with the affectionate name she had used +with her father's partner since she was a baby. "Uncle Benny, aren't +you coming in?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he said vaguely. "Yes, of course." He made no move but +remained staring at her. "Connie!" he exclaimed suddenly, with strange +reproach to himself in his tone. "Connie! Dear little Connie!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" she asked him. "Uncle Benny, what's the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +He seemed to catch himself together. "There was a ship out there in +trouble," he said in a quite different tone. "They aren't blowing any +more; are they all right?" +</P> + +<P> +"It was one of the M and D boats—the <I>Louisiana</I>, they told me. She +went by here blowing for help, and I called up the office to find out. +A tug and one other of their line got out to her; she had started a +cylinder head bucking the ice and was taking in a little water. Uncle +Benny, you must put on your coat." +</P> + +<P> +She brushed the sleet from his shoulders and collar, and held the coat +for him; he put it on obediently. +</P> + +<P> +"Has Spearman been here to-day?" he asked, not looking at her. +</P> + +<P> +"To see father?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; to see you." +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +He seized her wrist. "Don't see him, when he comes!" he commanded. +</P> + +<P> +"Uncle Benny!" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't see him!" Corvet repeated. "He's asked you to marry him, hasn't +he?" +</P> + +<P> +Connie could not refuse the answer. "Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"And you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why—why, Uncle Benny, I haven't answered him yet." +</P> + +<P> +"Then don't—don't; do you understand, Connie?" +</P> + +<P> +She hesitated, frightened for him. "I'll—I'll tell you before I see +him, if you want me to, Uncle Benny," she granted. +</P> + +<P> +"But if you shouldn't be able to tell me then, Connie; if you +shouldn't—want to then?" The humility of his look perplexed her; if +he had been any other man—any man except Uncle Benny—she would have +thought some shameful and terrifying threat hung over him; but he broke +off sharply. "I must go home," he said uncertainly. "I must go home; +then I'll come back. Connie, you won't give him an answer till I come +back, will you?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." He got her promise, half frightened, half bewildered; then he +turned at once and went swiftly away from her. +</P> + +<P> +She ran back to the door of her father's house. From there she saw him +reach the corner and turn west to go to Astor Street. He was walking +rapidly and did not hesitate. +</P> + +<P> +The trite truism which relates the inability of human beings to know +the future, has a counterpart not so often mentioned: We do not always +know our own past until the future has made plain what has happened to +us. Constance Sherrill, at the close of this, the most important day +in her life, did not know at all that it had been important to her. +All she felt was a perplexed, but indefinite uneasiness about Uncle +Benny. How strangely he had acted! Her uneasiness increased when the +afternoon and evening passed without his coming back to see her as he +had promised, but she reflected he had not set any definite time when +she was to expect him. During the night her anxiety grew still +greater; and in the morning she called his house up on the telephone, +but the call was unanswered. An hour later, she called again; still +getting no result, she called her father at his office, and told him of +her anxiety about Uncle Benny, but without repeating what Uncle Benny +had said to her or the promise she had made to him. Her father made +light of her fears; Uncle Benny, he reminded her, often acted queerly +in bad weather. Only partly reassured, she called Uncle Benny's house +several more times during the morning, but still got no reply; and +after luncheon she called her father again, to tell him that she had +resolved to get some one to go over to the house with her. +</P> + +<P> +Her father, to her surprise, forbade this rather sharply; his voice, +she realized, was agitated and excited, and she asked him the reason; +but instead of answering her, he made her repeat to him her +conversation of the afternoon before with Uncle Benny, and now he +questioned her closely about it. But when she, in her turn, tried to +question him, he merely put her off and told her not to worry. Later, +when she called him again, resolved to make him tell her what was the +matter, he had left the office. +</P> + +<P> +In the late afternoon, as dusk was drawing into dark, she stood at the +window, watching the storm, which still continued, with one of those +delusive hopes which come during anxiety that, because it was the time +of day at which she had seen Uncle Benny walking by the lake the day +before, she might see him there again, when she saw her father's motor +approaching. It was coming from the north, not from the south as it +would have been if he was coming from his office or his club, and it +had turned into the drive from the west. She knew, therefore, that he +was coming from Uncle Benny's house, and, as the car swerved and +wheeled in, she ran out into the hall to meet him. +</P> + +<P> +He came in without taking off hat or coat; she could see that he was +perturbed, greatly agitated. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, father?" she demanded. "What has happened?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do not know, my dear." +</P> + +<P> +"It is something—something that has happened to Uncle Benny?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am afraid so, dear—yes. But I do not know what it is that has +happened, or I would tell you." +</P> + +<P> +He put his arm about her and drew her into a room opening off the +hall—his study. He made her repeat again to him the conversation she +had had with Uncle Benny and tell him how he had acted; but she saw +that what she told him did not help him. He seemed to consider it +carefully, but in the end to discard or disregard it. +</P> + +<P> +Then he drew her toward him. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me, little daughter. You have been a great deal with Uncle Benny +and have talked with him; I want you to think carefully. Did you ever +hear him speak of any one called Alan Conrad?" +</P> + +<P> +She thought. "No, father." +</P> + +<P> +"No reference ever made by him at all to either name—Alan or Conrad?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, father." +</P> + +<P> +"No reference either to any one living in Kansas, or to a town there +called Blue Rapids?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, father. Who is Alan Conrad?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do not know, dear. I never heard the name until to-day, and Henry +Spearman had never heard it. But it appears to be intimately connected +in some way with what was troubling Uncle Benny yesterday. He wrote a +letter yesterday to Alan Conrad in Blue Rapids and mailed it himself; +and afterward he tried to get it back, but it already had been taken up +and was on its way. I have not been able to learn anything more about +the letter than that. He seems to have been excited and troubled all +day; he talked queerly to you, and he quarreled with Henry, but +apparently not about anything of importance. And to-day that name, +Alan Conrad, came to me in quite another way, in a way which makes it +certain that it is closely connected with whatever has happened to +Uncle Benny. You are quite sure you never heard him mention it, dear?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite sure, father." +</P> + +<P> +He released her and, still in his hat and coat, went swiftly up the +stairs. She ran after him and found him standing before a highboy in +his dressing room. He unlocked a drawer in the highboy, and from +within the drawer he took a key. Then, still disregarding her, he +hurried back down-stairs. +</P> + +<P> +As she followed him, she caught up a wrap and pulled it around her. He +had told the motor, she realized now, to wait; but as he reached the +door, he turned and stopped her. +</P> + +<P> +"I would rather you did not come with me, little daughter. I do not +know at all what it is that has happened—I will let you know as soon +as I find out." +</P> + +<P> +The finality in his tone stopped her from argument. As the house door +and then the door of the limousine closed after him, she went back +toward the window, slowly taking off the wrap. She saw the motor shoot +swiftly out upon the drive, turn northward in the way that it had come, +and then turn again, and disappear. She could only stand and watch for +it to come back and listen for the 'phone; for the moment she found it +difficult to think. Something had happened to Uncle Benny, something +terrible, dreadful for those who loved him; that was plain, though only +the fact and not its nature was known to her or to her father; and that +something was connected—intimately connected, her father had +said—with a name which no one who knew Uncle Benny, ever had heard +before, with the name of Alan Conrad of Blue Rapids, Kansas. Who was +this Alan Conrad, and what could his connection be with Uncle Benny so +to precipitate disaster upon him? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +WHO IS ALAN CONRAD? +</H4> + +<P> +The recipient of the letter which Benjamin Corvet had written and later +so excitedly attempted to recover, was asking himself a question which +was almost the same as the question which Constance Sherrill had asked. +He was, the second morning later, waiting for the first of the two +daily eastbound trains which stopped at the little Kansas town of Blue +Rapids which he called home. As long as he could look back into his +life, the question, who is this person they call Alan Conrad, and what +am I to the man who writes from Chicago, had been the paramount enigma +of existence for him. Since he was now twenty-three, as nearly as he +had been able to approximate it, and as distinct recollection of +isolated, extraordinary events went back to the time when he was five, +it was quite eighteen years since he had first noticed the question put +to the people who had him in charge: "So this is little Alan Conrad. +Who is he?" +</P> + +<P> +Undoubtedly the question had been asked in his presence before; +certainly it was asked many times afterwards; but it was since that day +when, on his noticing the absence of a birthday of his own, they had +told him he was five, that he connected the evasion of the answer with +the difference between himself and the other children he saw, and +particularly between himself and the boy and girl in the same house +with him. When visitors came from somewhere far off, no one of them +ever looked surprised at seeing the other children or asked about them. +Always, when some one came, it was, "So this is little Jim!" and "This +is Betty; she's more of a Welton every day!" Then, each time with that +change in the voice and in the look of the eyes and in the feel of the +arms about him—for though Alan could not feel how the arms hugged Jim +and Betty, he knew that for him it was quite different—"So this is +Alan Conrad," or, "So this is the child!" or, "This, I suppose, is the +boy I've heard about!" +</P> + +<P> +However, there was a quite definite, if puzzling, advantage at times in +being Alan Conrad. Following the arrival of certain letters, which +were distinguished from most others arriving at the house by having no +ink writing on the envelope but just a sort of purple or black printing +like newspapers, Alan invariably received a dollar to spend just as he +liked. To be sure, unless "papa" took him to town, there was nothing +for him to spend it upon; so, likely enough, it went into the square +iron bank, of which the key was lost; but quite often he did spend it +according to plans agreed upon among all his friends and, in memory of +these occasions and in anticipation of the next, "Alan's dollar" became +a community institution among the children. +</P> + +<P> +But exhilarating and wonderful as it was to be able of one's self to +take three friends to the circus, or to be the purveyor of twenty whole +packages—not sticks—of gum, yet the dollar really made only more +plain the boy's difference. The regularity and certainty of its +arrival as Alan's share of some larger sum of money which came to +"papa" in the letter, never served to make the event ordinary or +accepted. +</P> + +<P> +"Who gives it to you, Alan?" was a question more often asked, as time +went on. The only answer Alan could give was, "It comes from Chicago." +The postmark on the envelope, Alan noticed, was always Chicago; that +was all he ever could find out about his dollar. He was about ten +years old when, for a reason as inexplicable as the dollar's coming, +the letters with the typewritten addresses and the enclosed money +ceased. +</P> + +<P> +Except for the loss of the dollar at the end of every second month—a +loss much discussed by all the children and not accepted as permanent +till more than two years had passed—Alan felt no immediate results +from the cessation of the letters from Chicago; and when the first +effects appeared, Jim and Betty felt them quite as much as he. Papa +and mamma felt them, too, when the farm had to be given up, and the +family moved to the town, and papa went to work in the woolen mill +beside the river. +</P> + +<P> +Papa and mamma, at first surprised and dismayed by the stopping of the +letters, still clung to the hope of the familiar, typewritten addressed +envelope appearing again; but when, after two years, no more money +came, resentment which had been steadily growing against the person who +had sent the money began to turn against Alan; and his "parents" told +him all they knew about him. +</P> + +<P> +In 1896 they had noticed an advertisement for persons to care for a +child; they had answered it to the office of the newspaper which +printed it. In response to their letter a man called upon them and, +after seeing them and going around to see their friends, had made +arrangements with them to take a boy of three, who was in good health +and came of good people. He paid in advance board for a year and +agreed to send a certain amount every two months after that time. The +man brought the boy, whom he called Alan Conrad, and left him. For +seven years the money agreed upon came; now it had ceased, and papa had +no way of finding the man—the name given by him appeared to be +fictitious, and he had left no address except "general delivery, +Chicago"—Papa knew nothing more than that. He had advertised in the +Chicago papers after the money stopped coming, and he had communicated +with every one named Conrad in or near Chicago, but he had learned +nothing. Thus, at the age of thirteen, Alan definitely knew that what +he already had guessed—the fact that he belonged somewhere else than +in the little brown house—was all that any one there could tell him; +and the knowledge gave persistence to many internal questionings. +Where did he belong? Who was he? Who was the man who had brought him +here? Had the money ceased coming because the person who sent it was +dead? In that case, connection of Alan with the place where he +belonged was permanently broken. Or would some other communication +from that source reach him some time—if not money, then something +else? Would he be sent for some day? He did not resent "papa and +mamma's" new attitude of benefactors toward him; instead, loving them +both because he had no one else to love, he sympathized with it. They +had struggled hard to keep the farm. They had ambitions for Jim; they +were scrimping and sparing now so that Jim could go to college, and +whatever was given to Alan was taken away from Jim and diminished by +just that much his opportunity. +</P> + +<P> +But when Alan asked papa to get him a job in the woolen mill at the +other side of town where papa himself worked in some humble and +indefinite capacity, the request was refused. Thus, externally at +least, Alan's learning the little that was known about himself made no +change in his way of living; he went, as did Jim, to the town school, +which combined grammar and high schools under one roof; and, as he grew +older, he clerked—as Jim also did—in one of the town stores during +vacations and in the evenings; the only difference was this: that Jim's +money, so earned, was his own, but Alan carried his home as part +payment of those arrears which had mounted up against him since the +letters ceased coming. At seventeen, having finished high school, he +was clerking officially in Merrill's general store, when the next +letter came. +</P> + +<P> +It was addressed this time not to papa, but to Alan Conrad. He seized +it, tore it open, and a bank draft for fifteen hundred dollars fell +out. There was no letter with the enclosure, no word of communication; +just the draft to the order of Alan Conrad. Alan wrote the Chicago +bank by which the draft had been issued; their reply showed that the +draft had been purchased with currency, so there was no record of the +identity of the person who had sent it. More than that amount was due +for arrears for the seven years during which no money was sent, even +when the total which Alan had earned was deducted. So Alan merely +endorsed the draft over to "father"; and that fall Jim went to college. +But, when Jim discovered that it not only was possible but planned at +the university for a boy to work his way through, Alan went also. +</P> + +<P> +Four wonderful years followed. The family of a professor of physics, +with whom he was brought in contact by his work outside of college, +liked him and "took him up." He lodged finally in their house and +became one of them. In companionship with these educated people, ideas +and manners came to him which he could not have acquired at home; +athletics straightened and added bearing to his muscular, well-formed +body; his pleasant, strong young face acquired self-reliance and +self-control. Life became filled with possibilities for himself which +it had never held before. +</P> + +<P> +But on his day of graduation he had to put away the enterprises he had +planned and the dreams he dreamed and, conscious that his debt to +father and mother still remained unpaid, he had returned to care for +them; for father's health had failed and Jim who had opened a law +office in Kansas City, could do nothing to help. +</P> + +<P> +No more money had followed the draft from Chicago and there had been no +communication of any kind; but the receipt of so considerable a sum had +revived and intensified all Alan's speculations about himself. The +vague expectation of his childhood that sometime, in some way, he would +be "sent for" had grown during the last six years to a definite belief. +And now—on the afternoon before—the summons had come. +</P> + +<P> +This time, as he tore open the envelope, he saw that besides a check, +there was writing within—an uneven and nervous-looking but plainly +legible communication in longhand. The letter made no explanation. It +told him, rather than asked him, to come to Chicago, gave minute +instructions for the journey, and advised him to telegraph when he +started. The check was for a hundred dollars to pay his expenses. +Check and letter were signed by a name completely strange to him. +</P> + +<P> +He was a distinctly attractive looking lad, as he stood now on the +station platform of the little town, while the eastbound train rumbled +in, and he fingered in his pocket the letter from Chicago. +</P> + +<P> +As the train came to a stop, he pushed his suitcase up on to a car +platform and stood on the bottom step, looking back at the little town +standing away from its railroad station among brown, treeless hills, +now scantily snow-covered—the town which was the only home he ever +consciously had known. His eyes dampened and he choked, as he looked +at it and at the people on the station platform—the station-master, +the drayman, the man from the post office who would receive the mail +bag, people who called him by his first name, as he called them by +theirs. He did not doubt at all that he would see the town and them +again. The question was what he would be when he did see them. They +and it would not be changed, but he would. As the train started, he +picked up the suitcase and carried it into the second day-coach. +</P> + +<P> +Finding a seat, at once he took the letter from his pocket and for the +dozenth time reread it. Was Corvet a relative? Was he the man who had +sent the remittances when Alan was a little boy, and the one who later +had sent the fifteen hundred dollars? Or was he merely a go-between, +perhaps a lawyer? There was no letterhead to give aid in these +speculations. The address to which Alan was to come was in Astor +Street. He had never heard the name of the street before. Was it a +business street, Corvet's address in some great office building, +perhaps? +</P> + +<P> +He tried by repeating both names over and over to himself to arouse any +obscure, obliterated childhood memory he might have had of then; but +the repetition brought no result. Memory, when he stretched it back to +its furthest, showed him only the Kansas prairie. +</P> + +<P> +Late that afternoon he reached Kansas City, designated in the letter as +the point where he would change cars. That night saw him in his +train—a transcontinental with berths nearly all made up and people +sleeping behind the curtains. Alan undressed and got into his berth, +but he lay awake most of the night, excited and expectant. The late +February dawn showed him the rolling lands of Iowa which changed, while +he was at breakfast in the dining car, to the snow-covered fields and +farms of northern Illinois. Toward noon, he could see, as the train +rounded curves, that the horizon to the east had taken on a murky look. +Vast, vague, the shadow—the emanation of hundreds of thousands of +chimneys—thickened and grew more definite as the train sped on; +suburban villages began supplanting country towns; stations became more +pretentious. They passed factories; then hundreds of acres of little +houses of the factory workers in long rows; swiftly the buildings +became larger, closer together; he had a vision of miles upon miles of +streets, and the train rolled slowly into a long trainshed and stopped. +</P> + +<P> +Alan, following the porter with his suitcase from the car, stepped down +among the crowds hurrying to and from the trains. He was not confused, +he was only intensely excited. Acting in implicit accord with the +instructions of the letter, which he knew by heart, he went to the +uniformed attendant and engaged a taxicab—itself no small experience; +there would be no one at the station to meet him, the letter had said. +He gave the Astor Street address and got into the cab. Leaning forward +in his seat, looking to the right and then to the left as he was driven +through the city, his first sensation was only disappointment. +</P> + +<P> +Except that it was larger, with more and bigger buildings and with more +people upon its streets, Chicago apparently did not differ from Kansas +City. If it was, in reality, the city of his birth, or if ever he had +seen these streets before, they now aroused no memories in him. +</P> + +<P> +It had begun to snow again. For a few blocks the taxicab drove north +past more or less ordinary buildings, then turned east on a broad +boulevard where tall tile and brick and stone structures towered till +their roofs were hidden in the snowfall. The large, light flakes, +falling lazily, were thick enough so that, when the taxicab swung to +the north again, there seemed to Alan only a great vague void to his +right. For the hundred yards which he could view clearly, the space +appeared to be a park; now a huge granite building, guarded by stone +lions, went by; then more park; but beyond— A strange stir and +tingle, quite distinct from the excitement of the arrival at the +station, pricked in Alan's veins, and hastily he dropped the window to +his right and gazed out again. The lake, as he had known since his +geography days, lay to the east of Chicago; therefore that void out +there beyond the park was the lake or, at least, the harbor. A +different air seemed to come from it; sounds... Suddenly it all was +shut off; the taxicab, swerving a little, was dashing between business +blocks; a row of buildings had risen again upon the right; they broke +abruptly to show him a wooden-walled chasm in which flowed a river full +of ice with a tug dropping its smokestack as it went below the bridge +which the cab crossed; buildings on both sides again; then, to the +right, a roaring, heaving, crashing expanse. +</P> + +<P> +The sound, Alan knew, had been coming to him as an undertone for many +minutes; now it overwhelmed, swallowed all other sound. It was great, +not loud; all sound which Alan had heard before, except the soughing of +the wind over his prairies, came from one point; even the monstrous +city murmur was centered in comparison with this. Alan could see only +a few hundred yards out over the water as the taxicab ran along the +lake drive, but what was before him was the surf of a sea; that +constant, never diminishing, never increasing roar came from far beyond +the shore; the surge and rise and fall and surge again were of a sea in +motion. Floes floated, tossed up, tumbled, broke, and rose again with +the rush of the surf; spray flew up between the floes; geysers spurted +high into the air as the pressure of the water, bearing up against the +ice, burst between two great ice-cakes before the waves cracked them +and tumbled them over. And all was without wind; over the lake, as +over the land, the soft snowflakes lazily floated down, scarcely +stirred by the slightest breeze; that roar was the voice of the water, +that awful power its own. +</P> + +<P> +Alan choked and gasped for breath, his pulses pounding in his throat; +he had snatched off his hat and, leaning out of the window sucked the +lake air into his lungs. There had been nothing to make him expect +this overwhelming crush of feeling. The lake—he had thought of it, of +course, as a great body of water, an interesting sight for a prairie +boy to see; that was all. No physical experience in all his memory had +affected him like this; and it was without warning; the strange thing +that had stirred within him as the car brought him to the drive +down-town was strengthened now a thousand-fold; it amazed, half +frightened, half dizzied him. Now, as the motor suddenly swung around +a corner and shut the sight of the lake from him, Alan sat back +breathless. +</P> + +<P> +"Astor Street," he read the marker on the corner a block back from the +lake, and he bent quickly forward to look, as the car swung to the +right into Astor Street. It was—as in this neighborhood it must be—a +residence street of handsome mansions built close together. The car +swerved to the east curb about the middle of the block and came to a +stop. The house before which it had halted was a large stone house of +quiet, good design; it was some generation older, apparently, than the +houses on each side of it which were brick and terra cotta of recent, +fashionable architecture; Alan only glanced at them long enough to get +that impression before he opened the cab door and got out; but as the +cab drove away, he stood beside his suitcase looking up at the old +house which bore the number given in Benjamin Corvet's letter, then +around at the other houses and back to that again. +</P> + +<P> +The neighborhood obviously precluded the probability of Corvet's being +merely a lawyer—a go-between. He must be some relative; the question +ever present in Alan's thought since the receipt of the letter, but +held in abeyance, as to the possibility and nearness of Corvet's +relation to him, took sharper and more exact form now than he had dared +to let it take before. Was his relationship to Corvet, perhaps, the +closest of all relationships? Was Corvet his ... father? He checked +the question within himself, for the time had passed for mere +speculation upon it now. Alan was trembling excitedly; for—whoever +Corvet might be—the enigma of Alan's existence was going to be +answered when he had entered that house. He was going to know who he +was. All the possibilities, the responsibilities, the attachments, the +opportunities, perhaps, of that person whom he was—but whom, as yet, +he did not know—were before him. +</P> + +<P> +He half expected the heavy, glassless door at the top of the stone +steps to be opened by some one coming out to greet him, as he took up +his suitcase; but the gray house, like the brighter mansions on both +sides of it, remained impassive. If any one in that house had observed +his coming, no sign was given. He went up the steps and, with fingers +excitedly unsteady, he pushed the bell beside the door. +</P> + +<P> +The door opened almost instantly—so quickly after the ring, indeed, +that Alan, with leaping throb of his heart, knew that some one must +have been awaiting him. But the door opened only halfway, and the man +who stood within, gazing out at Alan questioningly, was obviously a +servant. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" he asked, as Alan stood looking at him and past him to +the narrow section of darkened hall which was in sight. +</P> + +<P> +Alan put his hand over the letter in his pocket. "I've come to see Mr. +Corvet," he said—"Mr. Benjamin Corvet." +</P> + +<P> +"What is your name?" +</P> + +<P> +Alan gave his name; the man repeated it after him, in the manner of a +trained servant, quite without inflection. Alan, not familiar with +such tones, waited uncertainly. So far as he could tell, the name was +entirely strange to the servant, awaking neither welcome nor +opposition, but indifference. The man stepped back, but not in such a +manner as to invite Alan in; on the contrary, he half closed the door +as he stepped back, leaving it open only an inch or two; but it was +enough so that Alan heard him say to some one within: +</P> + +<P> +"He says he's him." +</P> + +<P> +"Ask him in; I will speak to him." It was a girl's voice—this second +one, a voice such as Alan never had heard before. It was low and soft +but quite clear and distinct, with youthful, impulsive modulations and +the manner of accent which Alan knew must go with the sort of people +who lived in houses like those on this street. +</P> + +<P> +The servant, obeying the voice, returned and opened wide the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you come in, sir?" +</P> + +<P> +Alan put down his suitcase on the stone porch; the man made no move to +pick it up and bring it in. Then Alan stepped into the hall face to +face with the girl who had come from the big room on the right. +</P> + +<P> +She was quite a young girl—not over twenty-one or twenty-two, Alan +judged; like girls brought up in wealthy families, she seemed to Alan +to have gained young womanhood in far greater degree in some respects +than the girls he knew, while, at the same time, in other ways, she +retained more than they some characteristics of a child. Her slender +figure had a woman's assurance and grace; her soft brown hair was +dressed like a woman's; her gray eyes had the open directness of the +girl. Her face—smoothly oval, with straight brows and a skin so +delicate that at the temples the veins showed dimly blue—was at once +womanly and youthful; and there was something altogether likable and +simple about her, as she studied Alan now. She had on a street dress +and hat; whether it was this, or whether it was the contrast of her +youth and vitality with this somber, darkened house that told him, Alan +could not tell, but he felt instinctively that this house was not her +home. More likely, it was some indefinable, yet convincing expression +of her manner that gave him that impression. While he hazarded, with +fast beating heart, what privilege of acquaintance with her Alan Conrad +might have, she moved a little nearer to him. She was slightly pale, +he noticed now, and there were lines of strain and trouble about her +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I am Constance Sherrill," she announced. Her tone implied quite +evidently that she expected him to have some knowledge of her, and she +seemed surprised to see that her name did not mean more to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Corvet is not here this morning," she said. +</P> + +<P> +He hesitated, but persisted: "I was to see him here to-day, Miss +Sherrill. He wrote me, and I telegraphed him I would be here to-day." +</P> + +<P> +"I know," she answered. "We had your telegram. Mr. Corvet was not +here when it came, so my father opened it." Her voice broke oddly, and +he studied her in indecision, wondering who that father might be that +opened Mr. Corvet's telegrams. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Corvet went away very suddenly," she explained. She seemed, he +thought, to be trying to make something plain to him which might be a +shock to him; yet herself to be uncertain what the nature of that shock +might be. Her look was scrutinizing, questioning, anxious, but not +unfriendly. "After he had written you and something else had +happened—I think—to alarm my father about him, father came here to +his house to look after him. He thought something might have ... +happened to Mr. Corvet here in his house. But Mr. Corvet was not here." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean he has—disappeared?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; he has disappeared." +</P> + +<P> +Alan gazed at her dizzily. Benjamin Corvet—whoever he might be—had +disappeared; he had gone. Did any one else, then, know about Alan +Conrad? +</P> + +<P> +"No one has seen Mr. Corvet," she said, "since the day he wrote to you. +We know that—that he became so disturbed after doing that—writing to +you—that we thought you must bring with you information of him." +</P> + +<P> +"Information!" +</P> + +<P> +"So we have been waiting for you to come here and tell us what you know +about him or—or your connection with him." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +DISCUSSION OF A SHADOW +</H4> + +<P> +Alan, as he looked confusedly and blankly at her, made no attempt to +answer the question she had asked, or to explain. For the moment, as +he fought to realize what she had said and its meaning for himself, all +his thought was lost in mere dismay, in the denial and checking of what +he had been feeling as he entered the house. His silence and +confusion, he knew, must seem to Constance Sherrill unwillingness to +answer her; for she did not suspect that he was unable to answer her. +She plainly took it in that way; but she did not seem offended; it was +sympathy, rather, that she showed. She seemed to appreciate, without +understanding except through her feelings, that—for some +reason—answer was difficult and dismaying for him. +</P> + +<P> +"You would rather explain to father than to me," she decided. +</P> + +<P> +He hesitated. What he wanted now was time to think, to learn who she +was and who her father was, and to adjust himself to this strange +reversal of his expectations. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; I would rather do that," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you come around to our house, then, please?" +</P> + +<P> +She caught up her fur collar and muff from a chair and spoke a word to +the servant. As she went out on to the porch, he followed her and +stooped to pick up his suitcase. +</P> + +<P> +"Simons will bring that," she said, "unless you'd rather have it with +you. It is only a short walk." +</P> + +<P> +He was recovering from the first shock of her question now, and, +reflecting that men who accompanied Constance Sherrill probably did not +carry hand baggage, he put the suitcase down and followed her to the +walk. As she turned north and he caught step beside her, he studied +her with quick interested glances, realizing her difference from all +other girls he ever had walked with, but he did not speak to her nor +she to him. Turning east at the first corner, they came within sight +and hearing again of the turmoil of the lake. +</P> + +<P> +"We go south here," she said at the corner of the Drive. "Our house is +almost back to back with Mr. Corvet's." +</P> + +<P> +Alan, looking up after he had made the turn with her, recognized the +block as one he had seen pictured sometimes in magazines and +illustrated papers as a "row" of the city's most beautiful homes. +Larger, handsomer, and finer than the mansions on Astor Street, each +had its lawn or terrace in front and on both sides, where snow-mantled +shrubs and straw-bound rosebushes suggested the gardens of spring. +They turned in at the entrance of a house in the middle of the block +and went up the low, wide stone steps; the door opened to them without +ring or knock; a servant in the hall within took Alan's hat and coat, +and he followed Constance past some great room upon his right to a +smaller one farther down the hall. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you wait here, please?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +He sat down, and she left him; when her footsteps had died away, and he +could hear no other sounds except the occasional soft tread of some +servant, he twisted himself about in his chair and looked around. A +door between the room he was in and the large room which had been upon +his right as they came in—a drawing-room—stood open; he could see +into the drawing-room, and he could see through the other door a +portion of the hall; his inspection of these increased the bewilderment +he felt. Who were these Sherrills? Who was Corvet, and what was his +relation to the Sherrills? What, beyond all, was their and Corvet's +relation to Alan Conrad—to himself? The shock and confusion he had +felt at the nature of his reception in Corvet's house, and the +strangeness of his transition from his little Kansas town to a place +and people such as this, had prevented him from inquiring directly from +Constance Sherrill as to that; and, on her part, she had assumed, +plainly, that he already knew and need not be told. +</P> + +<P> +He got up and moved about the rooms; they, like all rooms, must tell +something about the people who lived in them. The rooms were large and +open; Alan, in dreaming and fancying to himself the places to which he +might some day be summoned, had never dreamed of entering such a home +as this. For it was a home; in its light and in its furnishings there +was nothing of the stiffness and aloofness which Alan, never having +seen such rooms except in pictures, had imagined to be necessary evils +accompanying riches and luxury; it was not the richness of its +furnishings that impressed him first, it was its livableness. Among +the more modern pieces in the drawing-room and hall were some which +were antique. In the part of the hall that he could see, a black and +ancient-looking chair whose lines he recognized, stood against the +wall. He had seen chairs like that, heirlooms of colonial +Massachusetts or Connecticut, cherished in Kansas farmhouses and +recalling some long-past exodus of the family from New England. On the +wall of the drawing-room, among the beautiful and elusive paintings and +etchings, was a picture of a ship, plainly framed; he moved closer to +look at it, but he did not know what kind of ship it was except that it +was a sailing ship of some long-disused design. Then he drew back +again into the smaller room where he had been left, and sat down again +to wait. +</P> + +<P> +A comfortable fire of cannel coal was burning in this smaller room in a +black fire-basket set in a white marble grate, obviously much older +than the house; there were big easy leather chairs before it, and +beside it there were bookcases. On one of these stood a two-handled +silver trophy cup, and hung high upon the wall above the mantel was a +long racing sweep with the date '85 painted in black across the blade. +He had the feeling, coming quite unconsciously, of liking the people +who lived in this handsome house. +</P> + +<P> +He straightened and looked about, then got up, as Constance Sherrill +came back into the room. +</P> + +<P> +"Father is not here just now," she said. "We weren't sure from your +telegram exactly at what hour you would arrive, and that was why I +waited at Mr. Corvet's to be sure we wouldn't miss you. I have +telephoned father, and he's coming home at once." +</P> + +<P> +She hesitated an instant in the doorway, then turned to go out again. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Sherrill—" he said. +</P> + +<P> +She halted. "Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"You told me you had been waiting for me to come and explain my +connection with Mr. Corvet. Well—I can't do that; that is what I came +here hoping to find out." +</P> + +<P> +She came back toward him slowly. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +He was forcing himself to disregard the strangeness which his +surroundings and all that had happened in the last half hour had made +him feel; leaning his arms on the back of the chair in which he had +been sitting, he managed to smile reassuringly; and he fought down and +controlled resolutely the excitement in his voice, as he told her +rapidly the little he knew about himself. +</P> + +<P> +He could not tell definitely how she was affected by what he said. She +flushed slightly, following her first start of surprise after he had +begun to speak; when he had finished, he saw that she was a little pale. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you don't know anything about Mr. Corvet at all," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"No; until I got his letter sending for me here, I'd never seen or +heard his name." +</P> + +<P> +She was thoughtful for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you for telling me," she said. "I'll tell my father when he +comes." +</P> + +<P> +"Your father is—?" he ventured. +</P> + +<P> +She understood now that the name of Sherrill had meant nothing to him. +"Father is Mr. Corvet's closest friend, and his business partner as +well," she explained. +</P> + +<P> +He thought she was going to tell him something more about them; but she +seemed then to decide to leave that for her father to do. She crossed +to the big chair beside the grate and seated herself. As she sat +looking at him, hands clasped beneath her chin, and her elbows resting +on the arm of the chair, there was speculation and interest in her +gaze; but she did not ask him anything more about himself. She +inquired about the Kansas weather that week in comparison with the +storm which had just ceased in Chicago, and about Blue Rapids, which +she said she had looked up upon the map, and he took this chat for what +it was—notification that she did not wish to continue the other topic +just then. +</P> + +<P> +She, he saw, was listening, like himself, for the sound of Sherrill's +arrival at the house; and when it came, she recognized it first, rose, +and excused herself. He heard her voice in the hall, then her father's +deeper voice which answered; and ten minutes later, he looked up to see +the man these things had told him must be Sherrill standing in the door +and looking at him. +</P> + +<P> +He was a tall man, sparely built; his broad shoulders had been those of +an athlete in his youth; now, at something over fifty, they had taken +on a slight, rather studious stoop, and his brown hair had thinned upon +his forehead. His eyes, gray like his daughter's, were thoughtful +eyes; just now deep trouble filled them. His look and bearing of a +refined and educated gentleman took away all chance of offense from the +long, inquiring scrutiny to which he subjected Alan's features and +figure before he came into the room. +</P> + +<P> +Alan had risen at sight of him; Sherrill, as he came in, motioned him +back to his seat; he did not sit down himself, but crossed to the +mantel and leaned against it. +</P> + +<P> +"I am Lawrence Sherrill," he said. +</P> + +<P> +As the tall, graceful, thoughtful man stood looking down at him, Alan +could tell nothing of the attitude of this friend of Benjamin Corvet +toward himself. His manner had the same reserve toward Alan, the same +questioning consideration of him, that Constance Sherrill had had after +Alan had told her about himself. +</P> + +<P> +"My daughter has repeated to me what you told her, Mr. Conrad," +Sherrill observed. "Is there anything you want to add to me regarding +that?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's nothing I can add," Alan answered. "I told her all that I +know about myself." +</P> + +<P> +"And about Mr. Corvet?" +</P> + +<P> +"I know nothing at all about Mr. Corvet." +</P> + +<P> +"I am going to tell you some things about Mr. Corvet," Sherrill said. +"I had reason—I do not want to explain just yet what that reason +was—for thinking you could tell us certain things about Mr. Corvet, +which would, perhaps, make plainer what has happened to him. When I +tell you about him now, it is in the hope that, in that way, I may +awake some forgotten memory of him in you; if not that, you may +discover some coincidences of dates or events in Corvet's life with +dates or events in your own. Will you tell me frankly, if you do +discover anything like that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; certainly." +</P> + +<P> +Alan leaned forward in the big chair, hands clasped between his knees, +his blood tingling sharply in his face and fingertips. So Sherrill +expected to make him remember Corvet! There was strange excitement in +this, and he waited eagerly for Sherrill to begin. For several +moments, Sherrill paced up and down before the fire; then he returned +to his place before the mantel. +</P> + +<P> +"I first met Benjamin Corvet," he commenced, "nearly thirty years ago. +I had come West for the first time the year before; I was about your +own age and had been graduated from college only a short time, and a +business opening had offered itself here. +</P> + +<P> +"There was a sentimental reason—I think I must call it that—as well, +for my coming to Chicago. Until my generation, the property of our +family had always been largely—and generally exclusively—in ships. +It is a Salem family; a Sherrill was a sea-captain, living in Salem, +they say, when his neighbors—and he, I suppose—hanged witches; we had +privateers in 1812 and our clippers went round the Horn in '49. The +<I>Alabama</I> ended our ships in '63, as it ended practically the rest of +the American shipping on the Atlantic; and in '73, when our part of the +<I>Alabama</I> claims was paid us, my mother put it in bonds waiting for me +to grow up. +</P> + +<P> +"Sentiment, when I came of age, made me want to put this money back +into ships flying the American flag; but there was small chance of +putting it—and keeping it, with profit—in American ships on the sea. +In Boston and New York, I had seen the foreign flags on the deep-water +ships—British, German, French, Norwegian, Swedish, and Greek; our flag +flew mostly on ferries and excursion steamers. But times were booming +on the great lakes. Chicago, which had more than recovered from the +fire, was doubling its population every decade; Cleveland, Duluth, and +Milwaukee were leaping up as ports. Men were growing millions of +bushels of grain which they couldn't ship except by lake; hundreds of +thousands of tons of ore had to go by water; and there were tens of +millions of feet of pine and hardwood from the Michigan forests. +Sailing vessels such as the Sherrills had always operated, it is true, +had seen their day and were disappearing from the lakes; were being +'sold,' many of them, as the saying is, 'to the insurance companies' by +deliberate wrecking. Steamers were taking their place. Towing had +come in. The first of the whalebacks was built about that time, and we +began to see those processions of a barge and two, three, or four tows +which the lakemen called 'the sow and her pigs.' Men of all sorts had +come forward, of course, and, serving the situation more or less +accidentally, were making themselves rich. +</P> + +<P> +"It was railroading which had brought me West; but I had brought with +me the <I>Alabama</I> money to put into ships. I have called it sentiment, +but it was not merely that; I felt, young man though I was, that this +transportation matter was all one thing, and that in the end the +railroads would own the ships. I have never engaged very actively in +the operation of the ships; my daughter would like me to be more active +in it than I have been; but ever since, I have had money in lake +vessels. It was the year that I began that sort of investment that I +first met Corvet." +</P> + +<P> +Alan looked up quickly. "Mr. Corvet was—?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Corvet was—is a lakeman," Sherrill said. +</P> + +<P> +Alan sat motionless, as he recollected the strange exaltation that had +come to him when he saw the lake for the first time. Should he tell +Sherrill of that? He decided it was too vague, too indefinite to be +mentioned; no doubt any other man used only to the prairie might have +felt the same. +</P> + +<P> +"He was a ship owner, then," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; he was a shipowner—not, however, on a large scale at that time. +He had been a master, sailing ships which belonged to others; then he +had sailed one of his own. He was operating then, I believe, two +vessels; but with the boom times on the lakes, his interests were +beginning to expand. I met him frequently in the next few years, and +we became close friends." +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill broke off and stared an instant down at the rug. Alan bent +forward; he made no interruption but only watched Sherrill attentively. +</P> + +<P> +"It was one of the great advantages of the West, I think—and +particularly of Chicago at that time—that it gave opportunity for +friendships of that sort," Sherrill said. "Corvet was a man of a sort +I would have been far less likely ever to have known intimately in the +East. He was both what the lakes had made him and what he had made of +himself; a great reader—wholly self-educated; he had, I think, many of +the attributes of a great man—at least, they were those of a man who +should have become great; he had imagination and vision. His whole +thought and effort, at that time, were absorbed in furthering and +developing the traffic on the lakes, and not at all from mere desire +for personal success. I met him for the first time one day when I went +to his office on some business. He had just opened an office at that +time in one of the old ramshackle rows along the river front; there was +nothing at all pretentious about it—the contrary, in fact; but as I +went in and waited with the others who were there to see him, I had the +sense of being in the ante-room of a great man. I do not mean there +was any idiotic pomp or lackyism or red tape about it; I mean that the +others who were waiting to see him, and who knew him, were keyed up by +the anticipation and keyed me up.... +</P> + +<P> +"I saw as much as I could of him after that, and our friendship became +very close. +</P> + +<P> +"In 1892, when I married and took my residence here on the lake +shore—the house stood where this one stands now—Corvet bought the +house on Astor Street. His only reason for doing it was, I believe, +his desire to be near me. The neighborhood was what they call +fashionable; neither Corvet nor Mrs. Corvet—he had married in +1889—had social ambitions of that sort. Mrs. Corvet came from +Detroit; she was of good family there—a strain of French blood in the +family; she was a schoolteacher when he married her, and she had made a +wonderful wife for him—a good woman, a woman of very high ideals; it +was great grief to both of them that they had no children. +</P> + +<P> +"Between 1886, when I first met him, and 1895, Corvet laid the +foundation of great success; his boats seemed lucky, men liked to work +for him, and he got the best skippers and crews. A Corvet captain +boasted of it and, if he had had bad luck on another line, believed his +luck changed when he took a Corvet ship; cargoes in Corvet bottoms +somehow always reached port; there was a saying that in storm a Corvet +ship never asked help; it gave it; certainly in twenty years no Corvet +ship had suffered serious disaster. Corvet was not yet rich, but +unless accident or undue competition intervened, he was certain to +become so. Then something happened." +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill looked away at evident loss how to describe it. +</P> + +<P> +"To the ships?" Alan asked him. +</P> + +<P> +"No; to him. In 1896, for no apparent reason, a great change came over +him." +</P> + +<P> +"In 1896!" +</P> + +<P> +"That was the year." +</P> + +<P> +Alan bent forward, his heart throbbing in his throat. "That was also +the year when I was brought and left with the Weltons in Kansas," he +said. +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill did not speak for a moment. "I thought," he said finally, "it +must have been about that time; but you did not tell my daughter the +exact date." +</P> + +<P> +"What kind of change came over him that year?" Alan asked. +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill gazed down at the rug, then at Alan, then past him. "A change +in his way of living," he replied. "The Corvet line of boats went on, +expanded; interests were acquired in other lines; and Corvet and those +allied with him swiftly grew rich. But in all this great development, +for which Corvet's genius and ability had laid the foundation, Corvet +himself ceased to take active part. I do not mean that he formally +retired; he retained his control of the business, but he very seldom +went to the office and, except for occasional violent, almost pettish +interference in the affairs of the company, he left it in the hands of +others. He took into partnership, about a year later, Henry Spearman, +a young man who had been merely a mate on one of his ships. This +proved subsequently to have been a good business move, for Spearman has +tremendous energy, daring, and enterprise; and no doubt Corvet had +recognized these qualities in him before others did. But at the time +it excited considerable comment. It marked, certainly, the beginning +of Corvet's withdrawal from active management. Since then he has been +ostensibly and publicly the head of the concern, but he has left the +management almost entirely to Spearman. The personal change in Corvet +at that time is harder for me to describe to you." +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill halted, his eyes dark with thought, his lips, pressed closely +together; Alan waited. +</P> + +<P> +"When I saw Corvet again, in the summer of '96—I had been South during +the latter part of the winter and East through the spring—I was +impressed by the vague but, to me, alarming change in him. I was +reminded, I recall, of a friend I had had in college who had thought he +was in perfect health and had gone to an examiner for life insurance +and had been refused, and was trying to deny to himself and others that +anything could be the matter. But with Corvet I knew the trouble was +not physical. The next year his wife left him." +</P> + +<P> +"The year of—?" Alan asked. +</P> + +<P> +"That was 1897. We did not know at first, of course, that the +separation was permanent. It proved so, however; and Corvet, I know +now, had understood it to be that way from the first. Mrs. Corvet went +to France—the French blood in her, I suppose, made her select that +country; she had for a number of years a cottage near Trouville, in +Normandy, and was active in church work. I know there was almost no +communication between herself and her husband during those years, and +her leaving him markedly affected Corvet. He had been very fond of her +and proud of her. I had seen him sometimes watching her while she +talked; he would gaze at her steadily and then look about at the other +women in the room and back to her, and his head would nod just +perceptibly with satisfaction; and she would see it sometimes and +smile. There was no question of their understanding and affection up +to the very time she so suddenly and so strangely left him. She died +in Trouville in the spring of 1910, and Corvet's first information of +her death come to him through a paragraph in a newspaper." +</P> + +<P> +Alan had started; Sherrill looked at him questioningly. +</P> + +<P> +"The spring of 1910," Alan explained, "was when I received the bank +draft for fifteen hundred dollars." +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill nodded; he did not seem surprised to hear this; rather it +appeared to be confirmation of something in his own thought. +</P> + +<P> +"Following his wife's leaving him," Sherrill went on, "Corvet saw very +little of any one. He spent most of his time in his own house; +occasionally he lunched at his club; at rare intervals, and always +unexpectedly, he appeared at his office. I remember that summer he was +terribly disturbed because one of his ships was lost. It was not a bad +disaster, for every one on the ship was saved, and hull and cargo were +fully covered by insurance; but the Corvet record was broken; a Corvet +ship had appealed for help; a Corvet vessel had not reached port.... +And later in the fall, when two deckhands were washed from another of +his vessels and drowned, he was again greatly wrought up, though his +ships still had a most favorable record. In 1902 I proposed to him +that I buy full ownership in the vessels I partly controlled and ally +them with those he and Spearman operated. It was a time of +combination—the railroads and the steel interests were acquiring the +lake vessels; and though I believed in this, I was not willing to enter +any combination which would take the name of Sherrill off the list of +American shipowners. I did not give Corvet this as my reason; and he +made me at that time a very strange counter-proposition—which I have +never been able to understand, and which entailed the very obliteration +of my name which I was trying to avoid. He proposed that I accept a +partnership in his concern on a most generous basis, but that the name +of the company remain as it was, merely Corvet and Spearman. +Spearman's influence and mine prevailed upon him to allow my name to +appear; since then, the firm name has been Corvet, Sherrill, and +Spearman. +</P> + +<P> +"Our friendship had strengthened and ripened during those years. The +intense activity of Corvet's mind, which as a younger man he had +directed wholly to the shipping, was directed, after he had isolated +himself in this way, to other things. He took up almost feverishly an +immense number of studies—strange studies most of them for a man whose +youth had been almost violently active and who had once been a lake +captain. I cannot tell you what they all were—geology, ethnology, +nearly a score of subjects; he corresponded with various scientific +societies; he has given almost the whole of his attention to such +things for about twenty years. Since I have known him, he has +transformed himself from the rather rough, uncouth—though always +spiritually minded—man he was when I first met him into an educated +gentleman whom anybody would be glad to know; but he has made very few +acquaintances in that time, and has kept almost none of his old +friendships. He has lived alone in the house on Astor Street with only +one servant—the same one all these years. +</P> + +<P> +"The only house he has visited with any frequency has been mine. He +has always liked my wife; he had—he has a great affection for my +daughter, who, when she was a child, ran in and out of his home as she +pleased. He would take long walks with her; he'd come here sometimes +in the afternoon to have tea with her on stormy days; he liked to have +her play and sing to him. My daughter believes now that his present +disappearance—whatever has happened to him—is connected in some way +with herself. I do not think that is so—" +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill broke off and stood in thought for a moment; he seemed to +consider, and to decide that it was not necessary to say anything more +on that subject. +</P> + +<P> +"Recently Corvet's moroseness and irritability had very greatly +increased; he had quarreled frequently and bitterly with Spearman over +business affairs. He had seemed more than usually eager at times to +see me or to see my daughter; and at other times he had seemed to avoid +us and keep away. I have had the feeling of late, though I could not +give any actual reason for it except Corvet's manner and look, that the +disturbance which had oppressed him for twenty years was culminating in +some way. That culmination seems to have been reached three days ago, +when he wrote summoning you here. Henry Spearman, whom I asked about +you when I learned you were coming, had never heard of you; Mr. +Corvet's servant had never heard of you.... +</P> + +<P> +"Is there anything in what I have told you which makes it possible for +you to recollect or to explain?" +</P> + +<P> +Alan shook his head, flushed, and then grew a little pale. What +Sherrill told him had excited him by the coincidences it offered +between events in Benjamin Corvet's life and his own; it had not made +him "recollect" Corvet, but it had given definiteness and direction to +his speculations as to Corvet's relation to himself. +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill drew one of the large chairs nearer to Alan and sat down +facing him. He felt in an inner pocket and brought out an envelope; +from the envelope he took three pictures, and handed the smallest of +them to Alan. As Alan took it, he saw that it was a tintype of himself +as a round-faced boy of seven. +</P> + +<P> +"That is you?" Sherrill asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; it was taken by the photographer in Blue Rapids. We all had our +pictures taken on that day—Jim, Betty, and I. Mr. Welton"—for the +first time Alan consciously avoided giving the title "Father" to the +man in Kansas—"sent one of me to the 'general delivery' address of the +person in Chicago." +</P> + +<P> +"And this?" +</P> + +<P> +The second picture, Alan saw, was one that had been taken in front of +the barn at the farm. It showed Alan at twelve, in overalls and +barefooted, holding a stick over his head at which a shepherd dog was +jumping. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; that is Shep and I—Jim's and my dog, Mr. Sherrill. It was taken +by a man who stopped at the house for dinner one day; he liked Shep and +wanted a picture of him; so he got me to make Shep jump, and he took +it." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't remember anything about the man?" +</P> + +<P> +"Only that he had a camera and wanted a picture of Shep." +</P> + +<P> +"Doesn't it occur to you that it was your picture he wanted, and that +he had been sent to get it? I wanted your verification that these +earlier pictures were of you, but this last one is easily recognizable." +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill unfolded the third picture; it was larger than the others and +had been folded across the middle to get it into the envelope. Alan +leaned forward to look at it. +</P> + +<P> +"That is the University of Kansas football team," he said. "I am the +second one in the front row; I played end my junior year and tackle +when I was a senior. Mr. Corvet—?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; Mr. Corvet had these pictures. They came into my possession day +before yesterday, the day after Corvet disappeared; I do not want to +tell just yet how they did that." +</P> + +<P> +Alan's face, which had been flushed at first with excitement, had gone +quite pale, and his hands, as he clenched and unclenched them +nervously, were cold, and his lips were very dry. He could think of no +possible relationship between Benjamin Corvet and himself, except one, +which could account for Corvet's obtaining and keeping these pictures +of him through the years. As Sherrill put the pictures back into their +envelope and the envelope back into his pocket, and Alan watched him, +Alan felt nearly certain now that it had not been proof of the nature +of this relationship that Sherrill had been trying to get from him, but +only corroboration of some knowledge, or partial knowledge, which had +come to Sherrill in some other way. The existence of this knowledge +was implied by Sherrill's withholding of the way he had come into +possession of the pictures, and his manner showed now that he had +received from Alan the confirmation for which he had been seeking. +</P> + +<P> +"I think you know who I am," Alan said. +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill had risen and stood looking down at him. +</P> + +<P> +"You have guessed, if I am not mistaken, that you are Corvet's son." +</P> + +<P> +The color flamed to Alan's face for an instant, then left it paler than +before. "I thought it must be that way," he answered; "but you said he +had no children." +</P> + +<P> +"Benjamin Corvet and his wife had no children." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought that was what you meant." A twinge twisted Alan's face; he +tried to control it but for a moment could not. +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill suddenly put his hand on Alan's shoulder; there was something +so friendly, so affectionate in the quick, impulsive grasp of +Sherrill's fingers, that Alan's heart throbbed to it; for the first +time some one had touched him in full, unchecked feeling for him; for +the first time, the unknown about him had failed to be a barrier and, +instead, had drawn another to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Do not misapprehend your father," Sherrill said quietly. "I cannot +prevent what other people may think when they learn this; but I do not +share such thoughts with them. There is much in this I cannot +understand; but I know that it is not merely the result of what others +may think it—of 'a wife in more ports than one,' as you will hear the +lakemen put it. What lies under this is some great misadventure which +had changed and frustrated all your father's life." +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill crossed the room and rang for a servant. +</P> + +<P> +"I am going to ask you to be my guest for a short time, Alan," he +announced. "I have had your bag carried to your room; the man will +show you which one it is." +</P> + +<P> +Alan hesitated; he felt that Sherrill had not told him all he +knew—that there were some things Sherrill purposely was withholding +from him; but he could not force Sherrill to tell more than he wished; +so after an instant's irresolution, he accepted the dismissal. +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill walked with him to the door, and gave his directions to the +servant; he stood watching, as Alan and the man went up the stairs. +Then he went back and seated himself in the chair Alan had occupied, +and sat with hands grasping the arms of the chair while he stared into +the fire. +</P> + +<P> +Fifteen minutes later, he heard his daughter's footsteps and looked up. +Constance halted in the door to assure herself that he was now alone; +then she came to him and, seating herself on the arm of the chair, she +put her hand on his thin hair and smoothed it softly; he felt for her +other hand with his and found it, and held it clasped between his palms. +</P> + +<P> +"You've found out who he is, father?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"The facts have left me no doubt at all as to that, little daughter." +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt that he is——who?" +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill was silent for a moment—not from uncertainty, but because of +the effect which what he must say would have upon her; then he told her +in almost the same words he had used to Alan. Constance started, +flushed, and her hand stiffened convulsively between her father's. +</P> + +<P> +They said nothing more to one another; Sherrill seemed considering and +debating something within himself; and presently he seemed to come to a +decision. He got up, stooped and touched his daughter's hand, and left +the room. He went up the stairs and on the second floor he went to a +front room and knocked. Alan's voice told him to come in. Sherrill +went in and, when he had made sure that the servant was not with Alan, +he closed the door carefully behind him. +</P> + +<P> +Then he turned back to Alan, and for an instant stood indecisive as +though he did not know how to begin what he wanted to say. As he +glanced down at a key he took from his pocket, his indecision seemed to +receive direction and inspiration from it; and he put it down on Alan's +dresser. +</P> + +<P> +"I've brought you," he said evenly, "the key to your house." +</P> + +<P> +Alan gazed at him, bewildered. "The key to my house?" +</P> + +<P> +"To the house on Astor Street," Sherrill confirmed. "Your father +deeded the house and its furniture and all its contents to you the day +before he disappeared. I have not the deed here; it came into my hands +the day before yesterday at the same time I got possession of the +pictures which might—or might not, for all I knew then—be you. I +have the deed down-town and will give it to you. The house is yours in +fee simple, given you by your father, not bequeathed to you by him to +become your property after his death. He meant by that, I think, even +more than the mere acknowledgment that he is your father." +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill walked to the window and stood as though looking out, but his +eyes were blank with thought. +</P> + +<P> +"For almost twenty years," he said, "your father, as I have told you, +lived in that house practically alone; during all those years a shadow +of some sort was over him. I don't know at all, Alan, what that shadow +was. But it is certain that whatever it was that had changed him from +the man he was when I first knew him culminated three days ago when he +wrote to you. It may be that the consequences of his writing to you +were such that, after he had sent the letter, he could not bring +himself to face them and so has merely ... gone away. In that case, as +we stand here talking, he is still alive. On the other hand, his +writing you may have precipitated something that I know nothing of. In +either case, if he has left anywhere any evidence of what it is that +changed and oppressed him for all these years, or if there is any +evidence of what has happened to him now, it will be found in his +house." +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill turned back to Alan. "It is for you—not me, Alan," he said +simply, "to make that search. I have thought seriously about it, this +last half hour, and have decided that is as he would want it—perhaps +as he did want it—to be. He could have told me what his trouble was +any time in these twenty years, if he had been willing I should know; +but he never did." +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill was silent for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"There are some things your father did just before he disappeared that +I have not told you yet," he went on. "The reason I have not told them +is that I have not yet fully decided in my own mind what action they +call for from me. I can assure you, however, that it would not help +you now in any way to know them." +</P> + +<P> +He thought again; then glanced to the key on the dresser and seemed to +recollect. +</P> + +<P> +"That key," he said, "is one I made your father give me some time ago; +he was at home alone so much that I was afraid something might happen +to him there. He gave it me because he knew I would not misuse it. I +used it, for the first time, three days ago, when, after becoming +certain something had gone wrong with him, I went to the house to +search for him; my daughter used it this morning when she went there to +wait for you. Your father, of course, had a key to the front door like +this one; his servant has a key to the servants' entrance. I do not +know of any other keys." +</P> + +<P> +"The servant is in charge there now?" Alan asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Just now there is no one in the house. The servant, after your father +disappeared, thought that, if he had merely gone away, he might have +gone back to his birthplace near Manistique, and he went up there to +look for him. I had a wire from him to-day that he had not found him +and was coming back." +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill waited a moment to see whether there was anything more Alan +wanted to ask; then he went out. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +"ARRIVED SAFE; WELL" +</H4> + +<P> +As the door closed behind Sherrill, Alan went over to the dresser and +picked up the key which Sherrill had left. It was, he saw, a flat key +of a sort common twenty years before, not of the more recent corrugated +shape. As he looked at it and then away from it, thoughtfully turning +it over and over in his fingers, it brought no sense of possession to +him. Sherrill had said the house was his, had been given him by his +father; but that fact could not actually make it his in his +realization. He could not imagine himself owning such a house or what +he would do with it if it were his. He put the key, after a moment, on +the ring with two or three other keys he had, and dropped them into his +pocket; then he crossed to a chair and sat down. +</P> + +<P> +He found, as he tried now to disentangle the events of the afternoon, +that from them, and especially from his last interview with Sherrill, +two facts stood out most clearly. The first of these related more +directly to his father—to Benjamin Corvet. When such a man as +Benjamin Corvet must have been, disappears—when, without warning and +without leaving any account of himself he vanishes from among those who +knew him—the persons most closely interested pass through three stages +of anxiety. They doubt first whether the disappearance is real and +whether inquiry on their part will not be resented; they waken next to +realization that the man is actually gone, and that something must be +done; the third stage is open and public inquiry. Whatever might be +the nature of the information Sherrill was withholding from him, Alan +saw that its effect on Sherrill had been to shorten very greatly +Sherrill's time of doubt as to Corvet's actual disappearance. The +Sherrills—particularly Sherrill himself—had been in the second stage +of anxiety when Alan came; they had been awaiting Alan's arrival in the +belief that Alan could give them information which would show them what +must be "done" about Corvet. Alan had not been able to give them this +information; but his coming, and his interview with Sherrill, had +strongly influenced Sherrill's attitude. Sherrill had shrunk, still +more definitely and consciously, after that, from prying into the +affairs of his friend; he had now, strangely, almost withdrawn himself +from the inquiry, and had given it over to Alan. +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill had spoken of the possibility that something might have +"happened" to Covert; but it was plain he did not believe he had met +with actual violence. He had left it to Alan to examine Corvet's +house; but he had not urged Alan to examine it at once; he had left the +time of the examination to be determined by Alan. This showed clearly +that Sherrill believed—perhaps had sufficient reason for +believing—that Corvet had simply "gone away." The second of Alan's +two facts related even more closely and personally to Alan himself. +Corvet, Sherrill had said, had married in 1889. But Sherrill in long +knowledge of his friend, had shown firm conviction that there had been +no mere vulgar liaison in Corvet's life. Did this mean that there +might have been some previous marriage of Alan's father—some marriage +which had strangely overlapped and nullified his public marriage? In +that case, Alan could be, not only in fact but legally, Corvet's son; +and such things as this, Alan knew, had sometimes happened, and had +happened by a strange combination of events, innocently for all +parties. Corvet's public separation from his wife, Sherrill had said, +had taken place in 1897, but the actual separation between them might, +possibly, have taken place long before that. +</P> + +<P> +Alan resolved to hold these questions in abeyance; he would not accept +or grant the stigma which his relationship to Corvet seemed to attach +to himself until it had been proved to him. He had come to Chicago +expecting, not to find that there had never been anything wrong, but to +find that the wrong had been righted in some way at last. But what was +most plain of all to him, from what Sherrill had told him, was that the +wrong—whatever it might be—had not been righted; it existed still. +</P> + +<P> +The afternoon had changed swiftly into night; dusk had been gathering +during his last talk with Sherrill, so that he hardly had been able to +see Sherrill's face, and just after Sherrill had left him, full dark +had come. Alan did not know how long he had been sitting in the +darkness thinking out these things; but now a little clock which had +been ticking steadily in the blackness tinkled six. Alan heard a knock +at his door, and when it was repeated, he called, "Come in." +</P> + +<P> +The light which came in from the hall, as the door was opened, showed a +man servant. The man, after a respectful inquiry, switched on the +light. He crossed into the adjoining room—a bedroom; the room where +Alan was, he thought, must be a dressing room, and there was a bath +between. Presently the man reappeared, and moved softly about the +room, unpacking Alan's suitcase. He hung Alan's other suit in the +closet on hangers; he put the linen, except for one shirt, in the +dresser drawers, and he put Alan's few toilet things with the +ivory-backed brushes and comb and other articles on the dressing stand. +</P> + +<P> +Alan watched him queerly; no one except himself ever had unpacked +Alan's suitcase before; the first time he had gone away to college—it +was a brand new suitcase then—"mother" had packed it; after that first +time, Alan had packed and unpacked it. It gave him an odd feeling now +to see some one else unpacking his things. The man, having finished +and taken everything out, continued to look in the suitcase for +something else. +</P> + +<P> +"I beg pardon, sir," he said finally, "but I cannot find your buttons." +</P> + +<P> +"I've got them on," Alan said. He took them out and gave them to the +valet with a smile; it was good to have something to smile at, if it +was only the realization that he never had thought before of any one's +having more than one set of buttons for ordinary shirts. Alan +wondered, with a sort of trepidation, whether the man would expect to +stay and help him dress; but he only put the buttons in the clean shirt +and reopened the dresser drawers and laid out a change of things. +</P> + +<P> +"Is there anything else, sir?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing, thank you," Alan said. +</P> + +<P> +"I was to tell you, sir, Mr. Sherrill is sorry he cannot be at home to +dinner to-night. Mrs. Sherrill and Miss Sherrill will be here. Dinner +is at seven, sir." +</P> + +<P> +Alan dressed slowly, after the man had gone; and at one minute before +seven he went down-stairs. +</P> + +<P> +There was no one in the lower hall and, after an instant of +irresolution and a glance into the empty drawing-room, he turned into +the small room at the opposite side of the hall. A handsome, stately, +rather large woman, whom he found there, introduced herself to him +formally as Mrs. Sherrill. +</P> + +<P> +He knew from Sherrill's mention of the year of their marriage that Mrs. +Sherrill's age must be about forty-five, but if he had not known this, +he would have thought her ten years younger. In her dark eyes and her +carefully dressed, coal-black hair, and in the contour of her youthful +looking, handsome face, he could not find any such pronounced +resemblance to her daughter as he had seen in Lawrence Sherrill. Her +reserved, yet almost too casual acceptance of Alan's presence, told him +that she knew all the particulars about himself which Sherrill had been +able to give; and as Constance came down the stairs and joined them +half a minute later, Alan was certain that she also knew. +</P> + +<P> +Yet there was in her manner toward Alan a difference from that of her +mother—a difference which seemed almost opposition. Not that Mrs. +Sherrill's was unfriendly or critical; rather, it was kind with the +sort of reserved kindness which told Alan, almost as plainly as words, +that she had not been able to hold so charitable a conviction in regard +to Corvet's relationship with Alan as her husband held, but that she +would be only the more considerate to Alan for that. It was this +kindness which Constance set herself to oppose, and which she opposed +as reservedly and as subtly as it was expressed. It gave Alan a +strange, exhilarating sensation to realize that, as the three talked +together, this girl was defending him. +</P> + +<P> +Not him alone, of course, or him chiefly. It was Benjamin Corvet, her +friend, whom she was defending primarily; yet it was Alan too; and all +went on without a word about Benjamin Corvet or his affairs being +spoken. +</P> + +<P> +Dinner was announced, and they went into the great dining-room, where +the table with its linen, silver, and china gleamed under shaded +lights. The oldest and most dignified of the three men servants who +waited upon them in the dining-room Alan thought must be a butler—a +species of creature of whom Alan had heard but never had seen; the +other servants, at least, received and handed things through him, and +took their orders from him. As the silent-footed servants moved about, +and Alan kept up a somewhat strained conversation with Mrs. Sherrill—a +conversation in which no reference to his own affairs was yet made—he +wondered whether Constance and her mother always dressed for dinner in +full evening dress as now, or whether they were going out. A word from +Constance to her mother told him this latter was the case, and while it +did not give complete answer to his internal query, it showed him his +first glimpse of social engagements as a part of the business of life. +In spite of the fact that Benjamin Corvet, Sherrill's close friend, had +disappeared—or perhaps because he had disappeared and, as yet, it was +not publicly known—their and Sherrill's engagements had to be +fulfilled. +</P> + +<P> +What Sherrill had told Alan of his father had been iterating itself +again and again in Alan's thoughts; now he recalled that Sherrill had +said that his daughter believed that Corvet's disappearance had had +something to do with her. Alan had wondered at the moment how that +could be; and as he watched her across the table and now and then +exchanged a comment with her, it puzzled him still more. He had +opportunity to ask her when she waited with him in the library, after +dinner was finished and her mother had gone up-stairs; but he did not +see then how to go about it. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry," she said to him, "that we can't be home to-night; but +perhaps you would rather be alone?" +</P> + +<P> +He did not answer that. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you a picture here, Miss Sherrill, of—my father?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Uncle Benny had had very few pictures taken; but there is one here." +</P> + +<P> +She went into the study, and came back with a book open at a half-tone +picture of Benjamin Corvet. Alan took it from her and carried it +quickly closer to the light. The face that looked up to him from the +heavily glazed page was regular of feature, handsome in a way, and +forceful. There were imagination and vigor of thought in the broad, +smooth forehead; the eyes were strangely moody and brooding; the mouth +was gentle, rather kindly; it was a queerly impelling, haunting face. +This was his father! But, as Alan held the picture, gazing down upon +it, the only emotion which came to him was realization that he felt +none. He had not expected to know his father from strangers on the +street; but he had expected, when told that his father was before him, +to feel through and through him the call of a common blood. Now, +except for consternation at his own lack of feeling, he had no emotion +of any sort; he could not attach to this man, because he bore the name +which some one had told him was his father's, the passions which, when +dreaming of his father, he had felt. +</P> + +<P> +As he looked up from the picture to the girl who had given it to him, +startled at himself and believing she must think his lack of feeling +strange and unnatural, he surprised her gazing at him with wetness in +her eyes. He fancied at first it must be for his father, and that the +picture had brought back poignantly her fears. But she was not looking +at the picture, but at him; and when his eyes met hers, she quickly +turned away. +</P> + +<P> +His own eyes filled, and he choked. He wanted to thank her for her +manner to him in the afternoon, for defending his father and him, as +she had at the dinner table, and now for this unplanned, impulsive +sympathy when she saw how he had not been able to feel for this man who +was his father and how he was dismayed by it. But he could not put his +gratitude in words. +</P> + +<P> +A servant's voice came from the door, startling him. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Sherrill wishes you told she is waiting, Miss Sherrill." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be there at once." Constance, also, seemed startled and +confused; but she delayed and looked back to Alan. +</P> + +<P> +"If—if we fail to find your father," she said, "I want to tell you +what a man he was." +</P> + +<P> +"Will you?" Alan asked. "Will you?" +</P> + +<P> +She left him swiftly, and he heard her mother's voice in the hall. A +motor door closed sharply, after a minute or so; then the house door +closed. Alan stood still a moment longer, then, remembering the book +which he held, he drew a chair up to the light, and read the short, dry +biography of his father printed on the page opposite the portrait. It +summarized in a few hundred words his father's life. He turned to the +cover of the book and read its title, "Year Book of the Great Lakes," +and a date of five years before; then he looked through it. It +consisted in large part, he saw, merely of lists of ships, their kind, +their size, the date when they were built, and their owners. Under +this last head he saw some score of times the name "Corvet, Sherrill +and Spearman." There was a separate list of engines and boilers, and +when they had been built and by whom. There was a chronological table +of events during the year upon the lakes. Then he came to a part +headed "Disasters of the Year," and he read some of them; they were +short accounts, drily and unfeelingly put, but his blood thrilled to +these stories of drowning, freezing, blinded men struggling against +storm and ice and water, and conquering or being conquered by them. +Then he came to his father's picture and biography once more and, with +it, to pictures of other lakemen and their biographies. He turned to +the index and looked for Sherrill's name, and then Spearman's; finding +they were not in the book, he read some of the other ones. +</P> + +<P> +There was a strange similarity, he found, in these biographies, among +themselves as well as to that of his father. These men had had, the +most of them, no tradition of seamanship, such as Sherrill had told him +he himself had had. They had been sons of lumbermen, of farmers, of +mill hands, miners, or fishermen. They had been very young for the +most part, when they had heard and answered the call of the lakes—the +ever-swelling, fierce demand of lumber, grain, and ore for outlet; and +they had lived hard; life had been violent, and raw, and brutal to +them. They had sailed ships, and built ships, and owned and lost them; +they had fought against nature and against man to keep their ships, and +to make them profitable, and to get more of them. In the end a few, a +very few comparatively, had survived; by daring, by enterprise, by +taking great chances, they had thrust their heads above those of their +fellows; they had come to own a half dozen, a dozen, perhaps a score of +bottoms, and to have incomes of fifty, of a hundred, of two hundred +thousand dollars a year. +</P> + +<P> +Alan shut the book and sat thoughtful. He felt strongly the immensity, +the power, the grandeur of all this; but he felt also its violence and +its fierceness. What might there not have been in the life of his +father who had fought up and made a way for himself through such things? +</P> + +<P> +The tall clock in the hall struck nine. He got up and went out into +the hall and asked for his hat and coat. When they had been brought +him, he put them on and went out. +</P> + +<P> +The snow had stopped some time before; a strong and increasing wind had +sprung up, which Alan, with knowledge of the wind across his prairies, +recognized as an aftermath of the greater storm that had produced it; +for now the wind was from the opposite direction—from the west. He +could see from the Sherrills' door step, when he looked toward the +lighthouse at the harbor mouth winking red, white, red, white, at him, +that this offshore wind was causing some new commotion and upheaval +among the ice-floes; they groaned and labored and fought against the +opposing pressure of the waves, under its urging. +</P> + +<P> +He went down the steps and to the corner and turned west to Astor +Street. When he reached the house of his father, he stopped under a +street-lamp, looking up at the big, stern old mansion questioningly. +It had taken on a different look for him since he had heard Sherrill's +account of his father; there was an appeal to him that made his throat +grow tight, in its look of being unoccupied, in the blank stare of its +unlighted windows which contrasted with the lighted windows in the +houses on both sides, and in the slight evidences of disrepair about +it. He waited many minutes, his hand upon the key in his pocket; yet +he could not go in, but instead walked on down the street, his thoughts +and feelings in a turmoil. +</P> + +<P> +He could not call up any sense that the house was his, any more than he +had been able to when Sherrill had told him of it. He own a house on +that street! Yet was that in itself any more remarkable than that he +should be the guest, the friend of such people as the Sherrills? No +one as yet, since Sherrill had told him he was Corvet's son, had called +him by name; when they did, what would they call him? Alan Conrad +still? Or Alan Corvet? +</P> + +<P> +He noticed, up a street to the west, the lighted sign of a drug store +and turned up that way; he had promised, he had recollected now, to +write to ... those in Kansas—he could not call them "father" and +"mother" any more—and tell them what he had discovered as soon as he +arrived. He could not tell them that, but he could write them at least +that he had arrived safely and was well. He bought a postcard in the +drug store, and wrote just, "Arrived safely; am well" to John Welton in +Kansas. There was a little vending machine upon the counter, and he +dropped in a penny and got a box of matches and put them in his pocket. +</P> + +<P> +He mailed the card and turned back to Astor Street; and he walked more +swiftly now, having come to his decision, and only shot one quick look +up at the house as he approached it. With what had his father shut +himself up within that house for twenty years? And was it there still? +And was it from that that Benjamin Corvet had fled? He saw no one in +the street, and was certain no one was observing him as, taking the key +from his pocket, he ran up the steps and unlocked the outer door. +Holding this door open to get the light from the street lamp, he fitted +the key into the inner door; then he closed the outer door. For fully +a minute, with fast beating heart and a sense of expectation of he knew +not what, he kept his hand upon the key before he turned it; then he +opened the door and stepped into the dark and silent house. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +AN ENCOUNTER +</H4> + +<P> +Alan, standing in the darkness of the hall, felt in his pocket for his +matches and struck one on the box. The light showed the hall in front +of him, reaching back into some vague, distant darkness, and great +rooms with wide portièred doorways gaping on both sides. He turned +into the room upon his right, glanced to see that the shades were drawn +on the windows toward the street, then found the switch and turned on +the electric light. +</P> + +<P> +As he looked around, he fought against his excitement and feeling of +expectancy; it was—he told himself—after all, merely a vacant house, +though bigger and more expensively furnished than any he ever had been +in except the Sherrills; and Sherrill's statement to him had implied +that anything there might be in it which could give the reason for his +father's disappearance would be probably only a paper, a record of some +kind. It was unlikely that a thing so easily concealed as that could +be found by him on his first examination of the place; what he had come +here for now—he tried to make himself believe—was merely to obtain +whatever other information it could give him about his father and the +way his father had lived, before Sherrill and he had any other +conversation. +</P> + +<P> +Alan had not noticed, when he stepped into the hall in the morning, +whether the house then had been heated; now he appreciated that it was +quite cold and, probably, had been cold for the three days since his +father had gone, and his servant had left to look for him. Coming from +the street, it was not the chilliness of the house he felt but the +stillness of the dead air; when a house is heated, there is always some +motion of the air, but this air was stagnant. Alan had dropped his hat +on a chair in the hall; he unbuttoned his overcoat but kept it on, and +stuffed his gloves into his pocket. +</P> + +<P> +A light in a single room, he thought, would not excite curiosity or +attract attention from the neighbors or any one passing in the street; +but lights in more than one room might do that. He resolved to turn +off the light in each room as he left it, before lighting the next one. +</P> + +<P> +It had been a pleasant as well as a handsome house, if he could judge +by the little of it he could see, before the change had come over his +father. The rooms were large with high ceilings. The one where he +stood, obviously was a library; bookshelves reached three quarters of +the way to the ceiling on three of its walls except where they were +broken in two places by doorways, and in one place on the south wall by +an open fireplace. There was a big library table-desk in the center of +the room, and a stand with a shaded lamp upon it nearer the fireplace. +A leather-cushioned Morris chair—a lonely, meditative-looking +chair—was by the stand and at an angle toward the hearth; the rug in +front of it was quite worn through and showed the floor underneath. A +sympathy toward his father, which Sherrill had not been able to make +him feel, came to Alan as he reflected how many days and nights +Benjamin Corvet must have passed reading or thinking in that chair +before his restless feet could have worn away the tough, Oriental +fabric of the rug. +</P> + +<P> +There were several magazines on the top of the large desk, some +unwrapped, some still in their wrappers; Alan glanced at them and saw +that they all related to technical and scientific subjects. The desk +evidently had been much used and had many drawers; Alan pulled one open +and saw that it was full of papers; but his sensation as he touched the +top one made him shut the drawer again and postpone prying of that sort +until he had looked more thoroughly about the house. +</P> + +<P> +He went to the door of the connecting room and looked into it. This +room, dusky in spite of the light which shone past him through the wide +doorway, was evidently another library; or rather it appeared to have +been the original library, and the front room had been converted into a +library to supplement it. The bookcases here were built so high that a +little ladder on wheels was required for access to the top shelves. +Alan located the light switch in the room; then he returned, switched +off the light in the front room, crossed in the darkness into the +second room, and pressed the switch. +</P> + +<P> +A weird, uncanny, half wail, half moan, coming from the upper hall, +suddenly filled the house. Its unexpectedness and the nature of the +sound stirred the hair upon his head, and he started back; then he +pressed the switch again, and the noise stopped. He lighted another +match, found the right switch, and turned on the light. Only after +discovering two long tiers of white and black keys against the north +wall did Alan understand that the switch must control the motor working +the bellows of an organ which had pipes in the upper hall; it was the +sort of organ that can be played either with fingers or by means of a +paper roll; a book of music had fallen upon the keys, so that one was +pressed down, causing the note to sound when the bellows pumped. +</P> + +<P> +But having accounted for the sound did not immediately end the start +that it had given Alan. He had the feeling which so often comes to one +in an unfamiliar and vacant house that there was some one in the house +with him. He listened and seemed to hear another sound in the upper +hall, a footstep. He went out quickly to the foot of the stairs and +looked up them. +</P> + +<P> +"Is any one here?" he called. "Is any one here?" +</P> + +<P> +His voice brought no response. He went half way up the curve of the +wide stairway, and called again, and listened; then he fought down the +feeling he had had; Sherrill had said there would be no one in the +house, and Alan was certain there was no one. So he went back to the +room where he had left the light. +</P> + +<P> +The center of this room, like the room next to it, was occupied by a +library table-desk. He pulled open some of the drawers in it; one or +two had blue prints and technical drawings in them; the others had only +the miscellany which accumulates in a room much used. There were +drawers also under the bookcases all around the room; they appeared, +when Alan opened some of them, to contain pamphlets of various +societies, and the scientific correspondence of which Sherrill had told +him. He looked over the titles of some of the books on the shelves—a +multitude of subjects, anthropology, exploration, deep-sea fishing, +ship-building, astronomy. The books in each section of the shelves +seemed to correspond in subject with the pamphlets and correspondence +in the drawer beneath, and these, by their dates, to divide themselves +into different periods during the twenty years that Benjamin Corvet had +lived alone here. +</P> + +<P> +Alan felt that seeing these things was bringing his father closer to +him; they gave him a little of the feeling he had been unable to get +when he looked at his father's picture. He could realize better now +the lonely, restless man, pursued by some ghost he could not kill, +taking up for distraction one subject of study after another, +exhausting each in turn until he could no longer make it engross him, +and then absorbing himself in the next. +</P> + +<P> +These two rooms evidently had been the ones most used by his father; +the other rooms on this floor, as Alan went into them one by one, he +found spoke far less intimately of Benjamin Corvet. A dining-room was +in the front of the house to the north side of the hall; a service room +opened from it, and on the other side of the service room was what +appeared to be a smaller dining-room. The service room communicated +both by dumb waiter and stairway with rooms below; Alan went down the +stairway only far enough to see that the rooms below were servants' +quarters; then he came back, turned out the light on the first floor, +struck another match, and went up the stairs to the second story. +</P> + +<P> +The rooms opening on to the upper hall, it was plain to him, though +their doors were closed, were mostly bedrooms. He put his hand at +hazard on the nearest door and opened it. As he caught the taste and +smell of the air in the room—heavy, colder, and deader even than the +air in the rest of the house—he hesitated; then with his match he +found the light switch. +</P> + +<P> +The room and the next one which communicated with it evidently were—or +had been—a woman's bedroom and boudoir. The hangings, which were +still swaying from the opening of the door, had taken permanently the +folds in which they had hung for many years; there were the scores of +long-time idleness, not of use, in the rugs and upholstery of the +chairs. The bed, however, was freshly made up, as though the bed +clothing had been changed occasionally. Alan went through the bedroom +to the door of the boudoir, and saw that that too had the same look of +unoccupancy and disuse. On the low dressing table were scattered such +articles as a woman starting on a journey might think it not worth +while to take with her. There was no doubt that these were the rooms +of his father's wife. +</P> + +<P> +Had his father preserved them thus, as she had left them, in the hope +that she might come back, permitting himself to fix no time when he +abandoned that hope, or even to change them after he had learned that +she was dead? Alan thought not; Sherrill had said that Corvet had +known from the first that his separation from his wife was permanent. +The bed made up, the other things neglected, and evidently looked after +or dusted only at long separated periods, looked more as though Corvet +had shrunk from seeing them or even thinking of them, and had left them +to be looked after wholly by the servant, without ever being able to +bring himself to give instructions that they should be changed. Alan +felt that he would not be surprised to learn that his father never had +entered these ghostlike rooms since the day his wife had left him. +</P> + +<P> +On the top of a chest of high drawers in a corner near the dressing +table were some papers. Alan went over to look at them; they were +invitations, notices of concerts and of plays twenty years old—the +mail, probably, of the morning she had gone away, left where her maid +or she herself had laid them, and only picked up and put back there at +the times since when the room was dusted. As Alan touched them, he saw +that his fingers left marks in the dust on the smooth top of the chest; +he noticed that some one else had touched the things and made marks of +the same sort as he had made. The freshness of these other marks +startled him; they had been made within a day or so. They could not +have been made by Sherrill, for Alan had noticed that Sherrill's hands +were slender and delicately formed; Corvet, too, was not a large man; +Alan's own hand was of good size and powerful, but when he put his +fingers over the marks the other man had made, he found that the other +hand must have been larger and more powerful than his own. Had it been +Corvet's servant? It might have been, though the marks seemed too +fresh for that; for the servant, Sherrill had said, had left the day +Corvet's disappearance was discovered. +</P> + +<P> +Alan pulled open the drawers to see what the other man might have been +after. It had not been the servant; for the contents of the +drawers—old brittle lace and woman's clothing—were tumbled as though +they had been pulled out and roughly and inexpertly pushed back; they +still showed the folds in which they had lain for years and which +recently had been disarranged. +</P> + +<P> +This proof that some one had been prying about in the house before +himself and since Corvet had gone, startled Alan and angered him. It +brought him suddenly a sense of possession which he had not been able +to feel when Sherrill had told him the house was his; it brought an +impulse of protection of these things about him. Who had been +searching in Benjamin Corvet's—in Alan's house? He pushed the drawers +shut hastily and hurried across the hall to the room opposite. In this +room—plainly Benjamin Corvet's bedroom—were no signs of intrusion. +He went to the door of the room connecting with it, turned on the +light, and looked in. It was a smaller room than the others and +contained a roll-top desk and a cabinet. The cover of the desk was +closed, and the drawers of the cabinet were shut and apparently +undisturbed. Alan recognized that probably in this room he would find +the most intimate and personal things relating to his father; but +before examining it, he turned back to inspect the bedroom. +</P> + +<P> +It was a carefully arranged and well-cared-for room, plainly in +constant use. A reading stand, with a lamp, was beside the bed with a +book marked about the middle. On the dresser were hair-brushes and a +comb, and a box of razors, none of which were missing. When Benjamin +Corvet had gone away, he had not taken anything with him, even toilet +articles. With the other things on the dresser, was a silver frame for +a photograph with a cover closed and fastened over the portrait; as +Alan took it up and opened it, the stiffness of the hinges and the +edges of the lid gummed to the frame by disuse, showed that it was long +since it had been opened. The picture was of a woman of perhaps +thirty—a beautiful woman, dark-haired, dark-eyed, with a refined, +sensitive, spiritual-looking face. The dress she wore was the same, +Alan suddenly recognized, which he had seen and touched among the +things in the chest of drawers; it gave him a queer feeling now to have +touched her things. He felt instinctively, as he held the picture and +studied it, that it could have been no vulgar bickering between wife +and husband, nor any caprice of a dissatisfied woman, that had made her +separate herself from her husband. The photographer's name was stamped +in one corner, and the date—1894, the year after Alan had been born. +</P> + +<P> +But Alan felt that the picture and the condition of her rooms across +the hall did not shed any light on the relations between her and +Benjamin Corvet; rather they obscured them; for his father neither had +put the picture away from him and devoted her rooms to other uses, nor +had he kept the rooms arranged and ready for her return and her picture +so that he would see it. He would have done one or the other of these +things, Alan thought, if it were she his father had wronged—or, at +least, if it were only she. +</P> + +<P> +Alan reclosed the case, and put the picture down; then he went into the +room with the desk. He tried the cover of the desk, but it appeared to +be locked; after looking around vainly for a key, he tried again, +exerting a little more force, and this time the top went up easily, +tearing away the metal plate into which the claws of the lock clasped +and the two long screws which had held it. He examined the lock, +surprised, and saw that the screws must have been merely set into the +holes; scars showed where a chisel or some metal implement had been +thrust in under the top to force it up. The pigeonholes and little +drawers in the upper part of the desk, as he swiftly opened them, he +found entirely empty. He hurried to the cabinet; the drawers of the +cabinet too had been forced, and very recently; for the scars and the +splinters of wood were clean and fresh. These drawers and the drawers +in the lower part of the desk either were empty, or the papers in them +had been disarranged and tumbled in confusion, as though some one had +examined them hastily and tossed them back. +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill had not done that, nor any one who had a business to be there. +If Benjamin Corvet had emptied some of those drawers before he went +away, he would not have relocked empty drawers. To Alan, the marks of +violence and roughness were unmistakably the work of the man with the +big hands who had left marks upon the top of the chest of drawers; and +the feeling that he had been in the house very recently was stronger +than ever. +</P> + +<P> +Alan ran out into the hall and listened; he heard no sound; but he went +back to the little room more excited than before. For what had the +other man been searching? For the same things which Alan was looking +for? And had the other man got them? Who might the other be, and what +might be his connection with Benjamin Corvet? Alan had no doubt that +everything of importance must have been taken away, but he would make +sure of that. He took some of the papers from the drawers and began to +examine them; after nearly an hour of this, he had found only one +article which appeared connected in any way with what Sherrill had told +him or with Alan himself. In one of the little drawers of the desk he +found several books, much worn as though from being carried in a +pocket, and one of these contained a series of entries stretching over +several years. These listed an amount—$150.—opposite a series of +dates with only the year and the month given, and there was an entry +for every second month. +</P> + +<P> +Alan felt his fingers trembling as he turned the pages of the little +book and found at the end of the list a blank, and below, in the same +hand but in writing which had changed slightly with the passage of +years, another date and the confirming entry of $1,500. The other +papers and books were only such things as might accumulate during a +lifetime on the water and in business—government certificates, +manifests, boat schedules of times long gone by, and similar papers. +Alan looked through the little book again and put it in his pocket. It +was, beyond doubt, his father's memorandum of the sums sent to Blue +Rapids for Alan; it told him that here he had been in his father's +thoughts; in this little room, within a few steps from those deserted +apartments of his wife, Benjamin Corvet had sent "Alan's dollar"—that +dollar which had been such a subject of speculation in his childhood +for himself and for all the other children. He grew warm at the +thought as he began putting the other things back into the drawers. +</P> + +<P> +He started and straightened suddenly; then he listened attentively, and +his skin, warm an instant before, turned cold and prickled. Somewhere +within the house, unmistakably on the floor below him, a door had +slammed. The wind, which had grown much stronger in the last hour, was +battering the windows and whining round the corners of the building; +but the house was tightly closed; it could not be the wind that had +blown the door shut. Some one—it was beyond question now, for the +realization was quite different from the feeling he had had about that +before—was in the house with him. Had his father's servant come back? +That was impossible; Sherrill had received a wire from the man that +day, and he could not get back to Chicago before the following morning +at the earliest. But the servant, Sherrill had said, was the only +other one besides his father who had a key. Was it ... his father who +had come back? That, though not impossible, seemed improbable. +</P> + +<P> +Alan stooped quickly, unlaced and stripped off his shoes, and ran out +into the hall to the head of the stairs where he looked down and +listened. From here the sound of some one moving about came to him +distinctly; he could see no light below, but when he ran down to the +turn of the stairs, it became plain that there was a very dim and +flickering light in the library. He crept on farther down the +staircase. His hands were cold and moist from his excitement, and his +body was hot and trembling. +</P> + +<P> +Whoever it was that was moving about down-stairs, even if he was not +one who had a right to be there, at least felt secure from +interruption. He was going with heavy step from window to window; +where he found a shade up, he pulled it down brusquely and with a +violence which suggested great strength under a nervous strain; a +shade, which had been pulled down, flew up, and the man damned it as +though it had startled him; then, after an instant, he pulled it down +again. +</P> + +<P> +Alan crept still farther down and at last caught sight of him. The man +was not his father; he was not a servant; it was equally sure at the +same time that he was not any one who had any business to be in the +house and that he was not any common house-breaker. +</P> + +<P> +He was a big, young-looking man, with broad shoulders and very evident +vigor; Alan guessed his age at thirty-five; he was handsome—he had a +straight forehead over daring, deep-set eyes; his nose, lips, and chin +were powerfully formed; and he was expensively and very carefully +dressed. The light by which Alan saw these things came from a flat +little pocket searchlight that the man carried in one hand, which threw +a little brilliant circle of light as he directed it; and now, as the +light chanced to fall on his other hand—powerful and heavily +muscled—Alan recollected the look and size of the finger prints on the +chest of drawers upstairs. He did not doubt that this was the same man +who had gone through the desk; but since he had already rifled the +desks, what did he want here now? As the man moved out of sight, Alan +crept on down as far as the door to the library; the man had gone on +into the rear room, and Alan went far enough into the library so he +could see him. +</P> + +<P> +He had pulled open one of the drawers in the big table in the rear +room—the room where the organ was and where the bookshelves reached to +the ceiling—and with his light held so as to show what was in it, he +was tumbling over its contents and examining them. He went through one +after another of the drawers of the table like this; after examining +them, he rose and kicked the last one shut disgustedly; he stood +looking about the room questioningly, then he started toward the front +room. +</P> + +<P> +He cast the light of his torch ahead of him; but Alan had time to +anticipate his action and to retreat to the hall. He held the hangings +a little way from the door jamb so he could see into the room. If this +man were the same who had looted the desk up-stairs, it was plain that +he had not procured there what he wanted or all of what he wanted; and +now he did not know where next to look. +</P> + +<P> +He had, as yet, neither seen nor heard anything to alarm him, and as he +went to the desk in the front room and peered impatiently into the +drawers, he slammed them shut, one after another. He straightened and +stared about. "Damn Ben! Damn Ben!" he ejaculated violently and +returned to the rear room. Alan, again following him, found him on his +knees in front of one of the drawers under the bookcases. As he +continued searching through the drawers, his irritation became greater +and greater. He jerked one drawer entirely out of its case, and the +contents flew in every direction; swearing at it, and damning "Ben" +again, he gathered up the letters. One suddenly caught his attention; +he began reading it closely, then snapped it back into the drawer, +crammed the rest on top of it, and went on to the next of the files. +He searched in this manner through half a dozen drawers, plainly +finding nothing at all he wanted; he dragged some of the books from +their cases, felt behind them and shoved back some of the books but +dropped others on the floor and blasphemy burst from him. +</P> + +<P> +He cursed "Ben" again and again, and himself, and God; he damned men by +name, but so violently and incoherently that Alan could not make out +the names; terribly he swore at men living and men "rotting in Hell." +The beam of light from the torch in his hand swayed aside and back and +forth. Without warning, suddenly it caught Alan as he stood in the +dark of the front room; and as the dim white circle of light gleamed +into Alan's face, the man looked that way and saw him. +</P> + +<P> +The effect of this upon the man was so strange and so bewildering to +Alan that Alan could only stare at him. The big man seemed to shrink +into himself and to shrink back and away from Alan. He roared out +something in a bellow thick with fear and horror; he seemed to choke +with terror. There was nothing in his look akin to mere surprise or +alarm at realizing that another was there and had been seeing and +overhearing him. The light which he still gripped swayed back and +forth and showed him Alan again, and he raised his arm before his face +as he recoiled. +</P> + +<P> +The consternation of the man was so complete that it checked Alan's +rush toward him; he halted, then advanced silently and watchfully. As +he went forward, and the light shone upon his face again, the big man +cried out hoarsely: +</P> + +<P> +"Damn you—damn you, with the hole above your eye! The bullet got you! +And now you've got Ben! But you can't get me! Go back to Hell! You +can't get me! I'll get you—I'll get you! You—can't save the +<I>Miwaka</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +He drew back his arm and with all his might hurled the flashlight at +Alan. It missed and crashed somewhere behind him, but did not go out; +the beam of light shot back and wavered and flickered over both of +them, as the torch rolled on the floor. Alan rushed forward and, +thrusting through the dark, his hand struck the man's chest and seized +his coat. +</P> + +<P> +The man caught at and seized Alan's arm; he seemed to feel of it and +assure himself of its reality. +</P> + +<P> +"Flesh! Flesh!" he roared in relief; and his big arms grappled Alan. +As they struggled, they stumbled and fell to the floor, the big man +underneath. His hand shifted its hold and caught Alan's throat; Alan +got an arm free and, with all his force, struck the man's face. The +man struck back—a heavy blow on the side of Alan's head which dizzied +him but left him strength to strike again, and his knuckles reached the +man's face once more, but he got another heavy blow in return. The man +was grappling no longer; he swung Alan to one side and off of him, and +rolled himself away. He scrambled to his feet and dashed out through +the library, across the hall, and into the service room. Alan heard +his feet clattering down the stairway to the floor beneath. Alan got +to his feet; dizzied and not yet familiar with the house, he blundered +against a wall and had to feel his way along it to the service room; as +he slipped and stumbled down the stairway, a door closed loudly at the +end of the corridor he had seen at the foot of the stairs. He ran +along the corridor to the door; it had closed with a spring lock, and +seconds passed while he felt in the dark for the catch; he found it and +tore the door open, and came out suddenly into the cold air of the +night in a paved passageway beside the house which led in one direction +to the street and in the other to a gate opening on the alley. He ran +forward to the street and looked up and down, but found it empty; then +he ran back to the alley. At the end of the alley, where it +intersected the cross street, the figure of the man running away +appeared suddenly out of the shadows, then disappeared; Alan, following +as far as the street, could see nothing more of him; this street too +was empty. +</P> + +<P> +He ran a little farther and looked, then he went back to the house. +The side door had swung shut again and latched. He felt in his pocket +for his key and went around to the front door. The snow upon the steps +had been swept away, probably by the servant who had come to the house +earlier in the day with Constance Sherrill, but some had fallen since; +the footsteps made in the early afternoon had been obliterated by it, +but Alan could see those he had made that evening, and the marks where +some one else had gone into the house and not come out again. In part +it was plain, therefore, what had happened: the man had come from the +south, for he had not seen the light Alan had had in the north and rear +part of the house; believing no one was in the house, the man had gone +in through the front door with a key. He had been some one familiar +with the house; for he had known about the side door and how to reach +it and that he could get out that way. This might mean no more than +that he was the same who had searched through the house before; but at +least it made his identity with the former intruder more certain. +</P> + +<P> +Alan let himself in at the front door and turned on the light in the +reading lamp in the library. The electric torch still was burning on +the floor and he picked it up and extinguished it; he went up-stairs +and brought down his shoes. He had seen a wood fire set ready for +lighting in the library, and now he lighted it and sat before it drying +his wet socks before he put on his shoes. He was still shaking and +breathing fast from his struggle with the man and his chase after him, +and by the strangeness of what had taken place. +</P> + +<P> +When the shaft of light from the torch had flashed across Alan's face +in the dark library, the man had not taken him for what he was—a +living person; he had taken him for a specter. His terror and the +things he had cried out could mean only that. The specter of whom? +Not of Benjamin Corvet; for one of the things Alan had remarked when he +saw Benjamin Corvet's picture was that he himself did not look at all +like his father. Besides, what the man had said made it certain that +he did not think the specter was "Ben"; for the specter had "got Ben." +Did Alan look like some one else, then? Like whom? Evidently like the +man—now dead for he had a ghost—who had "got" Ben, in the big man's +opinion. Who could that be? +</P> + +<P> +No answer, as yet, was possible to that. But if he did look like some +one, then that some one was—or had been—dreaded not only by the big +man who had entered the house, but by Benjamin Corvet as well. "You +got Ben!" the man had cried out. Got him? How? "But you can't get +me!" he had said. "You—with the bullet hole above your eye!" What +did that mean? +</P> + +<P> +Alan got up and went to look at himself in the mirror he had seen in +the hall. He was white, now that the flush of the fighting was going; +he probably had been pale before with excitement, and over his right +eye there was a round, black mark. Alan looked down at his hands; a +little skin was off one knuckle, where he had struck the man, and his +fingers were smudged with a black and sooty dust. He had smudged them +on the papers up-stairs or else in feeling his way about the dark +house, and at some time he had touched his forehead and left the black +mark. That had been the "bullet hole." +</P> + +<P> +The rest that the man had said had been a reference to some name; Alan +had no trouble to recollect the name and, while he did not understand +it at all, it stirred him queerly—"the <I>Miwaka</I>." What was that? The +queer excitement and questioning that the name brought, when he +repeated it to himself, was not recollection; for he could not recall +ever having heard the name before; but it was not completely strange to +him. He could define the excitement it stirred only in that way. +</P> + +<P> +He went back to the Morris chair; his socks were nearly dry, and he put +on his shoes. He got up and paced about. Sherrill had believed that +here in this house Benjamin Corvet had left—or might have left—a +memorandum, a record, or an account of some sort which would explain to +Alan, his son, the blight which had hung over his life. Sherrill had +said that it could have been no mere intrigue, no vulgar personal sin; +and the events of the night had made that very certain; for, plainly, +whatever was hidden in that house involved some one else seriously, +desperately. There was no other way to explain the intrusion of the +sort of man whom Alan had surprised there an hour ago. +</P> + +<P> +The fact that this other man searched also did not prove that Benjamin +Corvet had left a record in the house, as Sherrill believed; but it +certainly showed that another person believed—or feared—it. Whether +or not guilt had sent Benjamin Corvet away four days ago, whether or +not there had been guilt behind the ghost which had "got Ben," there +was guilt in the big man's superstitious terror when he had seen Alan. +A bold, powerful man like that one, when his conscience is clear, does +not see a ghost. And the ghost which he had seen had a bullet hole +above the brows! +</P> + +<P> +Alan did not flatter himself that in any physical sense he had +triumphed over that man; so far as it had gone, his adversary had had +rather the better of the battle; he had endeavored to stun Alan, or +perhaps do worse than stun; but after the first grapple, his purpose +had been to get away. But he had not fled from Alan; he had fled from +discovery of who he was. Sherrill had told Alan of no one whom he +could identify with this man; but Alan could describe him to Sherrill. +</P> + +<P> +Alan found a lavatory and washed and straightened his collar and tie +and brushed his clothes. There was a bruise on the side of his head; +but though it throbbed painfully, it did not leave any visible mark. +He could return now to the Sherrills'. It was not quite midnight but +he believed by this time Sherrill was probably home; perhaps already he +had gone to bed. Alan took up his hat and looked about the house; he +was going to return and sleep here, of course; he was not going to +leave the house unguarded for any long time after this; but, after what +had just happened, he felt he could leave it safely for half an hour, +particularly if he left a light burning within. +</P> + +<P> +He did this and stepped out. The wind from the west was blowing hard, +and the night had become bitter cold; yet, as Alan reached the drive, +he could see far out the tossing lights of a ship and, as he went +toward the Sherrills', he gazed out over the roaring water. Often on +nights like this, he knew, his father must have been battling such +water. +</P> + +<P> +The man who answered his ring at the Sherrills' recognized him at once +and admitted him; in reply to Alan's question, the servant said that +Mr. Sherrill had not yet returned. When Alan went to his room, the +valet appeared and, finding that Alan was packing, the man offered his +service. Alan let him pack and went down-stairs; a motor had just +driven up to the house. +</P> + +<P> +It proved to have brought Constance and her mother; Mrs. Sherrill, +after informing Alan that Mr. Sherrill might not return until some time +later, went up-stairs and did not appear again. Constance followed her +mother but, ten minutes later came downstairs. +</P> + +<P> +"You're not staying here to-night?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"I wanted to say to your father," Alan explained, "that I believe I had +better go over to the other house." +</P> + +<P> +She came a little closer to him in her concern. "Nothing has happened +here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Here? You mean in this house?" Alan smiled. "No; nothing." +</P> + +<P> +She seemed relieved. Alan, remembering her mother's manner, thought he +understood; she knew that remarks had been made, possibly, which +repeated by a servant might have offended him. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid it's been a hard day for you," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"It's certainly been unusual," Alan admitted. +</P> + +<P> +It had been a hard day for her, too, he observed; or probably the +recent days, since her father's and her own good friend had gone, had +been trying. She was tired now and nervously excited; but she was so +young that the little signs of strain and worry, instead of making her +seem older, only made her youth more apparent. The curves of her neck +and her pretty, rounded shoulders were as soft as before; her lustrous, +brown hair was more beautiful, and a slight flush colored her clear +skin. +</P> + +<P> +It had seemed to Alan, when Mrs. Sherrill had spoken to him a few +minutes before, that her manner toward him had been more reserved and +constrained than earlier in the evening; and he had put that down to +the lateness of the hour; but now he realized that she probably had +been discussing him with Constance, and that it was somewhat in +defiance of her mother that Constance had come down to speak with him +again. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you taking any one over to the other house with you?" she inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"Any one?" +</P> + +<P> +"A servant, I mean." +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you'll let us lend you a man from here." +</P> + +<P> +"You're awfully good; but I don't think I'll need any one to-night. +Mr. Corvet's—my father's man—is coming back to-morrow, I understand. +I'll get along very well until then." +</P> + +<P> +She was silent a moment as she looked away. Her shoulders suddenly +jerked a little. "I wish you'd take some one with you," she persisted. +"I don't like to think of you alone over there." +</P> + +<P> +"My father must have been often alone there." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she said. "Yes." She looked at him quickly, then away, +checking a question. She wanted to ask, he knew, what he had +discovered in that lonely house which had so agitated him; for of +course she had noticed agitation in him. And he had intended to tell +her or, rather, her father. He had been rehearsing to himself the +description of the man he had met there in order to ask Sherrill about +him; but now Alan knew that he was not going to refer the matter even +to Sherrill just yet. +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill had believed that Benjamin Corvet's disappearance was from +circumstances too personal and intimate to be made a subject of public +inquiry; and what Alan had encountered in Corvet's house had confirmed +that belief. Sherrill further had said that Benjamin Corvet, if he had +wished Sherrill to know those circumstances, would have told them to +him; but Corvet had not done that; instead, he had sent for Alan, his +son. He had given his son his confidence. +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill had admitted that he was withholding from Alan, for the time +being, something that he knew about Benjamin Corvet; it was nothing, he +had said, which would help Alan to learn about his father, or what had +become of him; but perhaps Sherrill, not knowing these other things, +could not speak accurately as to that. Alan determined to ask Sherrill +what he had been withholding before he told him all of what had +happened in Corvet's house. There was one other circumstance which +Sherrill had mentioned but not explained; it occurred to Alan now. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Sherrill—" he checked himself. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"This afternoon your father said that you believed that Mr. Corvet's +disappearance was in some way connected with you; he said that he did +not think that was so; but do you want to tell me why you thought it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; I will tell you." She colored quickly. "One of the last things +Mr. Corvet did—in fact, the last thing we know of his doing before he +sent for you—was to come to me and warn me against one of my friends." +</P> + +<P> +"Warn you, Miss Sherrill? How? I mean, warn you against what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Against thinking too much of him." She turned away. +</P> + +<P> +Alan saw in the rear of the hall the man who had been waiting with the +suitcase. It was after midnight now and, for far more than the +intended half hour, Alan had left his father's house unwatched, to be +entered by the front door whenever the man, who had entered it before, +returned with his key. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I'll come to see your father in the morning," Alan said, when +Constance looked back to him. +</P> + +<P> +"You won't borrow Simons?" she asked again. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, no." +</P> + +<P> +"But you'll come over here for breakfast in the morning?" +</P> + +<P> +"You want me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd like to come very much." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'll expect you." She followed him to the door when he had put +on his things, and he made no objection when she asked that the man be +allowed to carry his bag around to the other house. When he glanced +back, after reaching the walk, he saw her standing inside the door, +watching through the glass after him. +</P> + +<P> +When he had dismissed Simons and reentered the house on Astor Street, +he found no evidences of any disturbance while he had been gone. On +the second floor, to the east of the room which had been his father's, +was a bedroom which evidently had been kept as a guest chamber; Alan +carried his suitcase there and made ready for bed. +</P> + +<P> +The sight of Constance Sherrill standing and watching after him in +concern as he started back to this house, came to him again and again +and, also, her flush when she had spoken of the friend against whom +Benjamin Corvet had warned her. Who was he? It had been impossible at +that moment for Alan to ask her more; besides, if he had asked and she +had told him, he would have learned only a name which he could not +place yet in any connection with her or with Benjamin Corvet. Whoever +he was, it was plain that Constance Sherrill "thought of him"; lucky +man, Alan said to himself. Yet Corvet had warned her not to think of +him.... +</P> + +<P> +Alan turned back his bed. It had been for him a tremendous day. +Barely twelve hours before he had come to that house, Alan Conrad from +Blue Rapids, Kansas; now ... phrases from what Lawrence Sherrill had +told him of his father were running through his mind as he opened the +door of the room to be able to hear any noise in Benjamin Corvet's +house, of which he was sole protector. The emotion roused by his first +sight of the lake went through him again as he opened the window to the +east. +</P> + +<P> +Now—he was in bed—he seemed to be standing, a specter before a man +blaspheming Benjamin Corvet and the souls of men dead. "And the hole +above the eye! ... The bullet got you! ... So it's you that got Ben! +... I'll get you! ... You can't save the <I>Miwaka</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +The <I>Miwaka</I>! The stir of that name was stronger now even than before; +it had been running through his consciousness almost constantly since +he had heard it. He jumped up and turned on the light and found a +pencil. He did not know how to spell the name and it was not necessary +to write it down; the name had taken on that definiteness and +ineffaceableness of a thing which, once heard, can never again be +forgotten. But, in panic that he might forget, he wrote it, guessing +at the spelling—"<I>Miwaka</I>." +</P> + +<P> +It was a name, of course; but the name of what? It repeated and +repeated itself to him, after he got back into bed, until its very +iteration made him drowsy. +</P> + +<P> +Outside the gale whistled and shrieked. The wind, passing its last +resistance after its sweep across the prairies before it leaped upon +the lake, battered and clamored in its assault about the house. But as +Alan became sleepier, he heard it no longer as it rattled the windows +and howled under the eaves and over the roof, but as out on the lake, +above the roaring and ice-crunching waves, it whipped and circled with +its chill the ice-shrouded sides of struggling ships. So, with the +roar of surf and gale in his ears, he went to sleep with the sole +conscious connection in his mind between himself and these people, +among whom Benjamin Corvet's summons had brought him, the one name +"<I>Miwaka</I>." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CONSTANCE SHERRILL +</H4> + +<P> +In the morning a great change had come over the lake. The wind still +blew freshly, but no longer fiercely, from the west; and now, from +before the beach beyond the drive, and from the piers and breakwaters +at the harbor mouth, and from all the western shore, the ice had +departed. Far out, a nearly indiscernible white line marked the +ice-floe where it was traveling eastward before the wind; nearer, and +with only a gleaming crystal fringe of frozen snow clinging to the +shore edge, the water sparkled, blue and dimpling, under the morning +sun; multitudes of gulls, hungry after the storm, called to one another +and circled over the breakwaters, the piers, and out over the water as +far as the eye could see; and a half mile off shore, a little work +boat—a shallop twenty feet long—was put-put-ing on some errand along +a path where twelve hours before no horsepower creatable by man could +have driven the hugest steamer. +</P> + +<P> +Constance Sherrill, awakened by the sunlight reflected from the water +upon her ceiling, found nothing odd or startling in this change; it +roused her but did not surprise her. Except for the short periods of +her visits away from Chicago, she had lived all her life on the shore +of the lake: the water—wonderful, ever altering—was the first sight +each morning. As it made wilder and more grim the desolation of a +stormy day, so it made brighter and more smiling the splendor of the +sunshine and, by that much more, influenced one's feelings. +</P> + +<P> +Constance held by preference to the seagoing traditions of her family. +Since she was a child, the lake and the life of the ships had delighted +and fascinated her; very early she had discovered that, upon the lake, +she was permitted privileges sternly denied upon land—an arbitrary +distinction which led her to designate water, when she was a little +girl, as her family's "respectable element." For while her father's +investments were, in part, on the water, her mother's property all was +on the land. Her mother, who was a Seaton, owned property somewhere in +the city, in common with Constance's uncles; this property consisted, +as Constance succeeded in ascertaining about the time she was nine, of +large, wholesale grocery buildings. They and the "brand" had been in +the possession of the Seaton family for many years; both Constance's +uncles worked in the big buildings where the canning was done; and, +when Constance was taken to visit them, she found the place most +interesting—the berries and fruit coming up in great steaming +cauldrons; the machines pushing the cans under the enormous faucets +where the preserves ran out and then sealing the cans and pasting the +bright Seaton "brand" about them. The people there were +interesting—the girls with flying fingers sorting fruit, and the men +pounding the big boxes together; and the great shaggy-hoofed horses +which pulled the huge, groaning wagons were most fascinating. She +wanted to ride on one of the wagons; but her request was promptly and +completely squashed. +</P> + +<P> +It was not "done"; nor was anything about the groceries and the canning +to be mentioned before visitors; Constance brought up the subject once +and found out. It was different about her father's ships. She could +talk about them when she wanted to; and her father often spoke of them; +and any one who came to the house could speak about them. Ships, +apparently, were respectable. +</P> + +<P> +When she went down to the docks with her father, she could climb all +over them, if she was only careful of her clothes; she could spend a +day watching one of her father's boats discharging grain or another +unloading ore; and, when she was twelve, for a great treat, her father +took her on one of the freighters to Duluth; and for one delightful, +wonderful week she chummed with the captain and mates and wheelmen and +learned all the pilot signals and the way the different lighthouses +winked. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Spearman, who recently had become a partner of her father's, was +also on the boat upon that trip. He had no particular duty; he was +just "an owner" like her father; but Constance observed that, while the +captain and the mates and the engineers were always polite and +respectful to her father, they asked Mr. Spearman's opinion about +things in a very different way and paid real attention—not merely +polite attention—when he talked. He was a most desirable sort of +acquisition; for he was a friend who could come to the house at any +time, and yet he, himself, had done all sorts of exciting things. He +had not just gone to Harvard and then become an owner, as Constance's +father had; at fifteen, he had run away from his father's farm back +from the east shore of little Traverse Bay near the northern end of +Lake Michigan. At eighteen, after all sorts of adventures, he had +become mate of a lumber schooner; he had "taken to steam" shortly after +that and had been an officer upon many kinds of ships. Then Uncle +Benny had taken him into partnership. Constance had a most exciting +example of what he could do when the ship ran into a big storm on Lake +Superior. +</P> + +<P> +Coming into Whitefish Bay, a barge had blundered against the vessel; a +seam started, and water came in so fast that it gained on the pumps. +Instantly, Mr. Spearman, not the captain, was in command and, from the +way he steered the ship to protect the seam and from the scheme he +devised to stay the inrush of water, the pumps began to gain at once, +and the ship went into Duluth safe and dry. Constance liked that in a +man of the sort whom people knew. For, as the most active +partner—though not the chief stockholder—of Corvet, Sherrill and +Spearman, almost every one in the city knew him. He had his bachelor +"rooms" in one of the newest and most fashionable of the apartment +buildings facing the lake just north of the downtown city; he had +become a member of the best city and country clubs; and he was welcomed +quickly along the Drive, where the Sherrills' mansion was coming to be +considered a characteristic "old" Chicago home. +</P> + +<P> +But little over forty, and appearing even younger, Spearman was +distinctly of the new generation; and Constance Sherrill was only one +of many of the younger girls who found in Henry Spearman refreshing +relief from the youths who were the sons of men but who could never +become men themselves. They were nice, earnest boys with all sorts of +serious Marxian ideas of establishing social justice in the plants +which their fathers had built; and carrying the highest motives into +the city or national politics. But the industrial reformers, Constance +was quite certain, never could have built up the industries with which +they now, so superiorly, were finding fault; the political purifiers +either failed of election or, if elected, seemed to leave politics +pretty much as they had been before. The picture of Spearman, +instantly appealed to and instantly in charge in the emergency, +remained and became more vivid within Constance, because she never saw +him except when he dominated. +</P> + +<P> +And a decade most amazingly had bridged the abyss which had separated +twelve years and thirty-two. At twenty-two, Constance Sherrill was +finding Henry Spearman—age forty-two—the most vitalizing and +interesting of the men who moved, socially, about the restricted +ellipse which curved down the lake shore south of the park and up Astor +Street. He had, very early, recognized that he possessed the vigor and +courage to carry him far, and he had disciplined himself until the +coarseness and roughness, which had sometimes offended the little girl +of ten years before, had almost vanished. What crudities still came +out, romantically reminded of his hard, early life on the lakes. Had +there been anything in that life of his of which he had not told +her—something worse than merely rough and rugged, which could strike +at her? Uncle Benny's last, dramatic appeal to her had suggested that; +but even at the moment when he was talking to her, fright for Uncle +Benny—not dread that there had been anything wrong in Henry's +life—had most moved her. Uncle Benny very evidently was not himself. +As long as Constance could remember, he had quarreled violently with +Henry; his antagonism to Henry had become almost an obsession; and +Constance had her father's word for it that, a greater part of the +time, Uncle Benny had no just ground for his quarrel with Henry. A +most violent quarrel had occurred upon that last day, and undoubtedly +its fury had carried Uncle Benny to the length of going to Constance as +he did. +</P> + +<P> +Constance had come to this conclusion during the last gloomy and stormy +days; this morning, gazing out upon the shining lake, clear blue under +the wintry sun, she was more satisfied than before. Summoning her +maid, she inquired first whether anything had been heard since last +night of Mr. Corvet. She was quite sure, if her father had had word, +he would have awakened her; and there was no news. But Uncle Benny's +son, she remembered, was coming to breakfast. +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Benny's son! That suggested to Constance's mother only something +unpleasant, something to be avoided and considered as little as +possible. But Alan—Uncle Benny's son—was not unpleasant at all; he +was, in fact, quite the reverse. Constance had liked him from the +moment that, confused a little by Benjamin Corvet's absence and +Simons's manner in greeting him, he had turned to her for explanation; +she had liked the way he had openly studied her and approved her, as +she was approving him; she had liked the way he had told her of +himself, and the fact that he knew nothing of the man who proved to be +his father; she had liked very much the complete absence of impulse to +force or to pretend feeling when she had brought him the picture of his +father—when he, amazed at himself for not feeling, had looked at her; +and she had liked most of all his refusal, for himself and for his +father, to accept positive stigma until it should be proved. +</P> + +<P> +She had not designated any hour for breakfast, and she supposed that, +coming from the country, he would believe breakfast to be early. But +when she got downstairs, though it was nearly nine o'clock, he had not +come; she went to the front window to watch for him, and after a few +minutes she saw him approaching, looking often to the lake as though +amazed by the change in it. +</P> + +<P> +She went to the door and herself let him in. +</P> + +<P> +"Father has gone down-town," she told him, as he took off his things. +"Mr. Spearman returns from Duluth this morning, and father wished to +tell him about you as soon as possible. I told father you had come to +see him last night; and he said to bring you down to the office." +</P> + +<P> +"I overslept, I'm afraid," Alan said. +</P> + +<P> +"You slept well, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Very well—after a while." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll take you down-town myself after breakfast." +</P> + +<P> +She said no more but led him into the breakfast room. It was a +delightful, cozy little room, Dutch furnished, with a single wide +window to the east, an enormous hooded fireplace taking up half the +north wall, and blue Delft tiles set above it and paneled in the walls +all about the room. There were the quaint blue windmills, the fishing +boats, the baggy-breeked, wooden-shod folk, the canals and barges, the +dikes and their guardians, and the fishing ship on the Zuyder Zee. +</P> + +<P> +Alan gazed about at these with quick, appreciative interest. His +quality of instantly noticing and appreciating anything unusual was, +Constance thought, one of his pleasantest and best characteristics. +</P> + +<P> +"I like those too; I selected them myself in Holland," she observed. +</P> + +<P> +She took her place beside the coffee pot, and when he remained +standing—"Mother always has her breakfast in bed; that's your place," +she said. +</P> + +<P> +He took the chair opposite her. There was fruit upon the table; +Constance took an orange and passed the little silver basket across. +</P> + +<P> +"This is such a little table; we never use it if there's more than two +or three of us; and we like to help ourselves here." +</P> + +<P> +"I like it very much," Alan said. +</P> + +<P> +"Coffee right away or later?" +</P> + +<P> +"Whenever you do. You see," he explained, smiling in a way that +pleased her, "I haven't the slightest idea what else is coming or +whether anything more at all is coming." A servant entered, bringing +cereal and cream; he removed the fruit plates, put the cereal dish and +two bowls before Constance, and went out. "And if any one in Blue +Rapids," Alan went on, "had a man waiting in the dining-room and at +least one other in the kitchen, they would not speak of our activities +here as 'helping ourselves.' I'm not sure just how they would speak of +them; we—the people I was with in Kansas—had a maidservant at one +time when we were on the farm, and when we engaged her, she asked, 'Do +you do your own stretching?' That meant serving from the stove to the +table, usually." +</P> + +<P> +He was silent for a few moments; when he looked at her across the table +again, he seemed about to speak seriously. His gaze left her face and +then came back. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Sherrill," he said gravely, "what is, or was, the <I>Miwaka</I>? A +ship?" +</P> + +<P> +He made no attempt to put the question casually; rather, he had made it +more evident that it was of concern to him by the change in his manner. +</P> + +<P> +"The <I>Miwaka</I>?" Constance said. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know what it was?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; I know; and it was a ship." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean it doesn't exist any more?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; it was lost a long time ago." +</P> + +<P> +"On the lakes here?" +</P> + +<P> +"On Lake Michigan." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean by lost that it was sunk?" +</P> + +<P> +"It was sunk, of course; but no one knows what happened to it—whether +it was wrecked or burned or merely foundered." +</P> + +<P> +The thought of the unknown fate of the ship and crew—of the ship which +had sailed and never reached port and of which nothing ever had been +heard but the beating of the Indian drum—set her blood tingling as it +had done before, when she had been told about the ship, or when she had +told others about it and the superstition connected with it. It was +plain Alan Conrad had not asked about it idly; something about the +<I>Miwaka</I> had come to him recently and had excited his intense concern. +</P> + +<P> +"Whose ship was it?" he asked. "My father's?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; it belonged to Stafford and Ramsdell. They were two of the big +men of their time in the carrying trade on the lakes, but their line +has been out of business for years; both Mr. Stafford and Mr. Ramsdell +were lost with the <I>Miwaka</I>." +</P> + +<P> +"Will you tell me about it, and them, please?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've told you almost all I can about Stafford and Ramsdell, I'm +afraid; I've just heard father say that they were men who could have +amounted to a great deal on the lakes, if they had lived—especially +Mr. Stafford, who was very young. The <I>Miwaka</I> was a great new steel +ship—built the year after I was born; it was the first of nearly a +dozen that Stafford and Ramsdell had planned to build. There was some +doubt among lake men about steel boats at that time; they had begun to +be built very largely quite a few years before, but recently there had +been some serious losses with them. Whether it was because they were +built on models not fitted for the lakes, no one knew; but several of +them had broken in two and sunk, and a good many men were talking about +going back to wood. But Stafford and Ramsdell believed in steel and +had finished this first one of their new boats. +</P> + +<P> +"She left Duluth for Chicago, loaded with ore, on the first day of +December, with both owners and part of their families on board. She +passed the Soo on the third and went through the Straits of Mackinac on +the fourth into Lake Michigan. After that, nothing was ever heard of +her." +</P> + +<P> +"So probably she broke in two like the others?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Spearman and your father both thought so; but nobody ever knew—no +wreckage came ashore—no message of any sort from any one on board. A +very sudden winter storm had come up and was at its worst on the +morning of the fifth. Uncle Benny—your father—told me once, when I +asked him about it, that it was as severe for a time as any he had ever +experienced. He very nearly lost his life in it. He had just finished +laying up one of his boats—the <I>Martha Corvet</I>—at Manistee for the +winter; and he and Mr. Spearman, who then was mate of the <I>Martha +Corvet</I>, were crossing the lake in a tug with a crew of four men to +Manitowoc, where they were going to lay up more ships. The captain and +one of the deck hands of the tug were washed overboard, and the +engineer was lost trying to save them. Uncle Benny and Mr. Spearman +and the stoker brought the tug in. The storm was worst about five in +the morning, when the <I>Miwaka</I> sunk." +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know that the <I>Miwaka</I> sunk at five," Alan asked, "if no +one ever heard from the ship?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh; that was told by the Drum!" +</P> + +<P> +"The Drum?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; the Indian Drum! I forgot; of course you didn't know. It's a +superstition that some of the lake men have, particularly those who +come from people at the other end of the lake. The Indian Drum is in +the woods there, they say. No one has seen it; but many people believe +that they have heard it. It's a spirit drum which beats, they say, for +every ship lost on the lake. There's a particular superstition about +it in regard to the <I>Miwaka</I>; for the drum beat wrong for the <I>Miwaka</I>. +You see, the people about there swear that about five o'clock in the +morning of the fifth, while the storm was blowing terribly, they heard +the drum beating and knew that a ship was going down. They counted the +sounds as it beat the roll of the dead. It beat twenty-four before it +stopped and then began to beat again and beat twenty-four; so, later, +everybody knew it had been beating for the <I>Miwaka</I>; for every other +ship on the lake got to port; but there were twenty-five altogether on +the <I>Miwaka</I>, so either the drum beat wrong or—" she hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"Or what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Or the drum was right, and some one was saved. Many people believed +that. It was years before the families of the men on board gave up +hope, because of the Drum; maybe some haven't given up hope yet." +</P> + +<P> +Alan made no comment for a moment. Constance had seen the blood flush +to his face and then leave it, and her own pulse had beat as swiftly as +she rehearsed the superstition. As he gazed at her and then away, it +was plain that he had heard something additional about the +<I>Miwaka</I>—something which he was trying to fit into what she told him. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all anybody knows?" His gaze came back to her at last. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; why did you ask about it—the <I>Miwaka</I>? I mean, how did you hear +about it so you wanted to know?" +</P> + +<P> +He considered an instant before replying. "I encountered a reference +to the <I>Miwaka</I>—I supposed it must be a ship—in my father's house +last night." +</P> + +<P> +His manner, as he looked down at his coffee cup, toying with it, +prevented her then from asking more; he seemed to know that she wished +to press it, and he looked up quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"I met my servant—my father's servant—this morning," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; he got back this morning. He came here early to report to father +that he had no news of Uncle Benny; and father told him you were at the +house and sent him over." +</P> + +<P> +Alan was studying the coffee cup again, a queer expression on his face +which she could not read. +</P> + +<P> +"He was there when I woke up this morning, Miss Sherrill. I hadn't +heard anybody in the house, but I saw a little table on wheels standing +in the hall outside my door and a spirit lamp and a little coffee pot +on it, and a man bending over it, warming the cup. His back was toward +me, and he had straight black hair, so that at first I thought he was a +Jap; but when he turned around, I saw he was an American Indian." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; that was Wassaquam." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that his name? He told me it was Judah." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—Judah Wassaquam. He's a Chippewa from the north end of the lake. +They're very religious there, most of the Indians at the foot of the +lake; and many of them have a Biblical name which they use for a first +name and use their Indian name for a last one." +</P> + +<P> +"He called me 'Alan' and my father 'Ben.'" +</P> + +<P> +"The Indians almost always call people by their first names." +</P> + +<P> +"He said that he had always served 'Ben' his coffee that way before he +got up, and so he had supposed he was to do the same by me; and also +that, long ago, he used to be a deck hand on one of my father's ships." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; when Uncle Benny began to operate ships of his own, many of the +ships on the lakes had Indians among the deck hands; some had all +Indians for crews and white men only for officers. Wassaquam was on +the first freighter Uncle Benny ever owned a share in; afterwards he +came here to Chicago with Uncle Benny. He's been looking after Uncle +Benny all alone now for more than ten years—and he's very much devoted +to him, and fully trustworthy; and besides that, he's a wonderful cook; +but I've wondered sometimes whether Uncle Benny wasn't the only city +man in the world who had an Indian body servant." +</P> + +<P> +"You know a good deal about Indians." +</P> + +<P> +"A little about the lake Indians, the Chippewas and Pottawatomies in +northern Michigan." +</P> + +<P> +"Recollection's a funny thing," Alan said, after considering a moment. +"This morning, after seeing Judah and talking to him—or rather hearing +him talk—somehow a story got running in my head. I can't make out +exactly what it was—about a lot of animals on a raft; and there was +some one with them—I don't know who; I can't fit any name to him; but +he had a name." +</P> + +<P> +Constance bent forward quickly. "Was the name Michabou?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +He returned her look, surprised. "That's it; how did you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think I know the story; and Wassaquam would have known it too, I +think, if you'd ask him; but probably he would have thought it impious +to tell it, because he and his people are great Christians now. +Michabou is one of the Indian names for Manitou. What else do you +remember of the story?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not much, I'm afraid—just sort of scenes here and there; but I can +remember the beginning now that you have given me the name: 'In the +beginning of all things there was only water and Michabou was floating +on the raft with all the animals.' Michabou, it seemed, wanted the +land brought up so that men and animals could live on it, and he asked +one of the animals to go down and bring it up—" +</P> + +<P> +"The beaver," Constance supplied. +</P> + +<P> +"Was the beaver the first one? The beaver dived and stayed down a long +time, so long that when he came up he was breathless and completely +exhausted, but he had not been able to reach the bottom. Then Michabou +sent down—" +</P> + +<P> +"The otter." +</P> + +<P> +"And he stayed down much longer than the beaver, and when he came up at +last, they dragged him on to the raft quite senseless; but he hadn't +been able to reach the bottom either. So the animals and Michabou +himself were ready to give it up; but then the little muskrat spoke +up—am I right? Was this the muskrat?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you can finish it for me?" +</P> + +<P> +"He dived and he stayed down, the little muskrat," Constance continued, +"longer than the beaver and the otter both together. Michabou and the +animals waited all day for him to come up, and they watched all through +the night; so then they knew he must be dead. And, sure enough, they +came after a while across the body floating on the water and apparently +lifeless. They dragged him onto the raft and found that his little +paws were all tight shut. They forced open three of the paws and found +nothing in them, but when they opened the last one, they found one +grain of sand tightly clutched in it. The little muskrat had done it; +he'd reached the bottom! And out of that one grain of sand, Michabou +made the world." +</P> + +<P> +"That's it," he said. "Now what is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"The Indian story of creation—or one of them." +</P> + +<P> +"Not a story of the plain Indians surely." +</P> + +<P> +"No; of the Indians who live about the lakes and so got the idea that +everything was water in the first place—the Indians who live on the +islands and peninsulas. That's how I came to know it." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought that must be it," Alan said. His hand trembled a little as +he lifted his coffee cup to his lips. +</P> + +<P> +Constance too flushed a little with excitement; it was a surprisingly +close and intimate thing to have explored with another back into the +concealments of his first child consciousness, to have aided another in +the sensitive task of revealing himself to himself. This which she had +helped to bring back to him must have been one of the first stories +told him; he had been a very little boy, when he had been taken to +Kansas, away from where he must have heard this story—the lakes. She +was a little nervous also from watching the time as told by the tiny +watch on her wrist. Henry's train from Duluth must be in now; and he +had not yet called her, as had been his custom recently, as soon as he +returned to town after a trip. But, in a minute, a servant entered to +inform her that Mr. Spearman wished to speak to her. She excused +herself to Alan and hurried out. Henry was calling her from the +railroad station and, he said, from a most particularly stuffy booth +and, besides having a poor connection, there was any amount of noise +about him; but he was very anxious to see Constance as soon as +possible. Could she be in town that morning and have luncheon with +him? Yes; she was going down-town very soon and, after luncheon, he +could come home with her if he wished. He certainly did wish, but he +couldn't tell yet what he might have to do in the afternoon, but please +would she save the evening for him. She promised and started to tell +him about Alan, then recollected that Henry was going to see her father +immediately at the office. +</P> + +<P> +Alan was standing, waiting for her, when she returned to the breakfast +room. +</P> + +<P> +"Ready to go down-town?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Whenever you are." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be ready in a minute. I'm planning to drive; are you afraid?" +</P> + +<P> +He smiled in his pleasant way as he glanced over her; she had become +conscious of saying that sort of thing to tempt the smile. "Oh, I'll +take the risk." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE DEED IN TRUST +</H4> + +<P> +Her little gasoline-driven car—delicate as though a jeweler had made +it—was waiting for them under the canopy beside the house, when they +went out. She delayed a moment to ask Alan to let down the windows; +the sky was still clear, and the sunshine had become almost warm, +though the breeze was sharp and cold. As the car rolled down the +drive, and he turned for a long look past her toward the lake, she +watched his expression. +</P> + +<P> +"It's like a great shuttle, the ice there," she commented, "a monster +shuttle nearly three hundred miles long. All winter it moves back and +forth across the lake, from east to west and from west to east as the +winds change, blocking each shore half the time and forcing the winter +boats to fight it always." +</P> + +<P> +"The gulls go opposite to it, I suppose, sticking to open water." +</P> + +<P> +"The gulls? That depends upon the weather. 'Sea-gull, sea-gull,'" she +quoted, "'sit on the sand; It's never fair weather when you're on the +land.'" +</P> + +<P> +Alan started a little. "What was that?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"That rhyme? One which the wives of the lake men teach their children. +Did you remember that too?" +</P> + +<P> +"After you said it." +</P> + +<P> +"Can you remember the rest of it?" +</P> + +<P> +"'Green to Green—Red to Red,'" Alan repeated to himself. "'Green to +green' and then something about—how is it, 'Back her—back and +stopper.'" +</P> + +<P> +"That's from a lake rhyme too, but another one!" she cried. "And +that's quite a good one. It's one of the pilot rules that every lake +person knows. Some skipper and wheelsman set them to rhyme years ago, +and the lake men teach the rhymes to their children so that they'll +never go wrong with a ship. It keeps them clearer in their heads than +any amount of government printing. Uncle Benny used to say they've +saved any number of collisions. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Meeting steamers do not dread,"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +she recited, +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"When you see three lights ahead!<BR> +Port your helm and show your red.<BR> +For passing steamers you should try<BR> +To keep this maxim in your eye,<BR> +Green to Green—or Red to Red—<BR> +Perfect safety—go ahead.<BR> +Both in safety and in doubt,<BR> +Always keep a good lookout;<BR> +Should there be no room to turn,<BR> +Stop your ship and go astern."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Now we're coming to your 'back and stopper': +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"If to starboard Red appear,<BR> +'Tis your duty to keep clear;<BR> +Act as judgment says is proper.<BR> +Port or starboard—back or stop her!<BR> +But when on your port is seen<BR> +A steamer with a light of Green,<BR> +There's not much for you to do—<BR> +The Green light must look out for you."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +She had driven the car swiftly on the boulevard to the turn where the +motorway makes west to Rush Street, then it turned south again toward +the bridge. As they reached the approach to the bridge and the cars +congested there, Constance was required to give all her attention to +the steering; not until they were crossing the bridge was she able to +glance at her companion's face. +</P> + +<P> +To westward, on both sides of the river, summer boats were laid up, +their decks covered with snow. On the other side, still nearer to the +bridge, were some of the winter vessels; and, while the motor was on +the span, the bells began ringing the alarm to clear the bridge so it +could turn to let through a great steamer just in from the lake, the +sun glistening on the ice covering its bows and sides back as far as +Alan could see. +</P> + +<P> +Forward of the big, black, red-banded funnel, a cloud of steam bellowed +up and floated back, followed by another, and two deep, reverberating +blasts rumbled up the river majestically, imperiously. The shrill +little alarm bells on the bridge jangled more nervously and excitedly, +and the policeman at the south end hastily signalled the motor cars +from the city to stop, while he motioned those still on the bridge to +scurry off; for a ship desired to pass. +</P> + +<P> +"Can we stop and see it?" Alan appealed, as Constance ran the car from +the bridge just before it began to turn. +</P> + +<P> +She swung the car to the side of the street and stopped; as he gazed +back, he was—she knew—seeing not only his first great ship close by, +but having his first view of his people—the lake men from whom now he +knew from the feeling he had found within himself, and not only from +what had been told him, that he had come. +</P> + +<P> +The ship was sheathed in ice from stem to stern; tons of the gleaming, +crystal metal weighed the forecastle; the rail all round had become a +frozen bulwark; the boats were mere hummocks of ice; the bridge was +encased, and from the top of the pilot house hung down giant +stalactites which an axeman was chopping away. Alan could see the +officers on the bridge, the wheelsman, the lookout; he could see the +spurt of water from the ship's side as it expelled with each thrust of +the pumps; he could see the whirlpool about the screw, as slowly, +steadily, with signals clanging clearly somewhere below, the steamer +went through the draw. From up the river ahead of it came the jangling +of bells and the blowing of alarm whistles as the other bridges were +cleared to let the vessel through. It showed its stern now; Alan read +the name and registry aloud: "'<I>Groton of Escanaba</I>!' Is that one of +yours, Miss Sherrill; is that one of yours and my—Mr. Corvet's?" +</P> + +<P> +She shook her head, sorry that she had to say no. "Shall we go on now?" +</P> + +<P> +The bridge was swinging shut again; the long line of motor cars, which +had accumulated from the boulevard from the city, began slowly to move. +Constance turned the car down the narrow street, fronted by warehouses +which Alan had passed the morning before, to Michigan Avenue, with the +park and harbor to the left. When she glanced now at Alan, she saw +that a reaction of depression had followed excitement at seeing the +steamer pass close by. +</P> + +<P> +Memory, if he could call it that, had given him a feeling for ships and +for the lake; a single word—<I>Miwaka</I>—a childish rhyme and story, +which he might have heard repeated and have asked for a hundred times +in babyhood. But these recollections were only what those of a +three-years' child might have been. Not only did they refuse to +connect themselves with anything else, but by the very finality of +their isolation, they warned him that they—and perhaps a few more +vague memories of similar sort—were all that recollection ever would +give him. He caught himself together and turned his thoughts to the +approaching visit to Sherrill—and his father's offices. +</P> + +<P> +Observing the towering buildings to his right, he was able to identify +some of the more prominent structures, familiar from photographs of the +city. Constance drove swiftly a few blocks down this boulevard; then, +with a sudden, "Here we are!" she shot the car to the curb and stopped. +She led Alan into one of the tallest and best-looking of the buildings, +where they took an elevator placarded "Express" to the fifteenth floor. +</P> + +<P> +On several of the doors opening upon the wide marble hall where the +elevator left them, Alan saw the names, "Corvet, Sherrill and +Spearman." As they passed, without entering, one of these doors which +stood propped open, and he looked in, he got his first realization of +the comparatively small land accommodations which a great business +conducted upon the water requires. What he saw within was only one +large room, with hardly more than a dozen, certainly not a score of +desks in it; nearly all the desks were closed, and there were not more +than three or four people in the room, and these apparently +stenographers. Doors of several smaller offices, opening upon the +larger room, bore names, among which he saw "Mr. Corvet" and "Mr. +Spearman." +</P> + +<P> +"It won't look like that a month from now," Constance said, catching +his expression. "Just now, you know, the straits and all the northern +lakes are locked fast with ice. There's nothing going on now except +the winter traffic on Lake Michigan and, to a much smaller extent, on +Ontario and Erie; we have an interest in some winter boats, but we +don't operate them from here. Next month we will be busy fitting out, +and the month after that all the ships we have will be upon the water." +</P> + +<P> +She led the way on past to a door farther down the corridor, which bore +merely the name, "Lawrence Sherrill"; evidently Sherrill, who had +interests aside from the shipping business, had offices connected with +but not actually a part of the offices of Corvet, Sherrill, and +Spearman. A girl was on guard on the other side of the door; she +recognized Constance Sherrill at once and, saying that Mr. Sherrill had +been awaiting Mr. Conrad, she opened an inner door and led Alan into a +large, many-windowed room, where Sherrill was sitting alone before a +table-desk. He arose, a moment after the door opened, and spoke a word +to his daughter, who had followed Alan and the girl to the door, but +who had halted there. Constance withdrew, and the girl from the outer +office also went away, closing the door behind her. Sherrill pulled +the "visitor's chair" rather close to his desk and to his own big +leather chair before asking Alan to seat himself. +</P> + +<P> +"You wanted to tell me, or ask me, something last night, my daughter +has told me," Sherrill said cordially. "I'm sorry I wasn't home when +you came back." +</P> + +<P> +"I wanted to ask you, Mr. Sherrill," Alan said, "about those facts in +regard to Mr. Corvet which you mentioned to me yesterday but did not +explain. You said it would not aid me to know them; but I found +certain things in Mr. Corvet's house last night which made me want to +know, if I could, everything you could tell me." +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill opened a drawer and took out a large, plain envelope. +</P> + +<P> +"I did not tell you about these yesterday, Alan," he said, "not only +because I had not decided how to act in regard to these matters, but +because I had not said anything to Mr. Spearman about them previously, +because I expected to get some additional information from you. After +seeing you, I was obliged to wait for Spearman to get back to town. +The circumstances are such that I felt myself obliged to talk them over +first with him; I have done that this morning; so I was going to send +for you, if you had not come down." +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill thought a minute, still holding the envelope closed in his +hand. +</P> + +<P> +"On the day after your father disappeared," he went on, "but before I +knew he was gone—or before any one except my daughter felt any alarm +about him—I received a short note from him. I will show it to you +later, if you wish; its exact wording, however, is unimportant. It had +been mailed very late the night before and apparently at the mail box +near his house or at least, by the postmark, somewhere in the +neighborhood; and for that reason had not been taken up before the +morning collection and did not reach the office until I had been here +and gone away again about eleven o'clock. I did not get it, therefore, +until after lunch. The note was agitated, almost incoherent. It told +me he had sent for you—Alan Conrad, of Blue Rapids, Kansas—but spoke +of you as though you were some one I ought to have known about, and +commended you to my care. The remainder of it was merely an agitated, +almost indecipherable farewell to me. When I opened the envelope, a +key had fallen out. The note made no reference to the key, but +comparing it with one I had in my pocket, I saw that it appeared to be +a key to a safety deposit box in the vaults of a company where we both +had boxes. +</P> + +<P> +"The note, taken in connection with my daughter's alarm about him, made +it so plain that something serious had happened to Corvet, that my +first thought was merely for him. Corvet was not a man with whom one +could readily connect the thought of suicide; but, Alan, that was the +idea I had. I hurried at once to his house, but the bell was not +answered, and I could not get in. His servant, Wassaquam, has very few +friends, and the few times he has been away from home of recent years +have been when he visited an acquaintance of his—the head porter in a +South Side hotel. I went to the telephone in the house next door and +called the hotel and found Wassaquam there. I asked Wassaquam about +the letter to 'Alan Conrad,' and Wassaquam said Corvet had given it to +him to post early in the evening. Several hours later, Corvet had sent +him out to wait at the mail box for the mail collector to get the +letter back. Wassaquam went out to the mail box, and Corvet came out +there too, almost at once. The mail collector, when he came, told +them, of course, that he could not return the letter; but Corvet +himself had taken the letters and looked them through. Corvet seemed +very much excited when he discovered the letter was not there; and when +the mail man remembered that he had been late on his previous trip and +so must have taken up the letter almost at once after it was mailed, +Corvet's excitement increased on learning that it was already probably +on the train on its way west. He controlled himself later enough at +least to reassure Wassaquam; for an hour or so after, when Corvet sent +Wassaquam away from the house, Wassaquam had gone without feeling any +anxiety about him. +</P> + +<P> +"I told Wassaquam over the telephone only that something was wrong, and +hurried to my own home to get the key, which I had, to the Corvet +house; but when I came back and let myself into the house, I found it +empty and with no sign of anything having happened. +</P> + +<P> +"The next morning, Alan, I went to the safe deposit vaults as soon as +they were open. I presented the numbered key and was told that it +belonged to a box rented by Corvet, and that Corvet had arranged about +three days before for me to have access to the box if I presented the +key. I had only to sign my name in their book and open the box. In +it, Alan, I found the pictures of you which I showed you yesterday and +the very strange communications that I am going to show you now." +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill opened the long envelope from which several thin, folded +papers fell. He picked up the largest of these, which consisted of +several sheets fastened together with a clip, and handed it to Alan +without comment. Alan, as he looked at it and turned the pages, saw +that it contained two columns of typewriting carried from page to page +after the manner of an account. +</P> + +<P> +The column to the left was an inventory of property and profits and +income by months and years, and the one to the right was a list of +losses and expenditures. Beginning at an indefinite day or month in +the year 1895, there was set down in a lump sum what was indicated as +the total of Benjamin Corvet's holdings at that time. To this, in +sometimes undated items, the increase had been added. In the opposite +column, beginning apparently from the same date in 1895, were the +missing man's expenditures. The painstaking exactness of these left no +doubt of their correctness; they included items for natural +depreciation of perishable properties and, evidently, had been worked +over very recently. Upon the last sheet, the second column had been +deducted from the first, and an apparently purely arbitrary sum of two +hundred thousand dollars had been taken away. From the remainder there +had been taken away approximately one hundred and fifty thousand +dollars more. +</P> + +<P> +Alan having ascertained that the papers contained only this account, +looked up questioningly to Sherrill; but Sherrill, without speaking, +merely handed him the second of the papers.... This, Alan saw, had +evidently been folded to fit a smaller envelope. Alan unfolded it and +saw that it was a letter written in the same hand which had written the +summons he had received in Blue Rapids and had made the entries in the +little memorandum book of the remittances that had been sent to John +Welton. +</P> + +<P> +It began simply: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Lawrence— +</P> + +<P> +This will come to you in the event that I am not able to carry out the +plan upon which I am now, at last, determined. You will find with this +a list of my possessions which, except for two hundred thousand dollars +settled upon my wife which was hers absolutely to dispose of as she +desired and a further sum of approximately one hundred and fifty +thousand dollars presented in memory of her to the Hospital Service in +France, have been transferred to you without legal reservation. +</P> + +<P> +You will find deeds for all real estate executed and complete except +for recording of the transfer at the county office; bonds, +certificates, and other documents representing my ownership of +properties, together with signed forms for their legal transfer to you, +are in this box. These properties, in their entirety, I give to you in +trust to hold for the young man now known as Alan Conrad of Blue +Rapids, Kansas, to deliver any part or all over to him or to continue +to hold it all in trust for him as you shall consider to be to his +greatest advantage. +</P> + +<P> +This for the reasons which I shall have told to you or him—I cannot +know which one of you now, nor do I know how I shall tell it. But when +you learn, Lawrence, think as well of me as you can and help him to be +charitable to me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +With the greatest affection,<BR> + BENJAMIN CORVET.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Alan, as he finished reading, looked up to Sherrill, bewildered and +dazed. +</P> + +<P> +"What does it mean, Mr. Sherrill?— Does it mean that he has gone away +and left everything he had—everything to me?" +</P> + +<P> +"The properties listed here," Sherrill touched the pages Alan first had +looked at, "are in the box at the vault with the executed forms of +their transfer to me. If Mr. Corvet does not return, and I do not +receive any other instructions, I shall take over his estate as he has +instructed for your advantage." +</P> + +<P> +"And, Mr. Sherrill, he didn't tell you why? This is all you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; you have everything now. The fact that he did not give his +reasons for this, either to you or me, made me think at first that he +might have made his plan known to some one else, and that he had been +opposed—to the extent even of violence done upon him—to prevent his +carrying it out. But the more I have considered this, the less likely +it has seemed to me. Whatever had happened to Corvet that had so much +disturbed and excited him lately, seems rather to have precipitated his +plan than deterred him in it. He may have determined after he had +written this that his actions and the plain indication of his +relationship to you, gave all the explanation he wanted to make. All +we can do, Alan, is to search for him in every way we can. There will +be others searching for him too now; for information of his +disappearance has got out. There have been reporters at the office +this morning making inquiries, and his disappearance will be in the +afternoon papers." +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill put the papers back in their envelope, and the envelope back +into the drawer, which he relocked. +</P> + +<P> +"I went over all this with Mr. Spearman this morning," he said. "He is +as much at a loss to explain it as I am." +</P> + +<P> +He was silent for a few moments. +</P> + +<P> +"The transfer of Mr. Corvet's properties to me for you," he said +suddenly, "includes, as you have seen, Corvet's interest in the firm of +'Corvet, Sherrill and Spearman.' I went very carefully through the +deeds and transfers in the deposit box, and it was plain that, while he +had taken great care with the forms of transfer for all the properties, +he had taken particular pains with whatever related to his holdings in +this company and to his shipping interests. If I make over the +properties to you, Alan, I shall begin with those; for it seems to me +that your father was particularly anxious that you should take a +personal as well as a financial place among the men who control the +traffic of the lakes. I have told Spearman that this is my intention. +He has not been able to see it my way as yet; but he may change his +views, I think, after meeting you." +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill got up. Alan arose a little unsteadily. The list of +properties he had read and the letter and Sherrill's statement +portended so much that its meaning could not all come to him at once. +He followed Sherrill through a short private corridor, flanked with +files lettered "Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman," into the large room he +had seen when he came in with Constance. They crossed this, and +Sherrill, without knocking, opened the door of the office marked, "Mr. +Spearman." Alan, looking on past Sherrill as the door opened, saw that +there were some half dozen men in the room, smoking and talking. They +were big men mostly, ruddy-skinned and weather-beaten in look, and he +judged from their appearance, and from the pile of their hats and coats +upon a chair, that they were officers of the company's ships, idle +while the ships were laid up, but reporting now at the offices and +receiving instructions as the time for fitting out approached. +</P> + +<P> +His gaze went swiftly on past these men to the one who, half seated on +the top of the flat desk, had been talking to them; and his pulse +closed upon his heart with a shock; he started, choked with +astonishment, then swiftly forced himself under control. For this was +the man whom he had met and whom he had fought in Benjamin Corvet's +house the night before—the big man surprised in his blasphemy of +Corvet and of souls "in Hell" who, at sight of an apparition with a +bullet hole above its eye, had cried out in his fright, "You got Ben! +But you won't get me—damn you! Damn you!" +</P> + +<P> +Alan's shoulders drew up slightly, and the muscles of his hands +tightened, as Sherrill led him to this man. Sherrill put his hand on +the man's shoulder; his other hand was still on Alan's arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Henry," he said to the man, "this is Alan Conrad. Alan, I want you to +know my partner, Mr. Spearman." +</P> + +<P> +Spearman nodded an acknowledgment, but did not put out his hand; his +eyes—steady, bold, watchful eyes—seemed measuring Alan attentively; +and in return Alan, with his gaze, was measuring him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +MR. CORVET'S PARTNER +</H4> + +<P> +The instant of meeting, when Alan recognized in Sherrill's partner the +man with whom he had fought in Corvet's house, was one of swift +readjustment of all his thought—adjustment to a situation of which he +could not even have dreamed, and which left him breathless. But for +Spearman, obviously, it was not that. Following his noncommittal nod +of acknowledgment of Sherrill's introduction and his first steady +scrutiny of Alan, the big, handsome man swung himself off from the desk +on which he sat and leaned against it, facing them more directly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes—Conrad," he said. His tone was hearty; in it Alan could +recognize only so much of reserve as might be expected from Sherrill's +partner who had taken an attitude of opposition. The shipmasters, +looking on, could see, no doubt, not even that; except for the +excitement which Alan himself could not conceal, it must appear to them +only an ordinary introduction. +</P> + +<P> +Alan fought sharply down the swift rush of his blood and the tightening +of his muscles. +</P> + +<P> +"I can say truly that I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Spearman," he managed. +</P> + +<P> +There was no recognition of anything beyond the mere surface meaning of +the words in Spearman's slow smile of acknowledgment, as he turned from +Alan to Sherrill. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid you've taken rather a bad time, Lawrence." +</P> + +<P> +"You're busy, you mean. This can wait, Henry, if what you're doing is +immediate." +</P> + +<P> +"I want some of these men to be back in Michigan to-night. Can't we +get together later—this afternoon? You'll be about here this +afternoon?" His manner was not casual; Alan could not think of any +expression of that man as being casual; but this, he thought, came as +near it as Spearman could come. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I can be here this afternoon," Alan said. +</P> + +<P> +"Would two-thirty suit you?" +</P> + +<P> +"As well as any other time." +</P> + +<P> +"Let's say two-thirty, then." Spearman turned and noted the hour +almost solicitously among the scrawled appointments on his desk pad; +straightening, after this act of dismissal, he walked with them to the +door, his hand on Sherrill's shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Circumstances have put us—Mr. Sherrill and myself—in a very +difficult position, Conrad," he remarked. "We want much to be fair to +all concerned—" +</P> + +<P> +He did not finish the sentence, but halted at the door. Sherrill went +out, and Alan followed him; exasperation—half outrage yet half +admiration—at Spearman's bearing, held Alan speechless. The blood +rushed hotly to his skin as the door closed behind them, his hands +clenched, and he turned back to the closed door; then he checked +himself and followed Sherrill, who, oblivious to Alan's excitement, led +the way to the door which bore Corvet's name. He opened it, disclosing +an empty room, somewhat larger than Spearman's and similar to it, +except that it lacked the marks of constant use. It was plain that, +since Spearman had chosen to put off discussion of Alan's status, +Sherrill did not know what next to do; he stood an instant in thought, +then, contenting himself with inviting Alan to lunch, he excused +himself to return to his office. When he had gone, closing the door +behind him, Alan began to pace swiftly up and down the room. +</P> + +<P> +What had just passed had left him still breathless; he felt bewildered. +If every movement of Spearman's great, handsome body had not recalled +to him their struggle of the night before—if, as Spearman's hand +rested cordially on Sherrill's shoulder, Alan had not seemed to feel +again that big hand at his throat—he would almost have been ready to +believe that this was not the man whom he had fought. But he could not +doubt that; he had recognized Spearman beyond question. And Spearman +had recognized him—he was sure of that; he could not for an instant +doubt it; Spearman had known it was Alan whom he had fought in Corvet's +house even before Sherrill had brought them together. Was there not +further proof of that in Spearman's subsequent manner toward him? For +what was all this cordiality except defiance? Undoubtedly Spearman had +acted just as he had to show how undisturbed he was, how indifferent he +might be to any accusation Alan could make. Not having told Sherrill +of the encounter in the house—not having told any one else—Alan could +not tell it now, after Sherrill had informed him that Spearman opposed +his accession to Corvet's estate; or, at least, he could not tell who +the man was. In the face of Spearman's manner toward him to-day, +Sherrill would not believe. If Spearman denied it—and his story of +his return to town that morning made it perfectly certain that he would +deny it—it would be only Alan's word against Spearman's—the word of a +stranger unknown to Sherrill except by Alan's own account of himself +and the inferences from Corvet's acts. There could be no risk to +Spearman in that; he had nothing to fear if Alan blurted an accusation +against him. Spearman, perhaps, even wanted him to do that—hoped he +would do it. Nothing could more discredit Alan than such an +unsustainable accusation against the partner who was opposing Alan's +taking his father's place. For it had been plain that Spearman +dominated Sherrill, and that Sherrill felt confidence in and admiration +toward him. +</P> + +<P> +Alan grew hot with the realization that, in the interview just past, +Spearman had also dominated him. He had been unable to find anything +adequate to do, anything adequate to answer, in opposition to this man +more than fifteen years older than himself and having a lifelong +experience in dealing with all kinds of men. He would not yield to +Spearman like that again; it was the bewilderment of his recognition of +Spearman that had made him do it. Alan stopped his pacing and flung +himself down in the leather desk-chair which had been Corvet's. He +could hear, at intervals, Spearman's heavy, genial voice addressing the +ship men in his office; its tones—half of comradeship, half of +command—told only too plainly his dominance over those men also. He +heard Spearman's office door open and some of the men go out; after a +time it opened again, and the rest went out. He heard Spearman's voice +in the outer office, then heard it again as Spearman returned alone +into his private office. +</P> + +<P> +There was a telephone upon Corvet's desk which undoubtedly connected +with the switchboard in the general office. Alan picked up the +receiver and asked for "Mr. Spearman." At once the hearty voice +answered, "Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"This is Conrad." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought I told you I was busy, Conrad!" The 'phone clicked as +Spearman hung up the receiver. +</P> + +<P> +The quality of the voice at the other end of the wire had altered; it +had become suddenly again the harsh voice of the man who had called +down curses upon "Ben" and on men "in Hell" in Corvet's library. +</P> + +<P> +Alan sat back in his chair, smiling a little. It had not been for him, +then—that pretense of an almost mocking cordiality; Spearman was not +trying to deceive or to influence Alan by that. It had been merely for +Sherrill's benefit; or, rather, it had been because, in Sherrill's +presence, this had been the most effective weapon against Alan which +Spearman could employ. Spearman might, or might not, deny to Alan his +identity with the man whom Alan had fought; as yet Alan did not know +which Spearman would do; but, at least, between themselves there was to +be no pretense about the antagonism, the opposition they felt toward +one another. +</P> + +<P> +Little prickling thrills of excitement were leaping through Alan, as he +got up and moved about the room again. The room was on a corner, and +there were two windows, one looking to the east over the white and blue +expanse of the harbor and the lake; the other showing the roofs and +chimneys, the towers and domes of Chicago, reaching away block after +block, mile after mile to the south and west, till they dimmed and +blurred in the brown haze of the sunlit smoke. Power and +possession—both far exceeding Alan's most extravagant dream—were +promised him by those papers which Sherrill had shown him. When he had +read down the list of those properties, he had had no more feeling, +that such things could be his than he had had at first that Corvet's +house could be his—until he had heard the intruder moving in that +house. And now it was the sense that another was going to make him +fight for those properties that was bringing to him the realization of +his new power. He "had" something on that man—on Spearman. He did +not know what that thing was; no stretch of his thought, nothing that +he knew about himself or others, could tell him; but, at sight of him, +in the dark of Corvet's house, Spearman had cried out in horror, he had +screamed at him the name of a sunken ship, and in terror had hurled his +electric torch. It was true, Spearman's terror had not been at Alan +Conrad; it had been because Spearman had mistaken him for some one +else—for a ghost. But, after learning that Alan was not a ghost, +Spearman's attitude had not very greatly changed; he had fought, he had +been willing to kill rather than to be caught there. +</P> + +<P> +Alan thought an instant; he would make sure he still "had" that +something on Spearman and would learn how far it went. He took up the +receiver and asked for Spearman again. +</P> + +<P> +Again the voice answered—"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care whether you're busy," Alan said evenly. "I think you and +I had better have a talk before we meet with Mr. Sherrill this +afternoon. I am here in Mr. Corvet's office now and will be here for +half an hour; then I'm going out." +</P> + +<P> +Spearman made no reply but again hung up the receiver. Alan sat +waiting, his watch upon the desk before him—tense, expectant, with +flushes of hot and cold passing over him. Ten minutes passed; then +twenty. The telephone under Corvet's desk buzzed. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Spearman says he will give you five minutes now," the switchboard +girl said. +</P> + +<P> +Alan breathed deep with relief; Spearman had wanted to refuse to see +him—but he had not refused; he had sent for him within the time Alan +had appointed and after waiting until just before it expired. +</P> + +<P> +Alan put his watch back into his pocket and, crossing to the other +office, found Spearman alone. There was no pretense of courtesy now in +Spearman's manner; he sat motionless at his desk, his bold eyes fixed +on Alan intently. Alan closed the door behind him and advanced toward +the desk. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought we'd better have some explanation," he said, "about our +meeting last night." +</P> + +<P> +"Our meeting?" Spearman repeated; his eyes had narrowed watchfully. +</P> + +<P> +"You told Mr. Sherrill that you were in Duluth and that you arrived +home in Chicago only this morning. Of course you don't mean to stick +to that story with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"What are you talking about?" Spearman demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, I know exactly where you were a part of last evening; and +you know that I know. I only want to know what explanation you have to +offer." +</P> + +<P> +Spearman leaned forward. "Talk sense and talk it quick, if you have +anything to say to me!" +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't told Mr. Sherrill that I found you at Corvet's house last +night; but I don't want you to doubt for a minute that I know you—and +about your damning of Benjamin Corvet and your cry about saving the +<I>Miwaka</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +A flash of blood came to Spearman's face; Alan, in his excitement, was +sure of it; but there was just that flash, no more. He turned, while +Spearman sat chewing his cigar and staring at him, and went out and +partly closed the door. Then, suddenly, he reopened it, looked in, +reclosed it sharply, and went on his way, shaking a little. For, as he +looked back this second time at the dominant, determined, able man +seated at his desk, what he had seen in Spearman's face was fear; fear +of himself, of Alan Conrad of Blue Rapids—yet it was not fear of that +sort which weakens or dismays; it was of that sort which, merely +warning of danger close at hand, determines one to use every means +within his power to save himself. +</P> + +<P> +Alan, still trembling excitedly, crossed to Corvet's office to await +Sherrill. It was not, he felt sure now, Alan Conrad that Spearman was +opposing; it was not even the apparent successor to the controlling +stock of Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman. That Alan resembled some +one—some one whose ghost had seemed to come to Spearman and might, +perhaps, have come to Corvet—was only incidental to what was going on +now; for in Alan's presence Spearman found a threat—an active, present +threat against himself. Alan could not imagine what the nature of that +threat could be. Was it because there was something still concealed in +Corvet's house which Spearman feared Alan would find? Or was it +connected only with that some one whom Alan resembled? Who was it Alan +resembled? His mother? In what had been told him, in all that he had +been able to learn about himself, Alan had found no mention of his +mother—no mention, indeed, of any woman. There had been mention, +definite mention, of but one thing which seemed, no matter what form +these new experiences of his took, to connect himself with all of +them—mention of a ship, a lost ship—the <I>Miwaka</I>. That name had +stirred Alan, when he first heard it, with the first feeling he had +been able to get of any possible connection between himself and these +people here. Spoken by himself just now it had stirred, queerly +stirred, Spearman. What was it, then, that he—Alan—had to do with +the <I>Miwaka</I>? Spearman might—must have had something to do with it. +So must Corvet. But himself—he had been not yet three years old when +the <I>Miwaka</I> was lost! Beyond and above all other questions, what had +Constance Sherrill to do with it? +</P> + +<P> +She had continued to believe that Corvet's disappearance was related in +some way to herself. Alan would rather trust her intuition as to this +than trust to Sherrill's contrary opinion. Yet she, certainly, could +have had no direct connection with a ship lost about the time she was +born and before her father had allied himself with the firm of Corvet +and Spearman. In the misty warp and woof of these events, Alan could +find as yet nothing which could have involved her. But he realized +that he was thinking about her even more than he was thinking about +Spearman—more, at that moment, even than about the mystery which +surrounded himself. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Constance Sherrill, as she went about her shopping at Field's, was +feeling the strangeness of the experience she had shared that morning +with Alan when she had completed for him the Indian creation legend and +had repeated the ship rhymes of his boyhood; but her more active +thought was about Henry Spearman, for she had a luncheon engagement +with him at one o'clock. He liked one always to be prompt at +appointments; he either did not keep an engagement at all, or he was on +the minute, neither early nor late, except for some very unusual +circumstance. Constance could never achieve such accurate punctuality, +so several minutes before the hour she went to the agreed corner of the +silverware department. +</P> + +<P> +She absorbed herself intently with the selection of her purchase as one +o'clock approached. She was sure that, after his three days' absence, +he would be a moment early rather than late; but after selecting what +she wanted, she monopolized twelve minutes more of the salesman's time +in showing her what she had no intention of purchasing, before she +picked out Henry's vigorous step from the confusion of ordinary +footfalls in the aisle behind her. Though she had determined, a few +moments before, to punish him a little, she turned quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry I'm late, Connie." That meant that it was no ordinary business +matter that had detained him; but there was nothing else noticeably +unusual in his tone. +</P> + +<P> +"It's certainly your turn to be the tardy one," she admitted. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd never take my turn if I could help it—particularly just after +being away; you know that." +</P> + +<P> +She turned carelessly to the clerk. "I'll take that too,"—she +indicated the trinket which she had examined last. "Send it, please. +I've finished here now, Henry." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you didn't like that sort of thing." His glance had gone to +the bit of frippery in the clerk's hand. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't," she confessed. +</P> + +<P> +"Then don't buy it. She doesn't want that; don't send it," he directed +the salesman. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well, sir." +</P> + +<P> +Henry touched her arm and turned her away. She flushed a little, but +she was not displeased. Any of the other men whom she knew would have +wasted twenty dollars, as lightly as herself, rather than confess, "I +really didn't want anything more; I just didn't want to be seen +waiting." They would not have admitted—those other men—that such a +sum made the slightest difference to her or, by inference, to them; but +Henry was always willing to admit that there had been a time when money +meant much to him, and he gained respect thereby. +</P> + +<P> +The tea room of such a department store as Field's offers to young +people opportunities for dining together without furnishing reason for +even innocently connecting their names too intimately, if a girl is not +seen there with the same man too often. There is something essentially +casual and unpremeditated about it—as though the man and the girl, +both shopping and both hungry, had just happened to meet and go to +lunch together. As Constance recently had drawn closer to Henry +Spearman in her thought, and particularly since she had been seriously +considering marrying him, she had clung deliberately to this unplanned +appearance about their meetings. She found something thrilling in this +casualness too. Spearman's bigness, which attracted eyes to him always +in a crowd, was merely the first and most obvious of the things which +kept attention on him; there were few women who, having caught sight of +the big, handsome, decisive, carefully groomed man, could look away at +once. If Constance suspected that, ten years before, it might have +been the eyes of shop-girls that followed Spearman with the greatest +interest, she was certain no one could find anything flashy about him +now. What he compelled now was admiration and respect alike for his +good looks and his appearance of personal achievement—a tribute very +different from the tolerance granted those boys brought up as +irresponsible inheritors of privilege like herself. +</P> + +<P> +As they reached the restaurant and passed between the rows of tables, +women looked up at him; oblivious, apparently, to their gaze, he chose +a table a little removed from the others, where servants hurried to +take his order, recognizing one whose time was of importance. She +glanced across at him, when she had settled herself, and the first +little trivialities of their being together were over. +</P> + +<P> +"I took a visitor down to your office this morning," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he answered. +</P> + +<P> +Constance was aware that it was only formally that she had taken Alan +Conrad down to confer with her father; since Henry was there, she knew +her father would not act without his agreement, and that whatever +disposition had been made regarding Alan had been made by him. She +wondered what that disposition had been. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you like him, Henry?" +</P> + +<P> +"Like him?" She would have thought that the reply was merely +inattentive; but Henry was never merely that. +</P> + +<P> +"I hoped you would." +</P> + +<P> +He did not answer at once. The waitress brought their order, and he +served her; then, as the waitress moved away, he looked across at +Constance with a long scrutiny. +</P> + +<P> +"You hoped I would!" he repeated, with his slow smile. "Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"He seemed to be in a difficult position and to be bearing himself +well; and mother was horrid to him." +</P> + +<P> +"How was she horrid?" +</P> + +<P> +"About the one thing which, least of all, could be called his +fault—about his relationship to—to Mr. Corvet. But he stood up to +her!" +</P> + +<P> +The lids drew down a little upon Spearman's eyes as he gazed at her. +</P> + +<P> +"You've seen a good deal of him, yesterday and to-day, your father +tells me," he observed. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." As she ate, she talked, telling him about her first meeting +with Alan and about their conversation of the morning and the queer +awakening in him of those half memories which seemed to connect him in +some way with the lakes. She felt herself flushing now and then with +feeling, and once she surprised herself by finding her eyes wet when +she had finished telling Henry about showing Alan the picture of his +father. Henry listened intently, eating slowly. When she stopped, he +appeared to be considering something. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all he told you about himself?" he inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"And all you told him?" +</P> + +<P> +"He asked me some things about the lakes and about the <I>Miwaka</I>, which +was lost so long ago—he said he'd found some reference to that and +wanted to know whether it was a ship. I told him about it and about +the Drum which made people think that the crew were not all lost." +</P> + +<P> +"About the Drum! What made you speak of that?" The irritation in his +tone startled her and she looked quickly up at him. "I mean," he +offered, "why did you drag in a crazy superstition like that? You +don't believe in the Drum, Connie!" +</P> + +<P> +"It would be so interesting if some one really had been saved and if +the Drum had told the truth, that sometimes I think I'd like to believe +in it. Wouldn't you, Henry?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," he said abruptly. "No!" Then quickly: +</P> + +<P> +"It's plain enough you like him," he remarked. +</P> + +<P> +She reflected seriously. "Yes, I do; though I hadn't thought of it +just that way, because I was thinking most about the position he was in +and about—Mr. Corvet. But I do like him." +</P> + +<P> +"So do I," Spearman said with a seeming heartiness that pleased her. +He broke a piece of bread upon the tablecloth and his big, well-shaped +fingers began to roll it into little balls. "At least I should like +him, Connie, if I had the sort of privilege you have to think whether I +liked or disliked him. I've had to consider him from another point of +view—whether I could trust him or must distrust him." +</P> + +<P> +"Distrust?" Constance bent toward him impulsively in her surprise. +"Distrust him? In relation to what? Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"In relation to Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman, Connie—the company +that involves your interests and your father's and mine and the +interests of many other people—small stockholders who have no +influence in its management, and whose interests I have to look after +for them. A good many of them, you know, are our own men—our old +skippers and mates and families of men who have died in our service and +who left their savings in stock in our ships." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't understand, Henry." +</P> + +<P> +"I've had to think of Conrad this morning in the same way as I've had +to think of Ben Corvet of recent years—as a threat against the +interests of those people." +</P> + +<P> +Her color rose, and her pulse quickened. Henry never had talked to +her, except in the merest commonplaces, about his relations with Uncle +Benny; it was a matter in which, she had recognized, they had been +opposed; and since the quarrels between the old friend whom she had +loved from childhood and him, who wished to become now more than a mere +friend to her, had grown more violent, she had purposely avoided +mentioning Uncle Benny to Henry, and he, quite as consciously, had +avoided mentioning Mr. Corvet to her. +</P> + +<P> +"I've known for a good many years," Spearman said reluctantly, "that +Ben Corvet's brain was seriously affected. He recognized that himself +even earlier, and admitted it to himself when he took me off my ship to +take charge of the company. I might have gone with other people then, +or it wouldn't have been very long before I could have started in as a +ship owner myself; but, in view of his condition, Ben made me promises +that offered me most. Afterwards his malady progressed so that he +couldn't know himself to be untrustworthy; his judgment was impaired, +and he planned and would have tried to carry out many things which +would have been disastrous for the company. I had to fight him—for +the company's sake and for my own sake and that of the others, whose +interests were at stake. Your father came to see that what I was doing +was for the company's good and has learned to trust me. But you—you +couldn't see that quite so directly, of course, and you thought I +didn't—like Ben, that there was some lack in me which made me fail to +appreciate him." +</P> + +<P> +"No; not that," Constance denied quickly. "Not that, Henry." +</P> + +<P> +"What was it then, Connie? You thought me ungrateful to him? I +realized that I owed a great deal to him; but the only way I could pay +that debt was to do exactly what I did—oppose him and seem to push +into his place and be an ingrate; for, because I did that, Ben's been a +respected and honored man in this town all these last years, which he +couldn't have remained if I'd let him have his way, or if I told others +why I had to do what I did. I didn't care what others thought about +me; but I did care what you thought; yet if you couldn't see what I was +up against because of your affection for him, why—that was all right +too." +</P> + +<P> +"No, it wasn't all right," she denied almost fiercely, the flush +flooding her cheeks; a throbbing was in her throat which, for an +instant, stopped her. "You should have told me, Henry; or—I should +have been able to see." +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't tell you—dear," he said the last word very distinctly, but +so low that she could scarcely hear. "I couldn't tell you now—if Ben +hadn't gone away as he has and this other fellow come. I couldn't tell +you when you wanted to keep caring so much for your Uncle Benny, and he +was trying to hurt me with you." +</P> + +<P> +She bent toward him, her lips parted; but now she did not speak. She +never had really known Henry until this moment, she felt; she had +thought of him always as strong, almost brutal, fighting down fiercely, +mercilessly, his opponents and welcoming contest for the joy of +overwhelming others by his own decisive strength and power. And she +had been almost ready to marry that man for his strength and dominance +from those qualities; and now she knew that he was merciful +too—indeed, more than merciful. In the very contest where she had +thought of him as most selfish and regardless of another, she had most +completely misapprehended. +</P> + +<P> +"I ought to have seen!" she rebuked herself to him. "Surely, I should +have seen that was it!" Her hand, in the reproach of her feeling, +reached toward him across the table; he caught it and held it in his +large, strong hand which, in its touch, was very tender too. She had +never allowed any such demonstration as this before; but now she let +her hand remain in his. +</P> + +<P> +"How could you see?" he defended her. "He never showed to you the side +he showed to me and—in these last years, anyway—never to me the side +he showed to you. But after what has happened this week, you can +understand now; and you can see why I have to distrust the young fellow +who's come to claim Ben Covert's place." +</P> + +<P> +"Claim!" Constance repeated; she drew her hand quietly away from his +now. "Why, Henry, I did not know he claimed anything; he didn't even +know when he came here—" +</P> + +<P> +"He seems, like Ben Corvet," Henry said slowly, "to have the +characteristic of showing one side to you, another to me, Connie. With +you, of course, he claimed nothing; but at the office— Your father +showed him this morning the instruments of transfer that Ben seems to +have left conveying to him all Ben had—his other properties and his +interest in Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman. I very naturally objected +to the execution of those transfers, without considerable examination, +in view of Corvet's mental condition and of the fact that they put the +controlling stock of Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman in the hands of a +youth no one ever had heard of—and one who, by his own story, never +had seen a ship until yesterday. And when I didn't dismiss my business +with a dozen men this morning to take him into the company, he claimed +occasion to see me alone to threaten me." +</P> + +<P> +"Threaten you, Henry? How? With what?" +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't quite make out myself, but that was his tone; he demanded +an 'explanation' of exactly what, he didn't make clear. He has been +given by Ben, apparently, the technical control of Corvet, Sherrill, +and Spearman. His idea, if I oppose him, evidently is to turn me out +and take the management himself." +</P> + +<P> +Constance leaned back, confused. "He—Alan Conrad?" she questioned. +"He can't have done that, Henry! Oh, he can't have meant that!" +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe he didn't; I said I couldn't make out what he did mean," +Spearman said. "Things have come upon him with rather a rush, of +course; and you couldn't expect a country boy to get so many things +straight. He's acting, I suppose, only in the way one might expect a +boy to act who had been brought up in poverty on a Kansas prairie and +was suddenly handed the possible possession of a good many millions of +dollars. It's better to believe that he's only lost his head. I +haven't had opportunity to tell your father these things yet; but I +wanted you to understand why Conrad will hardly consider me a friend." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll understand you now, Henry," she promised. +</P> + +<P> +He gazed at her and started to speak; then, as though postponing it on +account of the place, he glanced around and took out his watch. +</P> + +<P> +"You must go back?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"No; I'm not going back to the office this afternoon, Connie; but I +must call up your father." +</P> + +<P> +He excused himself and went into the nearest telephone booth. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +VIOLENCE +</H4> + +<P> +At half-past three, Alan left the office. Sherrill had told him an +hour earlier that Spearman had telephoned he would not be able to get +back for a conference that afternoon; and Alan was certain now that in +Spearman's absence Sherrill would do nothing further with respect to +his affairs. +</P> + +<P> +He halted on the ground floor of the office building and bought copies +of each of the afternoon papers. A line completely across the pink +page of one announced "Millionaire Ship Owner Missing!" The other +three papers, printed at the same hour, did not display the story +prominently; and even the one which did failed to make it the most +conspicuous sensation. A line of larger and blacker type told of a +change in the battle line on the west front and, where the margin might +have been, was the bulletin of some sensation in a local divorce suit. +Alan was some time in finding the small print which went with the +millionaire ship owner heading; and when he found it, he discovered +that most of the space was devoted to the description of Corvet's share +in the development of shipping on the lakes and the peculiarity of his +past life instead of any definite announcement concerning his fate. +</P> + +<P> +The other papers printed almost identical items under small head-type +at the bottom of their first pages; these items stated that Benjamin +Corvet, the senior but inactive partner of the great shipping firm of +Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman, whose "disappearance" had been made the +subject of sensational rumor, "is believed by his partner, Mr. Henry +Spearman, to have simply gone away for a rest," and that no anxiety was +felt concerning him. Alan found no mention of himself nor any of the +circumstances connected with Corvet's disappearance of which Sherrill +had told him. +</P> + +<P> +Alan threw the papers away. There was a car line two blocks west, +Sherrill had said, which would take him within a short distance of the +house on Astor Street; but that neighborhood of fashion where the +Sherrills—and now Alan himself—lived was less than a half hour's walk +from the down-town district and, in the present turmoil of his +thoughts, he wanted to be moving. +</P> + +<P> +Spearman, he reflected as he walked north along the avenue, plainly had +dictated the paragraphs he just had read in the papers. Sherrill, Alan +knew, had desired to keep the circumstances regarding Corvet from +becoming public; and without Sherrill's agreement concealment would +have been impossible, but it was Spearman who had checked the +suspicions of outsiders and determined what they must believe; and, by +so doing, he had made it impossible for Alan to enroll aid from the +newspapers or the police. Alan did not know whether he might have +found it expedient to seek publicity; but now he had not a single proof +of anything he could tell. For Sherrill, naturally, had retained the +papers Corvet had left. Alan could not hope to obtain credence from +Sherrill and, without Sherrill's aid, he could not obtain credence from +any one else. +</P> + +<P> +Was there, then, no one whom Alan could tell of his encounter with +Spearman in Corvet's house, with probability of receiving belief? Alan +had not been thinking directly of Constance Sherrill, as he walked +swiftly north to the Drive; but she was, in a way, present in all his +thoughts. She had shown interest in him, or at least in the position +he was in, and sympathy; he had even begun to tell her about these +things when he had spoken to her of some event in Corvet's house which +had given him the name "<I>Miwaka</I>," and he had asked her if it was a +ship. And there could be no possible consequent peril to her in +telling her; the peril, if there was any, would be only to himself. +</P> + +<P> +His step quickened. As he approached the Sherrill house, he saw +standing at the curb an open roadster with a liveried chauffeur; he had +seen that roadster, he recognized with a little start, in front of the +office building that morning when Constance had taken him down-town. +He turned into the walk and rang the bell. +</P> + +<P> +The servant who opened the door knew him and seemed to accept his right +of entry to the house, for he drew back for Alan to enter. Alan went +into the hall and waited for the servant to follow. "Is Miss Sherrill +in?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll see, sir." The man disappeared. Alan, waiting, did not hear +Constance's voice in reply to the announcement of the servant, but +Spearman's vigorous tones. The servant returned. "Miss Sherrill will +see you in a minute, sir." +</P> + +<P> +Through the wide doorway to the drawing-room, Alan could see the +smaller, portièred entrance to the room beyond—Sherrill's study. The +curtains parted, and Constance and Spearman came into this inner +doorway; they stood an instant there in talk. As Constance started +away, Spearman suddenly drew her back to him and kissed her. Alan's +shoulders spontaneously jerked back, and his hands clenched; he did not +look away and, as she approached, she became aware that he had seen. +</P> + +<P> +She came to him, very quiet and very flushed; then she was quite pale +as she asked him, "You wanted me?" +</P> + +<P> +He was white as she, and could not speak at once. "You told me last +night, Miss Sherrill," he said, "that the last thing that Mr. Corvet +did—the last that you know of—was to warn you against one of your +friends. Who was that?" +</P> + +<P> +She flushed uneasily. "You mustn't attach any importance to that; I +didn't mean you to. There was no reason for what Mr. Corvet said, +except in Mr. Corvet's own mind. He had a quite unreasonable +animosity—" +</P> + +<P> +"Against Mr. Spearman, you mean." +</P> + +<P> +She did not answer. +</P> + +<P> +"His animosity was against Mr. Spearman, Miss Sherrill, wasn't it? +That is the only animosity of Mr. Corvet's that any one has told me +about." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"It was against Mr. Spearman that he warned you, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you." He turned and, not waiting for the man, let himself out. +He should have known it when he had seen that Spearman, after +announcing himself as unable to get back to the office, was with +Constance. +</P> + +<P> +He went swiftly around the block to his own house and let himself in at +the front door with his key. The house was warm; a shaded lamp on the +table in the larger library was lighted, a fire was burning in the open +grate, and the rooms had been swept and dusted. The Indian came into +the hall to take his coat and hat. +</P> + +<P> +"Dinner is at seven," Wassaquam announced. "You want some change about +that?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; seven is all right." +</P> + +<P> +Alan went up-stairs to the room next to Corvet's which he had +appropriated for his own use the night before, and found it now +prepared for his occupancy. His suitcase, unpacked, had been put away +in the closet; the clothing it had contained had been put in the +dresser drawers, and the toilet articles arranged upon the top of the +dresser and in the cabinet of the little connecting bath. So, clearly, +Wassaquam had accepted him as an occupant of the house, though upon +what status Alan could not guess. He had spoken of Wassaquam to +Constance as his servant; but Wassaquam was not that; he was Corvet's +servant—faithful and devoted to Corvet, Constance had said—and Alan +could not think of Wassaquam as the sort of servant that "went with the +house." The Indian's manner toward himself had been noncommittal, even +stolid. +</P> + +<P> +When Alan came down again to the first floor, Wassaquam was nowhere +about, but he heard sounds in the service rooms on the basement floor. +He went part way down the service stairs and saw the Indian in the +kitchen, preparing dinner. Wassaquam had not heard his approach, and +Alan stood an instant watching the Indian's tall, thin figure and the +quick movements of his disproportionately small, well-shaped hands, +almost like a woman's; then he scuffed his foot upon the stair, and +Wassaquam turned swiftly about. +</P> + +<P> +"Anybody been here to-day, Judah?" Alan asked. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Alan. I called tradesmen; they came. There were young men from +the newspapers." +</P> + +<P> +"They came here, did they? Then why did you say no one came?" +</P> + +<P> +"I did not let them in." +</P> + +<P> +"What did you tell them?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"Henry telephoned I was to tell them nothing." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean Henry Spearman?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you take orders from him, Judah?" +</P> + +<P> +"I took that order, Alan." +</P> + +<P> +Alan hesitated. "You've been here in the house all day?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Alan." +</P> + +<P> +Alan went back to the first floor and into the smaller library. The +room was dark with the early winter dusk, and he switched on the light; +then he knelt and pulled out one of the drawers he had seen Spearman +searching through the night before, and carefully examined the papers +in it one by one, but found them only ordinary papers. He pulled the +drawer completely out and sounded the wall behind it and the partitions +on both sides but they appeared solid. He put the drawer back in and +went on to examine the next one, and, after that, the others. The +clocks in the house had been wound, for presently the clock in the +library struck six, and another in the hall chimed slowly. An hour +later, when the clocks chimed again, Alan looked up and saw Wassaquam's +small black eyes, deep set in their large eye sockets, fixed on him +intently through the door. How long the Indian had been there, Alan +could not guess; he had not heard his step. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you looking for, Alan?" the Indian asked. +</P> + +<P> +Alan reflected a moment. "Mr. Sherrill thought that Mr. Corvet might +have left a record of some sort here for me, Judah. Do you know of +anything like that?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. That is what you are looking for?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Do you know of any place where Mr. Corvet would have been likely +to put away anything like that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ben put papers in all these drawers; he put them up-stairs, too—where +you have seen." +</P> + +<P> +"Nowhere else, Judah?" +</P> + +<P> +"If he put things anywhere else, Alan, I have not seen. Dinner is +served, Alan." +</P> + +<P> +Alan went to the lavatory on the first floor and washed the dust from +his hands and face; then he went into the dining-room. A place had +been set at the dining table around the corner from the place where, as +the worn rug showed, the lonely occupant of the house had been +accustomed to sit. Benjamin Corvet's armchair, with its worn leather +back, had been left against the wall; so had another unworn armchair +which Alan understood must have been Mrs. Corvet's; and an armless +chair had been set for Alan between their places. Wassaquam, having +served the dinner, took his place behind Alan's chair, ready to pass +him what he needed; but the Indian's silent, watchful presence there +behind him where he could not see his face, disturbed Alan, and he +twisted himself about to look at him. +</P> + +<P> +"Would you mind, Judah," he inquired, "if I asked you to stand over +there instead of where you are?" +</P> + +<P> +The Indian, without answering, moved around to the other side of the +table, where he stood facing Alan. +</P> + +<P> +"You're a Chippewa, aren't you, Judah?" Alan asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Your people live at the other end of the lake, don't they?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Alan." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you ever heard of the Indian Drum they talk about up there, that +they say sounds when a ship goes down on the lake?" +</P> + +<P> +The Indian's eyes sparkled excitedly. "Yes," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you believe in it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not just believe; I know. That is old Indian country up there, +Alan—L'arbre Croche—Cross Village—Middle Village. A big town of +Ottawas was there in old days; Pottawatomies too, and Chippewas. +Indians now are all Christians, Catholics, and Methodists who hold camp +meetings and speak beautifully. But some things of the old days are +left. The Drum is like that. Everybody knows that it sounds for those +who die on the lake." +</P> + +<P> +"How do they know, Judah? How do you yourself know?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have heard it. It sounded for my father." +</P> + +<P> +"How was that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Like this. My father sold some bullocks to a man on Beaver Island. +The man kept store on Beaver Island, Alan. No Indian liked him. He +would not hand anything to an Indian or wrap anything in paper for an +Indian. Say it was like this: An Indian comes in to buy salt pork. +First the man would get the money. Then, Alan, he would take his hook +and pull the pork up out of the barrel and throw it on the dirty floor +for the Indian to pick up. He said Indians must take their food off of +the floor—like dogs. +</P> + +<P> +"My father had to take the bullocks to the man, across to Beaver +Island. He had a Mackinaw boat, very little, with a sail made brown by +boiling it with tan bark, so that it would not wear out. At first the +Indians did not know who the bullocks were for, so they helped him. He +tied the legs of the bullocks, the front legs and the back legs, then +all four legs together, and the Indians helped him put them in the +boat. When they found out the bullocks were for the man on Beaver +Island, the Indians would not help him any longer. He had to take them +across alone. Besides, it was bad weather, the beginning of a storm. +</P> + +<P> +"He went away, and my mother went to pick berries—I was small then. +Pretty soon I saw my mother coming back. She had no berries, and her +hair was hanging down, and she was wailing. She took me in her arms +and said my father was dead. Other Indians came around and asked her +how she knew, and she said she had heard the Drum. The Indians went +out to listen." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you go?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; I went." +</P> + +<P> +"How old were you, Judah?" +</P> + +<P> +"Five years." +</P> + +<P> +"That was the time you heard it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; it would beat once, then there would be silence; then it would +beat again. It frightened us to hear it. The Indians would scream and +beat their bodies with their hands when the sound came. We listened +until night; there was a storm all the time growing greater in the +dark, but no rain. The Drum would beat once; then nothing; then it +would beat again once—never two or more times. So we knew it was for +my father. It is supposed the feet of the bullocks came untied, and +the bullocks tipped the boat over. They found near the island the body +of one of the bullocks floating in the water, and its feet were untied. +My father's body was on the beach near there." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you ever hear of a ship called the <I>Miwaka</I>, Judah?" +</P> + +<P> +"That was long ago," the Indian answered. +</P> + +<P> +"They say that the Drum beat wrong when the <I>Miwaka</I> went down—that it +was one beat short of the right number." +</P> + +<P> +"That was long ago," Wassaquam merely repeated. +</P> + +<P> +"Did Mr. Corvet ever speak to you about the <I>Miwaka</I>?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; he asked me once if I had ever heard the Drum. I told him." +</P> + +<P> +Wassaquam removed the dinner and brought Alan a dessert. He returned +to stand in the place across the table that Alan had assigned to him, +and stood looking down at Alan, steadily and thoughtfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Do I look like any one you ever saw before, Judah?" Alan inquired of +him. +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that what you were thinking?" +</P> + +<P> +"That is what I was thinking. Will coffee be served in the library, +Alan?" +</P> + +<P> +Alan crossed to the library and seated himself in the chair where his +father had been accustomed to sit. Wassaquam brought him the single +small cup of coffee, lit the spirit lamp on the smoking stand, and +moved that over; then he went away. When he had finished his coffee, +Alan went into the smaller connecting room and recommenced his +examination of the drawers under the bookshelves. He could hear the +Indian moving about his tasks, and twice Wassaquam came to the door of +the room and looked in on him; but he did not offer to say anything, +and Alan did not speak to him. At ten o'clock, Alan stopped his search +and went back to the chair in the library. He dozed; for he awoke with +a start and a feeling that some one had been bending over him, and +gazed up into Wassaquam's face. The Indian had been scrutinizing him +with intent, anxious inquiry. He moved away, but Alan called him back. +</P> + +<P> +"When Mr. Corvet disappeared, Judah, you went to look for him up at +Manistique, where he was born—at least Mr. Sherrill said that was +where you went. Why did you think you might find him there?" Alan +asked. +</P> + +<P> +"In the end, I think, a man maybe goes back to the place where he +began. That's all, Alan." +</P> + +<P> +"In the end! What do you mean by that? What do you think has become +of Mr. Corvet?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think now—Ben's dead." +</P> + +<P> +"What makes you think that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing makes me think; I think it myself." +</P> + +<P> +"I see. You mean you have no reason more than others for thinking it; +but that is what you believe." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." Wassaquam went away, and Alan heard him on the back stairs, +ascending to his room. +</P> + +<P> +When Alan went up to his own room, after making the rounds to see that +the house was locked, a droning chant came to him from the third floor. +He paused in the hall and listened, then went on up to the floor above. +A flickering light came to him through the half-open door of a room at +the front of the house; he went a little way toward it and looked in. +Two thick candles were burning before a crucifix, below which the +Indian knelt, prayer book in hand and rocking to and fro as he droned +his supplications. +</P> + +<P> +A word or two came to Alan, but without them Wassaquam's occupation was +plain; he was praying for the repose of the dead—the Catholic chant +taught to him, as it had been taught undoubtedly to his fathers, by the +French Jesuits of the lakes. The intoned chant for Corvet's soul, by +the man who had heard the Drum, followed and still came to Alan, as he +returned to the second floor. +</P> + +<P> +He had not been able to determine, during the evening, Wassaquam's +attitude toward him. Having no one else to trust, Alan had been +obliged to put a certain amount of trust in the Indian; so as he had +explained to Wassaquam that morning that the desk and the drawers in +the little room off Corvet's had been forced, and had warned him to see +that no one, who had not proper business there, entered the house. +Wassaquam had appeared to accept this order; but now Wassaquam had +implied that it was not because of Alan's order that he had refused +reporters admission to the house. The developments of the day had +tremendously altered things in one respect; for Alan, the night before, +had not thought of the intruder into the house as one who could claim +an ordinary right of entrance there; but now he knew him to be the one +who—except for Sherrill—might most naturally come to the house; one, +too, for whom Wassaquam appeared to grant a certain right of direction +of affairs there. So, at this thought, Alan moved angrily; the house +was his—Alan's. He had noted particularly, when Sherrill had showed +him the list of properties whose transfer to him Corvet had left at +Sherrill's discretion, that the house was not among them; and he had +understood that this was because Corvet had left Sherrill no discretion +as to the house. Corvet's direct, unconditional gift of the house by +deed to Alan had been one of Sherrill's reasons for believing that if +Corvet had left anything which could explain his disappearance, it +would be found in the house. +</P> + +<P> +Unless Spearman had visited the house during the day and had obtained +what he had been searching for the night before—and Alan believed he +had not done that—it was still in the house. Alan's hands clenched; +he would not give Spearman such a chance as that again; and he himself +would continue his search of the house—exhaustively, room by room, +article of furniture by article of furniture. +</P> + +<P> +Alan started and went quickly to the open door of his room, as he heard +voices now somewhere within the house. One of the voices he recognized +as Wassaquam's; the other indistinct, thick, accusing—was unknown to +him; it certainly was not Spearman's. He had not heard Wassaquam go +down-stairs, and he had not heard the doorbell, so he ran first to the +third floor; but the room where he had seen Wassaquam was empty. He +descended again swiftly to the first floor, and found Wassaquam +standing in the front hall, alone. +</P> + +<P> +"Who was here, Judah?" Alan demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"A man," the Indian answered stolidly. "He was drunk; I put him out." +</P> + +<P> +"What did he come for?" +</P> + +<P> +"He came to see Ben. I put him out; he is gone, Alan." +</P> + +<P> +Alan flung open the front door and looked out, but he saw no one. +</P> + +<P> +"What did he want of Mr. Corvet, Judah?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do not know. I told him Ben was not here; he was angry, but he went +away." +</P> + +<P> +"Has he ever come here before?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; he comes twice." +</P> + +<P> +"He has been here twice?" +</P> + +<P> +"More than that; every year he comes twice, Alan. Once he came +oftener." +</P> + +<P> +"How long has he been doing that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Since I can remember." +</P> + +<P> +"Is he a friend of Mr. Corvet?" +</P> + +<P> +"No friend—no!" +</P> + +<P> +"But Mr. Corvet saw him when he came here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Always, Alan." +</P> + +<P> +"And you don't know at all what he came about?" +</P> + +<P> +"How should I know? No; I do not." +</P> + +<P> +Alan got his coat and hat. The sudden disappearance of the man might +mean only that he had hurried away, but it might mean too that he was +still lurking near the house. Alan had decided to make the circuit of +the house and determine that. But as he came out on to the porch, a +figure more than a block away to the south strode with uncertain step +out into the light of a street lamp, halted and faced about, and shook +his fist back at the house. Alan dragged the Indian out on to the +porch. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that the man, Judah?" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Alan." +</P> + +<P> +Alan ran down the steps and at full speed after the man. The other had +turned west at the corner where Alan had seen him; but even though Alan +slipped as he tried to run upon the snowy walks, he must be gaining +fast upon him. He saw him again, when he had reached the corner where +the man had turned, traveling westward with that quick uncertain step +toward Clark Street; at that corner the man turned south. But when +Alan reached the corner, he was nowhere in sight. To the south, Clark +Street reached away, garish with electric signs and with a half dozen +saloons to every block. That the man was drunk made it probable he had +turned into one of these places. Alan went into every one of them for +fully a half mile and looked about, but he found no one even resembling +the man he had been following. He retraced his steps for several +blocks, still looking; then he gave it up and returned eastward toward +the Drive. +</P> + +<P> +The side street leading to the Drive was less well lighted; dark entry +ways and alleys opened on it; but the night was clear. The stars, with +the shining sword of Orion almost overhead, gleamed with midwinter +brightness, and to the west the crescent of the moon was hanging and +throwing faint shadows over the snow. Alan could see at the end of the +street, beyond the yellow glow of the distant boulevard lights, the +smooth, chill surface of the lake. A white light rode above it; now, +below the white light, he saw a red speck—the masthead and port +lanterns of a steamer northward bound. Farther out a second white glow +appeared from behind the obscuration of the buildings and below it a +green speck—a starboard light. The information he had gained that day +enabled him to recognize in these lights two steamers passing one +another at the harbor mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"Red to red," Alan murmured to himself. "Green to green—Red to red, +perfect safety, go ahead!" he repeated. +</P> + +<P> +It brought him, with marvelous vividness, back to Constance Sherrill. +Events since he had talked with her that morning had put them far apart +once more; but, in another way, they were being drawn closer together. +For he knew now that she was caught as well as he in the mesh of +consequences of acts not their own. Benjamin Corvet, in the anguish of +the last hours before fear of those consequences had driven him away, +had given her a warning against Spearman so wild that it defeated +itself; for Alan merely to repeat that warning, with no more than he +yet knew, would be equally futile. But into the contest between +Spearman and himself—that contest, he was beginning to feel, which +must threaten destruction either to Spearman or to him—she had +entered. Her happiness, her future, were at stake; her fate, he was +certain now, depended upon discovery of those events tied tight in the +mystery of Alan's own identity which Spearman knew, and the threat of +which at moments appalled him. Alan winced as there came before him in +the darkness of the street the vision of Constance in Spearman's arms +and of the kiss that he had seen that afternoon. +</P> + +<P> +He staggered, slipped, fell suddenly forward upon his knees under a +stunning, crushing blow upon his head from behind. Thought, +consciousness almost lost, he struggled, twisting himself about to +grasp at his assailant. He caught the man's clothing, trying to drag +himself up; fighting blindly, dazedly, unable to see or think, he +shouted aloud and then again, aloud. He seemed in the distance to hear +answering cries; but the weight and strength of the other was bearing +him down again to his knees; he tried to slip aside from it, to rise. +Then another blow, crushing and sickening, descended on his head; even +hearing left him and, unconscious, he fell forward on to the snow and +lay still. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A WALK BESIDE THE LAKE +</H4> + +<P> +"The name seems like Sherrill," the interne agreed. "He said it before +when we had him on the table up-stairs; and he has said it now twice +distinctly—Sherrill." +</P> + +<P> +"His name, do you think?" +</P> + +<P> +"I shouldn't say so; he seems trying to speak to some one named +Sherrill." +</P> + +<P> +The nurse waited a few minutes. "Yes; that's how it seems to me, sir. +He said something that sounded like 'Connie' a while ago, and once he +said 'Jim.' There are only four Sherrills in the telephone book, two +of them in Evanston and one way out in Minoota." +</P> + +<P> +"The other?" +</P> + +<P> +"They're only about six blocks from where he was picked up; but they're +on the Drive—the Lawrence Sherrills." +</P> + +<P> +The interne whistled softly and looked more interestedly at his +patient's features. He glanced at his watch, which showed the hour of +the morning to be half-past four. "You'd better make a note of it," he +said. "He's not a Chicagoan; his clothes were made somewhere in +Kansas. He'll be conscious some time during the day; there's only a +slight fracture, and— Perhaps you'd better call the Sherrill house, +anyway. If he's not known there, no harm done; and if he's one of +their friends and he should..." +</P> + +<P> +The nurse nodded and moved off. +</P> + +<P> +Thus it was that at a quarter to five Constance Sherrill was awakened +by the knocking of one of the servants at her father's door. Her +father went down-stairs to the telephone instrument where he might +reply without disturbing Mrs. Sherrill. Constance, kimona over her +shoulders, stood at the top of the stairs and waited. It became plain +to her at once that whatever had happened had been to Alan Conrad. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes.... Yes.... You are giving him every possible care? ... At once." +</P> + +<P> +She ran part way down the stairs and met her father as he came up. He +told her of the situation briefly. +</P> + +<P> +"He was attacked on the street late last night; he was unconscious when +they found him and took him to the hospital, and has been unconscious +ever since. They say it was an ordinary street attack for robbery. I +shall go at once, of course; but you can do nothing. He would not know +you if you came; and of course he is in competent hands. No; no one +can say yet how seriously he is injured." +</P> + +<P> +She waited in the hall while her father dressed, after calling the +garage on the house telephone for him and ordering the motor. When he +had gone, she returned anxiously to her own rooms; he had promised to +call her after reaching the hospital and as soon as he had learned the +particulars of Alan's condition. It was ridiculous, of course, to +attach any responsibility to her father or herself for what had +happened to Alan—a street attack such as might have happened to any +one—yet she felt that they were in part responsible. Alan Conrad had +come to Chicago, not by their direction, but by Benjamin Corvet's; but +Uncle Benny being gone, they had been the ones who met him, they had +received him into their own house; but they had not thought to warn him +of the dangers of the city and, afterward, they had let him go to live +alone in the house in Astor Street with no better adviser than +Wassaquam. Now, and perhaps because they had not warned him, he had +met injury and, it might be, more than mere injury; he might be dying. +</P> + +<P> +She walked anxiously up and down her room, clutching her kimona about +her; it would be some time yet before she could hear from her father. +She went to the telephone on the stand beside her bed and called Henry +Spearman at his apartments. His servant answered; and, after an +interval, Henry's voice came to her. She told him all that she knew of +what had occurred. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you want me to go over to the hospital?" he asked at once. +</P> + +<P> +"No; father has gone. There is nothing any one can do. I'll call you +again as soon as I hear from father." +</P> + +<P> +He seemed to appreciate from her tone the anxiety she felt; for he set +himself to soothe and encourage her. She listened, answered, and then +hung up the receiver, anxious not to interfere with the expected call +from her father. She moved about the room again, oppressed by the long +wait, until the 'phone rang, and she sprang to it; it was her father +calling from the hospital. Alan had had a few moments' consciousness, +but Sherrill had not been allowed to see him; now, by the report of the +nurse, Alan was sleeping, and both nurse and internes assured Sherrill +that, this being the case, there was no reason for anxiety concerning +him; but Sherrill would wait at the hospital a little longer to make +sure. Constance's breath caught as she answered him, and her eyes +filled with tears of relief. She called Henry again, and he evidently +had been waiting, for he answered at once; he listened without comment +to her repetition of her father's report. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," he said, when she had finished. "I'm coming over, Connie." +</P> + +<P> +"Now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; right away." +</P> + +<P> +"You must give me time to dress!" His assumption of right to come to +her at this early hour recalled to her forcibly the closer relation +which Henry now assumed as existing between them; indeed, as more than +existing, as progressing. And had not she admitted that relation by +telephoning to him during her anxiety? She had not thought how that +must appear to him; she had not thought about it at all; she had just +done it. +</P> + +<P> +She had been one of those who think of betrothal in terms of question +and answer, of a moment when decision is formulated and spoken; she had +supposed that, by withholding reply to Henry's question put even before +Uncle Benny went away, she was thereby maintaining the same relation +between Henry and herself. But now she was discovering that this was +not so; she was realizing that Henry had not required formal answer to +him because he considered that such answer had become superfluous; her +yes, if she accepted him now, would not establish a new bond, it would +merely acknowledge what was already understood. She had accepted +that—had she not—when, in the rush of her feeling, she had thrust her +hand into his the day before; she had accepted it, even more +undeniably, when he had seized her and kissed her. +</P> + +<P> +Not that she had sought or even consciously permitted, that; it had, +indeed, surprised her. While they were alone together, and he was +telling her things about himself, somewhat as he had at the table at +Field's, Alan Conrad was announced, and she had risen to go. Henry had +tried to detain her; then, as he looked down at her, hot impulse had +seemed to conquer him; he caught her, irresistibly; amazed, bewildered, +she looked up at him, and he bent and kissed her. The power of his +arms about her—she could feel them yet, sometimes—half frightened, +half enthralled her. But his lips against her cheek—she had turned +her lips away so that his pressed her cheek! She had been quite unable +to know how she had felt then, because at that instant she had realized +that she was seen. So she had disengaged herself as quickly as +possible and, after Alan was gone, she had fled to her room without +going back to Henry at all. +</P> + +<P> +How could she have expected Henry to have interpreted that flight from +him as disapproval when she had not meant it as that; when, indeed, she +did not know herself what was stirring in her that instinct to go away +alone? She had not by that disowned the new relation which he had +accepted as established between them. And did she wish to disown it +now? What had happened had come sooner and with less of her will +active in it than she had expected; but she knew it was only what she +had expected to come. The pride she had felt in being with him was, +she realized, only anticipatory of the pride she would experience as +his wife. When she considered the feeling of her family and her +friends, she knew that, though some would go through the formal +deploring that Henry had not better birth, all would be satisfied and +more than satisfied; they would even boast about Henry a little, and +entertain him in her honor, and show him off. There was no one—now +that poor Uncle Benny was gone—who would seriously deplore it at all. +</P> + +<P> +Constance had recognized no relic of uneasiness from Uncle Benny's last +appeal to her; she understood that thoroughly. Or, at least, she <I>had</I> +understood that; now was there a change in the circumstances of that +understanding, because of what had happened to Alan, that she found +herself re-defining to herself her relation with Henry? No; it had +nothing to do with Henry, of course; it referred only to Benjamin +Corvet. Uncle Benny had "gone away" from his house on Astor Street, +leaving his place there to his son, Alan Conrad. Something which had +disturbed and excited Alan had happened to him on the first night he +had passed in that house; and now, it appeared, he had been prevented +from passing a second night there. What had prevented him had been an +attempted robbery upon the street, her father had said. But suppose it +had been something else than robbery. +</P> + +<P> +She could not formulate more definitely this thought, but it persisted; +she could not deny it entirely and shake it off. +</P> + +<P> +To Alan Conrad, in the late afternoon of that day, this same thought +was coming far more definitely and far more persistently. He had been +awake and sane since shortly after noonday. The pain of a head which +ached throbbingly and of a body bruised and sore was beginning to give +place to a feeling merely of lassitude—a languor which revisited +incoherence upon him when he tried to think. He shifted himself upon +his bed and called the nurse. +</P> + +<P> +"How long am I likely to have to stay here?" he asked her. +</P> + +<P> +"The doctors think not less than two weeks, Mr. Conrad." +</P> + +<P> +He realized, as he again lay silent, that he must put out of his head +now all expectation of ever finding in Corvet's house any such record +as he had been looking for. If there had been a record, it +unquestionably would be gone before he could get about again to seek +it; and he could not guard against its being taken from the house; for, +if he had been hopeless of receiving credence for any accusation he +might make against Spearman while he was in health, how much more +hopeless was it now, when everything he would say could be put to the +credit of his injury and to his delirium! He could not even give +orders for the safeguarding of the house and its contents—his own +property—with assurance that they would be carried out. +</P> + +<P> +The police and hospital attendants, he had learned, had no suspicion of +anything but that he had been the victim of one of the footpads who, +during that month, had been attacking and robbing nightly. Sherrill, +who had visited him about two o'clock, had showed that he suspected no +other possibility. Alan could not prove otherwise; he had not seen his +assailant's face; it was most probable that if he had seen it, he would +not have recognized it. But the man who had assailed him had meant to +kill; he had not been any ordinary robber. That purpose, blindly +recognized and fought against by Alan in their struggle, had been +unmistakable. Only the chance presence of passers-by, who had heard +Alan's shouts and responded to them, had prevented the execution of his +purpose, and had driven the man to swift flight for his own safety. +</P> + +<P> +Alan had believed, in his struggle with Spearman in Corvet's library, +that Spearman might have killed rather than have been discovered there. +Were there others to whom Alan's presence had become a threat so +serious that they would proceed even to the length of calculated +murder? He could not know that. The only safe plan was to assume that +persons, in number unknown, had definite, vital interest in his +"removal" by violence or otherwise, and that, among them, he must +reckon Henry Spearman; and he must fight them alone. For Sherrill's +liking for him, even Constance Sherrill's interest and sympathy were +nullified in practical intent by their admiration for and their +complete confidence in Spearman. It did not matter that Alan might +believe that, in fighting Spearman, he was fighting not only for +himself but for her; he knew now certainly that he must count her as +Spearman's; her! Things swam before him again dizzily as he thought of +her; and he sank back and closed his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +A little before six Constance Sherrill and Spearman called to inquire +after him and were admitted for a few moments to his room. She came to +him, bent over him, while she spoke the few words of sympathy the nurse +allowed to her; she stood back then while Spearman spoke to him. In +the succeeding days, he saw her nearly every day, accompanied always by +her father or Spearman; it was the full two weeks the nurse had +allotted for his remaining in the hospital before he saw her alone. +</P> + +<P> +They had brought him home, the day before—she and her father, in the +motor—to the house on Astor Street. He had insisted on returning +there, refusing the room in their house which they had offered; but the +doctor had enjoined outdoors and moderate exercise for him, and she had +made him promise to come and walk with her. He went to the Sherrill +house about ten o'clock, and they walked northward toward the park. +</P> + +<P> +It was a mild, sunny morning with warm wind from the south, which +sucked up the last patches of snow from the lawns and dried the tiny +trickles of water across the walks. Looking to the land, one might say +that spring soon would be on the way; but, looking to the lake, +midwinter held. The counterscrap of concrete, beyond the withered sod +that edged the Drive, was sheathed in ice; the frozen spray-hummocks +beyond steamed in the sun; and out as far as one could see, floes +floated close together, exposing only here and there a bit of blue. +Wind, cold and chilling, wafted off this ice field, taking the warm +south breeze upon its flanks. +</P> + +<P> +Glancing up at her companion from time to time, Constance saw the color +coming to his face, and he strode beside her quite steadily. Whatever +was his inheritance, his certainly were stamina and vitality; a little +less—or a little dissipation of them—and he might not have recovered +at all, much less have leaped back to strength as he had done. For +since yesterday, the languor which had held him was gone. +</P> + +<P> +They halted a minute near the south entrance of the park at the St. +Gaudens' "Lincoln," which he had not previously seen. The gaunt, sad +figure of the "rail-splitter" in his ill-fitting clothes, seemed to +recall something to him; for he glanced swiftly at her as they turned +away. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Sherrill," he asked, "have you ever stayed out in the country?" +</P> + +<P> +"I go to northern Michigan, up by the straits, almost every summer for +part of the time, at least; and once in a while we open the house in +winter too for a week or so. It's quite wild—trees and sand and shore +and the water. I've had some of my best times up there." +</P> + +<P> +"You've never been out on the plains?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just to pass over them on the train on the way to the coast." +</P> + +<P> +"That would be in winter or in spring; I was thinking about the plains +in late summer, when we—Jim and Betty, the children of the people I +was with in Kansas—" +</P> + +<P> +"I remember them." +</P> + +<P> +"When we used to play at being pioneers in our sunflower shacks." +</P> + +<P> +"Sunflower shacks?" she questioned. +</P> + +<P> +"I was dreaming we were building them again when I was delirious just +after I was hurt, it seems. I thought that I was back in Kansas and +was little again. The prairie was all brown as it is in late summer, +brown billows of dried grass which let you see the chips of limestone +and flint scattered on the ground beneath; and in the hollows there +were acres and acres of sunflowers, three times as tall as either Jim +or I, and with stalks as thick as a man's wrist, where Jim and Betty +and I ... and you, Miss Sherrill, were playing." +</P> + +<P> +"I?" +</P> + +<P> +"We cut paths through the sunflowers with a corn knife," Alan +continued, not looking at her, "and built houses in them by twining the +cut stalks in and out among those still standing. I'd wondered, you +see, what you must have been like when you were a little girl, so, I +suppose, when I was delirious, I saw you that way." +</P> + +<P> +She had looked up at him a little apprehensively, afraid that he was +going to say something more; but his look reassured her. +</P> + +<P> +"Then that," she hazarded, "must have been how the hospital people +learned our name. I'd wondered about that; they said you were +unconscious first, and then delirious and when you spoke you said, +among other names, mine—Connie and Sherrill." +</P> + +<P> +He colored and glanced away. "I thought they might have told you that, +so I wanted you to know. They say that in a dream, or in delirium, +after your brain establishes the first absurdity—like your playing out +among the sunflowers with me when we were little—everything else is +consistent. I wouldn't call a little girl 'Miss Sherrill,' of course. +Ever since I've known you, I couldn't help thinking a great deal about +you; you're not like any one else I've ever known. But I didn't want +you to think I thought of you—familiarly." +</P> + +<P> +"I speak of you always as Alan to father," she said. +</P> + +<P> +He was silent for a moment. "They lasted hardly for a day—those +sunflower houses, Miss Sherrill," he said quietly. "They withered +almost as soon as they were made. Castles in Kansas, one might say! +No one could live in them." +</P> + +<P> +Apprehensive again, she colored. He had recalled to her, without +meaning to do so, she thought, that he had seen her in Spearman's arms; +she was quite sure that recollection of this was in his mind. But in +spite of this—or rather, exactly because of it—she understood that he +had formed his own impression of the relation between Henry and herself +and that, consequently, he was not likely to say anything more like +this. +</P> + +<P> +They had walked east, across the damp, dead turf to where the Drive +leaves the shore and is built out into the lake; as they crossed to it +on the smooth ice of the lagoon between, he took her arm to steady her. +</P> + +<P> +"There is something I have been wanting to ask you," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"That night when you were hurt—it was for robbery, they said. What do +you think about it?" She watched him as he looked at her and then +away; but his face was completely expressionless. +</P> + +<P> +"The proceedings were a little too rapid for me to judge, Miss +Sherrill." +</P> + +<P> +"But there was no demand upon you to give over your money before you +were attacked?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +She breathed a little more quickly. "It must be a strange sensation," +she observed, "to know that some one has tried to kill you." +</P> + +<P> +"It must, indeed." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean you don't think that he tried to kill you?" +</P> + +<P> +"The police captain thinks not; he says it was the work of a man new to +the blackjack, and he hit harder and oftener than he needed. He says +that sort are the dangerous ones—that one's quite safe in the hands of +an experienced slugger, as you would be with the skilful man in any +line. I never thought of it that way before. He almost made it into +an argument for leaving the trained artists loose on the streets, for +the safety of the public, instead of turning the business over to boys +only half educated." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think about the man yourself?" Constance persisted. +</P> + +<P> +"The apprentice who practiced on me?" +</P> + +<P> +She waited, watching his eyes. "I was hardly in a condition, Miss +Sherrill, to appreciate anything about the man at all. Why do you ask?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because—" She hesitated an instant, "if you were attacked to be +killed, it meant that you must have been attacked as the son of—Mr. +Corvet. Then that meant—at least it implied, that Mr. Corvet was +killed, that he did not go away. You see that, of course." +</P> + +<P> +"Were you the only one who thought that? Or did some one speak to you +about it?" +</P> + +<P> +"No one did; I spoke to father. He thought—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, if Mr. Corvet was murdered—I'm following what father thought, +you understand—it involved something a good deal worse perhaps than +anything that could have been involved if he had only gone away. The +facts we had made it certain that—if what had happened to him was +death at the hands of another—he must have foreseen that death and, +seeking no protection for himself ... it implied, that he preferred to +die rather than to ask protection—that there was something whose +concealment he thought mattered even more to him than life. It—it +might have meant that he considered his life was ... due to whomever +took it." Her voice, which had become very low, now ceased. She was +speaking to Alan of his father—a father whom he had never known, and +whom he could not have recognized by sight until she showed him the +picture a few weeks before; but she was speaking of his father. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Sherrill didn't feel that it was necessary for him to do anything, +even though he thought that?" +</P> + +<P> +"If Mr. Corvet was dead, we could do him no good, surely, by telling +this to the police; if the police succeeded in finding out all the +facts, we would be doing only what Uncle Benny did not wish—what he +preferred death to. We could not tell the police about it without +telling them all about Mr. Corvet too. So father would not let himself +believe that you had been attacked to be killed. He had to believe the +police theory was sufficient." +</P> + +<P> +Alan made no comment at once. "Wassaquam believes Mr. Corvet is dead," +he said finally. "He told me so. Does your father believe that?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think he is beginning to believe it." +</P> + +<P> +They had reached the little bridge that breaks the Drive and spans the +channel through which the motor boats reach harbor in the lagoon; he +rested his arms upon the rail of the bridge and looked down into the +channel, now frozen. He seemed to her to consider and to decide upon +something. +</P> + +<P> +"I've not told any one," he said, now watching her, "how I happened to +be out of the house that night. I followed a man who came there to the +house. Wassaquam did not know his name. He did not know Mr. Corvet +was gone; for he came there to see Mr. Corvet. He was not an ordinary +friend of Mr. Corvet's; but he had come there often; Wassaquam did not +know why. Wassaquam had sent the man away, and I ran out after him; +but I could not find him." +</P> + +<P> +He stopped an instant, studying her. "That was not the first man who +came to the house," he went on quickly, as she was about to speak. "I +found a man in Mr. Corvet's house the first night that I spent there. +Wassaquam was away, you remember, and I was alone in the house." +</P> + +<P> +"A man there in the house?" she repeated. +</P> + +<P> +"He wasn't there when I entered the house—at least I don't think he +was. I heard him below, after I had gone up-stairs. I came down then +and saw him. He was going through Mr. Corvet's things—not the silver +and all that, but through his desks and files and cases. He was +looking for something—something which he seemed to want very much; +when I interfered, it greatly excited him." +</P> + +<P> +They had turned back from the bridge and were returning along the way +that they had come; but now she stopped and looked up at him. +</P> + +<P> +"What happened when you 'interfered'?" +</P> + +<P> +"A queer thing." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"I frightened him." +</P> + +<P> +"Frightened him?" She had appreciated in his tone more significance +than the casual meaning of the words. +</P> + +<P> +"He thought I was a ghost." +</P> + +<P> +"A ghost. Whose ghost?" +</P> + +<P> +He shrugged. "I don't know; some one whom he seemed to have known +pretty well—and whom Mr. Corvet knew, he thought." +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't you tell us this before?" +</P> + +<P> +"At least—I am telling you now, Miss Sherrill. I frightened him, and +he got away. But I had seen him plainly. I can describe him.... +You've talked with your father of the possibility that something might +'happen' to me such as, perhaps, happened to Mr. Corvet. If anything +does happen to me, a description of the man may ... prove useful." +</P> + +<P> +He saw the color leave her face, and her eyes brighten; he accepted +this for agreement on her part. Then clearly and definitely as he +could, he described Spearman to her. She did not recognize the +description; he had known she would not. Had not Spearman been in +Duluth? Beyond that, was not connection of Spearman with the prowler +in Corvet's house the one connection of all most difficult for her to +make? But he saw her fixing and recording the description in her mind. +</P> + +<P> +They were silent as they went on toward her home. He had said all he +could, or dared to say; to tell her that the man had been Spearman +would not merely have awakened her incredulity; it would have destroyed +credence utterly. A definite change in their relation to one another +had taken place during their walk. The fullness, the frankness of the +sympathy there had been between them almost from their first meeting, +had gone; she was quite aware, he saw, that he had not frankly answered +her questions; she was aware that in some way he had drawn back from +her and shut her out from his thoughts about his own position here. +But he had known that this must be so; it had been his first definite +realization after his return to consciousness in the hospital when, +knowing now her relation to Spearman, he had found all questions which +concerned his relations with the people here made immeasurably more +acute by the attack upon him. +</P> + +<P> +She asked him to come in and stay for luncheon, as they reached her +home, but she asked it without urging; at his refusal she moved slowly +up the steps; but she halted when she saw that he did not go on. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Sherrill," he said, looking up at her, "how much money is there +in your house?" +</P> + +<P> +She smiled, amused and a little perplexed; then sobered as she saw his +intentness on her answer. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean—how much is ordinarily kept there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, very little in actual cash. We pay everything by +check—tradesmen and servants; and even if we happen not to have a +charge account where we make a purchase, they know who we are and are +always willing to charge it to us." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you. It would be rather unusual then for you—or your +neighbors—to have currency at hand exceeding the hundreds?" +</P> + +<P> +"Exceeding the hundreds? That means in the thousands—or at least one +thousand; yes, for us, it would be quite unusual." +</P> + +<P> +She waited for him to explain why he had asked; it was not, she felt +sure, for any reason which could readily suggest itself to her. But he +only thanked her again and lifted his hat and moved away. Looking +after him from the window after she had entered the house, she saw him +turn the corner in the direction of Astor Street. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A CALLER +</H4> + +<P> +As the first of the month was approaching, Wassaquam had brought his +household bills and budget to Alan that morning directly after +breakfast. The accounts, which covered expenses for the month just +ending and a small amount of cash to be carried for the month +beginning, were written upon a sheet of foolscap in neat, unshaded +writing exactly like the models in a copybook—each letter formed as +carefully and precisely as is the work done upon an Indian basket. The +statement accounted accurately for a sum of cash in hand upon the first +of February, itemized charged expenses, and totaled the bills. For +March, Wassaquam evidently proposed a continuance of the establishment +upon the present lines. To provide for that, and to furnish Alan with +whatever sums he needed, Sherrill had made a considerable deposit in +Alan's name in the bank where he carried his own account; and Alan had +accompanied Sherrill to the bank to be introduced and had signed the +necessary cards in order to check against the deposit; but, as yet, he +had drawn nothing. +</P> + +<P> +Alan had required barely half of the hundred dollars which Benjamin +Corvet had sent to Blue Rapids, for his expenses in Chicago; and he had +brought with him from "home" a hundred dollars of his own. He had used +that for his personal expenses since. The amount which Wassaquam now +desired to pay the bills was much more than Alan had on hand; but that +amount was also much less than the eleven hundred dollars which the +servant listed as cash on hand. This, Wassaquam stated, was in +currency and kept by him. Benjamin always had had him keep that much +in the house; Wassaquam would not touch that sum now for the payment of +current expenses. +</P> + +<P> +This sum of money kept inviolate troubled Alan. Constance Sherrill's +statement that, for her family at least, to keep such a sum would have +been unusual, increased this trouble; it did not, however, preclude the +possibility that others than the Sherrills might keep such amounts of +cash on hand. On the first of the month, therefore Alan drew upon his +new bank account to Wassaquam's order; and in the early afternoon +Wassaquam went to the bank to cash his check—one of the very few +occasions when Alan had been left in the house alone; Wassaquam's +habit, it appeared, was to go about on the first of the month and pay +the tradesmen in person. +</P> + +<P> +Some two hours later, and before Wassaquam could have been expected +back, Alan, in the room which had become his, was startled by a sound +of heavy pounding, which came suddenly to him from a floor below. +Shouts—heavy, thick, and unintelligible—mingled with the pounding. +He ran swiftly down the stairs, then on and down the service stairs +into the basement. The door to the house from the areaway was shaking +to irregular, heavy blows, which stopped as Alan reached the lower +hallway; the shouts continued still a moment more. Now that the noise +of pounding did not interfere, Alan could make out what the man was +saying: "Ben Corvet!"—the name was almost unintelligible—"Ben Corvet! +Ben!" Then the shouts stopped too. +</P> + +<P> +Alan sped to the door and turned back the latch. The door bore back +upon him, not from a push, but from a weight without which had fallen +against it. A big, heavy man, with a rough cap and mackinaw coat, +would have fallen upon the floor, if Alan had not caught him. His +weight in Alan's arms was so dull, so inert that, if violence had been +his intention, there was nothing to be feared from him now. Alan +looked up, therefore, to see if any one had come with him. The alley +and the street were clear. The snow in the area-way showed that the +man had come to the door alone and with great difficulty; he had fallen +once upon the walk. Alan dragged the man into the house and went back +and closed the door. +</P> + +<P> +He returned and looked at him. The man was like, very like the one +whom Alan had followed from the house on the night when he was +attacked; certainty that this was the same man came quickly to him. He +seized the fellow again and dragged him up the stairs and to the lounge +in the library. The warmth revived him; he sat up, coughing and +breathing quickly and with a loud, rasping wheeze. The smell of liquor +was strong upon him; his clothes reeked with the unclean smell of +barrel houses. +</P> + +<P> +He was, or had been, a very powerful man, broad and thick through with +overdeveloped—almost distorting—muscles in his shoulders; but his +body had become fat and soft, his face was puffed, and his eyes watery +and bright; his brown hair, which was shot all through with gray, was +dirty and matted; he had three or four days' growth of beard. He was +clothed as Alan had seen deck hands on the steamers attired; he was not +less than fifty, Alan judged, though his condition made estimate +difficult. When he sat up and looked about, it was plain that whiskey +was only one of the forces working upon him—the other was fever which +burned up and sustained him intermittently. +</P> + +<P> +"'Lo!" he greeted Alan. "Where's shat damn Injin, hey? I knew Ben +Corvet was shere—knew he was shere all time. 'Course he's shere; he +got to be shere. That's shright. You go get 'im!" +</P> + +<P> +"Who are you?" Alan asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, who'r <I>you</I>? What t'hells syou doin' here? Never see you before +... go—go get Ben Corvet. Jus' say Ben Corvet, Lu—luke's shere. Ben +Corvet'll know Lu—luke all right; alwaysh, alwaysh knows me...." +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter with you?" Alan had drawn back but now went to the +man again. The first idea that this might have been merely some old +sailor who had served Benjamin Corvet or, perhaps, had been a comrade +in the earlier days, had been banished by the confident arrogance of +the man's tone—an arrogance not to be explained, entirely, by whiskey +or by the fever. +</P> + +<P> +"How long have you been this way?" Alan demanded. "Where did you come +from?" He put his hand on the wrist; it was very hot and dry; the +pulse was racing, irregular; at seconds it seemed to stop; for other +seconds it was continuous. The fellow coughed and bent forward. "What +is it—pneumonia?" Alan tried to straighten him up. +</P> + +<P> +"Gi' me drink! ... Go get Ben Corvet, I tell you! ... Get Ben Corvet +quick! Say—yous shear? You get me Ben Corvet; you better get Ben +Corvet; you tell him Lu—uke's here; won't wait any more; goin' t'have +my money now ... sright away, your shear? Kick me out s'loon; I guess +not no more. Ben Corvet give me all money I want or I talk!" +</P> + +<P> +"Talk!" +</P> + +<P> +"Syou know it! I ain't goin'...." He choked up and tottered back; +Alan, supporting him, laid him down and stayed beside him until his +coughing and choking ceased, and there was only the rattling rasp of +his breathing. When Alan spoke to him again, Luke's eyes opened, and +he narrated recent experiences bitterly; all were blamed to Ben +Corvet's absence; Luke, who had been drinking heavily a few nights +before, had been thrown out when the saloon was closed; that was Ben +Corvet's fault; if Ben Corvet had been around, Luke would have had +money, all the money any one wanted; no one would have thrown out Luke +then. Luke slept in the snow, all wet. When he arose, the saloon was +open again, and he got more whiskey, but not enough to get him warm. +He hadn't been warm since. That was Ben Corvet's fault. Ben Corvet +better be 'round now; Luke wouldn't stand any more. +</P> + +<P> +Alan felt of the pulse again; he opened the coat and under-flannels and +felt the heaving chest. He went to the hall and looked in the +telephone directory. He remembered the name of the druggist on the +corner of Clark Street and he telephoned him, giving the number on +Astor Street. +</P> + +<P> +"I want a doctor right away," he said. "Any good doctor; the one that +you can get quickest." The druggist promised that a physician would be +there within a quarter of an hour. Alan went back to Luke, who was +silent now except for the gasp of his breath; he did not answer when +Alan spoke to him, except to ask for whiskey. Alan, gazing down at +him, felt that the man was dying; liquor and his fever had sustained +him only to bring him to the door; now the collapse had come; the +doctor, even if he arrived very soon, could do no more than perhaps +delay the end. Alan went up-stairs and brought down blankets and put +them over Luke; he cut the knotted laces of the soaked shoes and pulled +them off; he also took off the mackinaw and the undercoat. The fellow, +appreciating that care was being given him, relaxed; he slept deeply +for short periods, stirred and started up, then slept again. Alan +stood watching, a strange, sinking tremor shaking him. This man had +come there to make a claim—a claim which many times before, +apparently, Benjamin Corvet had admitted. Luke came to Ben Corvet for +money which he always got—all he wanted—the alternative to giving +which was that Luke would "talk." Blackmail, that meant, of course; +blackmail which not only Luke had told of, but which Wassaquam too had +admitted, as Alan now realized. Money for blackmail—that was the +reason for that thousand dollars in cash which Benjamin Corvet always +kept at the house. +</P> + +<P> +Alan turned, with a sudden shiver of revulsion, toward his father's +chair in place before the hearth; there for hours each day his father +had sat with a book or staring into the fire, always with what this man +knew hanging over him, always arming against it with the thousand +dollars ready for this man, whenever he came. Meeting blackmail, +paying blackmail for as long as Wassaquam had been in the house, for as +long as it took to make the once muscular, powerful figure of the +sailor who threatened to "talk" into the swollen, whiskey-soaked hulk +of the man dying now on the lounge. +</P> + +<P> +For his state that day, the man blamed Benjamin Corvet. Alan, forcing +himself to touch the swollen face, shuddered at thought of the truth +underlying that accusation. Benjamin Corvet's act—whatever it might +be that this man knew—undoubtedly had destroyed not only him who paid +the blackmail but him who received it; the effect of that act was still +going on, destroying, blighting. Its threat of shame was not only +against Benjamin Corvet; it threatened also all whose names must be +connected with Corvet's. Alan had refused to accept any stigma in his +relationship with Corvet; but now he could not refuse to accept it. +This shame threatened Alan; it threatened also the Sherrills. Was it +not because of this that Benjamin Corvet had objected to Sherrill's +name appearing with his own in the title of the ship-owning firm? And +was it not because of this that Corvet's intimacy with Sherrill and his +comradeship with Constance had been alternated by times in which he had +frankly avoided them both? What Sherrill had told Alan and even +Corvet's gifts to him had not been able to make Alan feel that without +question Corvet was his father, but now shame and horror were making +him feel it; in horror at Corvet's act—whatever it might be—and in +shame at Corvet's cowardice, Alan was thinking of Benjamin Corvet as +his father. This shame, this horror, were his inheritance. +</P> + +<P> +He left Luke and went to the window to see if the doctor was coming. +He had called the doctor because in his first sight of Luke he had not +recognized that Luke was beyond the aid of doctors and because to +summon a doctor under such circumstances was the right thing to do; but +he had thought of the doctor also as a witness to anything Luke might +say. But now—did he want a witness? He had no thought of concealing +anything for his own sake or for his father's; but he would, at least, +want the chance to determine the circumstances under which it was to be +made public. +</P> + +<P> +He hurried back to Luke. "What is it, Luke?" he cried to him. "What +can you tell? Listen! Luke—Luke, is it about the <I>Miwaka</I>—the +<I>Miwaka</I>? Luke!" +</P> + +<P> +Luke had sunk into a stupor; Alan shook him and shouted in his ear +without awakening response. As Alan straightened and stood hopelessly +looking down at him, the telephone bell rang sharply. Thinking it +might be something about the doctor, he went to it and answered it. +Constance Sherrill's voice came to him; her first words made it clear +that she was at home and had just come in. +</P> + +<P> +"The servants tell me some one was making a disturbance beside your +house a while ago," she said, "and shouting something about Mr. Corvet. +Is there something wrong there? Have you discovered something?" +</P> + +<P> +He shook excitedly while, holding his hand over the transmitter lest +Luke should break out again and she should hear it, he wondered what he +should say to her. He could think of nothing, in his excitement, which +would reassure her and merely put her off; he was not capable of +controlling his voice so as to do that. +</P> + +<P> +"Please don't ask me just now, Miss Sherrill," he managed. "I'll tell +you what I can—later." +</P> + +<P> +His reply, he recognized, only made her more certain that there was +something the matter, but he could not add anything to it. He found +Luke, when he went back to him, still in coma; the blood-shot veins +stood out against the ghastly grayness of his face, and his stertorous +breathing sounded through the rooms. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Constance Sherrill had come in a few moments before from an afternoon +reception; the servants told her at once that something was happening +at Mr. Corvet's. They had heard shouts and had seen a man pounding +upon the door there, but they had not taken it upon themselves to go +over there. She had told the chauffeur to wait with the motor and had +run at once to the telephone and called Alan; his attempt to put her +off made her certain that what had happened was not finished but was +still going on. Her anxiety and the sense of their responsibility for +Alan overrode at once all other thought. She told the servants to call +her father at the office and tell him something was wrong at Mr. +Corvet's; then she called her maid and hurried out to the motor. +</P> + +<P> +"To Mr. Corvet's—quickly!" she directed. +</P> + +<P> +Looking through the front doors of her car as it turned into Astor +Street, she saw a young man, carrying a doctor's case, run up the steps +of Corvet's house. This, quite unreasonably since she had just talked +with Alan, added to her alarm; she put her hand on the catch of the +door and opened it a little so as to be ready to leave the car as soon +as it stopped. As the car drew to the curb, she sprang out, and +stopped only long enough to tell the chauffeur to be attentive and to +wait ready to come into the house, if he was called. +</P> + +<P> +The man with the bag—Constance recognized him as a young doctor who +was starting in practice in the neighborhood—was just being admitted +as she and her maid reached the steps. Alan stood holding the door +open and yet blocking entrance when she came up. The sight of him told +her that it was not physical hurt that happened to him, but his face +showed her there had been basis for her fright. +</P> + +<P> +"You must not come in!" he denied her; but she followed the doctor so +that Alan could not close the door upon her. He yielded then, and she +and her maid went on into the hall. +</P> + +<P> +She started as she saw the figure upon the couch in the library, and as +the sound of its heavy breathing reached her; and the wild fancy which +had come to her when the servants had told her of what was going on—a +fancy that Uncle Benny had come back—was banished instantly. +</P> + +<P> +Alan led her into the room across from the library. +</P> + +<P> +"You shouldn't have come in," he said. "I shouldn't have let you in; +but—you saw him." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Know him?" She shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean, you've never seen him before?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"His name is Luke—he speaks of himself by that name. Did you ever +hear my father mention a man named Luke?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; never." +</P> + +<P> +Luke's voice cut suddenly their conversation; the doctor probably had +given him some stimulant. +</P> + +<P> +"Where'sh Ben Corvet?" Luke demanded arrogantly of the doctor. "You go +get Ben Corvet! Tell Ben Corvet I want drink right away. Tell Ben +Corvet I want my thousan' dollar...!" +</P> + +<P> +Constance turned swiftly to her maid. "Go out to the car and wait for +me," she commanded. +</P> + +<P> +Luke's muffled, heavy voice went on; moments while he fought for breath +interrupted it. +</P> + +<P> +"You hear me, you damn Injin! ... You go tell Ben Corvet I want my +thousan' dollars, or I make it two nex' time! You hear me; you go tell +Ben Corvet.... You let me go, you damn Injin!"... +</P> + +<P> +Through the doorway to the library they could see the doctor force Luke +back upon the couch; Luke fought him furiously; then, suddenly as he +had stirred to strength and fury, Luke collapsed again. His voice went +on a moment more, rapidly growing weaker: +</P> + +<P> +"You tell Ben Corvet I want my money, or I'll tell. He knows what I'll +tell.... You don't know, you Injin devil.... Ben Corvet knows, and I +know.... Tell him I'll tell ... I'll tell ... I'll tell!" The +threatening voice stopped suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +Constance, very pale, again faced Alan. "Of course, I understand," she +said. "Uncle Benny has been paying blackmail to this man. For years, +perhaps...." She repeated the word after an instant, in a frightened +voice, "Blackmail!" +</P> + +<P> +"Won't you please go, Miss Sherrill?" Alan urged her. "It was good of +you to come; but you mustn't stay now. He's—he's dying, of course." +</P> + +<P> +She seated herself upon a chair. "I'm going to stay with you," she +said simply. It was not, she knew, to share the waiting for the man in +the next room to die; in that, of itself, there could be nothing for +him to feel. It was to be with him while realization which had come to +her was settling upon him too—realization of what this meant to him. +He was realizing that, she thought; he had realized it; it made him, at +moments, forget her while, listening for sounds from the other room, he +paced back and forth beside the table or stood staring away, clinging +to the portières. He left her presently, and went across the hall to +the doctor. The man on the couch had stirred as though to start up +again; the voice began once more, but now its words were wholly +indistinguishable, meaningless, incoherent. They stopped, and Luke lay +still; the doctor—Alan was helping him now—arranged a quite inert +form upon the couch. The doctor bent over him. +</P> + +<P> +"Is he dead?" Constance heard Alan ask. +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet," the doctor answered; "but it won't be long, now." +</P> + +<P> +"There's nothing you can do for him?" +</P> + +<P> +The doctor shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"There's nothing you can do to make him talk—bring him to himself +enough so that he will tell what he keeps threatening to tell?" +</P> + +<P> +The doctor shrugged. "How many times, do you suppose, he's been drunk +and still not told? Concealment is his established habit now. It's an +inhibition; even in wandering, he stops short of actually telling +anything." +</P> + +<P> +"He came here—" Alan told briefly to the doctor the circumstances of +the man's coming. The doctor moved back from the couch to a chair and +sat down. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll wait, of course," he said, "until it's over." He seemed to want +to say something else, and after a moment he came out with it. "You +needn't be afraid of my talking outside ... professional secrecy, of +course." +</P> + +<P> +Alan came back to Constance. Outside, the gray of dusk was spreading, +and within the house it had grown dark; Constance heard the doctor turn +on a light, and the shadowy glow of a desk lamp came from the library. +Alan walked to and fro with uneven steps; he did not speak to her, nor +she to him. It was very quiet in the library; she could not even hear +Luke's breathing now. Then she heard the doctor moving; Alan went to +the light and switched it on, as the doctor came out to them. +</P> + +<P> +"It's over," he said to Alan. "There's a law covers these cases; you +may not be familiar with it. I'll make out the death +certificate—pneumonia and a weak heart with alcoholism. But the +police have to be notified at once; you have no choice as to that. +I'll look after those things for you, if you want." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you; if you will." Alan went with the doctor to the door and +saw him drive away. Returning, he drew the library portières; then, +coming back to Constance, he picked up her muff and collar from the +chair where she had thrown them, and held them out to her. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll go now, Miss Sherrill," he said. "Indeed, you mustn't stay +here—your car's still waiting, and—you mustn't stay here ... in this +house!" +</P> + +<P> +He was standing, waiting to open the door for her, almost where he had +halted on that morning, a few weeks ago, when he had first come to the +house in answer to Benjamin Corvet's summons; and she was where she had +stood to receive him. Memory of how he had looked then—eager, +trembling a little with excitement, expecting only to find his father +and happiness—came to her; and as it contrasted with the way she saw +him now, she choked queerly as she tried to speak. He was very white, +but quite controlled; lines not upon his face before had come there. +</P> + +<P> +"Won't you come over home with me," she said, "and wait for father +there till we can think this thing out together?" +</P> + +<P> +Her sweetness almost broke him down. "This ... together! Think this +out! Oh, it's plain enough, isn't it? For years—for as long as +Wassaquam has been here, my father has been seeing that man and paying +blackmail to him twice a year, at least! He lived in that man's power. +He kept money in the house for him always! It wasn't anything +imaginary that hung over my father—or anything created in his own +mind. It was something real—real; it was disgrace—disgrace and +worse—something he deserved; and that he fought with blackmail money, +like a coward! Dishonor—cowardice—blackmail!" +</P> + +<P> +She drew a little nearer to him. "You didn't want me to know," she +said. "You tried to put me off when I called you on the telephone; +and—when I came here, you wanted me to go away before I heard. Why +didn't you want me to know? If he was your father, wasn't he +our—friend? Mine and my father's? You must let us help you." +</P> + +<P> +As she approached, he had drawn back from her. "No; this is mine!" he +denied her. "Not yours or your father's. You have nothing to do with +this. Didn't he try in little cowardly ways to keep you out of it? +But he couldn't do that; your friendship meant too much to him; he +couldn't keep away from you. But I can—I can do that! You must go +out of this house; you must never come in here again!" +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes filled, as she watched him; never had she liked him so much as +now, as he moved to open the door for her. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought," he said almost wistfully, "it seemed to me that, whatever +he had done, it must have been mostly against me. His leaving +everything to me seemed to mean that I was the one that he had wronged, +and that he was trying to make it up to me. But it isn't that; it +can't be that! It is something much worse than that! ... Oh, I'm glad +I haven't used much of his money! Hardly any—not more than I can give +back! It wasn't the money and the house he left me that mattered; what +he really left me was just this ... dishonor, shame..." +</P> + +<P> +The doorbell rang, and Alan turned to the door and threw it open. In +the dusk the figure of the man outside was not at all recognizable; but +as he entered with heavy and deliberate steps, passing Alan without +greeting and going straight to Constance, Alan saw by the light in the +hall that it was Spearman. +</P> + +<P> +"What's up?" Spearman asked. "They tried to get your father at the +office and then me, but neither of us was there. They got me +afterwards at the club. They said you'd come over here; but that must +have been more than two hours ago." +</P> + +<P> +His gaze went on past her to the drawn hangings of the room to the +right; and he seemed to appreciate their significance; for his face +whitened under its tan, and an odd hush came suddenly upon him. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it Ben, Connie?" he whispered. "Ben ... come back?" +</P> + +<P> +He drew the curtains partly open. The light in the library had been +extinguished, and the light that came from the hall swayed about the +room with the movement of the curtains and gave a momentary semblance +of life to the face of the man upon the couch. Spearman drew the +curtains quickly together again, still holding to them and seeming for +an instant to cling to them; then he shook himself together, threw the +curtains wide apart, and strode into the room. He switched on the +light and went directly to the couch; Alan followed him. +</P> + +<P> +"He's—dead?" +</P> + +<P> +"Who is he?" Alan demanded. +</P> + +<P> +Spearman seemed to satisfy himself first as to the answer to his +question. "How should I know who he is?" he asked. "There used to be +a wheelsman on the <I>Martha Corvet</I> years ago who looked like him; or +looked like what this fellow may have looked like once. I can't be +sure." +</P> + +<P> +He turned to Constance. "You're going home, Connie? I'll see you over +there. I'll come back about this afterward, Conrad." +</P> + +<P> +Alan followed them to the door and closed it after them. He spread the +blankets over Luke. Luke's coats, which Alan had removed, lay upon a +chair, and he looked them over for marks of identification; the +mackinaw bore the label of a dealer in Manitowoc—wherever that might +be; Alan did not know. A side pocket produced an old briar: there was +nothing else. Then Alan walked restlessly about, awaiting Spearman. +Spearman, he believed, knew this man; Spearman had not even ventured +upon modified denial until he was certain that the man was dead; and +then he had answered so as not to commit himself, pending learning from +Constance what Luke had told. +</P> + +<P> +But Luke had said nothing about Spearman. It had been Corvet, and +Corvet alone, of whom Luke had spoken; it was Corvet whom he had +accused; it was Corvet who had given him money. Was it conceivable, +then, that there had been two such events in Corvet's life? That one +of these events concerned the <I>Miwaka</I> and Spearman and some one—some +one "with a bullet hole above his eye"—who had "got" Corvet; and that +the other event had concerned Luke and something else? It was not +conceivable, Alan was sure; it was all one thing. If Corvet had had to +do with the <I>Miwaka</I>, then Luke had had to do with it too. And +Spearman? But if Spearman had been involved in that guilty thing, had +not Luke known it? Then why had not Luke mentioned Spearman? Or had +Spearman not been really involved? Had it been, perhaps, only evidence +of knowledge of what Corvet had done that Spearman had tried to +discover and destroy? +</P> + +<P> +Alan went to the door and opened it, as he heard Spearman upon the +steps again. Spearman waited only until the door had been reclosed +behind him. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Conrad, what was the idea of bringing Miss Sherrill into this?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't bring her in; I tried the best I could to keep her out." +</P> + +<P> +"Out of what—exactly?" +</P> + +<P> +"You know better than I do. You know exactly what it is. You know +that man, Spearman; you know what he came here for. I don't mean +money; I mean you know why he came here for money, and why he got it. +I tried, as well as I could, to make him tell me; but he wouldn't do +it. There's disgrace of some sort here, of course—disgrace that +involves my father and, I think, you too. If you're not guilty with my +father, you'll help me now; if you are guilty, then, at least, your +refusal to help will let me know that." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know what you're talking about." +</P> + +<P> +"Then why did you come back here? You came back here to protect +yourself in some way." +</P> + +<P> +"I came back, you young fool, to say something to you which I didn't +want Miss Sherrill to hear. I didn't know, when I took her away, how +completely you'd taken her into—your father's affairs. I told you +this man may have been a wheelsman on the Corvet; I don't know more +about him than that; I don't even know that certainly. Of course, I +knew Ben Corvet was paying blackmail; I've known for years that he was +giving up money to some one. I don't know who he paid it to; or for +what." +</P> + +<P> +The strain of the last few hours was telling upon Alan; his skin +flushed hot and cold by turns. He paced up and down while he +controlled himself. +</P> + +<P> +"That's not enough, Spearman," he said finally. "I—I've felt you, +somehow, underneath all these things. The first time I saw you, you +were in this house doing something you ought not to have been doing; +you fought me then; you would have killed me rather than not get away. +Two weeks ago, some one attacked me on the street—for robbery, they +said; but I know it wasn't robbery—" +</P> + +<P> +"You're not so crazy as to be trying to involve me in that—" +</P> + +<P> +There came a sound to them from the hall, a sound unmistakably denoting +some presence. Spearman jerked suddenly up; Alan, going to the door +and looking into the hall, saw Wassaquam. The Indian evidently had +returned to the house some time before; he had been bringing to Alan +now the accounts which he had settled. He seemed to have been standing +in the hall for some time, listening; but he came in now, looking +inquiringly from one to the other of them. +</P> + +<P> +"Not friends?" he inquired. "You and Henry?" +</P> + +<P> +Alan's passion broke out suddenly. "We're anything but that, Judah. I +found him, the first night I got here and while you were away, going +through my father's things. I fought with him, and he ran away. He +was the one that broke into my father's desks; maybe you'll believe +that, even if no one else will." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" the Indian questioned. "Yes?" It was plain that he not only +believed but that believing gave him immense satisfaction. He took +Alan's arm and led him into the smaller library. He knelt before one +of the drawers under the bookshelves—the drawer, Alan recalled, which +he himself had been examining when he had found Wassaquam watching him. +He drew out the drawer and dumped its contents out upon the floor; he +turned the drawer about then, and pulled the bottom out of it. Beneath +the bottom which he had removed appeared now another bottom and a few +sheets of paper scrawled in an uneven hand and with different colored +inks. +</P> + +<P> +At sight of them, Spearman, who had followed them into the room, +uttered an oath and sprang forward. The Indian's small dark hand +grasped Spearman's wrist, and his face twitched itself into a fierce +grin which showed how little civilization had modified in him the +aboriginal passions. But Spearman did not try to force his way; +instead, he drew back suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +Alan stooped and picked up the papers and put them in his pocket. If +the Indian had not been there, it would not have been so easy for him +to do that, he thought. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE LAND OF THE DRUM +</H4> + +<P> +Alan went with Wassaquam into the front library, after the Indian had +shown Spearman out. +</P> + +<P> +"This was the man, Judah, who came for Mr. Corvet that night I was +hurt?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Alan," Wassaquam said. +</P> + +<P> +"He was the man, then, who came here twice a year, at least, to see Mr. +Corvet." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"I was sure of it," Alan said. Wassaquam had made no demonstration of +any sort since he had snatched at Spearman's wrist to hold him back +when Alan had bent to the drawer. Alan could define no real change now +in the Indian's manner; but he knew that, since Wassaquam had found him +quarreling with Spearman, the Indian somehow had "placed" him more +satisfactorily. The reserve, bordering upon distrust, with which +Wassaquam had observed Alan, certainly was lessened. It was in +recognition of this that Alan now asked, "Can you tell me now why he +came here, Judah?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have told you I do not know," Wassaquam replied. "Ben always saw +him; Ben gave him money. I do not know why." +</P> + +<P> +Alan had been holding his hand over the papers which he had thrust into +his pocket; he went back into the smaller library and spread them under +the reading lamp to examine them. Sherrill had assumed that Corvet had +left in the house a record which would fully explain what had thwarted +his life, and would shed light upon what had happened to Corvet, and +why he had disappeared; Alan had accepted this assumption. The careful +and secret manner in which these pages had been kept, and the +importance which Wassaquam plainly had attached to them—and which must +have been a result of his knowing that Corvet regarded them of the +utmost importance—made Alan certain that he had found the record which +Sherrill had believed must be there. Spearman's manner, at the moment +of discovery, showed too that this had been what he had been searching +for in his secret visit to the house. +</P> + +<P> +But, as Alan looked the pages over now, he felt a chill of +disappointment and chagrin. They did not contain any narrative +concerning Benjamin Corvet's life; they did not even relate to a single +event. They were no narrative at all. They were—in his first +examination of them, he could not tell what they were. +</P> + +<P> +They consisted in all of some dozen sheets of irregular size, some of +which had been kept much longer than others, a few of which even +appeared fresh and new. The three pages which Alan thought, from their +yellowed and worn look, must be the oldest, and which must have been +kept for many years, contained only a list of names and addresses. +Having assured himself that there was nothing else on them, he laid +them aside. The remaining pages, which he counted as ten in number, +contained nearly a hundred brief clippings from newspapers; the +clippings had been very carefully cut out, they had been pasted with +painful regularity on the sheets, and each had been dated across its +face—dates made with many different pens and with many different inks, +but all in the same irregular handwriting as the letter which Alan had +received from Benjamin Corvet. +</P> + +<P> +Alan, his fingers numb in his disappointment, turned and examined all +these pages; but they contained nothing else. He read one of the +clippings, which was dated "Feb. 1912." +</P> + +>BR? + +<P> +The passing away of one of the oldest residents of Emmet county +occurred at the poor farm on Thursday of last week. Mr. Fred Westhouse +was one of four brothers brought by their parents into Emmet county in +1846. He established himself here as a farmer and was well known among +our people for many years. He was nearly the last of his family, which +was quite well off at one time, Mr. Westhouse's three brothers and his +father having perished in various disasters upon the lake. His wife +died two years ago. He is survived by a daughter, Mrs. Arthur Pearl, +of Flint. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +He read another: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Hallford-Spens. On Tuesday last Miss Audrey Hallford, daughter of Mr. +and Mrs. Bert Hallford, of this place, was united in the bonds of holy +matrimony to Mr. Robert Spens, of Escanaba. Miss Audrey is one of our +most popular young ladies and was valedictorian of her class at the +high school graduation last year. All wish the young couple well. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +He read another: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Born to Mr. and Mrs. Hal French, a daughter, Saturday afternoon last. +Miss Vera Arabella French, at her arrival weighed seven and one-half +pounds. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +This clipping was dated, in Benjamin Corvet's hand, "Sturgeon Bay, +Wis., Aug. 1914." Alan put it aside in bewilderment and amaze and took +up again the sheets he first had looked at. The names and addresses on +these oldest, yellowed pages had been first written, it was plain, all +at the same time and with the same pen and ink, and each sheet in the +beginning had contained seven or eight names. Some of these original +names and even the addresses had been left unchanged, but most of them +had been scratched out and altered many times—other and quite +different names had been substituted; the pages had become finally +almost illegible, crowded scrawls, rewritten again and again in +Corvet's cramped hand. Alan strained forward, holding the first sheet +to the light. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-202"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-202.jpg" ALT="list of names and addresses" BORDER="2" WIDTH="439" HEIGHT="645"> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Alan seized the clippings he had looked at before and compared them +swiftly with the page he had just read; two of the names—Westhouse and +French—were the same as those upon this list. Suddenly he grasped the +other pages of the list and looked them through for his own name; but +it was not there. He dropped the sheets upon the table and got up and +began to stride about the room. +</P> + +<P> +He felt that in this list and in these clippings there must be, +somehow, some one general meaning—they must relate in some way to one +thing; they must have deeply, intensely concerned Benjamin Corvet's +disappearance and his present fate, whatever that might be, and they +must concern Alan's fate as well. But in their disconnection, their +incoherence, he could discern no common thread. What conceivable bond +could there have been uniting Benjamin Corvet at once with an old man +dying upon a poor farm in Emmet County, wherever that might be, and +with a baby girl, now some two years old, in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin? +He bent suddenly and swept the pages into the drawer of the table and +reclosed the drawer, as he heard the doorbell ring and Wassaquam went +to answer it. It was the police, Wassaquam came to tell him, who had +come for Luke's body. +</P> + +<P> +Alan went out into the hall to meet them. The coroner's man either had +come with them or had arrived at the same time; he introduced himself +to Alan, and his inquiries made plain that the young doctor whom Alan +had called for Luke had fully carried out his offer to look after these +things, for the coroner was already supplied with an account of what +had taken place. A sailor formerly employed on the Corvet ships, the +coroner's office had been told, had come to the Corvet house, ill and +seeking aid; Mr. Corvet not being at home, the people of the house had +taken the man in and called the doctor; but the man had been already +beyond doctors' help and had died in a few hours of pneumonia and +alcoholism; in Mr. Corvet's absence it had been impossible to learn the +sailor's full name. +</P> + +<P> +Alan left corroboration of this story mostly to Wassaquam, the +servant's position in the house being more easily explicable than his +own; but he found that his right there was not questioned, and that the +police accepted him as a member of the household. He suspected that +they did not think it necessary to push inquiry very actively in such a +home as this. +</P> + +<P> +After the police had gone, he called Wassaquam into the library and +brought the lists and clippings out again. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know at all what these are, Judah?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Alan. I have seen Ben have them, and take them out and put them +back. That is all I know." +</P> + +<P> +"My father never spoke to you about them?" +</P> + +<P> +"Once he spoke to me; he said I was not to tell or speak of them to any +one, or even to him." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know any of these people?" +</P> + +<P> +He gave the lists to Wassaquam, who studied them through attentively, +holding them to the lamp. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Alan." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you ever heard any of their names before?" +</P> + +<P> +"That may be. I do not know. They are common names." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know the places?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—the places. They are lake ports or little villages on the lakes. +I have been in most of them, Alan. Emmet County, Alan, I came from +there. Henry comes from there too." +</P> + +<P> +"Henry Spearman?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Then that is where they hear the Drum." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Alan." +</P> + +<P> +"My father took newspapers from those places, did he not?" +</P> + +<P> +Wassaquam looked over the addresses again. "Yes; from all. He took +them for the shipping news, he said. And sometimes he cut pieces out +of them—these pieces, I see now; and afterward I burned the papers; he +would not let me only throw them away." +</P> + +<P> +"That's all you know about them, Judah?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Alan; that is all." +</P> + +<P> +Alan dismissed the Indian, who, stolidly methodical in the midst of +these events, went down-stairs and commenced to prepare a dinner which +Alan knew he could not eat. Alan got up and moved about the rooms; he +went back and looked over the lists and clippings once more; then he +moved about again. How strange a picture of his father did these +things call up to him! When he had thought of Benjamin Corvet before, +it had been as Sherrill had described him, pursued by some thought he +could not conquer, seeking relief in study, in correspondence with +scientific societies, in anything which could engross him and shut out +memory. But now he must think of him, not merely as one trying to +forget; what had thwarted Corvet's life was not only in the past; it +was something still going on. It had amazed Sherrill to learn that +Corvet, for twenty years, had kept trace of Alan; but Corvet had kept +trace in the same way and with the same secrecy of many other +people—of about a score of people. When Alan thought of Corvet, alone +here in his silent house, he must think of him as solicitous about +these people; as seeking for their names in the newspapers which he +took for that purpose, and as recording the changes in their lives. +The deaths, the births, the marriages among these people had been of +the intensest interest to Corvet. +</P> + +<P> +It was possible that none of these people knew about Corvet; Alan had +not known about him in Kansas, but had known only that some unknown +person had sent money for his support. But he appreciated that it did +not matter whether they knew about him or not; for at some point common +to all of them, the lives of these people must have touched Corvet's +life. When Alan knew what had been that point of contact, he would +know about Corvet; he would know about himself. +</P> + +<P> +Alan had seen among Corvet's books a set of charts of the Great Lakes. +He went and got that now and an atlas. Opening them upon the table, he +looked up the addresses given on Corvet's list. They were most of +them, he found, towns about the northern end of the lake; a very few +were upon other lakes—Superior and Huron—but most were upon or very +close to Lake Michigan. These people lived by means of the lake; they +got their sustenance from it, as Corvet had lived, and as Corvet had +got his wealth. Alan was feeling like one who, bound, has been +suddenly unloosed. From the time when, coming to see Corvet, he had +found Corvet gone until now, he had felt the impossibility of +explaining from anything he knew or seemed likely to learn the mystery +which had surrounded himself and which had surrounded Corvet. But +these names and addresses! They indeed offered something to go upon, +though Luke now was forever still, and his pockets had told Alan +nothing. +</P> + +<P> +He found Emmet County on the map and put his finger on it. Spearman, +Wassaquam had said came from there. "The Land of the Drum!" he said +aloud. Deep and sudden feeling stirred in him as he traced out this +land on the chart—the little towns and villages, the islands and +headlands, their lights and their uneven shores. A feeling of "home" +had come to him, a feeling he had not had on coming to Chicago. There +were Indian names and French up there about the meetings of the great +waters. Beaver Island! He thought of Michabou and the raft. The +sense that he was of these lakes, that surge of feeling which he had +felt first in conversation with Constance Sherrill was strengthened an +hundredfold; he found himself humming a tune. He did not know where he +had heard it; indeed, it was not the sort of tune which one knows from +having heard; it was the sort which one just knows. A rhyme fitted +itself to the hum, +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Seagull, seagull sit on the sand,<BR> +It's never fair weather when you're on the land."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +He gazed down at the lists of names which Benjamin Corvet had kept so +carefully and so secretly; these were his father's people too; these +ragged shores and the islands studding the channels were the lands +where his father had spent the most active part of his life. There, +then—these lists now made it certain—that event had happened by which +that life had been blighted. Chicago and this house here had been for +his father only the abode of memory and retribution. North, there by +the meeting of the waters, was the region of the wrong which was done. +</P> + +<P> +"That's where I must go!" he said aloud. "That's where I must go!" +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Constance Sherrill, on the following afternoon, received a telephone +call from her father; he was coming home earlier than usual, he said; +if she had planned to go out, would she wait until after he got there? +She had, indeed, just come in and had been intending to go out again at +once; but she took off her wraps and waited for him. The afternoon's +mail was upon a stand in the hall. She turned it over, looking through +it—invitations, social notes. She picked from among them an envelope +addressed to herself in a firm, clear hand, which, unfamiliar to her, +still queerly startled her, and tore it open. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Dear Miss Sherrill, she read, +</P> + +<P> +I am closing for the time being, the house which, for default of other +ownership, I must call mine. The possibility that what has occurred +here would cause you and your father anxiety about me in case I went +away without telling you of my intention is the reason for this note. +But it is not the only reason. I could not go away without telling you +how deeply I appreciate the generosity and delicacy you and your father +have shown to me in spite of my position here and of the fact that I +had no claim at all upon you. I shall not forget those even though +what happened here last night makes it impossible for me to try to see +you again or even to write to you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +ALAN CONRAD. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +She heard her father's motor enter the drive and ran to him with the +letter in her hand. +</P> + +<P> +"He's written to you then," he said, at sight of it. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"I had a note from him this afternoon at the office, asking me to hold +in abeyance for the time being the trust that Ben had left me and +returning the key of the house to me for safekeeping." +</P> + +<P> +"Has he already gone?" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose so; I don't know." +</P> + +<P> +"We must find out." She caught up her wraps and began to put them on. +Sherrill hesitated, then assented; and they went round the block +together to the Corvet house. The shades, Constance saw as they +approached, were drawn; their rings at the doorbell brought no +response. Sherrill, after a few instants' hesitation, took the key +from his pocket and unlocked the door and they went in. The rooms, she +saw, were all in perfect order; summer covers had been put upon the +furniture; protecting cloths had been spread over the beds up-stairs. +Her father tried the water and the gas, and found they had been turned +off. After their inspection, they came out again at the front door, +and her father closed it with a snapping of the spring lock. +</P> + +<P> +Constance, as they walked away, turned and looked back at the old +house, gloomy and dark among its newer, fresher-looking neighbors; and +suddenly she choked, and her eyes grew wet. That feeling was not for +Uncle Benny; the drain of days past had exhausted such a surge of +feeling for him. That which she could not wink away was for the boy +who had come to that house a few weeks ago and for the man who just now +had gone. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE THINGS FROM CORVET'S POCKETS +</H4> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +"Miss Constance Sherrill,<BR> + Harbor Springs, Michigan."<BR> +</P> + +<P> +The address, in large scrawling letters, was written across the brown +paper of the package which had been brought from the post office in the +little resort village only a few moments before. The paper covered a +shoe box, crushed and old, bearing the name of S. Klug, Dealer in Fine +Shoes, Manitowoc, Wisconsin. The box, like the outside wrapping, was +carefully tied with string. +</P> + +<P> +Constance, knowing no one in Manitowoc and surprised at the nature of +the package, glanced at the postmark on the brown paper which she had +removed; it too was stamped Manitowoc. She cut the strings about the +box and took off the cover. A black and brown dotted silk cloth filled +the box; and, seeing it, Constance caught her breath. It was—at least +it was very like—the muffler which Uncle Benny used to wear in winter. +Remembering him most vividly as she had seen him last, that stormy +afternoon when he had wandered beside the lake, carrying his coat until +she made him put it on, she recalled this silk cloth, or one just like +it, in his coat pocket; she had taken it from his pocket and put it +around his neck. +</P> + +<P> +She started with trembling fingers to take it from the box; then, +realizing from the weight of the package that the cloth was only a +wrapping or, at least, that other things were in the box, she hesitated +and looked around for her mother. But her mother had gone out; her +father and Henry both were in Chicago; she was alone in the big summer +"cottage," except for servants. Constance picked up box and wrapping +and ran up to her room. She locked the door and put the box upon the +bed; now she lifted out the cloth. It was a wrapping, for the heavier +things came with it; and now, also, it revealed itself plainly as the +scarf—Uncle Benny's scarf! A paper fluttered out as she began to +unroll it—a little cross-lined leaf evidently torn from a pocket +memorandum book. It had been folded and rolled up. She spread it out; +writing was upon it, the small irregular letters of Uncle Benny's hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Send to Alan Conrad," she read; there followed a Chicago address—the +number of Uncle Benny's house on Astor Street. Below this was another +line: +</P> + +<P> +"Better care of Constance Sherrill (Miss)." There followed the +Sherrills' address upon the Drive. And to this was another correction: +</P> + +<P> +"Not after June 12th; then to Harbor Springs, Mich. Ask some one of +that; be sure the date; after June 12th." +</P> + +<P> +Constance, trembling, unrolled the scarf; now coins showed from a fold, +next a pocket knife, ruined and rusty, next a watch—a man's large gold +watch with the case queerly pitted and worn completely through in +places, and last a plain little band of gold of the size for a woman's +finger—a wedding ring. Constance, gasping and with fingers shaking so +from excitement that she could scarcely hold these objects, picked them +up and examined them—the ring first. +</P> + +<P> +It very evidently was, as she had immediately thought, a wedding ring +once fitted for a finger only a trifle less slender than her own. One +side of the gold band was very much worn, not with the sort of wear +which a ring gets on a hand, but by some different sort of abrasion. +The other side of the band was roughened and pitted but not so much +worn; the inside still bore the traces of an inscription. "As long as +we bo ... all live," Constance could read, and the date "June 2, 1891." +</P> + +<P> +It was in January, 1896, Constance remembered, that Alan Conrad had +been brought to the people in Kansas; he then was "about three years +old." If this wedding ring was his mother's, the date would be about +right; it was a date probably something more than a year before Alan +was born. Constance put down the ring and picked up the watch. +Wherever it had lain, it had been less protected than the ring; the +covers of the case had been almost eroded away, and whatever initialing +or other marks there might have been upon the outside were gone. But +it was like Uncle Benny's watch—or like one of his watches. He had +several, she knew, presented to him at various times—watches almost +always were the testimonials given to seamen for acts of sacrifice and +bravery. She remembered finding some of those testimonials in a drawer +at his house once where she was rummaging, when she was a child. One +of them had been a watch just like this, large and heavy. The spring +which operated the cover would not work, but Constance forced the cover +open. +</P> + +<P> +There, inside the cover as she had thought it would be, was engraved +writing. Sand had seeped into the case; the inscription was +obliterated in part. +</P> + +<P> +"For his courage and skill in seam ... master of ... which he brought +to the rescue of the passengers and crew of the steamer <I>Winnebago</I> +foundering ... Point, Lake Erie, November 26th, 1890, this watch is +donated by the Buffalo Merchants' Exchange." +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Benny's name, evidently, had been engraved upon the outside. +Constance could not particularly remember the rescue of the people of +the <I>Winnebago</I>; 1890 was years before she was born, and Uncle Benny +did not tell her that sort of thing about himself. +</P> + +<P> +The watch, she saw now, must have lain in water, for the hands under +the crystal were rusted away and the face was all streaked and cracked. +She opened the back of the watch and exposed the works; they too were +rusted and filled with sand. Constance left the watch open and, +shivering a little, she gently laid it down upon her bed. The pocket +knife had no distinguishing mark of any sort; it was just a man's +ordinary knife with the steel turned to rust and with sand in it too. +The coins were abraded and pitted discs—a silver dollar, a half dollar +and three quarters, not so much abraded, three nickels, and two pennies. +</P> + +<P> +Constance choked, and her eyes filled with tears. These +things—plainly they were the things found in Uncle Benny's +pockets—corroborated only too fully what Wassaquam believed and what +her father had been coming to believe.—that Uncle Benny was dead. The +muffler and the scrap of paper had not been in water or in sand. The +paper was written in pencil; it had not even been moistened or it would +have blurred. There was nothing upon it to tell how long ago it had +been written; but it had been written certainly before June twelfth. +"After June 12th," it said. +</P> + +<P> +That day was August the eighteenth. +</P> + +<P> +It was seven months since Uncle Benny had gone away. After his strange +interview with her that day and his going home, had Uncle Benny gone +out directly to his death? There was nothing to show that he had not; +the watch and coins must have lain for many weeks, for months, in water +and in sand to become eroded in this way. But, aside from this, there +was nothing that could be inferred regarding the time or place of Uncle +Benny's death. That the package had been mailed from Manitowoc meant +nothing definite. Some one—Constance could not know whom—had had the +muffler and the scrawled leaf of directions; later, after lying in +water and in sand, the things which were to be "sent" had come to that +some one's hand. Most probably this some one had been one who was +going about on ships; when his ship had touched at Manitowoc, he had +executed his charge. +</P> + +<P> +Constance left the articles upon the bed and threw the window more +widely open. She trembled and felt stirred and faint, as she leaned +against the window, breathing deeply the warm air, full of life and +with the scent of the evergreen trees about the house. +</P> + +<P> +The "cottage" of some twenty rooms stood among the pines and hemlocks +interspersed with hardwood on "the Point," where were the great fine +summer homes of the wealthier "resorters." White, narrow roads, just +wide enough for two automobiles to pass abreast, wound like a labyrinth +among the tree trunks; and the sound of the wind among the pine needles +was mingled with the soft lapping of water. To south and east from her +stretched Little Traverse—one of the most beautiful bits of water of +the lakes; across from her, beyond the wrinkling water of the bay, the +larger town—Petoskey—with its hilly streets pitching down steeply to +the water's edge and the docks, and with its great resort hotels, was +plainly visible. To westward, from the white life-saving station and +the lighthouse, the point ran out in shingle, bone white, outcropping +above the water; then for miles away the shallow water was treacherous +green and white to where at the north, around the bend of the shore, it +deepened and grew blue again, and a single white tower—Ile-aux-Galets +Light—kept watch above it. +</P> + +<P> +This was Uncle Benny's country. Here, twenty-five years before, he had +first met Henry, whose birthplace—a farm, deserted now—was only a few +miles back among the hills. Here, before that, Uncle Benny had been a +young man, active, vigorous, ambitious. He had loved this country for +itself and for its traditions, its Indian legends and fantastic +stories. Half her own love for it—and, since her childhood, it had +been to her a region of delight—was due to him and to the things he +had told her about it. Distinct and definite memories of that +companionship came to her. This little bay, which had become now for +the most part only a summer playground for such as she, had been once a +place where he and other men had struggled to grow rich swiftly; he had +outlined for her the ruined lumber docks and pointed out to her the +locations of the dismantled sawmills. It was he who had told her the +names of the freighters passing far out, and the names of the +lighthouses, and something about each. He had told her too about the +Indians. She remembered one starry night when he had pointed out to +her in the sky the Indian "Way of Ghosts," the Milky Way, along which, +by ancient Indian belief, the souls of Indians traveled up to heaven; +and how, later, lying on the recessed seat beside the fireplace where +she could touch the dogs upon the hearth, he had pointed out to her +through the window the Indian "Way of Dogs" among the constellations, +by which the dogs too could make that journey. It was he who had told +her about Michabou and the animals; and he had been the first to tell +her of the Drum. +</P> + +<P> +The disgrace, unhappiness, the threat of something worse, which must +have made death a relief to Uncle Benny, she had seen passed on now to +Alan. What more had come to Alan since she had last heard of him? +Some terrible substance to his fancies which would assail him again as +she had seen him assailed after Luke had come? Might another attack +have been made upon him similar to that which he had met in Chicago? +</P> + +<P> +Word had reached her father through shipping circles in May and again +in July which told of inquiries regarding Uncle Benny which made her +and her father believe that Alan was searching for his father upon the +lakes. Now these articles which had arrived made plain to her that he +would never find Uncle Benny; he would learn, through others or through +themselves, that Uncle Benny was dead. Would he believe then that +there was no longer any chance of learning what his father had done? +Would he remain away because of that, not letting her see or hear from +him again? +</P> + +<P> +She went back and picked up the wedding ring. +</P> + +<P> +The thought which had come to her that this was Alan's mother's wedding +ring, had fastened itself upon her with a sense of certainty. It +defended that unknown mother; it freed her, at least, from the stigma +which Constance's own mother had been so ready to cast. Constance +could not yet begin to place Uncle Benny in relation to that ring; but +she was beginning to be able to think of Alan and his mother. She held +the little band of gold very tenderly in her hand; she was glad that, +as the accusation against his mother had come through her people, she +could tell him soon of this. She could not send the ring to him, not +knowing where he was; that was too much risk. But she could ask him to +come to her; this gave that right. +</P> + +<P> +She sat thoughtful for several minutes, the ring clasped warmly in her +hand; then she went to her desk and wrote: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Mr. John Welton,<BR> + Blue Rapids, Kansas.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Dear Mr. Welton: +</P> + +<P> +It is possible that Alan Conrad has mentioned me—or at least told you +of my father—in connection with his stay in Chicago. After Alan left +Chicago, my father wrote, twice to his Blue Rapids address, but +evidently he had instructed the postmaster there to forward his mail +and had not made any change in those instructions, for the letters were +returned to Alan's address and in that way came back to us. We did not +like to press inquiries further than that, as of course he could have +communicated with us if he had not felt that there was some reason for +not doing so. Now, however, something of such supreme importance to +him has come to us that it is necessary for us to get word to him at +once. If you can tell me any address at which he can be reached by +telegraph or mail—or where a messenger can find him—it will oblige us +very much and will be to his interest. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +She hesitated, about to sign it; then, impulsively, she added: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +I trust you know that we have Alan's interest at heart and that you can +safely tell us anything you may know as to where he is or what he may +be doing. We all liked him here so very much.... +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +She signed her name. There were still two other letters to write. +Only the handwriting of the address upon the package, the Manitowoc +postmark and the shoe box furnished clue to the sender of the ring and +the watch and the other things. Constance herself could not trace +those clues, but Henry or her father could. She wrote to both of them, +therefore, describing the articles which had come and relating what she +had done. Then she rang for a servant and sent the letters to the +post. They were in time to catch the "dummy" train around the bay and, +at Petoskey, would get into the afternoon mail. The two for Chicago +would be delivered early the next morning, so she could expect replies +from Henry and her father on the second day; the letter to Kansas, of +course, would take much longer than that. +</P> + +<P> +But the next noon she received a wire from Henry that he was "coming +up." It did not surprise her, as she had expected him the end of the +week. +</P> + +<P> +Late that evening, she sat with her mother on the wide, screened +veranda. The breeze among the pines had died away; the lake was calm. +A half moon hung midway in the sky, making plain the hills about the +bay and casting a broadening way of silver on the mirror surface of the +water. The lights of some boat turning in between the points and +moving swiftly caught her attention. As it entered the path of the +moonlight, its look was so like that of Henry's power yacht that she +arose. She had not expected him until morning; but now the boat was so +near that she could no longer doubt that it was his. He must have +started within an hour of the receipt of her letter and had been +forcing his engines to their fastest all the way up. +</P> + +<P> +He had done that partly, perhaps, for the sheer sport of speed; but +partly also for the sake of being sooner with her. It was his way, as +soon as he had decided to leave business again and go to her, to arrive +as soon as possible; that had been his way recently, particularly. So +the sight of the yacht stirred her warmly and she watched while it ran +in close, stopped and instantly dropped a dingey from the davits. She +saw Henry in the stern of the little boat; it disappeared in the shadow +of a pier ... she heard, presently, the gravel of the walk crunch under +his quick steps, and then she saw him in the moonlight among the trees. +The impetuousness, almost the violence of his hurry to reach her, sent +its thrill through her. She went down on the path to meet him. +</P> + +<P> +"How quickly you came!" +</P> + +<P> +"You let yourself think you needed me, Connie!" +</P> + +<P> +"I did..." +</P> + +<P> +He had caught her hand in his and he held it while he brought her to +the porch and exchanged greetings with her mother. Then he led her on +past and into the house. +</P> + +<P> +When she saw his face, in the light, there were signs of strain in it; +she could feel strain now in his fingers which held hers strongly but +tensely too. +</P> + +<P> +"You're tired, Henry!" +</P> + +<P> +He shook his head. "It's been rotten hot in Chicago; then I guess I +was mentally stoking all the way up here, Connie. When I got started, +I wanted to see you to-night ... but first, where are the things you +wanted me to see?" +</P> + +<P> +She ran up-stairs and brought them down to him. Her hands were shaking +now as she gave them to him; she could not exactly understand why; but +her tremor increased as she saw his big hands fumbling as he unwrapped +the muffler and shook out the things it enclosed. He took them up one +by one and looked at them, as she had done. His fingers were steady +now but only by mastering of control, the effort for which amazed her. +</P> + +<P> +He had the watch in his hands. +</P> + +<P> +"The inscription is inside the front," she said. +</P> + +<P> +She pried the cover open again and read, with him, the words engraved +within. +</P> + +<P> +"'As master of...' What ship was he master of then, Henry, and how did +he rescue the <I>Winnebago's</I> people?" +</P> + +<P> +"He never talked to me about things like that, Connie. This is all?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"And nothing since to show who sent them?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman will send some one to Manitowoc to make +inquiries." Henry put the things back in the box. "But of course, +this is the end of Benjamin Corvet." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," Constance said. She was shaking again and, without +willing it, she withdrew a little from Henry. He caught her hand again +and drew her back toward him. His hand was quite steady. +</P> + +<P> +"You know why I came to you as quick as I could? You know why I—why +my mind was behind every thrust of the engines?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't? Oh, you know; you must know now!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Henry," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"I've been patient, Connie. Till I got your letter telling me this +about Ben, I'd waited for your sake—for our sakes—though it seemed at +times it was impossible. You haven't known quite what's been the +matter between us these last months, little girl; but I've known. +We've been engaged; but that's about all there's been to it. Don't +think I make little of that; you know what I mean. You've been mine; +but—but you haven't let me realize it, you see. And I've been +patient, for I knew the reason. It was Ben poisoning your mind against +me." +</P> + +<P> +"No! No, Henry!" +</P> + +<P> +"You've denied it; I've recognized that you've denied it, not only to +me and to your people but to yourself. I, of course, knew, as I know +that I am here with your hand in mine, and as we will stand before the +altar together, that he had no cause to speak against me. I've waited, +Connie, to give him a chance to say to you what he had to say; I wanted +you to hear it before making you wholly mine. But now there's no need +to wait any longer, you and I. Ben's gone, never to come back. I was +sure of that by what you wrote me, so this time when I started to you I +brought with me—this." +</P> + +<P> +He felt in his pocket and brought out a ring of plain gold; he held it +before her so that she could see within it her own initials and his and +a blank left for the date. Her gaze went from it for an instant to the +box where he had put back the other ring—Alan's mother's. Feeling for +her long ago gazing thus, as she must have, at that ring, held her for +a moment. Was it because of that that Constance found herself cold now? +</P> + +<P> +"You mean you want me to marry you—at once, Henry?" +</P> + +<P> +He drew her to him powerfully; she felt him warm, almost rough with +passions. Since that day when, in Alan Conrad's presence, he had +grasped and kissed her, she had not let him "realize" their engagement, +as he had put it. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" he turned her face up to his now. "Your mother's here; your +father will follow soon; or, if you will, we'll run away—Constance! +You've kept me off so long! You don't believe there's anything against +me, dear? Do you? Do you? +</P> + +<P> +"No; no! Of course not!" +</P> + +<P> +"Then we're going to be married.... We're going to be married, aren't +we? Aren't we, Constance?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; yes, of course." +</P> + +<P> +"Right away, we'll have it then; up here; now!" +</P> + +<P> +"No; not now, Henry. Not up here!" +</P> + +<P> +"Not here? Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +She could give no answer. He held her and commanded her again; only +when he frightened her, he ceased. +</P> + +<P> +"Why <I>must</I> it be at once, Henry? I don't understand!" +</P> + +<P> +"It's not must, dear," he denied. "It's just that I want you so!" +</P> + +<P> +When would it be, he demanded then; before spring, she promised at +last. But that was all he could make her say. And so he let her go. +</P> + +<P> +The next evening, in the moonlight, she drove him to Petoskey. He had +messages to send and preferred to trust the telegraph office in the +larger town. Returning they swung out along the country roads. The +night was cool here on the hills, under the stars; the fan-shaped glare +from their headlights, blurring the radiance of the moon, sent dancing +before them swiftly-changing, distorted shadows of the dusty bushes +beside the road. Topping a rise, they came suddenly upon his +birthplace. She had not designed coming to that place, but she had +taken a turn at his direction, and now he asked her to stop the car. +He got out and paced about, calling to her and pointing out the +desirableness of the spot as the site for their country home. She sat +in the motor, watching him and calling back to him. +</P> + +<P> +The house was small, log built, the chinks between the logs stopped +with clay. Across the road from it, the silver bark of the birch trees +gleamed white among the black-barked timber. Smells of rank vegetation +came to her from these woods and from the weed-grown fields about and +beyond the house. There had been a small garden beside the house once; +now neglected strawberry vines ran riot among the weed stems, and a +clump of sunflowers stood with hanging, full-blown heads under the +August moon. +</P> + +<P> +She gazed proudly at Henry's strong, well proportioned figure moving +about in the moonlight, and she was glad to think that a boy from this +house had become the man that he was. But when she tried to think of +him as a child here, her mind somehow showed her Alan playing about the +sunflowers; and the place was not here; it was the brown, Kansas +prairie of which he had told her. +</P> + +<P> +"Sunflower houses," she murmured to herself. "Sunflower houses. They +used to cut the stalks and build shacks with them." +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" Henry said; he had come back near her. +</P> + +<P> +The warm blood rushed to her face. "Nothing," she said, a little +ashamed. She opened the door beside her. "Come; we'll go back home +now." +</P> + +<P> +Coming from that poor little place, and having made of himself what he +had, Henry was such a man as she would be ever proud to have for a +husband; there was no man whom she had known who had proved himself as +much a man as he. Yet now, as she returned to the point, she was +thinking of this lake country not only as Henry's land but as Alan +Conrad's too. In some such place he also had been born—born by the +mother whose ring waited him in the box in her room. +</P> + +<P> +Alan, upon the morning of the second of these days, was driving +northward along the long, sandy peninsula which separates the blue +waters of Grand Traverse from Lake Michigan; and, thinking of her, he +knew that she was near. He not only had remembered that she would be +north at Harbor Point this month; he had seen in one of the Petoskey +papers that she and her mother were at the Sherrill summer home. His +business now was taking him nearer them than he had been at any time +before; and, if he wished to weaken, he might convince himself that he +might learn from her circumstances which would aid him in his task. +But he was not going to her for help; that was following in his +father's footsteps. When he knew everything, then—not till then—he +could go to her; for then he would know exactly what was upon him and +what he should do. +</P> + +<P> +His visits to the people named on those sheets written by his father +had been confusing at first; he had had great difficulty in tracing +some of them at all; and, afterwards, he could uncover no certain +connection either between them and Benjamin Corvet or between +themselves. But recently, he had been succeeding better in this latter. +</P> + +<P> +He had seen—he reckoned them over again—fourteen of the twenty-one +named originally on Benjamin Corvet's lists; that is, he had seen +either the individual originally named, or the surviving relative +written in below the name crossed off. He had found that the crossing +out of the name meant that the person was dead, except in the case of +two who had left the country and whose whereabouts were as unknown to +their present relatives as they had been to Benjamin Corvet, and the +case of one other, who was in an insane asylum. +</P> + +<P> +He had found that no one of the persons whom he saw had known Benjamin +Corvet personally; many of them did not know him at all, the others +knew him only as a name. But, when Alan proceeded, always there was +one connotation with each of the original names; always one +circumstance bound all together. When he had established that +circumstance as influencing the fortunes of the first two on his lists, +he had said to himself, as the blood pricked queerly under the skin, +that the fact might be a mere coincidence. When he established it also +as affecting the fate of the third and of the fourth and of the fifth, +such explanation no longer sufficed; and he found it in common to all +fourteen, sometimes as the deciding factor of their fate, sometimes as +only slightly affecting them, but always it was there. +</P> + +<P> +In how many different ways, in what strange, diverse manifestations +that single circumstance had spread to those people whom Alan had +interviewed! No two of them had been affected alike, he reckoned, as +he went over his notes of them. Now he was going to trace those +consequences to another. To what sort of place would it bring him +to-day and what would he find there? He knew only that it would be +quite distinct from the rest. +</P> + +<P> +The driver beside whom he sat on the front seat of the little +automobile was an Indian; an Indian woman and two round-faced silent +children occupied the seat behind. He had met these people in the +early morning on the road, bound, he discovered, to the annual camp +meeting of the Methodist Indians at Northport. They were going his +way, and they knew the man of whom he was in search; so he had hired a +ride of them. The region through which they were traveling now was of +farms, but interspersed with desolate, waste fields where blackened +stumps and rotting windfalls remained after the work of the lumberers. +The hills and many of the hollows were wooded; there were even places +where lumbering was still going on. To his left across the water, the +twin Manitous broke the horizon, high and round and blue with haze. To +his right, from the higher hilltops, he caught glimpses of Grand +Traverse and of the shores to the north, rising higher, dimmer, and +more blue, where they broke for Little Traverse and where Constance +Sherrill was, two hours away across the water; but he had shut his mind +to that thought. +</P> + +<P> +The driver turned now into a rougher road, bearing more to the east. +</P> + +<P> +They passed people more frequently now—groups in farm wagons, or +groups or single individuals, walking beside the road. All were going +in the same direction as themselves, and nearly all were Indians, drab +dressed figures attired obviously in their best clothes. Some walked +barefoot, carrying new shoes in their hands, evidently to preserve them +from the dust. They saluted gravely Alan's driver, who returned their +salutes—"B'jou!" "B'jou!" +</P> + +<P> +Traveling eastward, they had lost sight of Lake Michigan; and suddenly +the wrinkled blueness of Grand Traverse appeared quite close to them. +The driver turned aside from the road across a cleared field where ruts +showed the passing of many previous vehicles; crossing this, they +entered the woods. Little fires for cooking burned all about them, and +nearer were parked an immense number of farm wagons and buggies, with +horses unharnessed and munching grain. Alan's guide found a place +among these for his automobile, and they got out and went forward on +foot. All about them, seated upon the moss or walking about, were +Indians, family groups among which children played. A platform had +been built under the trees; on it some thirty Indians, all men, sat in +straight-backed chairs; in front of and to the sides of the platform, +an audience of several hundred occupied benches, and around the borders +of the meeting others were gathered, merely observing. A very old +Indian, with inordinately wrinkled skin and dressed in a frock coat, +was addressing these people from the platform in the Indian tongue. +</P> + +<P> +Alan halted beside his guide. He saw among the drab-clad figures +looking on, the brighter dresses and sport coats of summer visitors who +had come to watch. The figure of a girl among these caught his +attention, and he started; then swiftly he told himself that it was +only his thinking of Constance Sherrill that made him believe this was +she. But now she had seen him; she paled, then as quickly flushed, and +leaving the group she had been with, came toward him. +</P> + +<P> +He had no choice now whether he would avoid her or not; and his +happiness at seeing her held him stupid, watching her. Her eyes were +very bright and with something more than friendly greeting; there was +happiness in them too. His throat shut together as he recognized this, +and his hand closed warmly over the small, trembling hand which she put +out to him. All his conscious thought was lost for the moment in the +mere realization of her presence; he stood, holding her hand, oblivious +that there were people looking; she too seemed careless of that. Then +she whitened again and withdrew her hand; she seemed slightly confused. +He was confused as well; it was not like this that he had meant to +greet her; he caught himself together. +</P> + +<P> +Cap in hand, he stood beside her, trying to look and to feel as any +ordinary acquaintance of hers would have looked. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE OWNER OF THE WATCH +</H4> + +<P> +"So they got word to you!" Constance exclaimed; she seemed still +confused. "Oh, no—of course they couldn't have done that! They've +hardly got my letter yet." +</P> + +<P> +"Your letter?" Alan asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I wrote to Blue Rapids," she explained. "Some things came—they were +sent to me. Some things of Uncle Benny's which were meant for you +instead of me." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean you've heard from him?" +</P> + +<P> +"No—not that." +</P> + +<P> +"What things, Miss Sherrill?" +</P> + +<P> +"A watch of his and some coins and—a ring." She did not explain the +significance of those things, and he could not tell from her mere +enumeration of them and without seeing them that they furnished proof +that his father was dead. She could not inform him of that, she felt, +just here and now. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you about that later. You—you were coming to Harbor Point +to see us?" +</P> + +<P> +He colored. "I'm afraid not. I got as near as this to you because +there is a man—an Indian—I have to see." +</P> + +<P> +"An Indian? What is his name? You see, I know quite a lot of them." +</P> + +<P> +"Jo Papo." +</P> + +<P> +She shook her head. "No; I don't know him." +</P> + +<P> +She had drawn him a little away from the crowd about the meeting. His +blood was beating hard with recognition of her manner toward him. +Whatever he was, whatever the disgrace might be that his father had +left to him, she was still resolute to share in it. He had known she +would be so. She found a spot where the moss was covered with dry pine +needles and sat down upon the ground. +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down," she invited; "I want you to tell me what you have been +doing." +</P> + +<P> +"I've been on the boats." He dropped down upon the moss beside her. +"It's a—wonderful business, Miss Sherrill; I'll never be able to go +away from the water again. I've been working rather hard at my new +profession—studying it, I mean. Until yesterday I was a not very +highly honored member of the crew of the package freighter <I>Oscoda</I>; I +left her at Frankfort and came up here." +</P> + +<P> +"Is Wassaquam with you?" +</P> + +<P> +"He wasn't on the <I>Oscoda</I>; but he was with me at first. Now, I +believe, he has gone back to his own people—to Middle Village." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean you've been looking for Mr. Corvet in that way?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not exactly that." He hesitated; but he could see no reason for not +telling what he had been doing. He had not so much hidden from her and +her father what he had found in Benjamin Corvet's house; rather, he had +refrained from mentioning it in his notes to them when he left Chicago +because he had thought that the lists would lead to an immediate +explanation; they had not led to that, but only to a suggestion, +indefinite as jet. He had known that, if his search finally developed +nothing more than it had, he must at last consult Sherrill and get +Sherrill's aid. +</P> + +<P> +"We found some writing, Miss Sherrill," he said, "in the house on Astor +Street that night after Luke came." +</P> + +<P> +"What writing?" +</P> + +<P> +He took the lists from his pocket and showed them to her. She +separated and looked through the sheets and read the names written in +the same hand that had written the directions upon the slip of paper +that came to her four days before, with the things from Uncle Benny's +pockets. +</P> + +<P> +"My father had kept these very secretly," he explained. "He had them +hidden. Wassaquam knew where they were, and that night after Luke was +dead and you had gone home, he gave them to me." +</P> + +<P> +"After I had gone home? Henry went back to see you that night; he had +said he was going back, and afterwards I asked him, and he told me he +had seen you again. Did you show him these?" +</P> + +<P> +"He saw them—yes." +</P> + +<P> +"He was there when Wassaquam showed you where they were?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +A little line deepened between her brows, and she sat thoughtful. +</P> + +<P> +"So you have been going about seeing these people," she said. "What +have you found out?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing definite at all. None of them knew my father; they were only +amazed to find that any one in Chicago had known their names." +</P> + +<P> +She got up suddenly. "You don't mind if I am with you when you talk +with this Indian?" +</P> + +<P> +He arose and looked around for the guide who had brought him. His +guide had been standing near, evidently waiting until Alan's attention +was turned his way; he gestured now toward a man, a woman, and several +children who were lunching, seated about a basket on the ground. The +man—thin, patient and of medium size—was of the indefinite age of the +Indian, neither young nor yet old. It was evident that life had been +hard for the man; he looked worn and undernourished; his clothing was +the cast-off suit of some one much larger which had been inexpertly +altered to make it fit him. As Alan and Constance approached them, the +group turned on them their dark, inexpressive eyes, and the woman got +up, but the man remained seated on the ground. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm looking for Jo Papo," Alan explained. +</P> + +<P> +"What you want?" the squaw asked. "You got work?" The words were +pronounced with difficulty and evidently composed most of her English +vocabulary. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to see him, that's all." Alan turned to the man. "You're Jo +Papo, aren't you?" +</P> + +<P> +The Indian assented by an almost imperceptible nod. +</P> + +<P> +"You used to live near Escanaba, didn't you?" +</P> + +<P> +Jo Papo considered before replying; either his scrutiny of Alan +reassured him, or he recalled nothing having to do with his residence +near Escanaba which disturbed him. "Yes; once," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Your father was Azen Papo?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's dead," the Indian replied. "Not my father, anyway. Grandfather. +What about him?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's what I want to ask you," Alan said. "When did he die and how?" +</P> + +<P> +Jo Papo got up and stood leaning his back against a tree. So far from +being one who was merely curious about Indians, this stranger perhaps +was coming about an Indian claim—to give money maybe for injustices +done in the past. +</P> + +<P> +"My grandfather die fifteen years ago," he informed them. "From cough, +I think." +</P> + +<P> +"Where was that?" Alan asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Escanaba—near there." +</P> + +<P> +"What did he do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Take people to shoot deer—fish—a guide. I think he plant a little +too." +</P> + +<P> +"He didn't work on the boats?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; my father, he work on the boats." +</P> + +<P> +"What was his name?" +</P> + +<P> +"Like me; Jo Papo too. He's dead." +</P> + +<P> +"What is your Indian name?" +</P> + +<P> +"Flying Eagle." +</P> + +<P> +"What boats did your father work on?" +</P> + +<P> +"Many boats." +</P> + +<P> +"What did he do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Deck hand." +</P> + +<P> +"What boat did he work on last?" +</P> + +<P> +"Last? How do I know? He went away one year and didn't come back? I +suppose he was drowned from a boat." +</P> + +<P> +"What year was that?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was little then; I do not know." +</P> + +<P> +"How old were you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe eight years; maybe nine or ten." +</P> + +<P> +"How old are you now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Thirty, maybe." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you ever hear of Benjamin Corvet?" +</P> + +<P> +"Who?" +</P> + +<P> +"Benjamin Corvet." +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +Alan turned to Constance; she had been listening intently, but she made +no comment. "That is all, then," he said to Papo; "if I find out +anything to your advantage, I'll let you know." He had aroused, he +understood, expectations of benefit in these poor Indians. Something +rose in Alan's throat and choked him. Those of whom Benjamin Corvet +had so laboriously kept trace were, very many of them, of the sort of +these Indians; that they had never heard of Benjamin Corvet was not +more significant than that they were people of whose existence Benjamin +Corvet could not have been expected to be aware. What conceivable bond +could there have been between Alan's father and such poor people as +these? Had his father wronged these people? Had he owed them +something? This thought, which had been growing stronger with each +succeeding step of Alan's investigations, chilled and horrified him +now. Revolt against his father more active than ever before seized +him, revolt stirring stronger with each recollection of his interviews +with the people upon his list. As they walked away, Constance +appreciated that he was feeling something deeply; she too was stirred. +</P> + +<P> +"They all—all I have talked to—are like that," he said to her. "They +all have lost some one upon the lakes." +</P> + +<P> +In her feeling for him, she had laid her hand upon his arm; now her +fingers tightened to sudden tenseness. "What do you mean?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it is not definite yet—not clear!" She felt the bitterness in +his tone. "They have not any of them been able to make it wholly clear +to me. It is like a record that has been—blurred. These original +names must have been written down by my father many years ago—many, +most of those people, I think—are dead; some are nearly forgotten. +The only thing that is fully plain is that in every case my inquiries +have led me to those who have lost one, and sometimes more than one +relative upon the lakes." +</P> + +<P> +Constance thrilled to a vague horror; it was not anything to which she +could give definite reason. His tone quite as much as what he said was +its cause. His experience plainly had been forcing him to bitterness +against his father; and he did not know with certainty yet that his +father was dead. +</P> + +<P> +She had not found it possible to tell him that yet; now consciously she +deferred telling him until she could take him to her home and show him +what had come. The shrill whistling of the power yacht in which she +and her party had come recalled to her that all were to return to the +yacht for luncheon, and that they must be waiting for her. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll lunch with us, of course," she said to Alan, "and then go back +with us to Harbor Point. It's a day's journey around the two bays; but +we've a boat here." +</P> + +<P> +He assented, and they went down to the water where the white and brown +power yacht, with long, graceful lines, lay somnolently in the +sunlight. A little boat took them out over the shimmering, smooth +surface to the ship; swells from a faraway freighter swept under the +beautiful, burnished craft, causing it to roll lazily as they boarded +it. A party of nearly a dozen men and girls, with an older woman +chaperoning them, lounged under the shade of an awning over the after +deck. They greeted her gaily and looked curiously at Alan as she +introduced him. +</P> + +<P> +As he returned their rather formal acknowledgments and afterward fell +into general conversation with them, she became for the first time +fully aware of how greatly he had changed from what he had been when he +had come to them six months before in Chicago. These gay, wealthy +loungers would have dismayed him then, and he would have been equally +dismayed by the luxury of the carefully appointed yacht; now he was not +thinking at all about what these people might think of him. In return, +they granted him consideration. It was not, she saw that they accepted +him as one of their own sort, or as some ordinary acquaintance of hers; +if they accounted for him to themselves at all, they must believe him +to be some officer employed upon her father's ships. He looked like +that—with his face darkened and reddened by the summer sun and in his +clothing like that of a ship's officer ashore. He had not weakened +under the disgrace which Benjamin Corvet had left to him, whatever that +might be; he had grown stronger facing it. A lump rose in her throat +as she realized that the lakes had been setting their seal upon him, as +upon the man whose strength and resourcefulness she loved. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you worked on any of our boats?" she asked him, after luncheon +had been finished, and the anchor of the ship had been raised. +</P> + +<P> +A queer expression came upon his face. "I've thought it best not to do +that, Miss Sherrill," he replied. +</P> + +<P> +She did not know why the next moment she should think of Henry. +</P> + +<P> +"Henry was going to bring us over in his yacht—the <I>Chippewa</I>," she +said. "But he was called away suddenly yesterday on business to St. +Ignace and used his boat to go over there." +</P> + +<P> +"He's at Harbor Point, then." +</P> + +<P> +"He got there a couple of nights ago and will be back again to-night or +to-morrow morning." +</P> + +<P> +The yacht was pushing swiftly, smoothly, with hardly a hum from its +motors, north along the shore. He watched intently the rolling, wooded +hills and the ragged little bays and inlets. His work and his +investigatings had not brought him into the neighborhood before, but +she found that she did not have to name the places to him; he knew them +from the charts. +</P> + +<P> +"Grand Traverse Light," he said to her as a white tower showed upon +their left. Then, leaving the shore, they pushed out across the wide +mouth of the larger bay toward Little Traverse. He grew more silent as +they approached it. +</P> + +<P> +"It is up there, isn't it," he asked, pointing, "that they hear the +Drum?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; how did you know the place?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know it exactly; I want you to show me." +</P> + +<P> +She pointed out to him the copse, dark, primeval, blue in its contrast +with the lighter green of the trees about it and the glistening white +of the shingle and of the more distant sand bluffs. He leaned forward, +staring at it, until the changed course of the yacht, as it swung about +toward the entrance to the bay, obscured it. They were meeting other +power boats now of their yacht's own size and many smaller; they passed +white-sailed sloops and cat-boats, almost becalmed, with girls and boys +diving from their sides and swimming about. As they neared the Point, +a panorama of play such as, she knew, he scarcely could have seen +before, was spread in front of them. The sun gleamed back from the +white sides and varnished decks and shining brasswork of a score or +more of cruising yachts and many smaller vessels lying in the anchorage. +</P> + +<P> +"The Chicago to Mackinac yacht race starts this week, and the cruiser +fleet is working north to be in at the finish," she offered. Then she +saw he was not looking at these things; he was studying with a strange +expression the dark, uneven hills which shut in the two towns and the +bay. +</P> + +<P> +"You remember how the ship rhymes you told me and that about Michabou +and seeing the ships made me feel that I belonged here on the lakes," +he reminded her. "I have felt something—not recognition exactly, but +something that was like the beginning of recognition—many times this +summer when I saw certain places. It's like one of those dreams, you +know, in which you are conscious of having had the same dream before. +I feel that I ought to know this place." +</P> + +<P> +They landed only a few hundred yards from the cottage. After bidding +good-by to her friends, they went up to it together through the trees. +There was a small sun room, rather shut off from the rest of the house, +to which she led him. Leaving him there, she ran upstairs to get the +things. +</P> + +<P> +She halted an instant beside the door, with the box in her hands, +before she went back to him, thinking how to prepare him against the +significance of these relics of his father. She need not prepare him +against the mere fact of his father's death; he had been beginning to +believe that already; but these things must have far more meaning for +him than merely that. They must frustrate one course of inquiry for +him at the same time they opened another; they would close for him +forever the possibility of ever learning anything about himself from +his father; they would introduce into his problem some new, some +unknown person—the sender of these things. +</P> + +<P> +She went in and put the box down upon the card table. +</P> + +<P> +"The muffler in the box was your father's," she told him. "He had it +on the day he disappeared. The other things," her voice choked a +little, "are the things he must have had in his pockets. They've been +lying in water and sand—" +</P> + +<P> +He gazed at her. "I understand," he said after an instant. "You mean +that they prove his death." +</P> + +<P> +She assented gently, without speaking. As he approached the box, she +drew back from it and slipped away into the next room. She walked up +and down there, pressing her hands together. He must be looking at the +things now, unrolling the muffler.... What would he be feeling as he +saw them? Would he be glad, with that same gladness which had mingled +with her own sorrow over Uncle Benny, that his father was gone—gone +from his guilt and his fear and his disgrace? Or would he resent that +death which thus left everything unexplained to him? He would be +looking at the ring. That, at least, must bring more joy than grief to +him. He would recognize that it must be his mother's wedding ring; if +it told him that his mother must be dead, it would tell him that she +had been married, or had believed that she was married! +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly she heard him calling her. "Miss Sherrill!" His voice had a +sharp thrill of excitement. +</P> + +<P> +She hurried toward the sun room. She could see him through the +doorway, bending over the card table with the things spread out upon +its top in front of him. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Sherrill!" he called again. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +He straightened; he was very pale. "Would coins that my father had in +his pocket all have been more than twenty years old?" +</P> + +<P> +She ran and bent beside him over the coins. "Twenty years!" she +repeated. She was making out the dates of the coins now herself; the +markings were eroded, nearly gone in some instances, but in every case +enough remained to make plain the date. "Eighteen-ninety—1893—1889," +she made them out. Her voice hushed queerly. "What does it mean?" she +whispered. +</P> + +<P> +He turned over and reexamined the articles with hands suddenly +steadying. "There are two sets of things here," he concluded. "The +muffler and paper of directions—they belonged to my father. The other +things—it isn't six months or less than six months that they've lain +in sand and water to become worn like this; it's twenty years. My +father can't have had these things; they were somewhere else, or some +one else had them. He wrote his directions to that person—after June +twelfth, he said, so it was before June twelfth he wrote it; but we +can't tell how long before. It might have been in February, when he +disappeared; it might have been any time after that. But if the +directions were written so long ago, why weren't the things sent to you +before this? Didn't the person have the things then? Did we have to +wait to get them? Or—was it the instructions to send them that he +didn't have? Or, if he had the instructions, was he waiting to receive +word when they were to be sent?" +</P> + +<P> +"To receive word?" she echoed. +</P> + +<P> +"Word from my father! You thought these things proved my father was +dead. I think they prove he is alive! Oh, we must think this out!" +</P> + +<P> +He paced up and down the room; she sank into a chair, watching him. +"The first thing that we must do," he said suddenly, "is to find out +about the watch. What is the 'phone number of the telegraph office?" +</P> + +<P> +She told him, and he went out to the telephone; she sprang up to follow +him, but checked herself and merely waited until he came back. +</P> + +<P> +"I've wired to Buffalo," he announced. "The Merchants' Exchange, if it +is still in existence, must have a record of the presentation of the +watch. At any rate, the wreck of the <I>Winnebago</I> and the name of the +skipper of the other boat must be in the files of the newspapers of +that time." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you'll stay here with us until an answer comes." +</P> + +<P> +"If we get a reply by to-morrow morning; I'll wait till then. If not, +I'll ask you to forward it to me. I must see about the trains and get +back to Frankfort. I can cross by boat from there to Manitowoc—that +will be quickest. We must begin there, by trying to find out who sent +the package." +</P> + +<P> +"Henry Spearman's already sent to have that investigated." +</P> + +<P> +Alan made no reply; but she saw his lips draw tighter quickly. "I must +go myself as soon as I can," he said, after a moment. +</P> + +<P> +She helped him put the muffler and the other articles back into the +box; she noticed that the wedding ring was no longer with them. He had +taken that, then; it had meant to him all that she had known it must +mean.... +</P> + +<P> +In the morning she was up very early; but Alan, the servants told her, +had risen before she had and had gone out. The morning, after the cool +northern night, was chill. She slipped a sweater on and went out on +the veranda, looking about for him. An iridescent haze shrouded the +hills and the bay; in it she heard a ship's bell strike twice; then +another struck twice—then another—and another—and another. The haze +thinned as the sun grew warmer, showing the placid water of the bay on +which the ships stood double—a real ship and a mirrored one. She saw +Alan returning, and knowing from the direction from which he came that +he must have been to the telegraph office, she ran to meet him. +</P> + +<P> +"Was there an answer?" she inquired eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +He took a yellow telegraph sheet from his pocket and held it for her to +read. +</P> + +<P> +"Watch presented Captain Caleb Stafford, master of propeller freighter +<I>Marvin Halch</I> for rescue of crew and passengers of sinking steamer +<I>Winnebago</I> off Long Point, Lake Erie." +</P> + +<P> +She was breathing quickly in her excitement. "Caleb Stafford!" she +exclaimed. "Why, that was Captain Stafford of Stafford and Ramsdell! +They owned the <I>Miwaka</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," Alan said. +</P> + +<P> +"You asked me about that ship—the <I>Miwaka</I>—that first morning at +breakfast!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +A great change had come over him since last night; he was under emotion +so strong that he seemed scarcely to dare to speak lest it master +him—a leaping, exultant impulse it was, which he fought to keep down. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, Alan?" she asked. "What is it about the <I>Miwaka</I>? You +said you'd found some reference to it in Uncle Benny's house. What was +it? What did you find there?" +</P> + +<P> +"The man—" Alan swallowed and steadied himself and repeated—"the man +I met in the house that night mentioned it." +</P> + +<P> +"The man who thought you were a ghost?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"How—how did he mention it?" +</P> + +<P> +"He seemed to think I was a ghost that had haunted Mr. Corvet—the +ghost from the <I>Miwaka</I>; at least he shouted out to me that I couldn't +save the <I>Miwaka</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +"Save the <I>Miwaka</I>! What do you mean, Alan? The <I>Miwaka</I> was lost +with all her people—officers and crew—no one knows how or where!" +</P> + +<P> +"All except the one for whom the Drum didn't beat!" +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" Blood pricked in her cheeks. "What do you mean, Alan?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know yet; but I think I'll soon find out!" +</P> + +<P> +"No; you can tell me more now, Alan. Surely you can. I must know. I +have the right to know. Yesterday, even before you found out about +this, you knew things you weren't telling me—things about the people +you'd been seeing. They'd all lost people on the lakes, you said; but +you found out more than that." +</P> + +<P> +"They'd all lost people on the <I>Miwaka</I>!" he said. "All who could tell +me where their people were lost; a few were like Jo Papo we saw +yesterday, who knew only the year his father was lost; but the time +always was the time that the <I>Miwaka</I> disappeared!" +</P> + +<P> +"Disappeared!" she repeated. Her veins were pricking cold. What did +he know, what could any one know of the <I>Miwaka</I>, the ship of which +nothing ever was heard except the beating of the Indian Drum? She +tried to make him say more; but he looked away now down to the lake. +</P> + +<P> +"The <I>Chippewa</I> must have come in early this morning," he said. "She's +lying in the harbor; I saw her on my way to the telegraph office. If +Mr. Spearman has come back with her, tell him I'm sorry I can't wait to +see him." +</P> + +<P> +"When are you going?" +</P> + +<P> +"Now." +</P> + +<P> +She offered to drive him to Petoskey, but he already had arranged for a +man to take him to the train. +</P> + +<P> +She went to her room after he was gone and spread out again on her bed +the watch—now the watch of Captain Stafford of the <I>Miwaka</I>—with the +knife and coins of more than twenty years ago which came with it. The +meaning of them now was all changed; she felt that; but what the new +meaning might be could not yet come to her. Something of it had come +to Alan; that, undoubtedly, was what had so greatly stirred him; but +she could not yet reassemble her ideas. Yet a few facts had become +plain. +</P> + +<P> +A maid came to say that Mr. Spearman had come up from his boat for +breakfast with her and was downstairs. She went down to find Henry +lounging in one of the great wicker chairs in the living room. He +arose and came toward her quickly; but she halted before he could seize +her. +</P> + +<P> +"I got back, Connie—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; I heard you did." +</P> + +<P> +"What's wrong, dear?" +</P> + +<P> +"Alan Conrad has been here, Henry." +</P> + +<P> +"He has? How was that?" +</P> + +<P> +She told him while he watched her intently. "He wired to Buffalo about +the watch. He got a reply which he brought to me half an hour ago." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" +</P> + +<P> +"The watch belonged to Captain Stafford who was lost with the <I>Miwaka</I>, +Henry." +</P> + +<P> +He made no reply; but waited. +</P> + +<P> +"You may not have known that it was his; I mean, you may not have known +that it was he who rescued the people of the <I>Winnebago</I>, but you must +have known that Uncle Benny didn't." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; I knew that, Connie," he answered evenly. +</P> + +<P> +"Then why did you let me think the watch was his and that he must +be—dead?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's all's the matter? You had thought he was dead. I believed it +was better for you—for every one—to believe that." +</P> + +<P> +She drew a little away from him, with hands clasped behind her back, +gazing intently at him. "There was some writing found in Uncle Benny's +house in Astor Street—a list of names of relatives of people who had +lost their lives upon the lake. Wassaquam knew where those things +were. Alan says they were given to him in your presence." +</P> + +<P> +She saw the blood rise darkly under his skin. "That is true, Connie." +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't you tell me about that?" +</P> + +<P> +He straightened as if with anger. "Why should I? Because he thought +that I should? What did he tell you about those lists?" +</P> + +<P> +"I asked you, after you went back, if anything else had happened, +Henry, and you said, 'nothing.' I should not have considered the +finding of those lists 'nothing.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Why not? What were they but names? What has he told you they were, +Connie? What has he said to you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing—except that his father had kept them very secretly; but he's +found out they were names of people who had relatives on the <I>Miwaka</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +Recalling how her blood had run when Alan had told her that, Henry's +whiteness and the following suffusion of his face did not surprise her. +</P> + +<P> +He turned away a moment and considered. "Where's Conrad now, Connie?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's gone to Frankfort to cross to Manitowoc." +</P> + +<P> +"To get deeper into that mess, I suppose. He'll only be sorry." +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry?" +</P> + +<P> +"I told that fellow long ago not to start stirring these matters up +about Ben Corvet, and particularly I told him that he was not to bring +any of it to you. It's not—a thing that a man like Ben covered up for +twenty years till it drove him crazy is sure not to be a thing for a +girl to know. Conrad seems to have paid no attention to me. But I +should think by this time he ought to begin to suspect what sort of +thing he's going to turn up. I don't know; but I certainly +suspect—Ben leaving everything to that boy, whom no one had heard of, +and the sort of thing which has come up since. It's certainly not +going to be anything pleasant for any of us, Connie—for you, or your +father, or for me, or for anybody who'd cared for Ben, or had been +associated with him. Least of all, I should say, would it prove +anything pleasant for Conrad. Ben ran away from it, because he knew +what it was; why doesn't this fellow let him stay away from it?" +</P> + +<P> +"He—I mean Alan, Henry," she said, "isn't thinking about himself in +this; he isn't thinking about his father. He believes—he is certain +now—that, whatever his father did, he injured some one; and his idea +in going ahead—he hasn't told it to me that way, but I know—is to +find out the whole matter in order that he may make recompense. It's a +terrible thing, whatever happened. He knows that, and I know; but he +wants—and I want him for his sake, even for Uncle Benny's sake—to see +it through." +</P> + +<P> +"Then it's a queer concern you've got for Ben! Let it alone, I tell +you." +</P> + +<P> +She stood flushed and perplexed, gazing at him. She never had seen him +under stronger emotion. +</P> + +<P> +"You misunderstood me once, Connie!" he appealed. "You'll understand +me now!" +</P> + +<P> +She had been thinking about that injustice she had done him in her +thought—about his chivalry to his partner and former benefactor, when +Uncle Benny was still keeping his place among men. Was Henry now +moved, in a way which she could not understand, by some other +obligation to the man who long ago had aided him? Had Henry hazarded +more than he had told her of the nature of the thing hidden which, if +she could guess it, would justify what he said? +</P> + +<P> +In the confusion of her thought, one thing came clearly which troubled +her and of which she could not speak. The watch of Captain Stafford's +and the ring and the coins, which had made her believe that Uncle Benny +was dead, had not been proof of that to Henry. Yet he had taken +advantage of her belief, without undeceiving her, to urge her to marry +him at once. +</P> + +<P> +She knew of the ruthlessness of Henry's business life; he had forced +down, overcome all who opposed him, and he had made full use for his +own advantage of other men's mistakes and erroneous beliefs and +opinions. If he had used her belief in Uncle Benny's death to hasten +their marriage, it was something which others—particularly she—could +pardon and accept. +</P> + +<P> +If she was drawn to him for his strength and dominance, which sometimes +ran into ruthlessness, she had no right to complain if he turned it +thus upon her. +</P> + +<P> +She had made Alan promise to write her, if he was not to return, +regarding what he learned; and a letter came to her on the fourth day +from him in Manitowoc. The postoffice employees had no recollection, +he said, of the person who had mailed the package; it simply had been +dropped by some one into the receptacle for mailing packages of that +sort. They did not know the handwriting upon the wrapper, which he had +taken with him; nor was it known at the bank or in any of the stores +where he had shown it. The shoe dealer had no recollection of that +particular box. Alan, however, was continuing his inquiries. +</P> + +<P> +In September he reported in a brief, totally impersonal note, that he +was continuing with the investigations he had been making previous to +his visit to Harbor Point; this came from Sarnia, Ontario. In October +he sent a different address where he could be found in case anything +more came, such as the box which had come to Constance in August. +</P> + +<P> +She wrote to him in reply each time; in lack of anything more important +to tell him, she related some of her activities and inquired about his. +After she had written him thus twice, he replied, describing his life +on the boats pleasantly and humorously; then, though she immediately +replied, she did not hear from him again. +</P> + +<P> +She had returned to Chicago late in September and soon was very busy +with social affairs, benefits, and bazaars which were given that fall +for the Red Cross and the different Allied causes; a little later came +a series of the more personal and absorbing luncheons and dances and +dinners for her and for Henry, since their engagement, which long had +been taken for granted by every one who knew them, was announced now. +So the days drifted into December and winter again. +</P> + +<P> +The lake, beating against the esplanade across the Drive before +Constance's windows, had changed its color; it had no longer its autumn +blue and silver; it was gray, sluggish with floating needle-points of +ice held in solution. The floe had not yet begun to form, but the +piers and breakwaters had white ice caps frozen from spray—harbingers +of the closing of navigation. The summer boats, those of Corvet, +Sherrill, and Spearman with the rest, were being tied up. The birds +were gone; only the gulls remained—gray, clamorous shapes circling and +calling to one another across the water. Early in December the +newspapers announced the closing of the locks at the "Soo" by the ice. +</P> + +<P> +That she had not heard from Alan was beginning to recur to Constance +with strange insistence. He must have left the boats by now, unless he +had found work on one of those few which ran through the winter. +</P> + +<P> +He and his occupation, instead of slipping from her thoughts with time, +absorbed her more and more. Soon after he had gone to Manitowoc and he +had written that he had discovered nothing, she had gone to the office +of the Petoskey paper and, looking back over the twenty-year-old files, +she had read the account of the loss of the <I>Miwaka</I>, with all on +board. That fate was modified only by the Indian Drum beating short. +So one man from the <I>Miwaka</I> had been saved somehow, many believed. If +that could have been, there was, or there had been, some one alive +after the ship "disappeared"—Alan's word went through her with a +chill—who knew what had happened to the ship and who knew of the fate +of his shipmates. +</P> + +<P> +She had gone over the names again; if there was meaning in the Drum, +who was the man who had been saved and visited that fate on Benjamin +Corvet? Was it Luke? There was no Luke named among the crew; but such +men often went by many names. If Luke had been among the crew of the +<I>Miwaka</I> and had brought from that lost ship something which threatened +Uncle Benny that, at least, explained Luke. +</P> + +<P> +Then another idea had seized her. Captain Caleb Stafford was named +among the lost, of course; with him had perished his son, a boy of +three. That was all that was said, and all that was to be learned of +him, the boy. +</P> + +<P> +Alan had been three then. This was wild, crazy speculation. The ship +was lost with all hands; only the Drum, believed in by the +superstitious and the most ignorant, denied that. The Drum said that +one soul had been saved. How could a child of three have been saved +when strong men, to the last one, had perished? And, if he had been +saved, he was Stafford's son. Why should Uncle Benny have sent him +away and cared for him and then sent for him and, himself disappearing, +leave all he had to—Stafford's son? +</P> + +<P> +Or was he Stafford's son? Her thought went back to the things which +had been sent—the things from a man's pockets with a wedding ring +among them. She had believed that the ring cleared the mother's name; +might it in reality only more involve it? Why had it come back like +this to the man by whom, perhaps, it had been given? Henry's words +came again and again to Constance: "It's a queer concern you've got for +Ben. Leave it alone, I tell you!" He knew then something about Uncle +Benny which might have brought on some terrible thing which Henry did +not know but might guess? Constance went weak within. Uncle Benny's +wife had left him, she remembered. Was it better, after all, to "leave +it alone?" +</P> + +<P> +But it wasn't a thing which one could command one's mind to leave +alone; and Constance could not make herself try to, so long as it +concerned Alan. Coming home late one afternoon toward the middle of +December, she dismissed the motor and stood gazing at the gulls. The +day was chill, gray; the air had the feel, and the voices of the gulls +had the sound to her, which precede the coming of a severe storm. The +gulls recalled sharply to her the day when Alan first had come to them, +and how she had been the one first to meet him and the child verse +which had told him that he too was of the lakes. +</P> + +<P> +She went on into the house. A telegraph envelope addressed to her +father was on the table in the hall. A servant told her the message +had come an hour before, and that he had telephoned to Mr. Sherrill's +office, but Mr. Sherrill was not in. There was no reason for her +thinking that the message might be from Alan except his presence in her +thoughts, but she went at once to the telephone and called her father. +He was in now, and he directed her to open the message and read it to +him. +</P> + +<P> +"Have some one," she read aloud; she choked in her excitement at what +came next—"Have some one who knew Mr. Corvet well enough to recognize +him, even if greatly changed, meet Carferry Number 25 Manitowoc +Wednesday this week. Alan Conrad." +</P> + +<P> +Her heart was beating fast. "Are you there?" she said into the 'phone. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Whom shall you send?" +</P> + +<P> +There was an instant's silence. "I shall go myself," her father +answered. +</P> + +<P> +She hung up the receiver. Had Alan found Uncle Benny? He had found, +apparently, someone whose semblance to the picture she had showed him +was marked enough to make him believe that person might be Benjamin +Corvet; or he had heard of some one who, from the account he had +received, he thought might be. She read again the words of the +telegram ... "even if greatly changed!" and she felt startling and +terrifying warning in that phrase. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +OLD BURR OF THE FERRY +</H4> + +<P> +It was in late November and while the coal carrier <I>Pontiac</I>, on which +he was serving as lookout, was in Lake Superior that Alan first heard +of Jim Burr. The name spoken among some other names in casual +conversation by a member of the crew, stirred and excited him; the name +James Burr, occurring on Benjamin Corvet's list, had borne opposite it +the legend "All disappeared; no trace," and Alan, whose investigations +had accounted for all others whom the list contained, had been able +regarding Burr only to verify the fact that at the address given no one +of this name was to be found. +</P> + +<P> +He questioned the oiler who had mentioned Burr. The man had met Burr +one night in Manitowoc with other men, and something about the old man +had impressed both his name and image on him; he knew no more than +that. At Manitowoc!—the place from which Captain Stafford's watch had +been sent to Constance Sherrill and where Alan had sought for, but had +failed to find, the sender! Had Alan stumbled by chance upon the one +whom Benjamin Corvet had been unable to trace? Had Corvet, after his +disappearance, found Burr? Had Burr been the sender, under Corvet's +direction, of those things? Alan speculated upon this. The man might +well, of course, be some other Jim Burr; there were probably many men +by that name. Yet the James Burr of Corvet's list must have been such +a one as the oiler described—a white haired old man. +</P> + +<P> +Alan could not leave the <I>Pontiac</I> and go at once to Manitowoc to seek +for Burr; for he was needed where he was. The season of navigation on +Lake Superior was near its close. In Duluth skippers were clamoring +for cargoes; ships were lading in haste for a last trip before ice +closed the lake's outlet at the Soo against all ships. It was fully a +week later and after the Pontiac had been laden again and had repassed +the length of Lake Superior that Alan left the vessel at Sault Ste. +Marie and took the train for Manitowoc. +</P> + +<P> +The little lake port of Manitowoc, which he reached in the late +afternoon, was turbulent with the lake season's approaching close. +Long lines of bulk freighters, loaded and tied up to wait for spring, +filled the river; their released crews rioted through the town. Alan +inquired for the seamen's drinking place, where his informant had met +Jim Burr; following the directions he received he made his way along +the river bank until he found it. The place was neat, immaculate; a +score of lakemen sat talking at little tables or leaned against the +bar. Alan inquired of the proprietor for Jim Burr. +</P> + +<P> +The proprietor knew old Jim Burr—yes. Burr was a wheelsman on +Carferry Number 25. He was a lakeman, experienced and capable; that +fact, some months before, had served as introduction for him to the +frequenters of this place. When the ferry was in harbor and his duties +left him idle, Burr came up and waited there, occupying always the same +chair. He never drank; he never spoke to others unless they spoke +first to him, but then he talked freely about old days on the lakes, +about ships which had been lost and about men long dead. +</P> + +<P> +Alan decided that there could be no better place to interview old Burr +than here; he waited therefore, and in the early evening the old man +came in. +</P> + +<P> +Alan watched him curiously as, without speaking to any one, he went to +the chair recognized as his and sat down. He was a slender but +muscularly built man seeming about sixty-five, but he might be +considerably younger or older than that. His hair was completely +white; his nose was thin and sensitive; his face was smoothly placid, +emotionless, contented; his eyes were queerly clouded, deepset and +intent. +</P> + +<P> +Those whose names Alan had found on Corvet's list had been of all ages, +young and old; but Burr might well have been a contemporary of Corvet +on the lakes. Alan moved over and took a seat beside the old man. +</P> + +<P> +"You're from No. 25?" he asked, to draw him into conversation. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"I've been working on the carrier <I>Pontiac</I> as lookout. She's on her +way to tie up at Cleveland, so I left her and came on here. You don't +know whether there's a chance for me to get a place through the winter +on No. 25?" +</P> + +<P> +Old Burr reflected. "One of our boys has been talking of leaving. I +don't know when he expects to go. You might ask." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you; I will. My name's Conrad—Alan Conrad." +</P> + +<P> +He saw no recognition of the name in Burr's reception of it; but he had +not expected that. None of those on Benjamin Corvet's list had had any +knowledge of Alan Conrad or had heard the name before. +</P> + +<P> +Alan was silent, watching the old man; Burr, silent too, seemed +listening to the conversation which came to them from the tables near +by, where men were talking of cargoes, and of ships and of men who +worked and sailed upon them. +</P> + +<P> +"How long have you been on the lakes?" Alan inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"All my life." The question awakened reminiscence in the old man. "My +father had a farm. I didn't like farming. The schooners—they were +almost all schooners in those days—came in to load with lumber. When +I was nine years old, I ran away and got on board a schooner. I've +been at it, sail or steam, ever since." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you remember the <I>Miwaka</I>?" +</P> + +<P> +"The <I>Miwaka</I>?" +</P> + +<P> +Old Burr turned abruptly and studied Alan with a slow scrutiny which +seemed to look him through and through; yet while his eyes remained +fixed on Alan suddenly they grew blank. He was not thinking now of +Alan, but had turned his thoughts within himself. +</P> + +<P> +"I remember her—yes. She was lost in '95," he said. "In '95," he +repeated. +</P> + +<P> +"You lost a nephew with her, didn't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"A nephew—no. That is a mistake. I lost a brother." +</P> + +<P> +"Where were you living then?" +</P> + +<P> +"In Emmet County, Michigan." +</P> + +<P> +"When did you move to Point Corbay, Ontario?" +</P> + +<P> +"I never lived at Point Corbay." +</P> + +<P> +"Did any of your family live there?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." Old Burr looked away from Alan, and the queer cloudiness of his +eyes became more evident. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, do you ask all this?" he said irritably. "What have they been +telling you about me? I told you about myself; our farm was in Emmet +County, but we had a liking for the lake. One of my brothers was lost +in '95 with the <I>Miwaka</I> and another in '99 with the <I>Susan Hart</I>." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you know Benjamin Corvet?" Alan asked. +</P> + +<P> +Old Burr stared at him uncertainly. "I know who he is, of course." +</P> + +<P> +"You never met him?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you receive a communication from him some time this year?" +</P> + +<P> +"From him? From Benjamin Corvet? No." Old Burr's uneasiness seemed +to increase. "What sort of communication?" +</P> + +<P> +"A request to send some things to Miss Constance Sherrill at Harbor +Point." +</P> + +<P> +"I never heard of Miss Constance Sherrill. To send what things?" +</P> + +<P> +"Several things—among them a watch which had belonged to Captain +Stafford of the <I>Miwaka</I>." +</P> + +<P> +Old Burr got up suddenly and stood gazing down at Alan. "A watch of +Captain Stafford's?—no," he said agitatedly. "No!" +</P> + +<P> +He moved away and left the place; and Alan sprang up and followed him. +</P> + +<P> +He was not, it seemed probable to Alan now, the James Burr of Corvet's +list; at least Alan could not see how he could be that one. Among the +names of the crew of the <I>Miwaka</I> Alan had found that of a Frank Burr, +and his inquiries had informed him that this man was a nephew of the +James Burr who had lived near Port Corbay and had "disappeared" with +all his family. Old Burr had not lived at Port Corbay—at least, he +claimed not to have lived there; he gave another address and assigned +to himself quite different connections. For every member of the crew +of the <I>Miwaka</I> there had been a corresponding, but different name upon +Corvet's list—the name of a close relative. If old Burr was not +related to the Burr on Corvet's list, what connection could he have +with the <I>Miwaka</I>, and why should Alan's questions have agitated him +so? Alan would not lose sight of old Burr until he had learned the +reason for that. +</P> + +<P> +He followed, as the old man crossed the bridge and turned to his left +among the buildings on the river front. Burr's figure, vague in the +dusk, crossed the railroad yards and made its way to where a huge black +bulk, which Alan recognized as the ferry, loomed at the waterside. He +disappeared aboard it. Alan, following him, gazed about. +</P> + +<P> +A long, broad, black boat the ferry was, almost four hundred feet to +the tall, bluff bow. Seen from the stem, the ship seemed only an +unusually rugged and powerful steam freighter; viewed from the beam, +the vessel appeared slightly short for its freeboard; only when +observed from the stern did its distinguishing peculiarity become +plain; for a few feet only above the water line, the stern was all cut +away, and the long, low cavern of the deck gleamed with rails upon +which the electric lights glinted. Save for the supports of the +superstructure and where the funnels and ventilator pipes passed up +from below, that whole strata of the ship was a vast car shed; its +tracks, running to the edge of the stern, touched tracks on the dock. +A freight engine was backing loaded cars from a train of sixteen cars +upon the rails on the starboard side; another train of sixteen big box +cars waited to go aboard on the tracks to the port of the center +stanchions. When the two trains were aboard, the great vessel—"No. +25," in big white stencil upon her black sides were her distinguishing +marks—would thrust out into the ice and gale for the Michigan shore +nearly eighty miles away. +</P> + +<P> +Alan thrilled a little at his inspection of the ferry. He had not seen +close at hand before one of these great craft which, throughout the +winter, brave ice and storm after all—or nearly all—other lake boats +are tied up. He had not meant to apply there when he questioned old +Burr about a berth on the ferry; he had used that merely as a means of +getting into conversation with the old man. But now he meant to apply; +for it would enable him to find out more about old Burr. +</P> + +<P> +He went forward between the tracks upon the deck to the companionway, +and ascended and found the skipper and presented his credentials. No +berth on the ferry was vacant yet but one soon would be, and Alan was +accepted in lieu of the man who was about to leave; his wages would not +begin until the other man left, but in the meantime he could remain +aboard the ferry if he wished. Alan elected to remain aboard. The +skipper called a man to assign quarters to Alan, and Alan, going with +the man, questioned him about Burr. +</P> + +<P> +All that was known definitely about old Burr on the ferry, it appeared, +was that he had joined the vessel in the early spring. Before +that—they did not know; he might be an old lakeman who, after spending +years ashore, had returned to the lakes for a livelihood. He had +represented himself as experienced and trained upon the lakes, and he +had been able to demonstrate his fitness; in spite of his age he was +one of the most capable of the crew. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning, Alan approached old Burr in the crew's quarters and +tried to draw him into conversation again about himself; but Burr only +stared at him with his intent and oddly introspective eyes and would +not talk upon this subject. A week passed; Alan, established as a +lookout now on No. 25 and carrying on his duties, saw Burr daily and +almost every hour; his watch coincided with Burr's watch at the +wheel—they went on duty and were relieved together. Yet better +acquaintance did not make the old man more communicative; a score of +times Alan attempted to get him to tell more about himself, but he +evaded Alan's questions and, if Alan persisted, he avoided him. Then, +on an evening bitter cold with the coming of winter, clear and filled +with stars, Alan, just relieved from watch, stood by the pilothouse as +Burr also was relieved. The old man paused beside him, looking to the +west. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you ever been in Sturgeon's Bay?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"In Wisconsin? No." +</P> + +<P> +"There is a small house there—and a child; born," he seemed figuring +the date, "Feb. 12, 1914." +</P> + +<P> +"A relative of yours?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"One of your brothers' children or grandchildren?" +</P> + +<P> +"I had no brothers," old Burr said quietly. +</P> + +<P> +Alan stared at him, amazed. "But you told me about your brothers and +about their being lost in wrecks on the lake; and about your home in +Emmet County!" +</P> + +<P> +"I never lived in Emmet County," old Burr replied. "Some one else must +have told you that about me. I come from Canada—of French-Canadian +descent. My family were of the Hudson Bay people. I was a guide and +hunter until recently. Only a few years ago I came onto the lakes, but +my cousin came here before I did. It is his child." +</P> + +<P> +Old Burr moved away and Alan turned to the mate. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you make of old Burr?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"He's a romancer. We get 'em that way once in a while—old liars! +He'll give you twenty different accounts of himself—twenty different +lives. None of them is true. I don't know who he is or where he came +from, but it's sure he isn't any of the things he says he is." +</P> + +<P> +Alan turned away, chill with disappointment. It was only that, +then—old Burr was a romancer after the manner of some old seamen. He +constructed for his own amusement these "lives." He was not only not +the Burr of Corvet's list; he was some one not any way connected with +the <I>Miwaka</I> or with Corvet. Yet Alan, upon reflection, could not +believe that it was only this. Burr, if he had wished to do that, +might perhaps merely have simulated agitation when Alan questioned him +about the <I>Miwaka</I>; but why should he have wished to simulate it? Alan +could conceive of no condition which by any possibility could have +suggested such simulation to the old man. +</P> + +<P> +He ceased now, however, to question Burr since questioning either had +no result at all or led the old man to weaving fictions; in response +the old man became by degrees more communicative. He told Alan, at +different times, a number of other "lives" which he claimed as his own. +In only a few of these lives had he been, by his account, a seaman; he +had been a multitude of other things—in some a farmer, in others a +lumberjack or a fisherman; he had been born, he told, in a half-dozen +different places and came of as many different sorts of people. +</P> + +<P> +On deck, one night, listening while old Burr related his sixth or +seventh life, excitement suddenly seized Alan. Burr, in this life +which he was telling, claimed to be an Englishman born in Liverpool. +He had been, he said, a seaman in the British navy; he had been present +at the shelling of Alexandria; later, because of some difficulty which +he glossed over, he had deserted and had come to "the States"; he had +been first a deckhand then the mate of a tramp schooner on the lakes. +Alan, gazing at the old man, felt exultation leaping and throbbing +within him. He recognized this "life"; he knew in advance its +incidents. This life which old Burr was rehearsing to him as his own, +was the actual life of Munro Burkhalter, one of the men on Corvet's +list regarding whom Alan had been able to obtain full information! +</P> + +<P> +Alan sped below, when he was relieved from watch, and got out the +clippings left by Corvet and the notes of what he himself had learned +in his visits to the homes of these people. His excitement grew +greater as he pored over them; he found that he could account, with +their aid, for all that old Burr had told him. Old Burr's "lives" were +not, of course, his; yet neither were they fictions. They—their +incidents, at least—were actualities. They were woven from the lives +of those upon Corvet's list! Alan felt his skin prickling and the +blood beating fast in his temples. How could Burr have known these +incidents? Who could he be to know them all? To what man, but one, +could all of them be known? Was old Burr ... Benjamin Corvet? +</P> + +<P> +Alan could give no certain answer to that question. He could not find +any definite resemblance in Burr's placid face to the picture of Corvet +which Constance had shown him. Yet, as regarded his age and his +physical characteristics, there was nothing to make his identity with +Benjamin Corvet impossible. Sherrill or others who had known Benjamin +Corvet well, might be able to find resemblances which Alan could not. +And, whether Burr was or was not Corvet, he was undeniably some one to +whom the particulars of Corvet's life were known. +</P> + +<P> +Alan telegraphed that day to Sherrill; but when the message had gone +doubt seized him. He awaited eagerly the coming of whoever Sherrill +might send and the revelations regarding Corvet which might come then; +but at the same time he shrunk from that revelation. He himself had +become, he knew, wholly of the lakes now; his life, whatever his future +might be, would be concerned with them. Yet he was not of them in the +way he would have wished to be; he was no more than a common seaman. +</P> + +<P> +Benjamin Corvet, when he went away, had tried to leave his place and +power among lakemen to Alan; Alan, refusing to accept what Corvet had +left until Corvet's reason should be known, had felt obliged also to +refuse friendship with the Sherrills. When revelation came, would it +make possible Alan's acceptance of the place Corvet had prepared for +him, or would it leave him where he was? Would it bring him nearer to +Constance Sherrill, or would it set him forever away from her? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A GHOST SHIP +</H4> + +<P> +"Colder some to-night, Conrad." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Strait's freezing over, they say." +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty stiff ice outside here already, sir." +</P> + +<P> +The skipper glanced out and smiled confidently but without further +comment; yet he took occasion to go down and pass along the car deck +and observe the men who under direction of the mate were locking the +lugs under the car wheels, as the trains came on board. The wind, +which had risen with nightfall to a gale off the water, whipped snow +with it which swirled and back-eddied with the switching cars into the +great, gaping stern of the ferry. +</P> + +<P> +Officially, and to chief extent in actuality, navigation now had +"closed" for the winter. Further up the harbor, beyond Number 25, +glowed the white lanterns marking two vessels moored and "laid up" till +spring; another was still in the active process of "laying up." Marine +insurance, as regards all ordinary craft, had ceased; and the +Government at sunrise, five days before, had taken the warning lights +from the Straits of Mackinaw, from Ile-aux-Galets, from north Manitou, +and the Fox Islands; and the light at Beaver Island had but five nights +more to burn. +</P> + +<P> +Alan followed as the captain went below, and he went aft between the +car tracks, watching old Burr. Having no particular duty when the boat +was in dock, old Burr had gone toward the steamer "laying up," and now +was standing watching with absorption the work going on. There was a +tug a little farther along, with steam up and black smoke pouring from +its short funnel. Old Burr observed this boat too and moved up a +little nearer. Alan, following the wheelsman, came opposite the stern +of the freighter; the snow let through enough of the light from the +dock to show the name <I>Stoughton</I>. It was, Alan knew, a Corvet, +Sherrill, and Spearman ship. He moved closer to old Burr and watched +him more intently. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" he asked, as the old man halted and, looking down +at the tug, shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"They're crossing," the wheelsman said aloud, but more to himself than +to Alan. "They're laying her up here," he jerked his head toward the +<I>Stoughton</I>. "Then they're crossing to Manitowoc on the tug." +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter with that?" Alan cried. +</P> + +<P> +Burr drew up his shoulders and ducked his head down as a gust blew. It +was cold, very cold indeed in that wind, but the old man had on a +mackinaw and, out on the lake, Alan had seen him on deck coatless in +weather almost as cold as this. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a winter storm," Alan cried. "It's like it that way; but +to-day's the 15th, not the 5th of December!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's right," Burr agreed. "That's right." +</P> + +<P> +The reply was absent, as though Alan had stumbled upon what he was +thinking, and Burr had no thought yet to wonder at it. +</P> + +<P> +"And it's the <I>Stoughton</I> they're laying up, not the—" he stopped and +stared at Burr to let him supply the word and, when the old man did +not, he repeated again—"not the—" +</P> + +<P> +"No," Burr agreed again, as though the name had been given. "No." +</P> + +<P> +"It was the <I>Martha Corvet</I> you laid up, wasn't it?" Alan cried +quickly. "Tell me—that time on the 5th—it was the <I>Martha Corvet</I>?" +</P> + +<P> +Burr jerked away; Alan caught him again and, with physical strength, +detained him. "Wasn't it that?" he demanded. "Answer me; it was the +<I>Martha Corvet</I>?" +</P> + +<P> +The wheelsman struggled; he seemed suddenly terrified with the terror +which, instead of weakening, supplied infuriated strength. He threw +Alan off for an instant and started to flee back toward the ferry; and +now Alan let him go, only following a few steps to make sure that the +wheelsman returned to Number 25. +</P> + +<P> +Watching old Burr until he was aboard the ferry, Alan spun about and +went back to the <I>Stoughton</I>. +</P> + +<P> +Work of laying up the big steamer had been finished, and in the +snow-filled dusk her crew were coming ashore. Alan, boarding, went to +the captain's cabin, where he found the <I>Stoughton's</I> master making +ready to leave the ship. The captain, a man of forty-five or fifty, +reminded Alan vaguely of one of the shipmasters who had been in +Spearman's office when Alan first went there in the spring. If he had +been there, he showed no recollection of Alan now, but good-humoredly +looked up for the stranger to state his business. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm from Number 25," Alan introduced himself. "This is a Corvet, +Sherrill, and Spearman ship. Do you know Mr. Corvet when you see him, +sir?" +</P> + +<P> +"Know Ben Corvet?" the captain repeated. The manner of the young man +from the car ferry told him it was not an idle question. "Yes; I know +Ben Corvet. I ain't seen him much in late years." +</P> + +<P> +"Will you come with me for a few minutes then, Captain?" Alan asked. +As the skipper stared at him and hesitated, Alan made explanation, "Mr. +Corvet has been missing for months. His friends have said he's been +away somewhere for his health; but the truth is, he's been missing. +There's a man I want you to look at, Captain—if you used to know Mr. +Corvet." +</P> + +<P> +"I've heard of that." The captain moved alertly now. "Where is he?" +</P> + +<P> +Alan led the master to the Ferry. Old Burr had left the car deck; they +found him on his way to the wheelhouse. +</P> + +<P> +The <I>Stoughton's</I> skipper stared. "That the man?" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir. Remember to allow for his clothes and his not being shaved +and that something has happened." +</P> + +<P> +The <I>Stoughton's</I> skipper followed to the wheelhouse and spoke to Burr. +Alan's blood beat fast as he watched this conversation. Once or twice +more the skipper seemed surprised; but it was plain that his first +interest in Burr quickly had vanished; when he left the wheelhouse, he +returned to Alan indulgently. "You thought that was Mr. Corvet?" he +asked, amused. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't think so?" Alan asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Ben Corvet like that? Did you ever see Ben Corvet?" +</P> + +<P> +"Only his picture," Alan confessed. "But you looked queer when you +first saw Burr." +</P> + +<P> +"That was a trick of his eyes. Say, they did give me a start. Ben +Corvet had just that sort of trick of looking through a man." +</P> + +<P> +"And his eyes were like that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. But Ben Corvet couldn't be like that!" +</P> + +<P> +Alan prepared to go on duty. He would not let himself be disappointed +by the skipper's failure to identify old Burr; the skipper had known +immediately at sight of the old man that he was the one whom Alan +thought was Corvet, and he had found a definite resemblance. It might +well have been only the impossibility of believing that Corvet could +have become like this which had prevented fuller recognition. Mr. +Sherrill, undoubtedly, would send some one more familiar with Benjamin +Corvet and who might make proper allowances. +</P> + +<P> +Alan went forward to his post as a blast from the steam whistle of the +switching engine, announcing that the cars all were on board, was +answered by a warning blast from the ferry. On the car decks the +trains had been secured in place; and, because of the roughness of the +weather, the wheels had been locked upon the tracks with additional +chains as well as with the blocks and chains usually used. Orders now +sounded from the bridge; the steel deck began to shake with the +reverberations of the engines; the mooring lines were taken in; the +rails upon the fantail of the ferry separated from the rails upon the +wharf, and clear water showed between. Alan took up his slow pace as +lookout from rail to rail across the bow, straining his eyes forward +into the thickness of the snow-filled night. +</P> + +<P> +Because of the severe cold, the watches had been shortened. Alan would +be relieved from time to time to warm himself, and then he would return +to duty again. Old Burr at the wheel would be relieved and would go on +duty at the same hours as Alan himself. Benjamin Corvet! The fancy +reiterated itself to him. Could he be mistaken? Was that man, whose +eyes turned alternately from the compass to the bow of the ferry as it +shifted and rose and fell, the same who had sat in that lonely chair +turned toward the fireplace in the house on Astor Street? Were those +hands, which held the steamer to her course, the hands which had +written to Alan in secret from the little room off his bedroom and +which pasted so carefully the newspaper clippings concealed in the +library? +</P> + +<P> +Regularly at the end of every minute, a blast from the steam whistle +reverberated; for a while, signals from the shore answered; for a few +minutes the shore lights glowed through the snow. Then the lights were +gone, and the eddies of the gale ceased to bring echoes of the +obscuration signals. Steadily, at short, sixty-second intervals, the +blast of Number 25's warning burst from the whistle; then that too +stopped. The great ferry was on the lake alone; in her course, Number +25 was cutting across the lanes of all ordinary lake travel; but now, +with ordinary navigation closed, the position of every other ship upon +the lake was known to the officers, and formal signals were not thought +necessary. Flat floes, driven by wind and wave, had windrowed in their +course; as Number 25, which was capable of maintaining two thirds its +open water speed when running through solid "green" ice two feet thick, +met this obstruction, its undercut bow rose slightly; the ice, crushed +down and to the sides, hurled, pounding and scraping, under the keel +and along the black, steel sides of the ship; Alan could hear the hull +resounding to the buffeting as it hurled the floes away, and more came, +or the wind threw them back. The water was washing high—higher than +Alan had experienced seas before. The wind, smashing almost straight +across the lake from the west, with only a gust or two from the north, +was throwing up the water in great rushing ridges on which the bow of +Number 25 rose jerkily up and up, suddenly to fall, as the support +passed on, so that the next wave washed nearly to the rail. +</P> + +<P> +Alan faced the wind with mackinaw buttoned about his throat; to make +certain his hearing, his ears were unprotected. They numbed +frequently, and he drew a hand out of the glove to rub them. The +windows to protect the wheelsman had been dropped, as the snow had +gathered on the glass; and at intervals, as he glanced back, he could +see old Burr's face as he switched on a dim light to look at the +compass. The strange placidity which usually characterized the old +man's face had not returned to it since Alan had spoken with him on the +dock; its look was intent and queerly drawn. Was old Burr beginning to +remember—remember that he was Benjamin Corvet? Alan did not believe +it could be that; again and again he had spoken Corvet's name to him +without effect. Yet there must have been times when, if he was +actually Corvet, he had remembered who he was. He must have remembered +that when he had written directions to some one to send those things to +Constance Sherrill; or, a strange thought had come to Alan, had he +written those instructions to himself? Had there been a moment when he +had been so much himself that he had realized that he might not be +himself again and so had written the order which later, mechanically, +he had obeyed? This certainly would account for the package having +been mailed at Manitowoc and for Alan's failure to find out by whom it +had been mailed. It would account too for the unknown handwriting upon +the wrapper, if some one on the ferry had addressed the package for the +old man. He must inquire whether any one among the crew had done that. +</P> + +<P> +What could have brought back that moment of recollection to Corvet, +Alan wondered; the finding of the things which he had sent? What might +bring another such moment? Would his seeing the Sherrills again—or +Spearman—act to restore him? +</P> + +<P> +For half an hour Alan paced steadily at the bow. The storm was +increasing noticeably in fierceness; the wind-driven snowflakes had +changed to hard pellets which, like little bullets, cut and stung the +face; and it was growing colder. From a cabin window came the blue +flash of the wireless, which had been silent after notifying the shore +stations of their departure. It had commenced again; this was unusual. +Something still more unusual followed at once; the direction of the +gale seemed slowly to shift, and with it the wash of the water; instead +of the wind and the waves coming from dead ahead now, they moved to the +port beam, and Number 25, still pitching with the thrust through the +seas, also began to roll. This meant, of course, that the steamer had +changed its course and was making almost due north. It seemed to Alan +to force its engines faster; the deck vibrated more. Alan had not +heard the orders for this change and could only speculate as to what it +might mean. +</P> + +<P> +His relief came after a few minutes more. +</P> + +<P> +"Where are we heading?" Alan asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Radio," the relief announced. "The <I>H. C. Richardson</I> calling; she's +up by the Manitous." +</P> + +<P> +"What sort of trouble?" +</P> + +<P> +"She's not in trouble; it's another ship." +</P> + +<P> +"What ship?" +</P> + +<P> +"No word as to that." +</P> + +<P> +Alan, not delaying to question further, went back to the cabins. +</P> + +<P> +These stretched aft, behind the bridge, along the upper deck, some +score on each side of the ship; they had accommodations for almost a +hundred passengers; but on this crossing only a few were occupied. +Alan had noticed some half dozen men—business men, no doubt, forced to +make the crossing and, one of them, a Catholic priest, returning +probably to some mission in the north; he had seen no women among them. +A little group of passengers were gathered now in the door of or just +outside the wireless cabin, which was one of the row on the starboard +side. Stewards stood with them and the cabin maid; within, and bending +over the table with the radio instrument, was the operator with the +second officer beside him. The violet spark was rasping, and the +operator, his receivers strapped over his ears, strained to listen. He +got no reply, evidently, and he struck his key again; now, as he +listened, he wrote slowly on a pad. +</P> + +<P> +"You got 'em?" some one cried. "You got 'em now?" +</P> + +<P> +The operator continued to write; the second mate, reading, shook his +head, "It's only the <I>Richardson</I> again." +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" Alan asked the officer. +</P> + +<P> +"The <I>Richardson</I> heard four blasts of a steam whistle about an hour +ago when she was opposite the Manitous. She answered with the whistle +and turned toward the blasts. She couldn't find any ship." The +officer's reply was interrupted by some of the others. "Then ... that +was a few minutes ago ... they heard the four long again.... They'd +tried to pick up the other ship with radio before.... Yes; we got that +here.... Tried again and got no answer.... But they heard the blasts +for half an hour.... They said they seemed to be almost beside the +ship once.... But they didn't see anything. Then the blasts stopped +... sudden, cut off short in the middle as though something +happened.... She was blowing distress all right.... The +<I>Richardson's</I> searching again now.... Yes, she's searching for boats." +</P> + +<P> +"Any one else answered?" Alan asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Shore stations on both sides." +</P> + +<P> +"Do they know what ship it is?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"What ship might be there now?" +</P> + +<P> +The officer could not answer that. He had known where the <I>Richardson</I> +must be; he knew of no other likely to be there at this season. The +spray from the waves had frozen upon Alan; ice gleamed and glinted from +the rail and from the deck. Alan's shoulders drew up in a spasm. The +<I>Richardson</I>, they said, was looking for boats; how long could men live +in little boats exposed to that gale and cold? +</P> + +<P> +He turned back to the others about the radio cabin; the glow from +within showed him faces as gray as his; it lighted a face on the +opposite side of the door—a face haggard with dreadful fright. Old +Burr jerked about as Alan spoke to him and moved away alone; Alan +followed him and seized his arm. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" Alan demanded, holding to him. +</P> + +<P> +"The four blasts!" the wheelsman repeated. "They heard the four +blasts!" He iterated it once more. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," Alan urged. "Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"But where no ship ought to be; so they couldn't find the ship—they +couldn't find the ship!" Terror, of awful abjectness, came over the +old man. He freed himself from Alan and went forward. +</P> + +<P> +Alan followed him to the quarters of the crew, where night lunch for +the men relieved from watch had been set out, and took a seat at the +table opposite him. The louder echoing of the steel hull and the roll +and pitching of the vessel, which set the table with its dishes +swaying, showed that the sea was still increasing, and also that they +were now meeting heavier ice. At the table men computed that Number 25 +had now made some twenty miles north off its course, and must therefore +be approaching the neighborhood where the distress signals had been +heard; they speculated uselessly as to what ship could have been in +that part of the lake and made the signals. Old Burr took no part in +this conversation, but listened to it with frightened eyes, and +presently got up and went away, leaving his coffee unfinished. +</P> + +<P> +Number 25 was blowing its steam whistle again at the end of every +minute. +</P> + +<P> +Alan, after taking a second cup of coffee, went aft to the car deck. +The roar and echoing tumult of the ice against the hull here drowned +all other sounds. The thirty-two freight cars, in their four long +lines, stood wedged and chained and blocked in place; they tipped and +tilted, rolled and swayed like the stanchions and sides of the ship, +fixed and secure. Jacks on the steel deck under the edges of the cars, +kept them from rocking on their trucks. Men paced watchfully between +the tracks, observing the movement of the cars. The cars creaked and +groaned, as they worked a little this way and that; the men sprang with +sledges and drove the blocks tight again or took an additional turn +upon the jacks. +</P> + +<P> +As Alan ascended and went forward to his duty, the increase in the +severity of the gale was very evident; the thermometer, the wheelsman +said, had dropped below zero. Ice was making rapidly on the hull of +the ferry, where the spray, flying thicker through the snow, was +freezing as it struck. The deck was all ice now underfoot, and the +rails were swollen to great gleaming slabs which joined and grew +together; a parapet of ice had appeared on the bow; and all about the +swirling snow screen shut off everything. A searchlight which had +flared from the bridge while Alan was below, pierced that screen not a +ship's length ahead, or on the beam, before the glare dimmed to a glow +which served to show no more than the fine, flying pellets of the +storm. Except for the noise of the wind and the water, there had been +no echo from beyond that screen since the shore signals were lost; now +a low, far-away sound came down the wind; it maintained itself for a +few seconds, ceased, and then came again, and continued at uneven +intervals longer than the timed blasts of Number 25's whistle. It +might be the horn of some struggling sailing vessel, which in spite of +the storm and the closed season was braving the seas; at the end of +each interval of silence, the horn blew twice now; the echo came abeam, +passed astern, and was no longer to be heard. How far away its origin +had been, Alan could only guess; probably the sailing vessel, away to +windward, had not heard the whistle of Number 25 at all. +</P> + +<P> +Alan saw old Burr who, on his way to the wheelhouse, had halted to +listen too. For several minutes the old man stood motionless; he came +on again and stopped to listen. There had been no sound for quite five +minutes now. +</P> + +<P> +"You hear 'em?" Burr's voice quavered in Alan's ear. "You hear 'em?" +</P> + +<P> +"What?" Alan asked. +</P> + +<P> +"The four blasts! You hear 'em now? The four blasts!" +</P> + +<P> +Burr was straining as he listened, and Alan stood still too; no sound +came to him but the noise of the storm. "No," he replied. "I don't +hear anything. Do you hear them now?" +</P> + +<P> +Burr stood beside him without making reply; the searchlight, which had +been pointed abeam, shot its glare forward, and Alan could see Burr's +face in the dancing reflection of the flare. The man had never more +plainly resembled the picture of Benjamin Corvet; that which had been +in the picture, that strange sensation of something haunting him, was +upon this man's face, a thousand times intensified; but instead of +distorting the features away from all likeness to the picture, it made +it grotesquely identical. +</P> + +<P> +And Burr was hearing something—something distinct and terrifying; but +he seemed not surprised, but rather satisfied that Alan had not heard. +He nodded his head at Alan's denial, and, without reply to Alan's +demand, he stood listening. Something bent him forward; he +straightened; again the something came; again he straightened. Four +times Alan counted the motions. Burr was hearing again the four long +blasts of distress! But there was no noise but the gale. "The four +blasts!" He recalled old Burr's terror outside the radio cabin. The +old man was hearing blasts which were not blown! +</P> + +<P> +He moved on and took the wheel. He was a good wheelsman; the vessel +seemed to be steadier on her course and, somehow, to steam easier when +the old man steered. His illusions of hearing could do no harm, Alan +considered; they were of concern only to Burr and to him. +</P> + +<P> +Alan, relieving the lookout at the bow, stood on watch again. The +ferry thrust on alone; in the wireless cabin the flame played steadily. +They had been able to get the shore stations again on both sides of the +lake and also the <I>Richardson</I>. As the ferry had worked northward, the +<I>Richardson</I> had been working north too, evidently under the impression +that the vessel in distress, if it had headway, was moving in that +direction. By its position, which the <I>Richardson</I> gave, the steamers +were about twenty miles apart. +</P> + +<P> +Alan fought to keep his thought all to his duty; they must be now very +nearly at the position where the <I>Richardson</I> last had heard the four +long blasts; searching for a ship or for boats, in that snow, was +almost hopeless. With sight even along the searchlight's beam +shortened to a few hundred yards, only accident could bring Number 25 +up for rescue, only chance could carry the ship where the shouts—or +the blasts of distress if the wreck still floated and had steam—would +be heard. +</P> + +<P> +Half numbed by the cold, Alan stamped and beat his arms about his body; +the swing of the searchlight in the circle about the ship had become +long ago monotonous, purely mechanical, like the blowing of the +whistle; Alan stared patiently along the beam as it turned through the +sector where he watched. They were meeting frequent and heavy floes, +and Alan gave warning of these by hails to the bridge; the bridge +answered and when possible the steamer avoided the floes; when it could +not do that, it cut through them. The windrowed ice beating and +crushing under the bows took strange, distorted, glistening shapes. +Now another such shape appeared before them; where the glare dissipated +to a bare glow in the swirling snow, he saw a vague shadow. The man +moving the searchlight failed to see it, for he swung the beam on. The +shadow was so dim, so ghostly, that Alan sought for it again before he +hailed; he could see nothing now, yet he was surer, somehow, that he +had seen. +</P> + +<P> +"Something dead ahead, sir!" he shouted back to the bridge. +</P> + +<P> +The bridge answered the hail as the searchlight pointed forward again. +A gust carried the snow in a fierce flurry which the light failed to +pierce; from the flurry suddenly, silently, spar by spar, a shadow +emerged—the shadow of a ship. It was a steamer, Alan saw, a long, +low-lying old vessel without lights and without smoke from the funnel +slanting up just forward of the after deckhouse; it rolled in the +trough of the sea. The sides and all the lower works gleamed in +ghostly phosphorescence, it was refraction of the searchlight beam from +the ice sheathing all the ship, Alan's brain told him; but the sight of +that soundless, shimmering ship materializing from behind the screen of +snow struck a tremor through him. +</P> + +<P> +"Ship!" he hailed. "Ahead! Dead ahead, sir! Ship!" +</P> + +<P> +The shout of quick commands echoed to him from the bridge. Underfoot +he could feel a new tumult of the deck; the engines, instantly stopped, +were being set full speed astern. But Number 25, instead of sheering +off to right or to left to avoid the collision, steered straight on. +</P> + +<P> +The struggle of the engines against the momentum of the ferry told that +others had seen the gleaming ship or, at least, had heard the hail. +The skipper's instant decision had been to put to starboard; he had +bawled that to the wheelsman, "Hard over!" But, though the screws +turned full astern, Number 25 steered straight on. The flurry was +blowing before the bow again; back through the snow the ice-shrouded +shimmer ahead retreated. Alan leaped away and up to the wheelhouse. +</P> + +<P> +Men were struggling there—the skipper, a mate, and old Burr, who had +held the wheel. He clung to it yet, as one in a trance, fixed, staring +ahead; his arms, stiff, had been holding Number 25 to her course. The +skipper struck him and beat him away, while the mate tugged at the +wheel. Burr was torn from the wheel now, and he made no resistance to +the skipper's blows; but the skipper, in his frenzy, struck him again +and knocked him to the deck. +</P> + +<P> +Slowly, steadily, Number 25 was responding to her helm. The bow +pointed away, and the beam of the ferry came beside the beam of the +silent steamer; they were very close now, so close that the +searchlight, which had turned to keep on the other vessel, shot above +its shimmering deck and lighted only the spars; and, as the water rose +and fell between them, the ships sucked closer. Number 25 shook with +an effort; it seemed opposing with all the power of its screws some +force fatally drawing it on—opposing with the last resistance before +giving way. Then, as the water fell again, the ferry seemed to slip +and be drawn toward the other vessel; they mounted, side by side ... +crashed ... recoiled ... crashed again. That second crash threw all +who had nothing to hold by, flat upon the deck; then Number 25 moved +by; astern her now the silent steamer vanished in the snow. +</P> + +<P> +Gongs boomed below; through the new confusion and the cries of men, +orders began to become audible. Alan, scrambling to his knees, put an +arm under old Burr, half raising him; the form encircled by his arm +struggled up. The skipper, who had knocked Burr away from the wheel, +ignored him now. The old man, dragging himself up and holding to Alan, +was staring with terror at the snow screen behind which the vessel had +disappeared. His lips moved. +</P> + +<P> +"It was a ship!" he said; he seemed sneaking more to himself than to +Alan. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes"; Alan said. "It was a ship; and you thought—" +</P> + +<P> +"It wasn't there!" the wheelsman cried. "It's—it's been there all the +time all night, and I'd—I'd steered through it ten times, twenty +times, every few minutes; and then—that time it was a ship!" +</P> + +<P> +Alan's excitement grew greater; he seized the old man again. "You +thought it was the <I>Miwaka</I>!" Alan exclaimed. "The <I>Miwaka</I>! And you +tried to steer through it again." +</P> + +<P> +"The <I>Miwaka</I>!" old Burr's lips reiterated the word. "Yes; yes—the +<I>Miwaka</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +He struggled, writhing with some agony not physical. Alan tried to +hold him, but now the old man was beside himself with dismay. He broke +away and started aft. The captain's voice recalled Alan to himself, as +he was about to follow, and he turned back to the wheelhouse. +</P> + +<P> +The mate was at the wheel. He shouted to the captain about following +the other ship; neither of them had seen sign of any one aboard it. +"Derelict!" the skipper thought. The mate was swinging Number 25 about +to follow and look at the ship again; and the searchlight beam swept +back and forth through the snow; the blasts of the steam whistle, which +had ceased after the collision, burst out again. As before, no +response came from behind the snow. The searchlight picked up the +silent ship again; it had settled down deeper now by the bow, Alan saw; +the blow from Number 25 had robbed it of its last buoyancy; it was +sinking. It dove down, then rose a little—sounds came from it +now—sudden, explosive sounds; air pressure within hurled up a hatch; +the tops of the cabins blew off, and the stem of the ship slipped down +deep again, stopped, then dove without halt or recovery this time, and +the stern, upraised with the screw motionless, met the high wash of a +wave, and went down with it and disappeared. +</P> + +<P> +No man had shown himself; no shout had been heard; no little boat was +seen or signalled. +</P> + +<P> +The second officer, who had gone below to ascertain the damage done to +the ferry, came up to report. Two of the compartments, those which had +taken the crush of the collision, had flooded instantly; the bulkheads +were holding—only leaking a little, the officer declared. Water was +coming into a third compartment, that at the stern; the pumps were +fighting this water. The shock had sprung seams elsewhere; but if the +after compartment did not fill, the pumps might handle the rest. +</P> + +<P> +Soddenness already was coming into the response of Number 25 to the +lift of the waves; the ferry rolled less to the right as she came +about, beam to the waves, and she dropped away more dully and deeply to +the left; the ship was listing to port and the lift of the ice-heaped +bow told of settling by the stern. Slowly Number 25 circled about, her +engines holding bare headway; the radio, Alan heard, was sending to the +<I>Richardson</I> and to the shore stations word of the finding and sinking +of the ship and of the damage done to Number 25; whether that damage +yet was described in the dispatches as disaster, Alan did not know. +The steam whistle, which continued to roar, maintained the single, +separated blasts of a ship still seaworthy and able to steer and even +to give assistance. Alan was at the bow again on lookout duty, ordered +to listen and to look for the little boats. +</P> + +<P> +He gave to that duty all his conscious attention; but through his +thought, whether he willed it or not, ran a riotous exultation. As he +paced from side to side and hailed and answered hails from the bridge, +and while he strained for sight and hearing through the gale-swept +snow, the leaping pulse within repeated, "I've found him! I've found +him!" Alan held no longer possibility of doubt of old Burr's identity +with Benjamin Corvet, since the old man had made plain to him that he +was haunted by the <I>Miwaka</I>. Since that night in the house on Astor +Street, when Spearman shouted to Alan that name, everything having to +do with the secret of Benjamin Corvet's life had led, so far as Alan +could follow it, to the <I>Miwaka</I>; all the change, which Sherrill +described but could not account for, Alan had laid to that. Corvet +only could have been so haunted by that ghostly ship, and there had +been guilt of some awful sort in the old man's cry. Alan had found the +man who had sent him away to Kansas when he was a child, who had +supported him there and then, at last, sent for him; who had +disappeared at his coming and left him all his possessions and his +heritage of disgrace, who had paid blackmail to Luke, and who had sent, +last, Captain Stafford's watch and the ring which came with it—the +wedding ring. +</P> + +<P> +Alan pulled his hand from his glove and felt in his pocket for the +little band of gold. What would that mean to him now; what of that was +he to learn? And, as he thought of that, Constance Sherrill came more +insistently before him. What was he to learn for her, for his friend +and Benjamin Corvet's friend, whom he, Uncle Benny, had warned not to +care for Henry Spearman, and then had gone away to leave her to marry +him? For she was to marry him, Alan had read. +</P> + +<P> +It was with this that cold terror suddenly closed over him. Would he +learn anything now from Benjamin Corvet, though he had found him? Only +for an instant—a fleeting instant—had Benjamin Corvet's brain become +clear as to the cause of his hallucination; consternation had +overwhelmed him then, and he struggled free to attempt to mend the +damage he had done. +</P> + +<P> +More serious damage than first reported! The pumps certainly must be +losing their fight with the water in the port compartment aft; for the +bow steadily was lifting, the stern sinking. The starboard rail too +was raised, and the list had become so sharp that water washed the deck +abaft the forecastle to port. And the ferry was pointed straight into +the gale now; long ago she had ceased to circle and steam slowly in +search for boats; she struggled with all her power against the wind and +the seas, a desperate insistence throbbing in the thrusts of the +engines; for Number 25 was fleeing—fleeing for the western shore. She +dared not turn to the nearer eastern shore to expose that shattered +stern to the seas. +</P> + +<P> +Four bells beat behind Alan; it was two o'clock. Relief should have +come long before; but no one came. He was numbed now; ice from the +spray crackled upon his clothing when he moved, and it fell in flakes +upon the deck. The stark figure on the bridge was that of the second +officer; so the thing which was happening below—the thing which was +sending strange, violent, wanton tremors through the ship—was serious +enough to call the skipper below, to make him abandon the bridge at +this time! The tremors, quite distinct from the steady tremble of the +engines and the thudding of the pumps, came again. Alan, feeling them, +jerked up and stamped and beat his arms to regain sensation. Some one +stumbled toward him from the cabins now, a short figure in a great +coat. It was a woman, he saw as she hailed him—the cabin maid. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm taking your place!" she shouted to Alan. "You're wanted—every +one's wanted on the car deck! The cars—" The gale and her fright +stopped her voice as she struggled for speech, "The cars—the cars are +loose!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +"HE KILLED YOUR FATHER" +</H4> + +<P> +Alan ran aft along the starboard side, catching at the rail as the deck +tilted; the sounds within the hull and the tremors following each sound +came to him more distinctly as he advanced. Taking the shortest way to +the car deck, he turned into the cabins to reach the passengers' +companionway. The noises from the car deck, no longer muffled by the +cabins, clanged and resounded in terrible tumult; with the clang and +rumble of metal, rose shouts and roars of men. +</P> + +<P> +To liberate and throw overboard heavily loaded cars from an endangered +ship was so desperate an undertaking and so certain to cost life that +men attempted it only in final extremities, when the ship must be +lightened at any cost. Alan had never seen the effect of such an +attempt, but he had heard of it as the fear which sat always on the +hearts of the men who navigate the ferries—the cars loose on a +rolling, lurching ship! He was going to that now. Two figures +appeared before him, one half supporting, half dragging the other. +Alan sprang and offered aid; but the injured man called to him to go +on; others needed him. Alan went past them and down the steps to the +car deck. Half-way down, the priest whom he had noticed among the +passengers stood staring aft, a tense, black figure; beside him other +passengers were clinging to the handrail and staring down in awestruck +fascination. The lowest steps had been crushed back and half up-torn; +some monstrous, inanimate thing was battering about below; but the +space at the foot of the steps was clear at that moment. Alan leaped +over the ruin of the steps and down upon the car deck. +</P> + +<P> +A giant iron casting six feet high and yards across and tons in weight, +tumbled and ground before him; it was this which had swept away the +steps; he had seen it, with two others like it, upon a flat car which +had been shunted upon one of the tracks on the starboard side of the +ferry, one of the tracks on his left now as he faced the stern. He +leaped upon and over the great casting, which turned and spun with the +motion of the ship as he vaulted it. The car deck was a pitching, +swaying slope; the cars nearest him were still upon their tracks, but +they tilted and swayed uglily from side to side; the jacks were gone +from under them; the next cars already were hurled from the rails, +their wheels screaming on the steel deck, clanging and thudding +together in their couplings. +</P> + +<P> +Alan ran aft between them. All the crew who could be called from deck +and engine room and firehold were struggling at the fantail, under the +direction of the captain, to throw off the cars. The mate was working +as one of the men, and with him was Benjamin Corvet. The crew already +must have loosened and thrown over the stern three cars from the two +tracks on the port side; for there was a space vacant; and as the train +charged into that space and the men threw themselves upon it, Alan +leaped with them. +</P> + +<P> +The leading car—a box car, heavily laden—swayed and shrieked with the +pitching of the ship. Corvet sprang between it and the car coupled +behind; he drew out the pin from the coupling, and the men with +pinch-bars attacked the car to isolate it and force it aft along the +track. It moved slowly at first; then leaped its length; sharply with +the lift of the deck, it stopped, toppled toward the men who, yelling +to one another, scrambled away. The hundred-ton mass swung from side +to side; the ship dropped swiftly to starboard, and the stern went +down; the car charged, and its aftermost wheels left the deck; it swung +about, slewed, and jammed across both port tracks. The men attacked it +with dismay; Corvet's shout called them away and rallied them farther +back; they ran with him to the car from which he had uncoupled it. +</P> + +<P> +It was a flat car laden with steel beams. At Corvet's command, the +crew ranged themselves beside it with bars. The bow of the ferry rose +to some great wave and, with a cry to the men, Corvet pulled the pin. +The others thrust with their bars, and the car slid down the sloping +track; and Corvet, caught by some lashing of the beams, came with it. +The car crashed into the box car, splintered it, turned it, shoved it, +and thrust it over the fantail into the water; the flat car, telescoped +into it, was dragged after. Alan leaped upon it and catching at +Corvet, freed him and flung him down to the deck, and dropped with him. +A cheer rose as the car cleared the fantail, dove, and disappeared. +</P> + +<P> +Alan clambered to his feet. Corvet already was back among the cars +again, shouting orders; the mate and the men who had followed him +before leaped at his yells. The lurch which had cleared the two cars +together had jumped others away from the rails. They hurtled from side +to side, splintering against the stanchions which stayed them from +crashing across the center line of the ship; rebounding, they battered +against the cars on the outer tracks and crushed them against the side +of the ship. The wedges, blocks, and chains which had secured them +banged about on the deck, useless; the men who tried to control these +cars, dodging as they charged, no longer made attempt to secure the +wheels. Corvet called them to throw ropes and chains to bind the loads +which were letting go; the heavier loads—steel beams, castings, +machinery—snapped their lashings, tipped from their flat cars and +thundered down the deck. The cars tipped farther, turned over; others +balanced back; it was upon their wheels that they charged forward, half +riding one another, crashing and demolishing, as the ferry pitched; it +was upon their trucks that they tottered and battered from side to side +as the deck swayed. Now the stern again descended; a line of cars +swept for the fantail. Corvet's cry came to Alan through the screaming +of steel and the clangor of destruction. Corvet's cry sent men with +bars beside the cars as the fantail dipped into the water; Corvet, +again leading his crew, cleared the leader of those madly charging cars +and ran it over the stern. +</P> + +<P> +The fore trucks fell and, before the rear trucks reached the edge, the +stern lifted and caught the car in the middle; it balanced, half over +the water, half over the deck. Corvet crouched under the car with a +crowbar; Alan and two others went with him; they worked the car on +until the weight of the end over the water tipped it down; the balance +broke, and the car tumbled and dived. Corvet, having cleared another +hundred tons, leaped back, calling to the crew. +</P> + +<P> +They followed him again, unquestioning, obedient. Alan followed close +to him. It was not pity which stirred him now for Benjamin Corvet; nor +was it bitterness; but it certainly was not contempt. Of all the ways +in which he had fancied finding Benjamin Corvet, he had never thought +of seeing him like this! +</P> + +<P> +It was, probably, only for a flash; but the great quality of leadership +which he once had possessed, which Sherrill had described to Alan and +which had been destroyed by the threat over him, had returned to him in +this desperate emergency which he had created. How much or how little +of his own condition Corvet understood, Alan could not tell; it was +plain only that he comprehended that he had been the cause of the +catastrophe, and in his fierce will to repair it he not only +disregarded all risk to himself; he also had summoned up from within +him and was spending the last strength of his spirit. But he was +spending it in a losing fight. +</P> + +<P> +He got off two more cars; yet the deck only dipped lower, and water +washed farther and farther up over the fantail. New avalanches of iron +descended as box cars above burst open; monstrous dynamo drums, +broad-banded steel wheels and splintered crates of machinery battered +about. Men, leaping from before the charging cars, got caught in the +murderous melee of iron and steel and wheels; men's shrill cries came +amid the scream of metal. Alan, tugging at a crate which had struck +down a man, felt aid beside him and, turning, he saw the priest whom he +had passed on the stairs. The priest was bruised and bloody; this was +not his first effort to aid. Together they lifted an end of the crate; +they bent—Alan stepped back, and the priest knelt alone, his lips +repeating the prayer for absolution. Screams of men came from behind; +and the priest rose and turned. He saw men caught between two wrecks +of cars crushing together; there was no moment to reach them; he stood +and raised his arms to them, his head thrown back, his voice calling to +them, as they died, the words of absolution. +</P> + +<P> +Three more cars at the cost of two more lives the crew cleared, while +the sheathing of ice spread over the steel inboard, and dissolution of +all the cargo became complete. Cut stone and motor parts, chasses and +castings, furniture and beams, swept back and forth, while the cars, +burst and splintered, became monstrous missiles hurtling forward, +sidewise, aslant, recoiling. Yet men, though scattered singly, tried +to stay them by ropes and chains while the water washed higher and +higher. Dimly, far away, deafened out by the clangor, the steam +whistle of Number 25 was blowing the four long blasts of distress; Alan +heard the sound now and then with indifferent wonder. All destruction +had come for him to be contained within this car deck; here the ship +loosed on itself all elements of annihilation; who could aid it from +without? Alan caught the end of a chain which Corvet flung him and, +though he knew it was useless, he carried it across from one stanchion +to the next. Something, sweeping across the deck, caught him and +carried him with it; it brought him before the coupled line of trucks +which hurtled back and forth where the rails of track three had been. +He was hurled before them and rolled over; something cold and heavy +pinned him down; and upon him, the car trucks came. +</P> + +<P> +But, before them, something warm and living—a hand and bare arm +catching him quickly and pulling at him, tugged him a little farther +on. Alan, looking up, saw Corvet beside him; Corvet, unable to move +him farther, was crouching down there with him. Alan yelled to him to +leap, to twist aside and get out of the way; but Corvet only crouched +closer and put his arms over Alan; then the wreckage came upon them, +driving them apart. As the movement stopped, Alan still could see +Corvet dimly by the glow of the incandescent lamps overhead; the truck +separated them. It bore down upon Alan, holding him motionless and, on +the other side, it crushed upon Corvet's legs. +</P> + +<P> +He turned over, as far as he could, and spoke to Alan. "You have been +saving me, so now I tried to save you," he said simply. "What reason +did you have for doing that? Why have you been keeping by me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm Alan Conrad of Blue Rapids, Kansas," Alan cried to him. "And +you're Benjamin Corvet! You know me; you sent for me! Why did you do +that?" +</P> + +<P> +Corvet made no reply to this. Alan, peering at him underneath the +truck, could see that his hands were pressed against his face and that +his body shook. Whether this was from some new physical pain from the +movement of the wreckage, Alan did not know till he lowered his hands +after a moment; and now he did not heed Alan or seem even to be aware +of him. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear little Connie!" he said aloud. "Dear little Connie! She mustn't +marry him—not him! That must be seen to. What shall I do, what shall +I do?" +</P> + +<P> +Alan worked nearer him. "Why mustn't she marry him?" he cried to +Corvet. "Why? Ben Corvet, tell me! Tell me why!" +</P> + +<P> +From above him, through the clangor of the cars, came the four blasts +of the steam whistle. The indifference with which Alan had heard them +a few minutes before had changed now to a twinge of terror. When men +had been dying about him, in their attempts to save the ship, it had +seemed a small thing for him to be crushed or to drown with them and +with Benjamin Corvet, whom he had found at last. But Constance! +Recollection of her was stirring in Corvet the torture of will to live; +in Alan—he struggled and tried to free himself. As well as he could +tell by feeling, the weight above him confined but was not crushing +him; yet what gain for her if he only saved himself and not Corvet too? +He turned back to Corvet. +</P> + +<P> +"She's going to marry him, Ben Corvet!" he called. "They're betrothed; +and they're going to be married, she and Henry Spearman!" +</P> + +<P> +"Who are you?" Corvet seemed only with an effort to become conscious +of Alan's presence. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm Alan Conrad, whom you used to take care of. I'm from Blue Rapids. +You know about me; are you my father, Ben Corvet? Are you my father or +what—what are you to me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Your father?" Corvet repeated. "Did he tell you that? He killed your +father." +</P> + +<P> +"Killed him? Killed him how?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. He killed them all—all. But your father—he shot him; he +shot him through the head!" +</P> + +<P> +Alan twinged. Sight of Spearman came before him as he had first seen +Spearman, cowering in Corvet's library in terror at an apparition. +"And the bullet hole above the eye!" So that was the hole made by the +shot Spearman fired which had killed Alan's father—which shot him +through the head! Alan peered at Corvet and called to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Father Benitot!" Corvet called in response, not directly in reply to +Alan's question, rather in response to what those questions stirred. +"Father Benitot!" he appealed. "Father Benitot!" +</P> + +<P> +Some one, drawn by the cry, was moving wreckage near them. A hand and +arm with a torn sleeve showed; Alan could not see the rest of the +figure, but by the sleeve he recognized that it was the mate. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's caught here?" he called down. +</P> + +<P> +"Benjamin Corvet of Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman, ship owners of +Chicago," Corvet's voice replied deeply, fully; there was authority in +it and wonder too—the wonder of a man finding himself in a situation +which his recollection cannot explain. +</P> + +<P> +"Ben Corvet!" the mate shouted in surprise; he cried it to the others, +those who had followed Corvet and obeyed him during the hour before and +had not known why. The mate tried to pull the wreckage aside and make +his way to Corvet; but the old man stopped him. "The priest, Father +Benitot! Send him to me. I shall never leave here; send Father +Benitot!" +</P> + +<P> +The word was passed without the mate moving away. The mate, after a +minute, made no further attempt to free Corvet; that indeed was +useless, and Corvet demanded his right of sacrament from the priest who +came and crouched under the wreckage beside him. +</P> + +<P> +"Father Benitot!" +</P> + +<P> +"I am not Father Benitot. I am Father Perron of L'Anse." +</P> + +<P> +"It was to Father Benitot of St. Ignace I should have gone, Father! ..." +</P> + +<P> +The priest got a little closer as Corvet spoke, and Alan heard only +voices now and then through the sounds of clanging metal and the drum +of ice against the hull. The mate and his helpers were working to get +him free. They had abandoned all effort to save the ship; it was +settling. And with the settling, the movement of the wreckage +imprisoning Alan was increasing. This movement made useless the +efforts of the mate; it would free Alan of itself in a moment, if it +did not kill him; it would free or finish Corvet too. But he, as Alan +saw him, was wholly oblivious of that now. His lips moved quietly, +firmly; and his eyes were fixed steadily on the eyes of the priest. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +MR. SPEARMAN GOES NORTH +</H4> + +<P> +The message, in blurred lettering and upon the flimsy tissue paper of a +carbon copy—that message which had brought tension to the offices of +Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman and had called Constance Sherrill and +her mother downtown where further information could be more quickly +obtained—was handed to Constance by a clerk as soon as she entered her +father's office. She reread it; it already had been repeated to her +over the telephone. +</P> + +<P> +"4:05 A. M. Frankfort Wireless station has received following message +from No. 25: 'We have Benjamin Corvet, of Chicago, aboard.'" +</P> + +<P> +"You've received nothing later than this?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing regarding Mr. Corvet, Miss Sherrill," the clerk replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Or regarding— Have you obtained a passenger list?" +</P> + +<P> +"No passenger list was kept, Miss Sherrill." +</P> + +<P> +"The crew?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; we have just got the names of the crew." He took another copied +sheet from among the pages and handed it to her, and she looked swiftly +down the list of names until she found that of Alan Conrad. +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes filled, blinding her, as she put the paper down, and began to +take off her things. She had been clinging determinedly in her thought +to the belief that Alan might not have been aboard the ferry. Alan's +message, which had sent her father north to meet the ship, had implied +plainly that some one whom Alan believed might be Uncle Benny was on +Number 25; she had been fighting, these last few hours, against +conviction that therefore Alan must be on the ferry too. +</P> + +<P> +She stood by the desk, as the clerk went out, looking through the +papers which he had left with her. +</P> + +<P> +"What do they say?" her mother asked. +</P> + +<P> +Constance caught herself together. +</P> + +<P> +"Wireless signals from No. 25," she read aloud, "were plainly made out +at shore stations at Ludington, Manitowoc, and Frankfort until about +four o'clock, when—" +</P> + +<P> +"That is, until about six hours ago, Constance." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, mother, when the signals were interrupted. The steamer +<I>Richardson</I>, in response to whose signals No. 25 made the change in +her course which led to disaster, was in communication until about four +o'clock; Frankfort station picked up one message shortly after four, +and same message was also recorded by Carferry Manitoulin in southern +end of lake; subsequently all efforts to call No. 25 failed of response +until 4:35 when a message was picked up at once by Manitowoc, +Frankfort, and the <I>Richardson</I>. Information, therefore, regarding the +fate of the ferry up to that hour received at this office (Corvet, +Sherrill, and Spearman) consists of the following..." +</P> + +<P> +Constance stopped reading aloud and looked rapidly down the sheet and +then over the next. What she was reading was the carbon of the report +prepared that morning and sent, at his rooms, to Henry, who was not yet +down. It did not contain therefore the last that was known; and she +read only enough of it to be sure of that. +</P> + +<P> +"After 4:10, to repeated signals to Number 25 from <I>Richardson</I> and +shore stations—'Are you in danger?' 'Shall we send help?' 'Are you +jettisoning cars?' 'What is your position?'—no replies were received. +The <I>Richardson</I> continued therefore to signal, 'Report your position +and course; we will stand by,' at the same time making full speed +toward last position given by Number 25. At 4:35, no other message +having been obtained from Number 25 in the meantime, Manitowoc and +Frankfort both picked up the following: 'S.O.S. Are taking water fast. +S.O.S. Position probably twenty miles west N. Fox. S.O.S.' The +S.O.S. has been repeated, but without further information since." +</P> + +<P> +The report made to Henry ended here. Constance picked up the later +messages received in response to orders to transmit to Corvet, +Sherrill, and Spearman copies of all signals concerning Number 25 which +had been received or sent. She sorted out from them those dated after +the hour she just had read: +</P> + +<P> +"4:40, Manitowoc is calling No. 25, 'No. 26 is putting north to you. +Keep in touch.' +</P> + +<P> +"4:43, No. 26 is calling No. 25, 'What is your position?' +</P> + +<P> +"4:50, the <I>Richardson</I> is calling No. 25, 'We must be approaching you. +Are you giving whistle signals?' +</P> + +<P> +"4:53, No. 25 is replying to <I>Richardson</I>, 'Yes; will continue to +signal. Do you hear us?' +</P> + +<P> +"4:59, Frankfort is calling No. 25, 'What is your condition?' +</P> + +<P> +"5:04, No. 25 is replying to Frankfort, 'Holding bare headway; stern +very low.' +</P> + +<P> +"5:10, No. 26 is calling No. 25, 'Are you throwing off cars?' +</P> + +<P> +"5:14, Petoskey is calling Manitowoc, 'We are receiving S.O.S. What is +wrong?' Petoskey has not previously been in communication with shore +stations or ships. +</P> + +<P> +"5:17, No. 25 is signalling No. 26, 'Are throwing off cars; have +cleared eight; work very difficult. We are sinking.' +</P> + +<P> +"5:20, No. 25 is calling the <I>Richardson</I>, 'Watch for small boats. +Position doubtful because of snow and changes of course; probably due +west N. Fox, twenty to thirty miles.' +</P> + +<P> +"5:24, No. 26 is calling No. 25, 'Are you abandoning ship?' +</P> + +<P> +"5:27, No. 25 is replying to No. 26, 'Second boat just getting safely +away with passengers; first boat was smashed. Six passengers in second +boat, two injured of crew, cabin maid, boy and two men.' +</P> + +<P> +"5:30, Manitowoc and Frankfort are calling No. 25, 'Are you abandoning +ship?' +</P> + +<P> +"5:34, No. 25 is replying to Manitowoc, 'Still trying to clear cars; +everything is loose below...' +</P> + +<P> +"5:40, Frankfort is calling Manitowoc, 'Do you get anything now?' +</P> + +<P> +"5:45, Manitowoc is calling the <I>Richardson</I>, 'Do you get anything? +Signals have stopped here.' +</P> + +<P> +"5:48, The <I>Richardson</I> is calling Petoskey, 'We get nothing now. Do +you?' +</P> + +<P> +"6:30, Petoskey is calling Manitowoc, 'Signals after becoming +indistinct, failed entirely about 5:45, probably by failure of ship's +power to supply current. Operator appears to have remained at key. +From 5:25 to 5:43 we received disconnected messages, as follows: 'Have +cleared another car ... they are sticking to it down there ... +engine-room crew is also sticking ... hell on car deck ... everything +smashed ... they won't give up ... sinking now ... we're going ... +good-by ... stuck to end ... all they could ... know that ... hand it +to them ... have cleared another car ... sink ... S.O.... Signals then +entirely ceased.'" +</P> + +<P> +There was no more than this. Constance let the papers fall back upon +the desk and looked to her mother; Mrs. Sherrill loosened her fur +collar and sat back, breathing more comfortably. Constance quickly +shifted her gaze and, trembling and with head erect, she walked to the +window and looked out. The meaning of what she had read was quite +clear; her mother was formulating it. +</P> + +<P> +"So they are both lost, Mr. Corvet and his—son," Mrs. Sherrill said +quietly. +</P> + +<P> +Constance did not reply, either to refuse or to concur in the +conclusion. There was not anything which was meant to be merciless in +that conclusion; her mother simply was crediting what probably had +occurred. Constance could not in reason refuse to accept it too; yet +she was refusing it. She had not realized, until these reports of the +wireless messages told her that he was gone, what companionship with +Alan had come to mean to her. She had accepted it as always to be +existent, somehow—a companionship which might be interrupted often but +always to be formed again. It amazed her to find how firm a place he +had found in her world of those close to her with whom she must always +be intimately concerned. +</P> + +<P> +Her mother arose and came beside her. "May it not be better, +Constance, that it has happened this way?" +</P> + +<P> +"Better!" Constance cried. She controlled herself. +</P> + +<P> +It was only what Henry had said to her months ago when Alan had left +her in the north in the search which had resulted in the finding of +Uncle Benny—"Might it not be better for him not to find out?" Henry, +who could hazard more accurately than any one else the nature of that +strange secret which Alan now must have "found out," had believed it; +her mother, who at least had lived longer in the world than she, also +believed it. There came before Constance the vision of Alan's defiance +and refusal to accept the stigma suggested in her father's recital to +him of his relationship to Mr. Corvet. There came to her sight of him +as he had tried to keep her from entering Uncle Benny's house when Luke +was there, and then her waiting with him through the long hour and his +dismissal of her, his abnegation of their friendship. And at that time +his disgrace was indefinite; last night had he learned something worse +than he had dreaded? +</P> + +<P> +The words of his telegram took for her more terrible significance for +the moment. "Have some one who knew Mr. Corvet well enough to +recognize him even if greatly changed meet..." Were the broken, +incoherent words of the wireless the last that she should hear of him, +and of Uncle Benny, after that? "They are sticking to it ... down +there ... they won't give up ... sinking ... they have cleared another +car ... sink..." Had it come as the best way for them both? +</P> + +<P> +"The <I>Richardson</I> is searching for boats, mother," Constance returned +steadily, "and Number 26 must be there too by now." +</P> + +<P> +Her mother looked to the storm. Outside the window which overlooked +the lake from two hundred feet above the street, the sleet-like snow +was driving ceaselessly; all over the western basin of the great lakes, +as Constance knew—over Huron, over Michigan, and Superior—the storm +was established. Its continuance and severity had claimed a front-page +column in the morning papers. Duluth that morning had reported +temperature of eighteen below zero and fierce snow; at Marquette it was +fifteen below; there was driving snow at the Soo, at Mackinac, and at +all ports along both shores. She pictured little boats, at the last +moment, getting away from the ferry, deep-laden with injured and +exhausted men; how long might those men live in open boats in a gale +and with cold like that? The little clock upon her father's desk +marked ten o'clock; they had been nearly five hours in the boats now, +those men. +</P> + +<P> +Constance knew that as soon as anything new was heard, it would be +brought to her; yet, with a word to her mother, she went from her +father's room and down the corridor into the general office. A hush of +expectancy held this larger room; the clerks moved silently and spoke +to one another in low voices; she recognized in a little group of men +gathered in a corner of the room some officers of Corvet, Sherrill, and +Spearman's ships. Others among them, whom she did not know, were +plainly seamen too—men who knew "Ben" Corvet and who, on hearing he +was on the ferry, had come in to learn what more was known; the +business men and clubmen, friends of Corvet's later life, had not heard +it yet. There was a restrained, professional attentiveness among these +seamen, as of those in the presence of an event which any day might +happen to themselves. They were listening to the clerk who had +compiled the report, who was telephoning now, and Constance, waiting, +listened too to learn what he might be hearing. But he put down the +receiver as he saw her. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing more, Miss Sherrill," he reported. "The <I>Richardson</I> has +wirelessed that she reached the reported position of the sinking about +half-past six o'clock. She is searching but has found nothing." +</P> + +<P> +"She's keeping on searching, though?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; of course." +</P> + +<P> +"It's still snowing there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Miss Sherrill. We've had a message from your father. He has +gone on to Manistique; it's more likely that wreckage or survivors will +be brought in there." +</P> + +<P> +The telephone switchboard beside Constance suddenly buzzed, and the +operator, plugging in a connection, said: "Yes, sir; at once," and +through the partitions of the private office on the other side, a man's +heavy tones came to Constance. That was Henry's office and, in timbre, +the voice was his, but it was so strange in other characteristics of +expression that she waited an instant before saying to the clerk, +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Spearman has come in?" +</P> + +<P> +The clerk hesitated, but the continuance of the tone from the other +side of the partition made reply superfluous. "Yes, Miss Sherrill." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you tell him that mother and I were here?" +</P> + +<P> +The clerk considered again before deciding to reply in the affirmative. +There evidently was some trouble with the telephone number which Henry +had called; the girl at the switchboard was apologizing in frightened +panic, and Henry's voice, loud and abusive, came more plainly through +the partition. Constance started to give an instruction to the clerk; +then, as the abuse burst out again, she changed her plan and went to +Henry's door and rapped. Whether no one else rapped in that way or +whether he realized that she might have come into the general office, +she did not know; but at once his voice was still. He made no answer +and no move to open the door; so, after waiting a moment, she turned +the knob and went in. +</P> + +<P> +Henry was seated at his desk, facing her, his big hands before him; one +of them held the telephone receiver. He lifted it slowly and put it +upon the hook beside the transmitter as he watched her with steady, +silent, aggressive scrutiny. His face was flushed a little—not much; +his hair was carefully brushed, and there was something about his +clean-shaven appearance and the set of his perfectly fitting coat, one +which he did not ordinarily wear to business, which seemed studied. He +did not rise; only after a moment he recollected that he had not done +so and came to his feet. "Good morning, Connie," he said. "Come in. +What's the news?" +</P> + +<P> +There was something strained and almost menacing in his voice and in +his manner which halted her. She in some way—or her presence at that +moment—appeared to be definitely disturbing him. It frightened him, +she would have thought, except that the idea was a contradiction. +Henry frightened? But if he was not, what emotion now controlled him? +</P> + +<P> +The impulse which had brought her into his office went from her. She +had not seen nor heard from Henry directly since before Alan's telegram +had come late yesterday afternoon; she had heard from her father only +that he had informed Henry; that was all. +</P> + +<P> +"I've no news, Henry," she said. "Have you?" She closed the door +behind her before moving closer to him. She had not known what he had +been doing, since he had heard of Alan's telegram; but she had supposed +that he was in some way coöperating with her father, particularly since +word had come of the disaster to the ferry. +</P> + +<P> +"How did you happen to be here, Connie?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +She made no reply but gazed at him, studying him. The agitation which +he was trying to conceal was not entirely consequent to her coming in +upon him; it had been ruling him before. It had underlain the loudness +and abuse of his words which she had overheard. That was no capricious +outburst of temper or irritation; it had come from something which had +seized and held him in suspense, in dread—in dread; there was no other +way to define her impression to herself. When she had opened the door +and come in, he had looked up in dread, as though preparing himself for +whatever she might announce. Now that the door shut them in alone, he +approached her with arms offered. She stepped back, instinctively +avoiding his embrace; and he stopped at once, but he had come quite +close to her now. +</P> + +<P> +That she had detected faintly the smell of liquor +</P> + +<P> +about him was not the whole reason for her drawing back. He was not +drunk; he was quite himself so far as any influence of that kind was +concerned. Long ago, when he was a young man on the boats, he had +drunk a good deal; he had confessed to her once; but he had not done so +for years. Since she had known him, he had been among the most careful +of her friends; it was for "efficiency" he had said. The drink was +simply a part—indeed, only a small part—of the subtle strangeness and +peculiarity she marked in him. If he had been drinking now, it was, +she knew, no temptation, no capricious return to an old appetite. If +not appetite, then it was for the effect—to brace himself. Against +what? Against the thing for which he had prepared himself when she +came upon him? +</P> + +<P> +As she stared at him, the clerk's voice came to her suddenly over the +partition which separated the office from the larger room where the +clerk was receiving some message over the telephone. Henry +straightened, listened; as the voice stopped, his great, finely shaped +head sank between his shoulders; he fumbled in his pocket for a cigar, +and his big hands shook as he lighted it, without word of excuse to +her. A strange feeling came to her that he felt what he dreaded +approaching and was no longer conscious of her presence. +</P> + +<P> +She heard footsteps in the larger room coming toward the office door. +Henry was in suspense. A rap came at the door. He whitened and took +the cigar from his mouth and wet his lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Come in," he summoned. +</P> + +<P> +One of the office girls entered, bringing a white page of paper with +three or four lines of purple typewriting upon it which Constance +recognized must be a transcript of a message just received. +</P> + +<P> +She started forward at sight of it, forgetting everything else; but he +took the paper as though he did not know she was there. He merely held +it until the girl had gone out; even then he stood folding and +unfolding it, and his eyes did not drop to the sheet. +</P> + +<P> +The girl had said nothing at all but, having seen her, Constance was +athrill; the girl had not been a bearer of bad news, that was sure; she +brought some sort of good news! Constance, certain of it, moved nearer +to Henry to read what he held. He looked down and read. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, Henry?" +</P> + +<P> +His muscular reaction, as he read, had drawn the sheet away from her; +he recovered himself almost instantly and gave the paper to her; but, +in that instant, Constance herself was "prepared." She must have +deceived herself the instant before! This bulletin must be something +dismaying to what had remained of hope. +</P> + +<P> +"8:35 A.M., Manitowoc, Wis.," she read. "The schooner <I>Anna S. +Solwerk</I> has been sighted making for this port. She is not close +enough for communication, but two lifeboats, additional to her own, can +be plainly made out. It is believed that she must have picked up +survivors of No. 25. She carries no wireless, so is unable to report. +Tugs are going out to her." +</P> + +<P> +"Two lifeboats!" Constance cried. "That could mean that they all are +saved or nearly all; doesn't it, Henry; doesn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +He had read some other significance in it, she thought, or, from his +greater understanding of conditions in the storm, he had been able to +hold no hope from what had been reported. That was the only way she +could explain to herself as he replied to her; that the word meant to +him that men were saved and that therefore it was dismaying to him, +could not come to her at once. When it came now, it went over her +first only in the flash of incredulous question. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he said to her. "Yes." And he went out of the room to the +outer office. She turned and watched him and then followed to the +door. He had gone to the desk of the girl who had brought him the +bulletin, and Constance heard his voice, strained and queerly +unnatural. "Call Manitowoc on the long distance. Get the harbor +master. Get the names of the people that the <I>Solwerk</I> picked up." +</P> + +<P> +He stayed beside the girl while she started the call. "Put them on my +wire when you get them," he commanded and turned back to his office. +"Keep my wire clear for that." +</P> + +<P> +Constance retreated into the room as he approached. He did not want +her there now, she knew; for that reason—if she yet definitely +understood no other—she meant to remain. If he asked her to go, she +intended to stay; but he did not ask her. He wished her to go away; in +every word which he spoke to her, in every moment of their silent +waiting, was his desire to escape her; but he dared not—dared not—go +about that directly. +</P> + +<P> +The feeling of that flashed over her to her stupefaction. Henry and +she were waiting for word of the fate of Uncle Benny and Alan, and +waiting opposed! She was no longer doubting it as she watched him; she +was trying to understand. The telephone buzzer under his desk sounded; +she drew close as he took up his receiver. +</P> + +<P> +"Manitowoc?" he said. "I want to know what you've heard from the +<I>Solwerk</I>.... You hear me? ... The men the <I>Solwerk</I> picked up. You +have the names yet?" +</P> + +<P> +"..." +</P> + +<P> +"The <I>Benton</I>?" +</P> + +<P> +"..." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I understand! All from the <I>Benton</I>. I see! ... No; never mind +their names. How about Number 25? Nothing more heard from them?" +</P> + +<P> +Constance had caught his shoulder while he was speaking and now clung +to it. Release—release of strain was going through him; she could +feel it, and she heard it in his tones and saw it in his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"The steamer Number 25 rammed proves to have been the <I>Benton</I>," he +told her. "The men are all from her. They had abandoned her in the +small boats, and the <I>Solwerk</I> picked them up before the ferry found +her." +</P> + +<P> +He was not asking her to congratulate him upon the relief he felt; he +had not so far forgotten himself as that. But it was plain to her that +he was congratulating himself; it had been fear that he was feeling +before—fear, she was beginning to understand, that those on the ferry +had been saved. She shrank a little away from him. Benjamin Corvet +had not been a friend of Henry's—they had quarreled; Uncle Benny had +caused trouble; but nothing which she had understood could explain fear +on Henry's part lest Uncle Benny should be found safe. Henry had not +welcomed Alan; but now Henry was hoping that Alan was dead. Henry's +words to her in the north, after Alan had seen her there, iterated +themselves to her: "I told that fellow Conrad not to keep stirring up +these matters about Ben Corvet.... Conrad doesn't know what he'll turn +up; I don't know either. But it's not going to be anything +pleasant...." Only a few minutes ago she had still thought of these +words as spoken only for Alan's sake and for Uncle Benny's; now she +could not think of them so. This fear of news from the north could not +be for their sake; it was for Henry's own. Had all the warnings been +for Henry's sake too? +</P> + +<P> +Horror and amazement flowed in upon her with her realization of this in +the man she had promised to marry; and he seemed now to appreciate the +effect he was producing upon her. He tried obviously to pull himself +together; he could not do that fully; yet he managed a manner assertive +of his right over her. +</P> + +<P> +"Connie," he cried to her, "Connie!" +</P> + +<P> +She drew back from him as he approached her; she was not yet +consciously denying his right. What was controlling him, what might +underlie his hope that they were dead, she could not guess; she could +not think or reason about that now; what she felt was only overwhelming +desire to be away from him where she could think connectedly. For an +instant she stared at him, all her body tense; then, as she turned and +went out, he followed her, again calling her name. But, seeing the +seamen in the larger office, he stopped, and she understood he was not +willing to urge himself upon her in their presence. +</P> + +<P> +She crossed the office swiftly; in the corridor she stopped to compose +herself before she met her mother. She heard Henry's voice speaking to +one of the clerks, and flushed hotly with horror. Could she be certain +of anything about him now? Could she be certain even that news which +came through these employees of his would not be kept from her or only +so much given her as would serve Henry's purpose and enable him to +conceal from her the reason for his fear? She pushed the door open. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm willing to go home now, mother, if you wish," she said steadily. +</P> + +<P> +Her mother arose at once. "There is no more news, Constance?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; a schooner has picked up the crew of the ship the ferry rammed; +that is all." +</P> + +<P> +She followed her mother, but stopped in the ante-room beside the desk +of her father's private secretary. +</P> + +<P> +"You are going to be here all day, Miss Bennet?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Miss Sherrill." +</P> + +<P> +"Will you please try to see personally all messages which come to +Corvet, Sherrill and Spearman, or to Mr. Spearman about the men from +Number 25, and telephone them to me yourself?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly, Miss Sherrill." +</P> + +<P> +When they had gone down to the street and were in the car, Constance +leaned back, closing her eyes; she feared her mother might wish to talk +with her. The afternoon papers were already out with news of the loss +of the ferry; Mrs. Sherrill stopped the car and bought one, but +Constance looked at it only enough to make sure that the reporters had +been able to discover nothing more than she already knew; the newspaper +reference to Henry was only as to the partner of the great Chicago ship +owner, Benjamin Corvet, who might be lost with the ship. +</P> + +<P> +She called Miss Bennet as soon as she reached home; but nothing more +had been received. Toward three o'clock, Miss Bennet called her, but +only to report that the office had heard again from Mr. Sherrill. He +had wired that he was going on from Manistique and would cross the +Straits from St. Ignace; messages from him were to be addressed to +Petoskey. He had given no suggestion that he had news; and there was +no other report except that vessels were still continuing the search +for survivors, because the Indian Drum, which had been beating, was +beating "short," causing the superstitious to be certain that, though +some of the men from Number 25 were lost, some yet survived. +</P> + +<P> +Constance thrilled as she heard that. She did not believe in the Drum; +at least she had never thought she had really believed in it; she had +only stirred to the idea of its being true. But if the Drum was +beating, she was glad it was beating short. It was serving, at least, +to keep the lake men more alert. She wondered what part the report of +the Drum might have played in her father's movements. None, probably; +for he, of course, did not believe in the Drum. His move was plainly +dictated by the fact that, with the western gale, drift from the ferry +would be toward the eastern shore. +</P> + +<P> +A little later, as Constance stood at the window, gazing out at the +snow upon the lake, she drew back suddenly out of sight from the +street, as she saw Henry's roadster appear out of the storm and stop +before the house. +</P> + +<P> +She had been apprehensively certain that he would come to her some time +during the day; he had been too fully aware of the effect he made upon +her not to attempt to remove that effect as soon as he could. As he +got out of the car, shaking the snowflakes from his great fur coat and +from his cap, looking up at the house before he came in and not knowing +that he was observed, she saw something very like triumph in his +manner. Her pulses stopped, then raced, at that; triumph for him! +That meant, if he brought news, it was good news for him; it must be +then, bad news for her. +</P> + +<P> +She waited in the room where she was. She heard him in the hall, +taking off his coat and speaking to the servant, and he appeared then +at the door. The strain he was under had not lessened, she could see; +or rather, if she could trust her feeling at sight of him, it had +lessened only slightly, and at the same time his power to resist it had +been lessening too. His hands and even his body shook; but his head +was thrust forward, and he stared at her aggressively, and, plainly, he +had determined in advance to act toward her as though their +relationship had not been disturbed. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you'd want to know, Connie," he said, "so I came straight +out. The <I>Richardson's</I> picked up one of the boats from the ferry." +</P> + +<P> +"Uncle Benny and Alan Conrad were not in it," she returned; the triumph +she had seen in him had told her that. +</P> + +<P> +"No; it was the first boat put off by the ferry, with the passengers +and cabin maid and some injured men of the crew." +</P> + +<P> +"Were they—alive?" her voice hushed tensely. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; that is, they were able to revive them all; but it didn't seem +possible to the <I>Richardson's</I> officers that any one could be revived +who had been exposed much longer than that; so the <I>Richardson's</I> given +up the search, and some of the other ships that were searching have +given up too, and gone on their course." +</P> + +<P> +"When did you hear that, Henry? I was just speaking with the office." +</P> + +<P> +"A few minutes ago; a news wire got it before any one else; it didn't +come through the office." +</P> + +<P> +"I see; how many were in the boat?" +</P> + +<P> +"Twelve, Connie." +</P> + +<P> +"Then all the vessels up there won't give up yet!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was just talking with Miss Bennet, Henry; she's heard again from the +other end of the lake. The people up there say the Drum is beating, +but it's beating short still!" +</P> + +<P> +"Short!" +</P> + +<P> +She saw Henry stiffen. "Yes," she said swiftly. "They say the Drum +began sounding last night, and that at first it sounded for only two +lives; it's kept on beating, but still is beating only for four. There +were thirty-nine on the ferry—seven passengers and thirty-two crew. +Twelve have been saved now; so until the Drum raises the beats to +twenty-seven there is still a chance that some one will be saved." +</P> + +<P> +Henry made no answer; his hands fumbled purposelessly with the lapels +of his coat, and his bloodshot eyes wandered uncertainly. Constance +watched him with wonder at the effect of what she had told. When she +had asked him once about the Drum, he had professed the same scepticism +which she had; but he had not held it; at least he was not holding it +now. The news of the Drum had shaken him from his triumph over Alan +and Uncle Benny and over her. It had shaken him so that, though he +remained with her some minutes more, he seemed to have forgotten the +purpose of reconciliation with her which had brought him to the house. +When a telephone call took her out of the room, she returned to find +him gone to the dining-room; she heard a decanter clink there against a +glass. He did not return to her again, but she heard him go. The +entrance door closed after him, and the sound of his starting motor +came. Then alarm, stronger even than that she had felt during the +morning, rushed upon her. +</P> + +<P> +She dined, or made a pretence of dining, with her mother at seven. Her +mother's voice went on and on about trifles, and Constance did not try +to pay attention. Her thought was following Henry with ever sharpening +apprehension. She called the office in mid-evening; it would be open, +she knew, for messages regarding Uncle Benny and Alan would be expected +there. A clerk answered; no other news had been received; she then +asked Henry's whereabouts. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Spearman went north late this afternoon, Miss Sherrill," the clerk +informed her. +</P> + +<P> +"North? Where?" +</P> + +<P> +"We are to communicate with him this evening to Grand Rapids; after +that, to Petoskey." +</P> + +<P> +Constance could hear her own heart beat. Why had Henry gone, she +wondered; not, certainly, to aid the search. Had he gone to—hinder it? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE WATCH UPON THE BEACH +</H4> + +<P> +Constance went up to her own rooms; she could hear her mother speaking, +in a room on the same floor, to one of the maids; but for her present +anxiety, her mother offered no help and could not even be consulted. +Nor could any message she might send to her father explain the +situation to him. She was throbbing with determination and action, as +she found her purse and counted the money in it. She never in her life +had gone alone upon an extended journey, much less been alone upon a +train over night. If she spoke of such a thing now, she would be +prevented; no occasion for it would be recognized; she would not be +allowed to go, even if "properly accompanied." She could not, +therefore, risk taking a handbag from the house; so she thrust +nightdress and toilet articles into her muff and the roomy pocket of +her fur coat. She descended to the side door of the house and, +unobserved, let herself out noiselessly on to the carriage drive. She +gained the street and turned westward at the first corner to a street +car which would take her to the railway station. +</P> + +<P> +There was a train to the north every evening; it was not, she knew, +such a train as ran in the resort season, and she was not certain of +the exact time of its departure; but she would be in time for it. The +manner of buying a railway ticket and of engaging a berth were unknown +to her—there had been servants always to do these things—but she +watched others and did as they did. On the train, the berths had been +made up; people were going to bed behind some of the curtains. She +procured a telegraph blank and wrote a message to her mother, telling +her that she had gone north to join her father. When the train had +started, she gave the message to the porter, directing him to send it +from the first large town at which they stopped. +</P> + +<P> +She left the light burning in its little niche at the head of the +berth; she had no expectation that she could sleep; shut in by the +green curtains, she drew the covers up about her and stared upward at +the paneled face of the berth overhead. Then new frightened distrust +of the man she had been about to marry flowed in upon her and became +all her thought. +</P> + +<P> +She had not promised Uncle Benny that she would not marry Henry; her +promise had been that she would not engage herself to that marriage +until she had seen Uncle Benny again. Uncle Benny's own act—his +disappearance—-had prevented her from seeing him; for that reason she +had broken her promise; and, from its breaking, something terrifying, +threatening to herself had come. She had been amazed at what she had +seen in Henry; but she was appreciating now that, strangely, in her +thought of him there was no sense of loss to herself. Her feeling of +loss, of something gone from her which could not be replaced, was for +Alan. She had had admiration for Henry, pride in him; had she mistaken +what was merely admiration for love? She had been about to marry him; +had it been only his difference from the other men she knew that had +made her do that? Unconsciously to herself, had she been growing to +love Alan? +</P> + +<P> +Constance could not, as yet, place Henry's part in the strange +circumstances which had begun to reveal themselves with Alan's coming +to Chicago; but Henry's hope that Uncle Benny and Alan were dead was +beginning to make that clearer. She lay without voluntary movement in +her berth, but her bosom was shaking with the thoughts which came to +her. +</P> + +<P> +Twenty years before, some dreadful event had altered Uncle Benny's +life; his wife had known—or had learned—enough of that event so that +she had left him. It had seemed to Constance and her father, +therefore, that it must have been some intimate and private event. +They had been confirmed in believing this, when Uncle Benny, in madness +or in fear, had gone away, leaving everything he possessed to Alan +Conrad. But Alan's probable relationship to Uncle Benny had not been +explanation; she saw now that it had even been misleading. For a +purely private event in Uncle Benny's life—even terrible +scandal—could not make Henry fear, could not bring terror of +consequences to himself. That could be only if Henry was involved in +some peculiar and intimate way with what had happened to Uncle Benny. +If he feared Uncle Benny's being found alive and feared Alan's being +found alive too, now that Alan had discovered Uncle Benny, it was +because he dreaded explanation of his own connection with what had +taken place. +</P> + +<P> +Constance raised her window shade slightly and looked out. It was +still snowing; the train was running swiftly among low sand hills, +snow-covered, and only dimly visible through snow and dark. A +deep-toned, steady roar came to her above the noises of the train. The +lake! Out there, Alan and Uncle Benny were fighting, still struggling +perhaps, against bitter cold and ice and rushing water for their lives. +She must not think of that! +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Benny had withdrawn himself from men; he had ceased to be active +in his business and delegated it to others. This change had been +strangely advantageous to Henry. Henry had been hardly more than a +common seaman then. He had been a mate—the mate on one of Uncle +Benny's ships. Quite suddenly he had become Uncle Benny's partner. +Henry had explained this to her by saying that Uncle Benny had felt +madness coming on him and had selected him as the one to take charge. +But Uncle Benny had not trusted Henry; he had been suspicious of him; +he had quarreled with him. How strange, then, that Uncle Benny should +have advanced and given way to a man whom he could not trust! +</P> + +<P> +It was strange, too, that if—as Henry had said—their quarrels had +been about the business, Uncle Benny had allowed Henry to remain in +control. +</P> + +<P> +Their quarrels had culminated on the day that Uncle Benny went away. +Afterward Uncle Benny had come to her and warned her not to marry +Henry; then he had sent for Alan. There had been purpose in these acts +of Uncle Benny's; had they meant that Uncle Benny had been on the verge +of making explanation—that explanation which Henry feared—and that he +had been—prevented? Her father had thought this; at least, he had +thought that Uncle Benny must have left some explanation in his house. +He had told Alan that, and had given Alan the key to the house so that +he could find it. Alan had gone to the house— +</P> + +<P> +In the house Alan had found some one who had mistaken him for a ghost, +a man who had cried out at sight of him something about a ship—about +the <I>Miwaka</I>, the ship of whose loss no one had known anything except +by the sounding of the Drum. What had the man been doing in the house? +Had he too been looking for the explanation—the explanation that Henry +feared? Alan had described the man to her; that description had not +had meaning for her before; but now remembering that description she +could think of Henry as the only one who could have been in that house! +Henry had fought with Alan there! Afterwards, when Alan had been +attacked upon the street, had Henry anything to do with that? +</P> + +<P> +Henry had lied to her about being in Duluth the night he had fought +with Alan; he had not told her the true cause of his quarrels with +Uncle Benny; he had wished her to believe that Uncle Benny was dead +when the wedding ring and watch came to her—the watch which had been +Captain Stafford's of the <I>Miwaka</I>! Henry had urged her to marry him +at once. Was that because he wished the security that her father—and +she—must give her husband when they learned the revelation which Alan +or Uncle Benny might bring? +</P> + +<P> +If so, then that revelation had to do with the <I>Miwaka</I>. It was of the +<I>Miwaka</I> that Henry had cried out to Alan in the house; they were the +names of the next of kin of those on the <I>Miwaka</I> that Uncle Benny had +kept. That was beginning to explain to her something of the effect on +Henry of the report that the Drum was telling that some on Ferry Number +25 were alive, and why he had hurried north because of that. The +Drum—so superstition had said—had beat the roll of those who died +with the <I>Miwaka</I>; had beaten for all but one! No one of those who +accepted the superstition had ever been able to explain that; but Henry +could! He knew something more about the <I>Miwaka</I> than others knew. He +had encountered the <I>Miwaka</I> somehow or encountered some one saved from +the <I>Miwaka</I>; he knew, then, that the Drum had beaten correctly for the +<I>Miwaka</I>, that one was spared as the Drum had told! Who had that one +been? Alan? And was he now among those for whom the Drum had not yet +beat? +</P> + +<P> +She recalled that, on the day when the <I>Miwaka</I> was lost, Henry and +Uncle Benny had been upon the lake in a tug. Afterwards Uncle Benny +had grown rich; Henry had attained advancement and wealth. Her +reasoning had brought her to the verge of a terrible discovery. If she +could take one more step forward in her thought, it would make her +understand it all. But she could not yet take that step. +</P> + +<P> +In the morning, at Traverse City—where she got a cup of coffee and +some toast in the station eating house—she had to change to a day +coach. It had grown still more bitterly cold; the wind which swept the +long brick-paved platform of the station was arctic; and even through +the double windows of the day coach she could feel its chill. The +points of Grand Traverse Bay were frozen across; frozen across too was +Torch Lake; to north of that, ice, snow-covered, through which frozen +rushes protruded, marked the long chain of little lakes known as the +"Intermediates." The little towns and villages, and the rolling fields +with their leafless trees or blackened stumps, lay under drifts. It +had stopped snowing, however, and she found relief in that; searchers +upon the lake could see small boats now—if there were still small +boats to be seen. +</P> + +<P> +To the people in her Pullman, the destruction of the ferry had been +only a news item competing for interest with other news on the front +pages of their newspapers; but to these people in the day coach, it was +an intimate and absorbing thing. They spoke by name of the crew as of +persons whom they knew. A white lifeboat, one man told her, had been +seen south of Beaver Island; another said there had been two boats. +They had been far off from shore, but, according to the report cabled +from Beaver, there had appeared to be men in them; the men—her +informant's voice hushed slightly—had not been rowing. Constance +shuddered. She had heard of things like that on the quick-freezing +fresh water of the lakes—small boats adrift crowded with men sitting +upright in them, ice-coated, frozen, lifeless! +</P> + +<P> +Petoskey, with its great hotels closed and boarded up, and its curio +shops closed and locked, was blocked with snow. She went from the +train directly to the telegraph office. If Henry was in Petoskey, they +would know at that office where he could be found; he would be keeping +in touch with them. The operator in charge of the office knew her, and +his manner became still more deferential when she asked after Henry. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Spearman, the man said, had been at the office early in the day; +there had been no messages for him; he had left instructions that any +which came were to be forwarded to him through the men who, under his +direction, were patroling the shore for twenty miles north of Little +Traverse, watching for boats. The operator added to the report she had +heard upon the train. One lifeboat and perhaps two had been seen by a +farmer who had been on the ice to the south of Beaver; the second boat +had been far to the south and west of the first one; tugs were cruising +there now; it had been many hours, however, after the farmer had seen +the boats before he had been able to get word to the town at the north +end of the island—St. James—so that the news could be cabled to the +mainland. Fishermen and seamen, therefore, regarded it as more likely, +from the direction and violence of the gale, that the boats, if they +continued to float, would be drifted upon the mainland than that they +would be found by the tugs. +</P> + +<P> +Constance asked after her father. Mr. Sherrill and Mr. Spearman, the +operator told her, had been in communication that morning; Mr. Sherrill +had not come to Petoskey; he had taken charge of the watch along the +shore at its north end. It was possible that the boats might drift in +there; but men of experience considered it more probable that the boats +would drift in farther south where Mr. Spearman was in charge. +</P> + +<P> +Constance crossed the frozen edges of the bay by sledge to Harbor +Point. The driver mentioned Henry with admiration and with pride in +his acquaintance with him; it brought vividly to her the recollection +that Henry's rise in life was a matter of personal congratulation to +these people as lending luster to the neighborhood and to themselves. +Henry's influence here was far greater than her own or her father's; if +she were to move against Henry or show him distrust, she must work +alone; she could enlist no aid from these. +</P> + +<P> +And her distrust now had deepened to terrible dread. She had not been +able before this to form any definite idea of how Henry could threaten +Alan and Uncle Benny; she had imagined only vague interference and +obstruction of the search for them; she had not foreseen that he could +so readily assume charge of the search and direct, or misdirect, it. +</P> + +<P> +At the Point she discharged the sledge and went on foot to the house of +the caretaker who had charge of the Sherrill cottage during the winter. +Getting the keys from him, she let herself into the house. The +electric light had been cut off, and the house was darkened by +shutters, but she found a lamp and lit it. Going to her room, she +unpacked a heavy sweater and woolen cap and short fur coat—winter +things which were left there against use when they opened the house +sometimes out of season—and put them on. Then she went down and found +her snowshoes. Stopping at the telephone, she called long distance and +asked them to locate Mr. Sherrill, if possible, and instruct him to +move south along the shore with whomever he had with him. She went out +then, and fastened on her snowshoes. +</P> + +<P> +It had grown late. The early December dusk—the second dusk since +little boats had put off from Number 25—darkened the snow-locked land. +The wind from the west cut like a knife, even through her fur coat. +The pine trees moaned and bent, with loud whistlings of the wind among +their needles; the leafless elms and maples crashed their limbs +together; above the clamor of all other sounds, the roaring of the lake +came to her, the booming of the waves against the ice, the shatter of +floe on floe. No snow had fallen for a few hours, and the sky was even +clearing; ragged clouds scurried before the wind and, opening, showed +the moon. +</P> + +<P> +Constance hurried westward and then north, following the bend of the +shore. The figure of a man—one of the shore patrols—pacing the ice +hummocks of the beach and staring out upon the lake, appeared vaguely +in the dusk when she had gone about two miles. He seemed surprised at +seeing a girl, but less surprised when he had recognized her. Mr. +Spearman, he told her, was to the north of them upon the beach +somewhere, he did not know how far; he could not leave his post to +accompany her, but he assured her that there were men stationed all +along the shore. She came, indeed, three quarters of a mile farther +on, to a second man; about an equal distance beyond, she found a third, +but passed him and went on. +</P> + +<P> +Her legs ached now with the unaccustomed travel upon snowshoes; the +cold, which had been only a piercing chill at first, was stopping +feeling, almost stopping thought. When clouds covered the moon, +complete darkness came; she could go forward only slowly then or must +stop and wait; but the intervals of moonlight were growing longer and +increasing in frequency. As the sky cleared, she went forward quickly +for many minutes at a time, straining her gaze westward over the +tumbling water and the floes. It came to her with terrifying +apprehension that she must have advanced at least three miles since she +had seen the last patrol; she could not have passed any one in the +moonlight without seeing him, and in the dark intervals she had +advanced so little that she could not have missed one that way either. +</P> + +<P> +She tried to go faster as she realized this; but now travel had become +more difficult. There was no longer any beach. High, precipitous +bluffs, which she recognized as marking Seven Mile Point, descended +here directly to the hummocked ice along the water's edge. She fell +many times, traveling upon these hummocks; there were strange, +treacherous places between the hummocks where, except for her +snowshoes, she would have broken through. Her skirt was torn; she lost +one of her gloves and could not stop to look for it; she fell again and +sharp ice cut her ungloved hand and blood froze upon her finger tips. +She did not heed any of these things. +</P> + +<P> +She was horrified to find that she was growing weak, and that her +senses were becoming confused. She mistook at times floating ice, +metallic under the moonlight, for boats; her heart beat fast then while +she scrambled part way up the bluff to gain better sight and so +ascertained her mistake. Deep ravines at places broke the shores; +following the bend of the bluffs, she got into these ravines and only +learned her error when she found that she was departing from the shore. +She had come, in all, perhaps eight miles; and she was "playing out"; +other girls, she assured herself—other girls would not have weakened +like this; they would have had strength to make certain no boats were +there, or at least to get help. She had seen no houses; those, she +knew, stood back from the shore, high upon the bluffs, and were not +easy to find; but she scaled the bluff now and looked about for lights. +The country was wild and wooded, and the moonlight showed only the +white stretches of the shrouding snow. +</P> + +<P> +She descended to the beach again and went on; her gaze continued to +search the lake, but now, wherever there was a break in the bluffs, she +looked toward the shore as well. At the third of these breaks, the +yellow glow of a window appeared, marking a house in a hollow between +snow-shrouded hills. She turned eagerly that way; she could go only +very slowly now. There was no path; at least, if there was, the snow +drifts hid it. Through the drifts a thicket projected; the pines on +the ravine sides overhead stood so close that only a silver tracery of +the moonlight came through; beyond the pines, birch trees, stripped of +their bark, stood black up to the white boughs. +</P> + +<P> +Constance climbed over leafless briars and through brush and came upon +a clearing perhaps fifty yards across, roughly crescent shaped, as it +followed the configuration of the hills. Dead cornstalks, above the +snow, showed ploughed ground; beyond that, a little, black cabin +huddled in the further point of the crescent, and Constance gasped with +disappointment as she saw it. She had expected a farmhouse; but this +plainly was not even that. The framework was of logs or poles which +had been partly boarded over; and above the boards and where they were +lacking, black building paper had been nailed, secured by big tin +discs. The rude, weather-beaten door was closed; smoke, however, came +from a pipe stuck through the roof. +</P> + +<P> +She struggled to the door and knocked upon it, and receiving no reply, +she beat upon it with both fists. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's here?" she cried. "Who's here?" +</P> + +<P> +The door opened then a very little, and the frightened face of an +Indian woman appeared in the crack. The woman evidently had +expected—and feared—some arrival, and was reassured when she saw only +a girl. She threw the door wider open, and bent to help unfasten +Constance's snowshoes; having done that, she led her in and closed the +door. +</P> + +<P> +Constance looked swiftly around the single room of the cabin. There +was a cot on one side; there was a table, home carpentered; there were +a couple of boxes for clothing or utensils. The stove, a good range +once in the house of a prosperous farmer, had been bricked up by its +present owners so as to hold fire. Dried onions and yellow ears of +corn hung from the rafters; on the shelves were little birchbark +canoes, woven baskets, and porcupine quill boxes of the ordinary sort +made for the summer trade. Constance recognized the woman now as one +who had come sometimes to the Point to sell such things, and who could +speak fairly good English. The woman clearly had recognized Constance +at once. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is your man?" Constance had caught the woman's arm. +</P> + +<P> +"They sent for him to the beach. A ship has sunk." +</P> + +<P> +"Are there houses near here? You must run to one of them at once. +Bring whoever you can get; or if you won't do that, tell me where to +go." +</P> + +<P> +The woman stared at her stolidly and moved away. "None near," she +said. "Besides, you could not get somebody before some one will come." +</P> + +<P> +"Who is that?" +</P> + +<P> +"He is on the beach—Henry Spearman. He comes here to warm himself. +It is nearly time he comes again." +</P> + +<P> +"How long has he been about here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Since before noon. Sit down. I will make you tea." +</P> + +<P> +Constance gazed at her; the woman was plainly glad of her coming. Her +relief—relief from that fear she had been feeling when she opened the +door—was very evident. It was Henry, then, who had frightened her. +</P> + +<P> +The Indian woman set a chair for her beside the stove, and put water in +a pan to heat; she shook tea leaves from a box into a bowl and brought +a cup. +</P> + +<P> +"How many on that ship?" +</P> + +<P> +"Altogether there were thirty-nine," Constance replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Some saved?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; a boat was picked up yesterday morning with twelve." +</P> + +<P> +The woman seemed making some computation which was difficult for her. +</P> + +<P> +"Seven are living then," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Seven? What have you heard? What makes you think so?" +</P> + +<P> +"That is what the Drum says." +</P> + +<P> +The Drum! There was a Drum then! At least there was some sound which +people heard and which they called the Drum. For the woman had heard +it. +</P> + +<P> +The woman shifted, checking something upon her fingers, while her lips +moved; she was not counting, Constance thought; she was more likely +aiding herself in translating something from Indian numeration into +English. "Two, it began with," she announced. "Right away it went to +nine. Sixteen then—that was this morning very early. Now, all day +and to-night, it has been giving twenty. That leaves seven. It is not +known who they may be." +</P> + +<P> +She opened the door and looked out. The roar of the water and the +wind, which had come loudly, increased, and with it the wood noises. +The woman was not looking about now, Constance realized; she was +listening. Constance arose and went to the door too. The Drum! Blood +prickled in her face and forehead; it prickled in her finger tips. The +Drum was heard only, it was said, in time of severest storm; for that +reason it was heard most often in winter. It was very seldom heard by +any one in summer; and she was of the summer people. Sounds were +coming from the woods now. Were these reverberations the roll of the +Drum which beat for the dead? Her voice was uncontrolled as she asked +the woman: +</P> + +<P> +"Is that the Drum?" +</P> + +<P> +The woman shook her head. "That's the trees." +</P> + +<P> +Constance's shoulders shook convulsively together. When she had +thought about the Drum—and when she had spoken of it with others who, +themselves, never had heard it—they always had said that, if there +were such a sound, it was trees. She herself had heard those strange +wood noises, terrifying sometimes until their source was +known—wailings like the cry of some one in anguish, which were caused +by two crossed saplings rubbing together; thunderings, which were only +some smaller trees beating against a great hollow trunk when a strong +wind veered from a certain direction. But this Indian woman must know +all such sounds well; and to her the Drum was something distinct from +them. The woman specified that now. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll know the Drum when you hear it." +</P> + +<P> +Constance grew suddenly cold. For twenty lives, the woman said, the +Drum had beat; that meant to her, and to Constance too now, that seven +were left. Indefinite, desperate denial that all from the ferry must +be dead—that denial which had been strengthened by the news that at +least one boat had been adrift near Beaver—altered in Constance to +conviction of a boat with seven men from the ferry, seven dying, +perhaps, but not yet dead. Seven out of twenty-seven! The score were +gone; the Drum had beat for them in little groups as they had died. +When the Drum beat again, would it beat beyond the score? +</P> + +<P> +The woman drew back and closed the door; the water was hot now, and she +made the tea and poured a cup for Constance. As she drank it, +Constance was listening for the Drum; the woman too was listening. +Having finished the tea, Constance returned to the door and reopened +it; the sounds outside were the same. A solitary figure appeared +moving along the edge of the ice—the figure of a tall man, walking on +snowshoes; moonlight distorted the figure, and it was muffled too in a +great coat which made it unrecognizable. He halted and stood looking +out at the lake and then, with a sudden movement, strode on; he halted +again, and now Constance got the knowledge that he was not looking; he +was listening as she was. He was not merely listening; his body swayed +and bent to a rhythm—he was counting something that he heard. +Constance strained her ears; but she could hear no sound except those +of the waters and the wind. +</P> + +<P> +"Is the Drum sounding now?" she asked the woman. +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +Constance gazed again at the man and found his motion quite +unmistakable; he was counting—if not counting something that he heard, +or thought he heard, he was recounting and reviewing within himself +something that he had heard before—some irregular rhythm which had +become so much a part of him that it sounded now continually within his +own brain; so that, instinctively, he moved in cadence to it. He +stepped forward again now, and turned toward the house. +</P> + +<P> +Her breath caught as she spoke to the woman. "Mr. Spearman is coming +here now!" +</P> + +<P> +Her impulse was to remain where she was, lest he should think she was +afraid of him; but realization came to her that there might be +advantage in seeing him before he knew that she was there, so she +reclosed the door and drew back into the cabin. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE SOUNDING OF THE DRUM +</H4> + +<P> +Noises of the wind and the roaring of the lake made inaudible any sound +of his approach to the cabin; she heard his snowshoes, however, scrape +the cabin wall as, after taking them off, he leaned them beside the +door. He thrust the door open then and came in; he did not see her at +first and, as he turned to force the door shut again against the wind, +she watched him quietly. She understood at once why the Indian woman +had been afraid of him. His face was bloodless, yellow, and +swollen-looking, his eyes bloodshot, his lips strained to a thin, +straight line. +</P> + +<P> +He saw her now and started and, as though sight of her confused him, he +looked away from the woman and then back to Constance before he seemed +certain of her. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello!" he said tentatively. "Hello!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm here, Henry." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh; you are! You are!" He stood drawn up, swaying a little as he +stared at her; whiskey was upon his breath, and it became evident in +the heat of the room; but whiskey could not account for this condition +she witnessed in him. Neither could it conceal that condition; some +turmoil and strain within him made him immune to its effects. +</P> + +<P> +She had realized on her way up here what, vaguely, that strain within +him must be. Guilt—guilt of some awful sort connected him, and had +connected Uncle Benny, with the <I>Miwaka</I>—the lost ship for which the +Drum had beaten the roll of the dead. Now dread of revelation of that +guilt had brought him here near to the Drum; he had been alone upon the +beach twelve hours, the woman had said—listening, counting the beating +of the Drum for another ship, fearing the survival of some one from +that ship. Guilt was in his thought now—racking, tearing at him. But +there was something more than that; what she had seen in him when he +first caught sight of her was fear—fear of her, of Constance Sherrill. +</P> + +<P> +He was fully aware, she now understood, that he had in a measure +betrayed himself to her in Chicago; and he had hoped to cover up and to +dissemble that betrayal with her. For that reason she was the last +person in the world whom he wished to find here now. +</P> + +<P> +"The point is," he said heavily, "why are you here?" +</P> + +<P> +"I decided to come up last night." +</P> + +<P> +"Obviously." He uttered the word slowly and with care. "Unless you +came in a flying machine. Who came with you?" +</P> + +<P> +"No one; I came alone. I expected to find father at Petoskey; he +hadn't been there, so I came on here." +</P> + +<P> +"After him?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; after you, Henry." +</P> + +<P> +"After me?" She had increased the apprehension in him, and he +considered and scrutinized her before he ventured to go on. "Because +you wanted to be up here with me, eh, Connie?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course not!" +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course not!" +</P> + +<P> +"I knew it!" he moved menacingly. She watched him quite without fear; +fear was for him, she felt, not her. Often she had wished that she +might have known him when he was a young man; now, she was aware that, +in a way, she was having that wish. Under the surface of the man whose +strength and determination she had admired, all the time had been this +terror—this guilt. If Uncle Benny had carried it for a score of +years, Henry had had it within him too. This had been within him all +the time! +</P> + +<P> +"You came up here about Ben Corvet?" he challenged. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—no!" +</P> + +<P> +"Which do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"I know then. For him, then—eh. For him!" +</P> + +<P> +"For Alan Conrad? Yes," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"I knew it!" he repeated. "He's been the trouble between you and me +all the time!" +</P> + +<P> +She made no denial of that; she had begun to know during the last two +days that it was so. +</P> + +<P> +"So you came to find him?" Henry went on. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Henry. Have you any news?" +</P> + +<P> +"News?" +</P> + +<P> +"News of the boats?" +</P> + +<P> +"News!" he iterated. "News to-night! No one'll have more'n one news +to-night!" +</P> + +<P> +From his slow, heavy utterance, a timbre of terrible satisfaction +betrayed itself; his eyes widened a little as he saw it strike +Constance, then his lids narrowed again. He had not meant to say it +that way; yet, for an instant, satisfaction to him had become +inseparable from the saying, before that was followed by fright—the +fright of examination of just what he had said or of what she had made +of it. +</P> + +<P> +"He'll be found!" she defied him. +</P> + +<P> +"Be found?" +</P> + +<P> +"Some are dead," she admitted, "but not all. Twenty are dead; but +seven are not!" +</P> + +<P> +She looked for confirmation to the Indian woman, who nodded: "Yes." He +moved his head to face the woman, but his eyes, unmoving, remained +fixed on Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"Seven?" he echoed. "You say seven are not! How do you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"The Drum has been beating for twenty, but not for more!" Constance +said. Thirty hours before, when she had told Henry of the Drum, she +had done it without belief herself, without looking for belief in him. +But now, whether or not she yet believed or simply clung to the +superstition for its shred of hope, it gave her a weapon to terrify +him; for he believed—believed with all the unreasoning horror of his +superstition and the terror of long-borne and hidden guilt. +</P> + +<P> +"The Drum, Henry!" she repeated. "The Drum you've been listening to +all day upon the beach—the Indian Drum that sounded for the dead of +the <I>Miwaka</I>; sounded, one by one, for all who died! But it didn't +sound for him! It's been sounding again, you know; but, again, it +doesn't sound for him, Henry, not for him!" +</P> + +<P> +"The <I>Miwaka</I>! What do you mean by that? What's that got to do with +this?" His swollen face was thrust forward at her; there was threat +against her in his tense muscles and his bloodshot eyes. +</P> + +<P> +She did not shrink back from him, or move; and now he was not waiting +for her answer. Something—a sound—had caught him about. Once it +echoed, low in its reverberation but penetrating and quite distinct. +It came, so far as direction could be assigned to it, from the trees +toward the shore; but it was like no forest sound. Distinct too was it +from any noise of the lake. It was like a Drum! Yet, when the echo +had gone, it was a sensation easy to deny—a hallucination, that was +all. But now, low and distinct it came again; and, as before, +Constance saw it catch Henry and hold him. His lips moved, but he did +not speak; he was counting. "Two," she saw his lips form. +</P> + +<P> +The Indian woman passed them and opened the door, and now the sound, +louder and more distinct, came again. +</P> + +<P> +"The Drum!" she whispered, without looking about. "You hear? Three, +I've heard. Now four! It will beat twenty; then we will know if more +are dead!" +</P> + +<P> +The door blew from the woman's hand, and snow, swept up from the drifts +of the slope, swirled into the room; the draft blew the flame of the +lamp in a smoky streak up the glass chimney and snuffed it out. The +moonlight painted a rectangle on the floor; the moonlight gave a green, +shimmering world without. Hurried spots of cloud shuttered away the +moon for moments, casting shadows which swept raggedly up the slope +from the shore. The woman seized the door and, tugging it about +against the gale, she slammed it shut. She did not try at once to +relight the lamp. +</P> + +<P> +The sound of the Drum was continuing, the beats a few seconds apart. +The opening of the door outside had seemed to Constance to make the +beats come louder and more distinct; but the closing of the door did +not muffle them again. "Twelve," Constance counted to herself. The +beats had seemed to be quite measured and regular at first; but now +Constance knew that this was only roughly true; they beat rather in +rhythm than at regular intervals. Two came close together and there +was a longer wait before the next; then three sounded before the +measure—a wild, leaping rhythm. She recalled having heard that the +strangeness of Indian music to civilized ears was its time; the drums +beat and rattles sounded in a different time from the song which they +accompanied; there were even, in some dances, three different times +contending for supremacy. Now this seemed reproduced in the strange, +irregular sounding of the Drum; she could not count with certainty +those beats. "Twenty—twenty-one—twenty-two!" Constance caught +breath and waited for the next beat; the time of the interval between +the measures of the rhythm passed, and still only the whistle of the +wind and the undertone of water sounded. The Drum had beaten its roll +and, for the moment, was done. +</P> + +<P> +"Now it begins again," the woman whispered. "Always it waits and then +it begins over." +</P> + +<P> +Constance let go her breath; the next beat then would not mean another +death. Twenty-two, had been her count, as nearly as she could count at +all; the reckoning agreed with what the woman had heard. Two had died, +then, since the Drum last had beat, when its roll was twenty. Two more +than before; that meant five were left! Yet Constance, while she was +appreciating this, strained forward, staring at Henry; she could not be +certain, in the flickering shadows of the cabin, of what she was seeing +in him; still less, in the sudden stoppage of heart and breathing that +it brought, could she find coherent answer to its meaning. But still +it turned her weak, then spurred her with a vague and terrible impulse. +</P> + +<P> +The Indian woman lifted the lamp chimney waveringly and scratched a +match and, with unsteady hands, lighted the wick; Constance caught up +her woolen hood from the table and put it on. Her action seemed to +call Henry to himself. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to do?" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going out." +</P> + +<P> +He moved between her and the door. "Not alone, you're not!" His heavy +voice had a deep tone of menace in it; he seemed to consider and decide +something about her. "There's a farmhouse about a mile back; I'm going +to take you over there and leave you with those people." +</P> + +<P> +"I will not go there!" +</P> + +<P> +He swore. "I'll carry you then!" +</P> + +<P> +She shrank back from him as he lurched toward her with hands +outstretched to seize her; he followed her, and she avoided him again; +if his guilt and terror had given her mental ascendency over him, his +physical strength could still force her to his will and, realizing the +impossibility of evading him or overcoming him, she stopped. +</P> + +<P> +"Not that!" she cried. "Don't touch me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Come with me then!" he commanded; and he went to the door and laid his +snowshoes on the snow and stepped into them, stooping and tightening +the straps; he stood by while she put on hers. He did not attempt +again to put hands upon her as they moved away from the little cabin +toward the woods back of the clearing; but went ahead, breaking the +trail for her with his snowshoes. He moved forward slowly; he could +travel, if he had wished, three feet to every two that she could cover, +but he seemed not wishing for speed but rather for delay. They reached +the trees; the hemlock and pine, black and swaying, shifted their +shadows on the moonlit snow; bare maples and beeches, bent by the gale, +creaked and cracked; now the hemlock was heavier. The wind, which +wailed among the branches of the maples, hissed loudly in the needles +of the hemlocks; snow swept from the slopes and whirled and drove about +them, and she sucked it in with her breath. All through the wood were +noises; a moaning came from a dark copse of pine and hemlock to their +right, rose and died away; a wail followed—a whining, whimpering +wail—so like the crying of a child that it startled her. Shadows +seemed to detach themselves, as the trees swayed, to tumble from the +boughs and scurry over the snow; they hid, as one looked at them, then +darted on and hid behind the tree trunks. +</P> + +<P> +Henry was barely moving; now he slowed still more. A deep, dull +resonance was booming above the wood; it boomed again and ran into a +rhythm. No longer was it above; at least it was not only above; it was +all about them—here, there, to right and to left, before, behind—the +booming of the Drum. Doom was the substance of that sound of the Drum +beating the roll of the dead. Could there be abiding in the wood a +consciousness which counted that roll? Constance fought the mad +feeling that it brought. The sound must have some natural cause, she +repeated to herself—waves washing in some strange conformation of the +ice caves on the shore, wind reverberating within some great hollow +tree trunk as within the pipe of an organ. But Henry was not denying +the Drum! +</P> + +<P> +He had stopped in front of her, half turned her way; his body swayed +and bent to the booming of the Drum, as his swollen lips counted its +soundings. She could see him plainly in the moonlight, yet she drew +nearer to him as she followed his count. "Twenty-one," he +counted—"Twenty-two!" The Drum was still going on. +"Twenty-four—twenty-five—twenty-six!" Would he count another? +</P> + +<P> +He did not; and her pulses, which had halted, leaped with relief; and +through her comprehension rushed. It was thus she had seen him +counting in the cabin, but so vaguely that she had not been certain of +it, but only able to suspect. Then the Drum had stopped short of +twenty-six, but he had not stopped counting because of that; he had +made the sounds twenty-six, when she and the woman had made them, +twenty-two; now he had reckoned them twenty-six, though the Drum, as +she separated the sound from other noises, still went on! +</P> + +<P> +He moved on again, descending the steep side of a little ravine, and +she followed. One of his snowshoes caught in a protruding root and, +instead of slowing to free it with care, he pulled it violently out, +and she heard the dry, seasoned wood crack. He looked down, swore; saw +that the wood was not broken through and went on; but as he reached the +bottom of the slope, she leaped downward from a little height behind +him and crashed down upon his trailing snowshoe just behind the heel. +The rending snap of the wood came beneath her feet. Had she broken +through his shoe or snapped her own? She sprang back, as he cried out +and swung in an attempt to grasp her; he lunged to follow her, and she +ran a few steps away and stopped. At his next step, his foot entangled +in the mesh of the broken snowshoe, and he stooped, cursing, to strip +it off and hurl it from him; then he tore off the one from the other +foot, and threw it away, and lurched after her again; but now he sank +above his knees and floundered in the snow. She stood for a moment +while the half-mad, half-drunken figure struggled toward her along the +side of the ravine; then she ran to where the tree trunks hid her from +him, but where she could look out from the shadow and see him. He +gained the top of the slope and turned in the direction she had gone; +assured then, apparently, that she had fled in fear of him, he started +back more swiftly toward the beach. She followed, keeping out of his +sight among the trees. +</P> + +<P> +To twenty-six, he had counted—to twenty-six, each time! That told +that he knew one was living among those who had been upon the ferry! +The Drum—it was not easy to count with exactness those wild, +irregularly leaping sounds; one might make of them almost what one +wished—or feared! And if, in his terror here, Henry made the count +twenty-six, it was because he knew—he knew that one was living! What +one? It could only be one of two to dismay him so; there had been only +two on the ferry whose rescue he had feared; only two who, living, he +would have let lie upon this beach which he had chosen and set aside +for his patrol, while he waited for him to die! +</P> + +<P> +She forced herself on, unsparingly, as she saw Henry gain the shore and +as, believing himself alone, he hurried northward. She went with him, +paralleling his course among the trees. On the wind-swept ridges of +the ice, where there was little snow, he could travel for long +stretches faster than she; she struggled to keep even with him, her +lungs seared by the cold air as she gasped for breath. But she could +not rest; she could not let herself be exhausted. Merciless minute +after minute she raced him thus— A dark shape—a figure lay stretched +upon the ice ahead! Beyond and still farther out, something which +seemed the fragments of a lifeboat tossed up and down where the waves +thundered and gleamed at the edge of the floe. +</P> + +<P> +Henry's pace quickened; hers quickened desperately too. She left the +shelter of the trees and scrambled down the steep pitch of the bluff, +shouting, crying aloud. Henry turned about and saw her; he halted, and +she passed him with a rush and got between him and the form upon the +ice, before she turned and faced him. +</P> + +<P> +Defeat—defeat of whatever frightful purpose he had had—was his now +that she was there to witness what he might do; and in his realization +of that, he burst out in oaths against her— He advanced; she stood, +confronting—he swayed slightly in his walk and swung past her and +away; he went past those things on the beach and kept on along the ice +hummocks toward the north. +</P> + +<P> +She ran to the huddled figure of the man in mackinaw and cap; his face +was hidden partly by the position in which he lay and partly by the +drifting snow; but, before she swept the snow away and turned him to +her, she knew that he was Alan. +</P> + +<P> +She cried to him and, when he did not answer, she shook him to get him +awake; but she could not rouse him. Praying in wild whispers to +herself, she opened his jacket and felt within his clothes; he was +warm—at least he was not frozen within! No; and there seemed some +stir of his heart! She tried to lift him, to carry him; then to drag +him. But she could not; he fell from her arms into the snow again, and +she sat down, pulling him upon her lap and clasping him to her. She +must have aid, she must get him to some house, she must take him out of +the terrible cold; but dared she leave him? Might Henry return, if she +went away? She arose and looked about. Far up the shore she saw his +figure rising and falling with his flight over the rough ice. A sound +came to her too, the low, deep reverberation of the Drum beating once +more along the shore and in the woods and out upon the lake; and it +seemed to her that Henry's figure, in the stumbling steps of its +flight, was keeping time to the wild rhythm of that sound. And she +stooped to Alan and covered him with her coat, before leaving him; for +she feared no longer Henry's return. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE FATE OF THE "MIWAKA" +</H4> + +<P> +"So this isn't your house, Judah?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, Alan; this is an Indian's house, but it is not mine. It is Adam +Enos' house. He and his wife went somewhere else when you needed this." +</P> + +<P> +"He helped to bring me here then?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, Alan. They were alone here—she and Adam's wife. When she found +you, they brought you here—more than a mile along the beach. Two +women!" +</P> + +<P> +Alan choked as he put down the little porcupine quill box which had +started this line of inquiry. Whatever questions he had asked of Judah +or of Sherrill these last few days had brought him very quickly back to +her. Moved by some intuitive certainty regarding Spearman, she had +come north; she had not thought of peril to herself; she had struggled +alone across dangerous ice in storm—a girl brought up as she had been! +She had found him—Alan—with life almost extinct upon the beach; she +and the Indian woman, Wassaquam had just said, had brought him along +the shore. How had they managed that, he wondered; they had somehow +got him to this house which, in his ignorance of exactly where he was +upon the mainland, he had thought must be Wassaquam's; she had gone to +get help— His throat closed up, and his eyes filled as he thought of +this. +</P> + +<P> +In the week during which he had been cared for here, Alan had not seen +Constance; but there had been a peculiar and exciting alteration in +Sherrill's manner toward him, he had felt; it was something more than +merely liking for him that Sherrill had showed, and Sherrill had spoken +of her to him as Constance, not, as he had called her always before, +"Miss Sherrill" or "my daughter." Alan had had dreams which had seemed +impossible of fulfilment, of dedicating his life and all that he could +make of it to her; now Sherrill's manner had brought to him something +like awe, as of something quite incredible. +</P> + +<P> +When he had believed that disgrace was his—disgrace because he was +Benjamin Corvet's son—he had hidden, or tried to hide, his feeling +toward her; he knew now that he was not Corvet's son; Spearman had shot +his father, Corvet had said. But he could not be certain yet who his +father was or what revelation regarding himself might now be given. +Could he dare to betray that he was thinking of Constance as—as he +could not keep from thinking? He dared not without daring to dream +that Sherrill's manner meant that she could care for him; and that he +could not presume. What she had undergone for him—her venture alone +up the beach and that dreadful contest which had taken place between +her and Spearman—must remain circumstances which he had learned but +from which he could not yet take conclusions. +</P> + +<P> +He turned to the Indian. +</P> + +<P> +"Has anything more been heard of Spearman, Judah?" +</P> + +<P> +"Only this, Alan; he crossed the Straits the next day upon the ferry +there. In Mackinaw City he bought liquor at a bar and took it with +him; he asked there about trains into the northwest. He has gone, +leaving all he had. What else could he do?" +</P> + +<P> +Alan crossed the little cabin and looked out the window over the +snow-covered slope, where the bright sun was shining. It was very +still without; there was no motion at all in the pines toward the +ice-bound shore; and the shadow of the wood smoke rising from the cabin +chimney made almost a straight line across the snow. Snow had covered +any tracks that there had been upon the beach where those who had been +in the boat with him had been found dead. He had known that this must +be; he had believed them beyond aid when he had tried for the shore to +summon help for them and for himself. The other boat, which had +carried survivors of the wreck, blown farther to the south, had been +able to gain the shore of North Fox Island; and as these men had not +been so long exposed before they were brought to shelter, four men +lived. Sherrill had told him their names; they were the mate, the +assistant engineer, a deckhand and Father Perron, the priest who had +been a passenger but who had stayed with the crew till the last. +Benjamin Corvet had perished in the wreckage of the cars. +</P> + +<P> +As Alan went back to his chair, the Indian watched him and seemed not +displeased. +</P> + +<P> +"You feel good now, Alan?" Wassaquam asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Almost like myself, Judah." +</P> + +<P> +"That is right then. It was thought you would be like that to-day." +He looked at the long shadows and at the height of the early morning +sun, estimating the time of day. "A sled is coming soon now." +</P> + +<P> +"We're going to leave here, Judah?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Alan." +</P> + +<P> +Was he going to see her then? Excitement stirred him, and he turned to +Wassaquam to ask that; but suddenly he hesitated and did not inquire. +</P> + +<P> +Wassaquam brought the mackinaw and cap which Alan had worn on Number +25; he took from the bed the new blankets which had been furnished by +Sherrill. They waited until a farmer appeared driving a team hitched +to a low, wide-runnered sled. The Indian settled Alan on the sled, and +they drove off. +</P> + +<P> +The farmer looked frequently at Alan with curious interest; the sun +shone down, dazzling, and felt almost warm in the still air. +Wassaquam, with regard for the frostbite from which Alan had been +suffering, bundled up the blankets around him; but Alan put them down +reassuringly. They traveled south along the shore, rounded into Little +Traverse Bay, and the houses of Harbor Point appeared among their +pines. Alan could see plainly that these were snow-weighted and +boarded up without sign of occupation; but he saw that the Sherrill +house was open; smoke rose from the chimney, and the windows winked +with the reflection of a red blaze within. He was so sure that this +was their destination that he started to throw off the robes. +</P> + +<P> +"Nobody there now," Wassaquam indicated the house. "At Petoskey; we go +on there." +</P> + +<P> +The sled proceeded across the edge of the bay to the little city; even +before leaving the bay ice, Alan saw Constance and her father; they +were walking at the water front near to the railway station, and they +came out on the ice as they recognized the occupants of the sled. +</P> + +<P> +Alan felt himself alternately weak and roused to strength as he saw +her. The sled halted and, as she approached, he stepped down. Their +eyes encountered, and hers looked away; a sudden shyness, which sent +his heart leaping, had come over her. He wanted to speak to her, to +make some recognition to her of what she had done, but he did not dare +to trust his voice; and she seemed to understand that. He turned to +Sherrill instead. An engine and tender coupled to a single car stood +at the railway station. +</P> + +<P> +"We're going to Chicago?" he inquired of Sherrill. +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet, Alan—to St. Ignace. Father Perron—the priest, you +know—went to St. Ignace as soon as he recovered from his exposure. He +sent word to me that he wished to see me at my convenience; I told him +that we would go to him as soon as you were able." +</P> + +<P> +"He sent no other word than that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Only that he had a very grave communication to make to us." +</P> + +<P> +Alan did not ask more; at mention of Father Perron he had seemed to +feel himself once more among the crashing, charging freight cars on the +ferry and to see Benjamin Corvet, pinned amid the wreckage and speaking +into the ear of the priest. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Father Perron, walking up and down upon the docks close to the railway +station at St. Ignace, where the tracks end without bumper or blocking +of any kind above the waters of the lake, was watching south directly +across the Straits. It was mid-afternoon and the ice-crusher <I>Ste. +Marie</I>, which had been expected at St. Ignace about this time, was +still some four miles out. During the storm of the week before, the +floes had jammed into that narrow neck between the great lakes of +Michigan and Huron until, men said, the Straits were ice-filled to the +bottom; but the <I>Ste. Marie</I> and the <I>St. Ignace</I> had plied steadily +back and forth. +</P> + +<P> +Through a stretch where the ice-crusher now was the floes had changed +position, or new ice was blocking the channel; for the <I>Ste. Marie</I>, +having stopped, was backing; now her funnels shot forth fresh smoke, +and she charged ahead. The priest clenched his hands as the steamer +met the shock and her third propeller—the one beneath her bow—sucked +the water out from under the floe and left it without support; she met +the ice barrier, crashed some of it aside; she broke through, recoiled, +halted, charged, climbed up the ice and broke through again. As she +drew nearer now in her approach, the priest walked back toward the +railway station. +</P> + +<P> +It was not merely a confessional which Father Perron had taken from the +lips of the dying man on Number 25; it was an accusation of crime +against another man as well; and the confession and accusation both had +been made, not only to gain forgiveness from God, but to right terrible +wrongs. If the confession left some things unexplained, it did not +lack confirmation; the priest had learned enough to be certain that it +was no hallucination of madness. He had been charged definitely to +repeat what had been told him to the persons he was now going to meet; +so he watched expectantly as the <I>Ste. Marie</I> made its landing. A +train of freight cars was upon the ferry, but a single passenger coach +was among them, and the switching engine brought this off first. A +tall, handsome man whom Father Perron thought must be the Mr. Sherrill +with whom he had communicated appeared upon the car platform; the young +man from Number 25 followed him, and the two helped down a young and +beautiful girl. +</P> + +<P> +They recognized the priest by his dress and came toward him at once. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Sherrill?" Father Perron inquired. +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill assented, taking the priest's hand and introducing his +daughter. +</P> + +<P> +"I am glad to see you safe, Mr. Stafford." The priest had turned to +Alan. "We have thanks to offer up for that, you and I!" +</P> + +<P> +"I am his son, then! I thought that must be so." +</P> + +<P> +Alan trembled at the priest's sign of confirmation. There was no shock +of surprise in this; he had suspected ever since August, when Captain +Stafford's watch and the wedding ring had so strangely come to +Constance, that he might be Stafford's son. His inquiries had brought +him, at that time, to St. Ignace, as Father Perron's had brought him +now; but he had not been able to establish proof of any connection +between himself and the baby son of Captain Stafford who had been born +in that town. +</P> + +<P> +He looked at Constance, as they followed the priest to the motor which +was waiting to take them to the house of old Father Benitot, whose +guest Father Perron was; she was very quiet. What would that grave +statement which Father Perron was to make to them mean to him—to Alan? +Would further knowledge about that father whom he had not known, but +whose blood was his and whose name he now must bear, bring pride or +shame to him? +</P> + +<P> +A bell was tolling somewhere, as they followed the priest into Father +Benitot's small, bare room which had been prepared for their interview. +Father Perron went to a desk and took therefrom some notes which he had +made. He did not seem, as he looked through these notes, to be +refreshing his memory; rather he seemed to be seeking something which +the notes did not supply; for he put them back and reclosed the desk. +</P> + +<P> +"What I have," he said, speaking more particularly to Sherrill, "is the +terrible, not fully coherent statement of a dying man. It has given me +names—also it has given me facts. But isolated. It does not give +what came before or what came after; therefore, it does not make plain. +I hope that, as Benjamin Corvet's partner, you can furnish what I lack." +</P> + +<P> +"What is it you want to know?" Sherrill asked. +</P> + +<P> +"What were the relations between Benjamin Corvet and Captain Stafford?" +</P> + +<P> +Sherrill thought a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Corvet," he replied, "was a very able man; he had insight and mental +grasp—and he had the fault which sometimes goes with those, a +hesitancy of action. Stafford was an able man too, considerably +younger than Corvet. We, ship owners of the lakes, have not the world +to trade in, Father Perron, as they have upon the sea; if you observe +our great shipping lines you will find that they have, it would seem, +apportioned among themselves the traffic of the lakes; each line has +its own connections and its own ports. But this did not come through +agreement, but through conflict; the strong have survived and made a +division of the traffic; the weak have died. Twenty years ago, when +this conflict of competing interests was at its height, Corvet was the +head of one line, Stafford was head of another, and the two lines had +very much the same connections and competed for the same cargoes." +</P> + +<P> +"I begin to see!" Father Perron exclaimed. "Please go on." +</P> + +<P> +"In the early nineties both lines still were young; Stafford had, I +believe, two ships; Corvet had three." +</P> + +<P> +"So few? Yes; it grows plainer!" +</P> + +<P> +"In 1894, Stafford managed a stroke which, if fate had not intervened, +must have assured the ultimate extinction of Corvet's line or its +absorption into Stafford's. Stafford gained as his partner Franklin +Ramsdell, a wealthy man whom he had convinced that the lake traffic +offered chances of great profit; and this connection supplied him with +the capital whose lack had been hampering him, as it was still +hampering Corvet. The new firm—Stafford and Ramsdell—projected the +construction, with Ramsdell's money, of a number of great steel +freighters. The first of these—the <I>Miwaka</I>, a test ship whose +experience was to guide them in the construction of the rest—was +launched in the fall of 1895, and was lost on its maiden trip with both +Stafford and Ramsdell aboard. The Stafford and Ramsdell interests +could not survive the death of both owners and disappeared from the +lakes. Is this what you wanted to know?" +</P> + +<P> +The priest nodded. Alan leaned tensely forward, watching; what he had +heard seemed to have increased and deepened the priest's feeling over +what he had to tell and to have aided his comprehension of it. +</P> + +<P> +"His name was Caleb Stafford," Father Perron began. "(This is what +Benjamin Corvet told to me, when he was dying under the wreckage on the +ferry.) 'He was as fair and able a man as the lakes ever knew. I had +my will of most men in the lake trade in those days; but I could not +have my will of him. With all the lakes to trade in, he had to pick +out for his that traffic which I already had chosen for my own. But I +fought him fair, Father—I fought him fair, and I would have continued +to do that to the end. +</P> + +<P> +"'I was at Manistee, Father, in the end of the season—December fifth +of 1895. The ice had begun to form very early that year and was +already bad; there was cold and a high gale. I had laid up one of my +ships at Manistee, and I was crossing that night upon a tug to +Manitowoc, where another was to be laid up. I had still a third one +lading upon the northern peninsula at Manistique for a last trip which, +if it could be made, would mean a good profit from a season which so +far, because of Stafford's competition, had been only fair. After +leaving Manistee, it grew still more cold, and I was afraid the ice +would close in on her and keep her where she was, so I determined to go +north that night and see that she got out. None knew, Father, except +those aboard the tug, that I had made that change. +</P> + +<P> +"'At midnight, Father, to westward of the Foxes, we heard the four +blasts of a steamer in distress—the four long blasts which have +sounded in my soul ever since! We turned toward where we saw the +steamer's lights; we went nearer and, Father, it was his great, new +ship—the <I>Miwaka</I>! We had heard two days before that she had passed +the Soo; we had not known more than that of where she was. She had +broken her new shaft, Father, and was intact except for that, but +helpless in the rising sea...'" +</P> + +<P> +The priest broke off. "The <I>Miwaka</I>! I did not understand all that +that had meant to him until just now—the new ship of the rival line, +whose building meant for him failure and defeat! +</P> + +<P> +"There is no higher duty than the rescue of those in peril at sea. +He—Benjamin Corvet, who told me this—swore to me that, at the +beginning none upon the tug had any thought except to give aid. A +small line was drifted down to the tug and to this a hawser was +attached which they hauled aboard. There happened then the first of +those events which led those upon the tug into doing a great wrong. +He—Benjamin Corvet—had taken charge of the wheel of the tug; three +men were handling the hawser in ice and washing water at the stern. +The whistle accidentally blew, which those on the <I>Miwaka</I> understood +to mean that the hawser had been secured, so they drew in the slack; +the hawser, tightened unexpectedly by the pitching of the sea, caught +and crushed the captain and deckhand of the tug and threw them into the +sea. +</P> + +<P> +"Because they were short-handed now upon the tug, and also because +consultation was necessary over what was to be done, the young owner of +the <I>Miwaka</I>, Captain Stafford, came down the hawser onto the tug after +the line had been put straight. He came to the wheelhouse, where +Benjamin Corvet was, and they consulted. Then Benjamin Corvet learned +that the other owner was aboard the new ship as well—Ramsdell—the man +whose money you have just told me had built this and was soon to build +other ships. I did not understand before why learning that affected +him so much. +</P> + +<P> +"'Stafford wanted us' (this is what Benjamin Corvet said) 'to tow him +up the lake; I would not do that, but I agreed to tow him to +Manistique. The night was dark, Father—no snow, but frightful wind +which had been increasing until it now sent the waves washing clear +across the tug. We had gone north an hour when, low upon the water to +my right, I saw a light, and there came to me the whistling of a buoy +which told me that we were passing nearer than I would have wished, +even in daytime, to windward of Boulder Reef. There are, Father, no +people on that reef; its sides of ragged rock go straight down forty +fathoms into the lake. +</P> + +<P> +"'I looked at the man with me in the wheelhouse—at Stafford—and hated +him! I put my head out at the wheelhouse door and looked back at the +lights at the new, great steamer, following safe and straight at the +end of its towline. I thought of my two men upon the tug who had been +crushed by clumsiness of those on board that ship; and how my own ships +had had a name for never losing a man and that name would be lost now +because of the carelessness of Stafford's men! And the sound of the +shoal brought the evil thought to me. Suppose I had not happened +across his ship; would it have gone upon some reef like this and been +lost? I thought that if now the hawser should break, I would be rid of +that ship and perhaps of the owner who was on board as well. We could +not pick up the tow line again so close to the reef. The steamer would +drift down upon the rocks—'" +</P> + +<P> +Father Perron hesitated an instant. "I bear witness," he said +solemnly, "that Benjamin Corvet assured me—his priest—that it was +only a thought; the evil act which it suggested was something which he +would not do or even think of doing. But he spoke something of what +was in his mind to Stafford, for he said: +</P> + +<P> +"'I must look like a fool to you to keep on towing your ship!' +</P> + +<P> +"They stared, he told me, into one another's eyes, and Stafford grew +uneasy. +</P> + +<P> +"'We'd have been all right,' he answered, 'until we had got help, if +you'd left us where we were!' He too listened to the sound of the buoy +and of the water dashing on the shoal. 'You are taking us too close,' +he said—'too close!' He went aft then to look at the tow line." +</P> + +<P> +Father Perron's voice ceased; what he had to tell now made his face +whiten as he arranged it in his memory. Alan leaned forward a little +and then, with an effort, sat straight. Constance turned and gazed at +him; but he dared not look at her. He felt her hand warm upon his; it +rested there a moment and moved away. +</P> + +<P> +"There was a third man in the wheelhouse when these things were +spoken," Father Perron said, "the mate of the ship which had been laid +up at Manistee." +</P> + +<P> +"Henry Spearman," Sherrill supplied. +</P> + +<P> +"That is the name. Benjamin Corvet told me of that man that he was +young, determined, brutal, and set upon getting position and wealth for +himself by any means. He watched Corvet and Stafford while they were +speaking, and he too listened to the shoal until Stafford had come +back; then he went aft. +</P> + +<P> +"'I looked at him, Father,' Benjamin Corvet said to me, 'and I let him +go—not knowing. He came back and looked at me once more, and went +again to the stern; Stafford had been watching him as well as I, and he +sprang away from me now and scrambled after him. The tug leaped +suddenly; there was no longer any tow holding it back, for the hawser +had parted; and I knew, Father, the reason was that Spearman had cut it! +</P> + +<P> +"'I rang for the engine to be slowed, and I left the wheel and went +aft; some struggle was going on at the stern of the tug; a flash came +from there and the cracking of a shot. Suddenly all was light about me +as, aware of the breaking of the hawser and alarmed by the shot, the +searchlight of the <I>Miwaka</I> turned upon the tug. The cut end of the +hawser was still upon the tug, and Spearman had been trying to clear +this when Stafford attacked him; they fought, and Stafford struck +Spearman down. He turned and cried out against me—accusing me of +having ordered Spearman to cut the line. He held up the cut end toward +Ramsdell on the <I>Miwaka</I> and cried out to him and showed by pointing +that it had been cut. Blood was running from the hand with which he +pointed, for he had been shot by Spearman; and now again and a second +and a third time, from where he lay upon the deck, Spearman fired. The +second of those shots killed the engineer who had rushed out where I +was on the deck; the third shot went through Stafford's head. The +<I>Miwaka</I> was drifting down upon the reef; her whistle sounded again and +again the four long blasts. The fireman, who had followed the engineer +up from below, fawned on me! I was safe for all of him, he said; I +could trust Luke—Luke would not tell! He too thought I had ordered +the doing of that thing! +</P> + +<P> +"'From the <I>Miwaka</I>, Ramsdell yelled curses at me, threatening me for +what he thought that I had done! I looked at Spearman as he got up +from the deck, and I read the thought that had been in him; he had +believed that he could cut the hawser in the dark, none seeing, and +that our word that it had been broken would have as much strength as +any accusation Stafford could make. He had known that to share a +secret such as that with me would "make" him on the lakes; for the loss +of the <I>Miwaka</I> would cripple Stafford and Ramsdell and strengthen me; +and he could make me share with him whatever success I made. But +Stafford had surprised him at the hawser and had seen. +</P> + +<P> +"'I moved to denounce him, Father, as I realized this; I moved—but +stopped. He had made himself safe against accusation by me! +None—none ever would believe that he had done this except by my order, +if he should claim that; and he made plain that he was going to claim +that. He called me a fool and defied me. Luke—even my own man, the +only one left on the tug with us—believed it! And there was murder in +it now, with Stafford dying there upon the deck and with the certainty +that all those on the <I>Miwaka</I> could not be saved. I felt the noose as +if it had been already tied about my neck! And I had done no wrong, +Father! I had only thought wrong! +</P> + +<P> +"'So long as one lived among those on the <I>Miwaka</I> who had seen what +was done, I knew I would be hanged; yet I would have saved them if I +could. But, in my comprehension of what this meant, I only stared at +Stafford where he lay and then at Spearman, and I let him get control +of the tug. The tug, whose wheel I had lashed, heading her into the +waves, had been moving slowly. Spearman pushed me aside and went to +the wheelhouse; he sent Luke to the engines, and from that moment Luke +was his. He turned the tug about to where we still saw the lights of +the <I>Miwaka</I>. The steamer had struck upon the reef; she hung there for +a time; and Spearman—he had the wheel and Luke, at his orders, was at +the engine—held the tug off and we beat slowly to and fro until the +<I>Miwaka</I> slipped off and sank. Some had gone down with her, no doubt; +but two boats had got off, carrying lights. They saw the tug +approaching and cried out and stretched their hands to us; but Spearman +stopped the tug. They rowed towards us then, but when they got near, +Spearman moved the tug away from them, and then again stopped. They +cried out again and rowed toward us; again he moved the tug away, and +then they understood and stopped rowing and cried curses at us. One +boat soon drifted far away; we knew of its capsizing by the +extinguishing of its light. The other capsized near to where we were. +Those in it who had no lifebelts and could not swim, sank first. Some +could swim and, for a while they fought the waves.'" +</P> + +<P> +Alan, as he listened, ceased consciously to separate the priest's voice +from the sensations running through him. His father was Stafford, +dying at Corvet's feet while Corvet watched the death of the crew of +the <I>Miwaka</I>; Alan himself, a child, was floating with a lifebelt among +those struggling in the water whom Spearman and Corvet were watching +die. Memory; was it that which now had come to him? No; rather it was +a realization of all the truths which the priest's words were bringing +together and arranging rightly for him. +</P> + +<P> +He, a child, saved by Corvet from the water because he could not bear +witness, seemed to be on that tug, sea-swept and clad in ice, crouching +beside the form of his father while Corvet stood aghast—Corvet, still +hearing the long blasts of distress from the steamer which was gone, +still hearing the screams of the men who were drowned. Then, when all +were gone who could tell, Spearman turned the tug to Manitowoc.... Now +again the priest's voice became audible to Alan. +</P> + +<P> +Alan's father died in the morning. All day they stayed out in the +storm, avoiding vessels. They dared not throw Stafford's body +overboard or that of the engineer, because, if found, the bullet holes +would have aroused inquiry. When night came again, they had taken the +two ashore at some wild spot and buried them; to make identification +harder, they had taken the things that they had with them and buried +them somewhere else. The child—Alan—Corvet had smuggled ashore and +sent away; he had told Spearman later that the child had died. +</P> + +<P> +"Peace—rest!" Father Perron said in a deep voice. "Peace to the dead!" +</P> + +<P> +But for the living there had been no peace. Spearman had forced Corvet +to make him his partner; Corvet had tried to take up his life again, +but had not been able. His wife, aware that something was wrong with +him, had learned enough so that she had left him. Luke had come and +come and come again for blackmail, and Corvet had paid him. Corvet +grew rich; those connected with him prospered; but with Corvet lived +always the ghosts of those he had watched die with the <I>Miwaka</I>—of +those who would have prospered with Stafford except for what had been +done. Corvet had secretly sought and followed the fate of the kin of +those people who had been murdered to benefit him; he found some of +their families destroyed; he found almost all poor and struggling. And +though Corvet paid Luke to keep the crime from disclosure, yet Corvet +swore to himself to confess it all and make such restitution as he +could. But each time that the day he had appointed with himself +arrived, he put it off and off and paid Luke again and again. Spearman +knew of his intention and sometimes kept him from it. But Corvet had +made one close friend; and when that friend's daughter, for whom Corvet +cared now most of all in the world, had been about to marry Spearman, +Corvet defied the cost to himself, and he gained strength to oppose +Spearman. So he had written to Stafford's son to come; he had prepared +for confession and restitution; but, after he had done this and while +he waited, something had seemed to break in his brain; too long preyed +upon by terrible memories, and the ghosts of those who had gone, and by +the echo of their voices crying to him from the water, Corvet had +wandered away; he had come back, under the name of one of those whom he +had wronged, to the lake life from which he had sprung. Only now and +then, for a few hours, he had intervals when he remembered all; in one +of these he had dug up the watch and the ring and other things which he +had taken from Captain Stafford's pockets and written to himself +directions of what to do with them, when his mind again failed. +</P> + +<P> +And for Spearman, strong against all that assailed Corvet, there had +been always the terror of the Indian Drum—the Drum which had beat +short for the <I>Miwaka</I>, the Drum which had known that one was saved! +That story came from some hint which Luke had spread, Corvet thought; +but Spearman, born near by the Drum, believed that the Drum had known +and that the Drum had tried to tell; all through the years Spearman had +dreaded the Drum which had tried to betray him. +</P> + +<P> +So it was by the Drum that, in the end, Spearman was broken. +</P> + +<P> +The priest's voice had stopped, as Alan slowly realized; he heard +Sherrill's voice speaking to him. +</P> + +<P> +"It was a trust that he left you, Alan; I thought it must be that—a +trust for those who suffered by the loss of your father's ship. I +don't know yet how it can be fulfilled; and we must think of that." +</P> + +<P> +"That's how I understand it," Alan said. +</P> + +<P> +Fuller consciousness of what Father Perron's story meant to him was +flowing through him now. Wrong, great wrong there had been, as he had +known there must be; but it had not been as he had feared, for he and +his had been among the wronged ones. The name—the new name that had +come to him—he knew what that must be: Robert Alan Stafford; and there +was no shadow on it. He was the son of an honest man and a good woman; +he was clean and free; free to think as he was thinking now of the girl +beside him; and to hope that she was thinking so of him. +</P> + +<P> +Through the tumult in his soul he became aware of physical feelings +again, and of Sherrill's hand put upon his shoulder in a cordial, +friendly grasp. Then another hand, small and firm, touched his, and he +felt its warm, tightening grasp upon his fingers; he looked up, and his +eyes filled and hers, he saw, were brimming too. +</P> + +<P> +</P> + +<P> +They walked together, later in the day, up the hill to the small, white +house which had been Caleb Stafford's. Alan had seen the house before +but, not knowing then whether the man who had owned it had or had not +been his father, he had merely looked at it from the outside. There +had been a small garden filled with flowers before it then; now yard +and roofs were buried deep in snow. The woman who came to the door was +willing to show them through the house; it had only five rooms. One of +those upon the second floor was so much larger and pleasanter than the +rest that they became quite sure that it was the one in which Alan had +been born, and where his young mother soon afterward had died. +</P> + +<P> +They were very quiet as they stood looking about. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish we could have known her," Constance said. +</P> + +<P> +The woman, who had showed them about, had gone to another room and left +them alone. +</P> + +<P> +"There seems to have been no picture of her and nothing of hers left +here that any one can tell me about; but," Alan choked, "it's good to +be able to think of her as I can now." +</P> + +<P> +"I know," Constance said. "When you were away, I used to think of you +as finding out about her and—and I wanted to be with you. I'm glad +I'm with you now, though you don't need me any more!" +</P> + +<P> +"Not need you!" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean—no one can say anything against her now!" +</P> + +<P> +Alan drew nearer her, trembling. +</P> + +<P> +"I can never thank you—I can never tell you what you did for me, +believing in—her and in me, no matter how things looked. And then, +coming up here as you did—for me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it was for you, Alan!" +</P> + +<P> +"Constance!" He caught her. She let him hold her; then, still +clinging to him, she put him a little away. +</P> + +<P> +"The night before you came to the Point last summer, Alan, he—he had +just come and asked me again. I'd promised; but we motored that +evening to his place and—there were sunflowers there, and I knew that +night I couldn't love him." +</P> + +<P> +"Because of the sunflowers?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sunflower houses, Alan, they made me think of; do you remember?" +</P> + +<P> +"Remember!" +</P> + +<P> +The woman was returning to them now and, perhaps, it was as well; for +not yet, he knew, could he ask her all that he wished; what had +happened was too recent yet for that. But to him, Spearman—half mad +and fleeing from the haunts of men—was beginning to be like one who +had never been; and he knew she shared this feeling. The light in her +deep eyes was telling him already what her answer to him would be; and +life stretched forth before him full of love and happiness and hope. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +THE END +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<HR> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +ZANE GREY'S NOVELS +</H2> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. +</H4> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS +</P> + +<P> +A New York society girl buys a ranch which becomes the center of +frontier warfare. Her loyal superintendent rescues her when she is +captured by bandits. A surprising climax brings the story to a +delightful close. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE RAINBOW TRAIL +</P> + +<P> +The story of a young clergyman who becomes a wanderer in the great +western uplands—until at last love and faith awake. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +DESERT GOLD +</P> + +<P> +The story describes the recent uprising along the border, and ends with +the finding of the gold which two prospectors had willed to the girl +who is the story's heroine. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE +</P> + +<P> +A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when Mormon +authority ruled. The prosecution of Jane Withersteen is the theme of +the story. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN +</P> + +<P> +This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo Jones, +known as the preserver of the American bison, across the Arizona desert +and of a trip in "that wonderful country of deep cañons and giant +pines." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT +</P> + +<P> +A lovely girl, who has been reared among Mormons, learns to love a +young New Englander. The Mormon religion, however, demands that the +girl shall become the second wife of one of the Mormons—Well, that's +the problem of this great story. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE SHORT STOP +</P> + +<P> +The young hero, tiring of his factory grind, starts out to win fame and +fortune as professional ball player. His hard knocks at the start are +followed by such success as clean sportsmanship, courage and honesty +ought to win. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +BETTY ZANE +</P> + +<P> +This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautiful +young sister of Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE LONE STAR RANGER +</P> + +<P> +After killing a man in self defense, Buck Duane becomes an outlaw along +the Texas border. In a camp on the Mexican side of the river, he finds +a young girl held prisoner, and in attempting to rescue her, brings +down upon himself the wrath of her captors and henceforth is hunted on +one side by honest men, on the other by outlaws. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE BORDER LEGION +</P> + +<P> +Joan Randle, in a spirit of anger, sent Jim Cleve out to a lawless +Western mining camp, to prove his mettle. Then realizing that she +loved him—she followed him out. On her way, she is captured by a +bandit band, and trouble begins when she shoots Kells, the leader—and +nurses him to health again. Here enters another romance—when Joan, +disguised as an outlaw, observes Jim, in the throes of dissipation. A +gold strike, a thrilling robbery—gambling and gun play carry you along +breathlessly. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS. +</P> + +<P> +By Helen Cody Wetmore and Zane Grey +</P> + +<P> +The life story of Colonel William F. Cody, "Buffalo Bill," as told by +his sister and Zane Grey. It begins with his boyhood in Iowa and his +first encounter with an Indian. We see "Bill" as a pony express rider, +then near Fort Sumter as Chief of the Scouts, and later engaged in the +most dangerous Indian campaigns. There is also a very interesting +account of the travels of "The Wild West" Show. No character in public +life makes a stronger appeal to the imagination of America than +"Buffalo Bill," whose daring and bravery made him famous. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK +</H4> + +<BR><BR> + +<HR> + +<BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +JACK LONDON'S NOVELS +</H2> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list +</H4> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +JOHN BARLEYCORN. Illustrated by H. T. Dunn. +</P> + +<P> +This remarkable book is a record of the author's own amazing +experiences. This big, brawny world rover, who has been acquainted +with alcohol from boyhood, comes out boldly against John Barleycorn. +It is a string of exciting adventures, yet it forcefully conveys an +unforgetable idea and makes a typical Jack London book. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE VALLEY OF THE MOON. Frontispiece by George Harper. +</P> + +<P> +The story opens in the city slums where Billy Roberts, teamster and +ex-prize fighter, and Saxon Brown, laundry worker, meet and love and +marry. They tramp from one end of California to the other, and in the +Valley of the Moon find the farm paradise that is to be their salvation. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +BURNING DAYLIGHT. Four illustrations. +</P> + +<P> +The story of an adventurer who went to Alaska and laid the foundations +of his fortune before the gold hunters arrived. Bringing his fortunes +to the States he is cheated out of it by a crowd of money kings, and +recovers it only at the muzzle of his gun. He then starts out as a +merciless exploiter on his own account. Finally he takes to drinking +and becomes a picture of degeneration. About this time he falls in +love with his stenographer and wins her heart but not her hand and +then—but read the story! +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A SON OF THE SUN. Illustrated by A. O. Fischer and C. W. Ashley. +</P> + +<P> +David Grief was once a light-haired, blue-eyed youth who came from +England to the South Seas in search of adventure. Tanned like a native +and as lithe as a tiger, he became a real son of the sun. The life +appealed to him and he remained and became very wealthy. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE CALL OF THE WILD. Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin and Charles +Livingston Bull. Decorations by Charles E. Hooper. +</P> + +<P> +A book of dog adventures as exciting as any man's exploits could be. +Here is excitement to stir the blood and here is picturesque color to +transport the reader to primitive scenes. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE SEA WOLF. Illustrated by W. J. Aylward. +</P> + +<P> +Told by a man whom Fate suddenly swings from his fastidious life into +the power of the brutal captain of a sealing schooner. A novel of +adventure warmed by a beautiful love episode that every reader will +hail with delight. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +WHITE FANG. Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull. +</P> + +<P> +"White Fang" is part dog, part wolf and all brute, living in the frozen +north; he gradually comes under the spell of man's companionship, and +surrenders all at the last in a fight with a bull dog. Thereafter he +is man's loving slave. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK +</H4> + +<BR><BR> + +<HR> + +<BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +B. M. Bower's Novels +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Thrilling Western Romances +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +Large 12 mos. Handsomely bound in cloth. Illustrated +</H4> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +CHIP, OF THE FLYING U +</P> + +<P> +A breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of Chip and Delia +Whitman are charmingly and humorously told. Chip's jealousy of Dr. +Cecil Grantham, who turns out to be a big, blue eyed young woman is +very amusing. A clever, realistic story of the American Cow-puncher. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE HAPPY FAMILY +</P> + +<P> +A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of eighteen +jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst them, we find +Ananias Green, known as Andy, whose imaginative powers cause many +lively and exciting adventures. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT +</P> + +<P> +A realistic story of the plains, describing a gay party of Easterners +who exchange a cottage at Newport for the rough homeliness of a Montana +ranch-house. The merry-hearted cowboys, the fascinating Beatrice, and +the effusive Sir Redmond, become living, breathing personalities. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE RANGE DWELLERS +</P> + +<P> +Here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist. +Spirited action, a range feud between two families, and a Romeo and +Juliet courtship make this a bright, jolly, entertaining story, without +a dull page. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE LURE OF DIM TRAILS +</P> + +<P> +A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author, among the +cowboys of the West, in search of "local color" for a new novel. "Bud" +Thurston learns many a lesson while following "the lure of the dim +trails" but the hardest, and probably the most welcome, is that of love. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE LONESOME TRAIL +</P> + +<P> +"Weary" Davidson leaves the ranch for Portland, where conventional city +life palls on him. A little branch of sage brush, pungent with the +atmosphere of the prairie, and the recollection of a pair of large +brown eyes soon compel his return. A wholesome love story. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE LONG SHADOW +</P> + +<P> +A vigorous Western story, sparkling with the free, outdoor, life of a +mountain ranch. Its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play the game +of life fearlessly and like men. It is a fine love story from start to +finish. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK +</H4> + +<BR><BR> + +<HR> + +<BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP'S +<BR> +DRAMATIZED NOVELS +</H2> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +Original, sincere and courageous—often amusing—the kind that are +making theatrical history. +</H4> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +MADAME X. By Alexandra Bisson and J. W. McConaughy. Illustrated with +scenes from the play. +</P> + +<P> +A beautiful Parisienne became an outcast because her husband would not +forgive an error of her youth. Her love for her son is the great final +influence in her career. A tremendous dramatic success. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens. +</P> + +<P> +An unconventional English woman and an inscrutable stranger meet and +love in an oasis of the Sahara. Staged this season with magnificent +cast and gorgeous properties. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE PRINCE OF INDIA. By Lew. Wallace. +</P> + +<P> +A glowing romance of the Byzantine Empire, presenting with +extraordinary power the siege of Constantinople, and lighting its +tragedy with the warm underflow of an Oriental romance. As a play it +is a great dramatic spectacle. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY. By Grace Miller White. Illust. by Howard +Chandler Christy. +</P> + +<P> +A girl from the dregs of society, loves a young Cornell University +student, and it works startling changes in her life and the lives of +those about her. The dramatic version is one of the sensations of the +season. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +YOUNG WALLINGFORD. By George Randolph Chester. Illust. by F. R. +Gruger and Henry Raleigh. +</P> + +<P> +A series of clever swindles conducted by a cheerful young man, each of +which is just on the safe side of a State's prison offence. As +"Get-Rich-Quick Wallingford," it is probably the most amusing expose of +money manipulation ever seen on the stage. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE INTRUSION OF JIMMY. By P. G. Wodehouse. Illustrations by Will +Grefe. +</P> + +<P> +Social and club life in London and New York, an amateur burglary +adventure and a love story. Dramatized under the title of "A Gentleman +of Leisure," it furnishes hours of laughter to the play-goers. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK +</H4> + +<BR><BR> + +<HR> + +<BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP'S +<BR> +DRAMATIZED NOVELS +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE KIND THAT ARE MAKING THEATRICAL HISTORY +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. +</H4> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +WITHIN THE LAW. By Bayard Veiller & Marvin Dana. Illustrated by Wm. +Charles Cooke. +</P> + +<P> +This is a novelization of the immensely successful play which ran for +two years in New York and Chicago. +</P> + +<P> +The plot of this powerful novel is of a young woman's revenge directed +against her employer who allowed her to be sent to prison for three +years on a charge of theft, of which she was innocent. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY. By Robert Carlton Brown. Illustrated with +scenes from the play. +</P> + +<P> +This is a narrative of a young and innocent country girl who is +suddenly thrown into the very heart of New York, "the land of her +dreams," where she is exposed to all sorts of temptations and dangers. +</P> + +<P> +The story of Mary is being told in moving pictures and played in +theatres all over the world. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM. By David Belasco. Illustrated by John Rae. +</P> + +<P> +This is a novelization of the popular play in which David Warfield, as +Old Peter Grimm, scored such a remarkable success. +</P> + +<P> +The story is spectacular and extremely pathetic but withal, powerful, +both as a book and as a play. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens. +</P> + +<P> +This novel is an intense, glowing epic of the great desert, sunlit +barbaric, with its marvelous atmosphere of vastness and loneliness. +</P> + +<P> +It is a book of rapturous beauty, vivid in word painting. The play has +been staged with magnificent cast and gorgeous properties. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +BEN HUR. A Tale of the Christ By General Lew Wallace. +</P> + +<P> +The whole world has placed this famous Religious-Historical Romance on +a height of pre-eminence which no other novel of its time has reached. +The clashing of rivalry and the deepest human passions, the perfect +reproduction of brilliant Roman life, and the tense, fierce atmosphere +of the arena have kept their deep fascination. A tremendous dramatic +success. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +BOUGHT AND PAID FOR. By George Broadhurst and Arthur Hornblow. +Illustrated with scenes from the play. +</P> + +<P> +A stupendous arraignment of modern marriage which has created an +interest on the stage that is almost unparalleled. The scenes are laid +in New York, and deal with conditions among both the rich and poor. +</P> + +<P> +The interest of the story turns on the day-by-day developments which +show the young wife the price she has paid. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +<I>Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</I> +</H4> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK +</H4> + +<BR><BR> + +<HR> + +<BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +JOHN FOX, JR'S. +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list. +</H4> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. +</P> + +<P> +The "lonesome pine" from which the story takes its name was a tall tree +that stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. The fame of the +pine lured a young engineer through Kentucky to catch the trail, and +when he finally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but +the <I>foot-prints of a girl</I>. And the girl proved to be lovely, +piquant, and the trail of these girlish foot-prints led the young +engineer a madder chase than "the trail of the lonesome pine." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. +</P> + +<P> +This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as "Kingdom Come." +It is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural and honest, from which +often springs the flower of civilization. +</P> + +<P> +"Chad." the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor whence he +came—he had just wandered from door to door since early childhood, +seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who gladly fathered and +mothered this waif about whom there was such a mystery—a charming +waif, by the way, who could play the banjo better that anyone else in +the mountains. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. +</P> + +<P> +The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland, the lair of +moonshiner and feudsman. The knight is a moonshiner's son, and the +heroine a beautiful girl perversely christened "The Blight." Two +impetuous young Southerners fall under the spell of "The Blight's" +charms and she learns what a large part jealousy and pistols have in +the love making of the mountaineers. +</P> + +<P> +Included in this volume is "Hell fer-Sartain" and other stories, some +of Mr. Fox's most entertaining Cumberland valley narratives. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +<I>Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</I> +</H4> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK +</H4> + +<BR><BR> + +<HR> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Indian Drum, by +William MacHarg and Edwin Balmer + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INDIAN DRUM *** + +***** This file should be named 33065-h.htm or 33065-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/0/6/33065/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</BODY> + +</HTML> + diff --git a/33065-h/images/img-202.jpg b/33065-h/images/img-202.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1006bd5 --- /dev/null +++ b/33065-h/images/img-202.jpg diff --git a/33065-h/images/img-front.jpg b/33065-h/images/img-front.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a278169 --- /dev/null +++ b/33065-h/images/img-front.jpg diff --git a/33065.txt b/33065.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7c38990 --- /dev/null +++ b/33065.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11998 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Indian Drum, by William MacHarg and Edwin Balmer + +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 Indian Drum + +Author: William MacHarg + Edwin Balmer + +Illustrator: W. T. Benda + +Release Date: July 3, 2010 [EBook #33065] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INDIAN DRUM *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: As Constance started away, Spearman suddenly drew her +back to him and kissed her.] + + + + + +THE INDIAN DRUM + + +BY + +WILLIAM MacHARG + +AND + +EDWIN BALMER + + + + +FRONTISPIECE BY + +W. T. BENDA + + + + +NEW YORK + +GROSSET & DUNLAP + +PUBLISHERS + + + + +_Copyright, 1917,_ + +BY EDWIN BALMER + + +_All rights reserved_ + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I THE MAN WHOM THE STORM HAUNTED + II WHO IS ALAN CONRAD? + III DISCUSSION OF A SHADOW + IV "ARRIVED SAFE; WELL" + V AN ENCOUNTER + VI CONSTANCE SHERRILL + VII THE DEED IN TRUST + VIII MR. CORVET'S PARTNER + IX VIOLENCE + X A WALK BESIDE THE LAKE + XI A CALLER + XII THE LAND OF THE DRUM + XIII THE THINGS FROM CORVET'S POCKETS + XIV THE OWNER OF THE WATCH + XV OLD BURR OF THE FERRY + XVI A GHOST SHIP + XVII "HE KILLED YOUR FATHER" + XVIII MR. SPEARMAN GOES NORTH + XIX THE WATCH UPON THE BEACH + XX THE SOUNDING OF THE DRUM + XXI THE FATE OF THE MIWAKA + + + + +THE INDIAN DRUM + + +CHAPTER I + +THE MAN WHOM THE STORM HAUNTED + +Near the northern end of Lake Michigan, where the bluff-bowed +ore-carriers and the big, low-lying, wheat-laden steel freighters from +Lake Superior push out from the Straits of Mackinac and dispute the +right of way, in the island divided channel, with the white-and-gold, +electric lighted, wireless equipped passenger steamers bound for +Detroit and Buffalo, there is a copse of pine and hemlock back from the +shingly beach. From this copse--dark, blue, primeval, silent at most +times as when the Great Manitou ruled his inland waters--there comes at +time of storm a sound like the booming of an old Indian drum. This +drum beat, so the tradition says, whenever the lake took a life; and, +as a sign perhaps that it is still the Manitou who rules the waters in +spite of all the commerce of the cities, the drum still beats its roll +for every ship lost on the lake, one beat for every life. + +So--men say--they heard and counted the beatings of the drum to +thirty-five upon the hour when, as afterward they learned, the great +steel steamer _Wenota_ sank with twenty-four of its crew and eleven +passengers; so--men say--they heard the requiem of the five who went +down with the schooner _Grant_; and of the seventeen lost with the +_Susan Hart_; and so of a score of ships more. Once only, it is told, +has the drum counted wrong. + +At the height of the great storm of December, 1895, the drum beat the +roll of a sinking ship. One, two, three--the hearers counted the drum +beats, time and again, in their intermitted booming, to twenty-four. +They waited, therefore, for report of a ship lost with twenty-four +lives; no such news came. The new steel freighter _Miwaka_, on her +maiden trip during the storm with twenty-five--not twenty-four--aboard +never made her port; no news was ever heard from her; no wreckage ever +was found. On this account, throughout the families whose fathers, +brothers, and sons were the officers and crew of the _Miwaka_, there +stirred for a time a desperate belief that one of the men on the +_Miwaka_ was saved; that somewhere, somehow, he was alive and might +return. The day of the destruction of the _Miwaka_ was fixed as +December fifth by the time at which she passed the government lookout +at the Straits; the hour was fixed as five o'clock in the morning only +by the sounding of the drum. + +The region, filled with Indian legend and with memories of wrecks, +encourages such beliefs as this. To northward and to westward a half +dozen warning lights--Ile-aux-Galets ("Skilligalee" the lake men call +it), Waugaushance, Beaver, and Fox Islands--gleam spectrally where the +bone-white shingle outcrops above the water, or blur ghostlike in the +haze; on the dark knolls topping the glistening sand bluffs to +northward, Chippewas and Ottawas, a century and a half ago, quarreled +over the prisoners after the massacre at Fort Mackinac; to southward, +where other hills frown down upon Little Traverse Bay, the black-robed +priests in their chapel chant the same masses their predecessors +chanted to the Indians of that time. So, whatever may be the origin of +that drum, its meaning is not questioned by the forlorn descendants of +those Indians, who now make beadwork and sweet-grass baskets for their +summer trade, or by the more credulous of the white fishermen and +farmers; men whose word on any other subject would receive +unquestioning credence will tell you they have heard the drum. + +But at bottom, of course, this is only the absurdest of superstitions, +which can affect in no way men who to-day ship ore in steel bottoms to +the mills of Gary and carry gasoline-engine reaped and threshed wheat +to the elevators of Chicago. It is recorded, therefore, only as a +superstition which for twenty-years has been connected with the loss of +a great ship. + + * * * * * + +Storm--the stinging, frozen sleet-slash of the February norther +whistling down the floe-jammed length of the lake--was assaulting +Chicago. Over the lake it was a white, whirling maelstrom, obscuring +at midafternoon even the lighthouses at the harbor entrance; beyond +that, the winter boats trying for the harbor mouth were bellowing +blindly at bay before the jammed ice, and foghorns and sirens echoed +loudly in the city in the lulls of the storm. + +Battering against the fronts of the row of club buildings, fashionable +hotels, and shops which face across the narrow strip of park to the +lake front in downtown Chicago, the gale swirled and eddied the sleet +till all the wide windows, warm within, were frosted. So heavy was +this frost on the panes of the Fort Dearborn Club--one of the staidest +of the down-town clubs for men--that the great log fires blazing on the +open hearths added appreciable light as well as warmth to the rooms. + +The few members present at this hour of the afternoon showed by their +lazy attitudes and the desultoriness of their conversation the dulling +of vitality which warmth and shelter bring on a day of cold and storm. +On one, however, the storm had had a contrary effect. With swift, +uneven steps he paced now one room, now another; from time to time he +stopped abruptly by a window, scraped from it with finger nail the +frost, stared out for an instant through the little opening he had +made, then resumed as abruptly his nervous pacing with a manner so +uneasy and distraught that, since his arrival at the club an hour +before, none even among those who knew him best had ventured to speak +to him. + +There are, in every great city, a few individuals who from their +fullness of experience in an epoch of the city's life come to epitomize +that epoch in the general mind; when one thinks of a city or of a +section of the country in more personal terms than its square miles, +its towering buildings, and its censused millions, one must think of +those individuals. Almost every great industry owns one and seldom +more than one; that often enough is not, in a money sense, the +predominant figure of his industry; others of his rivals or even of his +partners may be actually more powerful than he; but he is the +personality; he represents to the outsiders the romance and mystery of +the secrets and early, naked adventures of the great achievement. +Thus, to think of the great mercantile establishments of State Street +is to think immediately of one man; another very vivid and picturesque +personality stands for the stockyards; another rises from the wheat +pit; one more from the banks; one from the steel works. The man who +was pacing restlessly and alone the rooms of the Fort Dearborn Club on +this stormy afternoon was the man who, to most people, bodied forth the +life underlying all other commerce thereabouts but the least known, the +life of the lakes. + +The lakes, which mark unmistakably those who get their living from +them, had put their marks on him. Though he was slight in frame with a +spare, almost ascetic leanness, he had the wiry strength and endurance +of the man whose youth had been passed upon the water. He was very +close to sixty now, but his thick, straight hair was still jet black +except for a slash of pure white above one temple; his brows were black +above his deep blue eyes. Unforgettable eyes, they were; they gazed at +one directly with surprising, disconcerting intrusion into one's +thoughts; then, before amazement altered to resentment, one realized +that, though he was still gazing, his eyes were vacant with +speculation--a strange, lonely withdrawal into himself. His +acquaintances, in explaining him to strangers, said he had lived too +much by himself of late; he and one man servant shared the great house +which had been unchanged--and in which nothing appeared to have been +worn out or have needed replacing--since his wife left him, suddenly +and unaccountably, about twenty years before. At that time he had +looked much the same as now; since then, the white slash upon his +temple had grown a bit broader perhaps; his nose had become a trifle +aquiline, his chin more sensitive, his well formed hands a little more +slender. People said he looked more French, referring to his father +who was known to have been a skin-hunter north of Lake Superior in the +50's but who later married an English girl at Mackinac and settled down +to become a trader in the woods of the North Peninsula, where Benjamin +Corvet was born. + +During his boyhood, men came to the peninsula to cut timber; young +Corvet worked with them and began building ships. Thirty-five years +ago, he had been only one of the hundreds with his fortune in the fate +of a single bottom; but to-day in Cleveland, in Duluth, in Chicago, +more than a score of great steamers under the names of various +interdependent companies were owned or controlled by him and his two +partners, Sherrill and young Spearman. + +He was a quiet, gentle-mannered man. At times, however, he suffered +from fits of intense irritability, and these of late had increased in +frequency and violence. It had been noticed that these outbursts +occurred generally at times of storm upon the lake, but the mere threat +of financial loss through the destruction of one or even more of his +ships was not now enough to cause them; it was believed that they were +the result of some obscure physical reaction to the storm, and that +this had grown upon him as he grew older. + +To-day his irritability was so marked, his uneasiness so much greater +than any one had seen it before, that the attendant whom Corvet had +sent, a half hour earlier, to reserve his usual table for him in the +grill--"the table by the second window"--had started away without +daring to ask whether the table was to be set for one or more. Corvet +himself had corrected the omission: "For two," he had shot after the +man. Now, as his uneven footsteps carried him to the door of the +grill, and he went in, the steward, who had started forward at sight of +him, suddenly stopped, and the waiter assigned to his table stood +nervously uncertain, not knowing whether to give his customary greeting +or to efface himself as much as possible. + +The tables, at this hour, were all unoccupied. Corvet crossed to the +one he had reserved and sat down; he turned immediately to the window +at his side and scraped on it a little clear opening through which he +could see the storm outside. Ten minutes later he looked up sharply +but did not rise, as the man he had been awaiting--Spearman, the +younger of his two partners--came in. + +Spearman's first words, audible through the big room, made plain that +he was late to an appointment asked by Corvet; his acknowledgment of +this took the form of an apology, but one which, in tone different from +Spearman's usual bluff, hearty manner, seemed almost contemptuous. He +seated himself, his big, powerful hands clasped on the table, his gray +eyes studying Corvet closely. As Corvet, without acknowledging the +apology, took the pad and began to write an order for both, Spearman +interfered; he had already lunched; he would take only a cigar. The +waiter took the order and went away. + +When he returned, the two men were obviously in bitter quarrel. +Corvet's tone, low pitched but violent, sounded steadily in the room, +though his words were inaudible. The waiter, as he set the food upon +the table, felt relief that Corvet's outburst had fallen on other +shoulders than his. + +It had fallen, in fact, upon the shoulders best able to bear it. +Spearman--still called, though he was slightly over forty now, "young" +Spearman--was the power in the great ship-owning company of Corvet, +Sherrill, and Spearman. Corvet had withdrawn, during recent years, +almost entirely from active life; some said the sorrow and +mortification of his wife's leaving him had made him choose more and +more the seclusion of his library in the big lonely house on the North +Shore, and had given Spearman the chance to rise; but those most +intimately acquainted with the affairs of the great ship-owning firm +maintained that Spearman's rise had not been granted him but had been +forced by Spearman himself. In any case, Spearman was not the one to +accept Corvet's irritation meekly. + +For nearly an hour, the quarrel continued with intermitted truces of +silence. The waiter, listening, as waiters always do, caught at times +single sentences. + +"You have had that idea for some time?" he heard from Corvet. + +"We have had an understanding for more than a month." + +"How definite?" + +Spearman's answer was not audible, but it more intensely agitated +Corvet; his lips set; a hand which held his fork clasped and unclasped +nervously; he dropped his fork and, after that, made no pretense of +eating. + +The waiter, following this, caught only single words. +"Sherrill"--that, of course, was the other partner. "Constance"--that +was Sherrill's daughter. The other names he heard were names of ships. +But, as the quarrel went on, the manners of the two men changed; +Spearman, who at first had been assailed by Corvet, now was assailing +him. Corvet sat back in his seat, while Spearman pulled at his cigar +and now and then took it from his lips and gestured with it between his +fingers, as he jerked some ejaculation across the table. + +Corvet leaned over to the frosted window, as he had done when alone, +and looked out. Spearman shot a comment which made Corvet wince and +draw back from the window; then Spearman rose. He delayed, standing, +to light another cigar deliberately and with studied slowness. Corvet +looked up at him once and asked a question, to which Spearman replied +with a snap of the burnt match down on the table; he turned abruptly +and strode from the room. Corvet sat motionless. + +The revulsion to self-control, sometimes even to apology, which +ordinarily followed Corvet's bursts of irritation had not come to him; +his agitation plainly had increased. He pushed from him his uneaten +luncheon and got up slowly. He went out to the coat room, where the +attendant handed him his coat and hat. He hung the coat upon his arm. +The doorman, acquainted with him for many years, ventured to suggest a +cab. Corvet, staring strangely at him, shook his head. + +"At least, sir," the man urged, "put on your coat." + +Corvet ignored him. + +He winced as he stepped out into the smarting, blinding swirl of sleet, +but his shrinking was not physical; it was mental, the unconscious +reaction to some thought the storm called up. The hour was barely four +o'clock, but so dark was it with the storm that the shop windows were +lit; motorcars, slipping and skidding up the broad boulevard, with +headlights burning; kept their signals clattering constantly to warn +other drivers blinded by the snow. The sleet-swept sidewalks were +almost deserted; here or there, before a hotel or one of the shops, a +limousine came to the curb, and the passengers dashed swiftly across +the walk to shelter. + +Corvet, still carrying his coat upon his arm, turned northward along +Michigan Avenue, facing into the gale. The sleet beat upon his face +and lodged in the folds of his clothing without his heeding it. + +Suddenly he aroused. "One--two--three--four!" he counted the long, +booming blasts of a steam whistle. A steamer out on that snow-shrouded +lake was in distress. The sound ceased, and the gale bore in only the +ordinary storm and fog signals. Corvet recognized the foghorn at the +lighthouse at the end of the government pier; the light, he knew, was +turning white, red, white, red, white behind the curtain of sleet; +other steam vessels, not in distress, blew their blasts; the long four +of the steamer calling for help cut in again. + +Corvet stopped, drew up his shoulders, and stood staring out toward the +lake, as the signal blasts of distress boomed and boomed again. Color +came now into his pale cheeks for an instant. A siren swelled and +shrieked, died away wailing, shrieked louder and stopped; the four +blasts blew again, and the siren wailed in answer. + +A door opened behind Corvet; warm air rushed out, laden with sweet, +heavy odors--chocolate and candy; girls' laughter, exaggerated +exclamations, laughter again came with it; and two girls holding their +muffs before their faces passed by. + +"See you to-night, dear." + +"Yes; I'll be there--if he comes." + +"Oh, he'll come!" + +They ran to different limousines, scurried in, and the cars swept off. + +Corvet turned about to the tearoom from which they had come; he could +see, as the door opened again, a dozen tables with their white cloths, +shining silver, and steaming little porcelain pots; twenty or thirty +girls and young women were refreshing themselves, pleasantly, after +shopping or fittings or a concert; a few young men were sipping +chocolate with them. The blast of the distress signal, the scream of +the siren, must have come to them when the door was opened; but, if +they heard it at all, they gave it no attention; the clatter and +laughter and sipping of chocolate and tea was interrupted only by those +who reached quickly for a shopping list or some filmy possession +threatened by the draft. They were as oblivious to the lake in front +of their windows, to the ship struggling for life in the storm, as +though the snow were a screen which shut them into a distant world. + +To Corvet, a lake man for forty years, there was nothing strange in +this. Twenty miles, from north to south, the city--its business +blocks, its hotels and restaurants, its homes--faced the water and, +except where the piers formed the harbor, all unprotected water, an +open sea where in times of storm ships sank and grounded, men fought +for their lives against the elements and, losing, drowned and died; and +Corvet was well aware that likely enough none of those in that tearoom +or in that whole building knew what four long blasts meant when they +were blown as they were now, or what the siren meant that answered. +But now, as he listened to the blasts which seemed to have grown more +desperate, this profoundly affected Corvet. He moved once to stop one +of the couples coming from the tearoom. They hesitated, as he stared +at them; then, when they had passed him, they glanced back. Corvet +shook himself together and went on. + +He continued to go north. He had not seemed, in the beginning, to have +made conscious choice of this direction; but now he was following it +purposely. He stopped once at a shop which sold men's things to make a +telephone call. He asked for Miss Sherrill when the number answered; +but he did not wish to speak to her, he said; he wanted merely to be +sure she would be there if he stopped in to see her in half an hour. +Then--north again. He crossed the bridge. Now, fifteen minutes later, +he came in sight of the lake once more. + +Great houses, the Sherrill house among them, here face the Drive, the +bridle path, the strip of park, and the wide stone esplanade which +edges the lake. Corvet crossed to this esplanade. It was an ice-bank +now; hummocks of snow and ice higher than a man's head shut off view of +the floes tossing and crashing as far out as the blizzard let one see; +but, dislodged and shaken by the buffeting of the floe, they let the +gray water swell up from underneath and wash around his feet as he went +on. He did not stop at the Sherrill house or look toward it, but went +on fully a quarter of a mile beyond it; then he came back, and with an +oddly strained and queer expression and attitude, he stood staring out +into the lake. He could not hear the distress signals now. + +Suddenly he turned. Constance Sherrill, seeing him from a window of +her home, had caught a cape about her and run out to him. + +"Uncle Benny!" she hailed him with the affectionate name she had used +with her father's partner since she was a baby. "Uncle Benny, aren't +you coming in?" + +"Yes," he said vaguely. "Yes, of course." He made no move but +remained staring at her. "Connie!" he exclaimed suddenly, with strange +reproach to himself in his tone. "Connie! Dear little Connie!" + +"Why?" she asked him. "Uncle Benny, what's the matter?" + +He seemed to catch himself together. "There was a ship out there in +trouble," he said in a quite different tone. "They aren't blowing any +more; are they all right?" + +"It was one of the M and D boats--the _Louisiana_, they told me. She +went by here blowing for help, and I called up the office to find out. +A tug and one other of their line got out to her; she had started a +cylinder head bucking the ice and was taking in a little water. Uncle +Benny, you must put on your coat." + +She brushed the sleet from his shoulders and collar, and held the coat +for him; he put it on obediently. + +"Has Spearman been here to-day?" he asked, not looking at her. + +"To see father?" + +"No; to see you." + +"No." + +He seized her wrist. "Don't see him, when he comes!" he commanded. + +"Uncle Benny!" + +"Don't see him!" Corvet repeated. "He's asked you to marry him, hasn't +he?" + +Connie could not refuse the answer. "Yes." + +"And you?" + +"Why--why, Uncle Benny, I haven't answered him yet." + +"Then don't--don't; do you understand, Connie?" + +She hesitated, frightened for him. "I'll--I'll tell you before I see +him, if you want me to, Uncle Benny," she granted. + +"But if you shouldn't be able to tell me then, Connie; if you +shouldn't--want to then?" The humility of his look perplexed her; if +he had been any other man--any man except Uncle Benny--she would have +thought some shameful and terrifying threat hung over him; but he broke +off sharply. "I must go home," he said uncertainly. "I must go home; +then I'll come back. Connie, you won't give him an answer till I come +back, will you?" + +"No." He got her promise, half frightened, half bewildered; then he +turned at once and went swiftly away from her. + +She ran back to the door of her father's house. From there she saw him +reach the corner and turn west to go to Astor Street. He was walking +rapidly and did not hesitate. + +The trite truism which relates the inability of human beings to know +the future, has a counterpart not so often mentioned: We do not always +know our own past until the future has made plain what has happened to +us. Constance Sherrill, at the close of this, the most important day +in her life, did not know at all that it had been important to her. +All she felt was a perplexed, but indefinite uneasiness about Uncle +Benny. How strangely he had acted! Her uneasiness increased when the +afternoon and evening passed without his coming back to see her as he +had promised, but she reflected he had not set any definite time when +she was to expect him. During the night her anxiety grew still +greater; and in the morning she called his house up on the telephone, +but the call was unanswered. An hour later, she called again; still +getting no result, she called her father at his office, and told him of +her anxiety about Uncle Benny, but without repeating what Uncle Benny +had said to her or the promise she had made to him. Her father made +light of her fears; Uncle Benny, he reminded her, often acted queerly +in bad weather. Only partly reassured, she called Uncle Benny's house +several more times during the morning, but still got no reply; and +after luncheon she called her father again, to tell him that she had +resolved to get some one to go over to the house with her. + +Her father, to her surprise, forbade this rather sharply; his voice, +she realized, was agitated and excited, and she asked him the reason; +but instead of answering her, he made her repeat to him her +conversation of the afternoon before with Uncle Benny, and now he +questioned her closely about it. But when she, in her turn, tried to +question him, he merely put her off and told her not to worry. Later, +when she called him again, resolved to make him tell her what was the +matter, he had left the office. + +In the late afternoon, as dusk was drawing into dark, she stood at the +window, watching the storm, which still continued, with one of those +delusive hopes which come during anxiety that, because it was the time +of day at which she had seen Uncle Benny walking by the lake the day +before, she might see him there again, when she saw her father's motor +approaching. It was coming from the north, not from the south as it +would have been if he was coming from his office or his club, and it +had turned into the drive from the west. She knew, therefore, that he +was coming from Uncle Benny's house, and, as the car swerved and +wheeled in, she ran out into the hall to meet him. + +He came in without taking off hat or coat; she could see that he was +perturbed, greatly agitated. + +"What is it, father?" she demanded. "What has happened?" + +"I do not know, my dear." + +"It is something--something that has happened to Uncle Benny?" + +"I am afraid so, dear--yes. But I do not know what it is that has +happened, or I would tell you." + +He put his arm about her and drew her into a room opening off the +hall--his study. He made her repeat again to him the conversation she +had had with Uncle Benny and tell him how he had acted; but she saw +that what she told him did not help him. He seemed to consider it +carefully, but in the end to discard or disregard it. + +Then he drew her toward him. + +"Tell me, little daughter. You have been a great deal with Uncle Benny +and have talked with him; I want you to think carefully. Did you ever +hear him speak of any one called Alan Conrad?" + +She thought. "No, father." + +"No reference ever made by him at all to either name--Alan or Conrad?" + +"No, father." + +"No reference either to any one living in Kansas, or to a town there +called Blue Rapids?" + +"No, father. Who is Alan Conrad?" + +"I do not know, dear. I never heard the name until to-day, and Henry +Spearman had never heard it. But it appears to be intimately connected +in some way with what was troubling Uncle Benny yesterday. He wrote a +letter yesterday to Alan Conrad in Blue Rapids and mailed it himself; +and afterward he tried to get it back, but it already had been taken up +and was on its way. I have not been able to learn anything more about +the letter than that. He seems to have been excited and troubled all +day; he talked queerly to you, and he quarreled with Henry, but +apparently not about anything of importance. And to-day that name, +Alan Conrad, came to me in quite another way, in a way which makes it +certain that it is closely connected with whatever has happened to +Uncle Benny. You are quite sure you never heard him mention it, dear?" + +"Quite sure, father." + +He released her and, still in his hat and coat, went swiftly up the +stairs. She ran after him and found him standing before a highboy in +his dressing room. He unlocked a drawer in the highboy, and from +within the drawer he took a key. Then, still disregarding her, he +hurried back down-stairs. + +As she followed him, she caught up a wrap and pulled it around her. He +had told the motor, she realized now, to wait; but as he reached the +door, he turned and stopped her. + +"I would rather you did not come with me, little daughter. I do not +know at all what it is that has happened--I will let you know as soon +as I find out." + +The finality in his tone stopped her from argument. As the house door +and then the door of the limousine closed after him, she went back +toward the window, slowly taking off the wrap. She saw the motor shoot +swiftly out upon the drive, turn northward in the way that it had come, +and then turn again, and disappear. She could only stand and watch for +it to come back and listen for the 'phone; for the moment she found it +difficult to think. Something had happened to Uncle Benny, something +terrible, dreadful for those who loved him; that was plain, though only +the fact and not its nature was known to her or to her father; and that +something was connected--intimately connected, her father had +said--with a name which no one who knew Uncle Benny, ever had heard +before, with the name of Alan Conrad of Blue Rapids, Kansas. Who was +this Alan Conrad, and what could his connection be with Uncle Benny so +to precipitate disaster upon him? + + + + +CHAPTER II + +WHO IS ALAN CONRAD? + +The recipient of the letter which Benjamin Corvet had written and later +so excitedly attempted to recover, was asking himself a question which +was almost the same as the question which Constance Sherrill had asked. +He was, the second morning later, waiting for the first of the two +daily eastbound trains which stopped at the little Kansas town of Blue +Rapids which he called home. As long as he could look back into his +life, the question, who is this person they call Alan Conrad, and what +am I to the man who writes from Chicago, had been the paramount enigma +of existence for him. Since he was now twenty-three, as nearly as he +had been able to approximate it, and as distinct recollection of +isolated, extraordinary events went back to the time when he was five, +it was quite eighteen years since he had first noticed the question put +to the people who had him in charge: "So this is little Alan Conrad. +Who is he?" + +Undoubtedly the question had been asked in his presence before; +certainly it was asked many times afterwards; but it was since that day +when, on his noticing the absence of a birthday of his own, they had +told him he was five, that he connected the evasion of the answer with +the difference between himself and the other children he saw, and +particularly between himself and the boy and girl in the same house +with him. When visitors came from somewhere far off, no one of them +ever looked surprised at seeing the other children or asked about them. +Always, when some one came, it was, "So this is little Jim!" and "This +is Betty; she's more of a Welton every day!" Then, each time with that +change in the voice and in the look of the eyes and in the feel of the +arms about him--for though Alan could not feel how the arms hugged Jim +and Betty, he knew that for him it was quite different--"So this is +Alan Conrad," or, "So this is the child!" or, "This, I suppose, is the +boy I've heard about!" + +However, there was a quite definite, if puzzling, advantage at times in +being Alan Conrad. Following the arrival of certain letters, which +were distinguished from most others arriving at the house by having no +ink writing on the envelope but just a sort of purple or black printing +like newspapers, Alan invariably received a dollar to spend just as he +liked. To be sure, unless "papa" took him to town, there was nothing +for him to spend it upon; so, likely enough, it went into the square +iron bank, of which the key was lost; but quite often he did spend it +according to plans agreed upon among all his friends and, in memory of +these occasions and in anticipation of the next, "Alan's dollar" became +a community institution among the children. + +But exhilarating and wonderful as it was to be able of one's self to +take three friends to the circus, or to be the purveyor of twenty whole +packages--not sticks--of gum, yet the dollar really made only more +plain the boy's difference. The regularity and certainty of its +arrival as Alan's share of some larger sum of money which came to +"papa" in the letter, never served to make the event ordinary or +accepted. + +"Who gives it to you, Alan?" was a question more often asked, as time +went on. The only answer Alan could give was, "It comes from Chicago." +The postmark on the envelope, Alan noticed, was always Chicago; that +was all he ever could find out about his dollar. He was about ten +years old when, for a reason as inexplicable as the dollar's coming, +the letters with the typewritten addresses and the enclosed money +ceased. + +Except for the loss of the dollar at the end of every second month--a +loss much discussed by all the children and not accepted as permanent +till more than two years had passed--Alan felt no immediate results +from the cessation of the letters from Chicago; and when the first +effects appeared, Jim and Betty felt them quite as much as he. Papa +and mamma felt them, too, when the farm had to be given up, and the +family moved to the town, and papa went to work in the woolen mill +beside the river. + +Papa and mamma, at first surprised and dismayed by the stopping of the +letters, still clung to the hope of the familiar, typewritten addressed +envelope appearing again; but when, after two years, no more money +came, resentment which had been steadily growing against the person who +had sent the money began to turn against Alan; and his "parents" told +him all they knew about him. + +In 1896 they had noticed an advertisement for persons to care for a +child; they had answered it to the office of the newspaper which +printed it. In response to their letter a man called upon them and, +after seeing them and going around to see their friends, had made +arrangements with them to take a boy of three, who was in good health +and came of good people. He paid in advance board for a year and +agreed to send a certain amount every two months after that time. The +man brought the boy, whom he called Alan Conrad, and left him. For +seven years the money agreed upon came; now it had ceased, and papa had +no way of finding the man--the name given by him appeared to be +fictitious, and he had left no address except "general delivery, +Chicago"--Papa knew nothing more than that. He had advertised in the +Chicago papers after the money stopped coming, and he had communicated +with every one named Conrad in or near Chicago, but he had learned +nothing. Thus, at the age of thirteen, Alan definitely knew that what +he already had guessed--the fact that he belonged somewhere else than +in the little brown house--was all that any one there could tell him; +and the knowledge gave persistence to many internal questionings. +Where did he belong? Who was he? Who was the man who had brought him +here? Had the money ceased coming because the person who sent it was +dead? In that case, connection of Alan with the place where he +belonged was permanently broken. Or would some other communication +from that source reach him some time--if not money, then something +else? Would he be sent for some day? He did not resent "papa and +mamma's" new attitude of benefactors toward him; instead, loving them +both because he had no one else to love, he sympathized with it. They +had struggled hard to keep the farm. They had ambitions for Jim; they +were scrimping and sparing now so that Jim could go to college, and +whatever was given to Alan was taken away from Jim and diminished by +just that much his opportunity. + +But when Alan asked papa to get him a job in the woolen mill at the +other side of town where papa himself worked in some humble and +indefinite capacity, the request was refused. Thus, externally at +least, Alan's learning the little that was known about himself made no +change in his way of living; he went, as did Jim, to the town school, +which combined grammar and high schools under one roof; and, as he grew +older, he clerked--as Jim also did--in one of the town stores during +vacations and in the evenings; the only difference was this: that Jim's +money, so earned, was his own, but Alan carried his home as part +payment of those arrears which had mounted up against him since the +letters ceased coming. At seventeen, having finished high school, he +was clerking officially in Merrill's general store, when the next +letter came. + +It was addressed this time not to papa, but to Alan Conrad. He seized +it, tore it open, and a bank draft for fifteen hundred dollars fell +out. There was no letter with the enclosure, no word of communication; +just the draft to the order of Alan Conrad. Alan wrote the Chicago +bank by which the draft had been issued; their reply showed that the +draft had been purchased with currency, so there was no record of the +identity of the person who had sent it. More than that amount was due +for arrears for the seven years during which no money was sent, even +when the total which Alan had earned was deducted. So Alan merely +endorsed the draft over to "father"; and that fall Jim went to college. +But, when Jim discovered that it not only was possible but planned at +the university for a boy to work his way through, Alan went also. + +Four wonderful years followed. The family of a professor of physics, +with whom he was brought in contact by his work outside of college, +liked him and "took him up." He lodged finally in their house and +became one of them. In companionship with these educated people, ideas +and manners came to him which he could not have acquired at home; +athletics straightened and added bearing to his muscular, well-formed +body; his pleasant, strong young face acquired self-reliance and +self-control. Life became filled with possibilities for himself which +it had never held before. + +But on his day of graduation he had to put away the enterprises he had +planned and the dreams he dreamed and, conscious that his debt to +father and mother still remained unpaid, he had returned to care for +them; for father's health had failed and Jim who had opened a law +office in Kansas City, could do nothing to help. + +No more money had followed the draft from Chicago and there had been no +communication of any kind; but the receipt of so considerable a sum had +revived and intensified all Alan's speculations about himself. The +vague expectation of his childhood that sometime, in some way, he would +be "sent for" had grown during the last six years to a definite belief. +And now--on the afternoon before--the summons had come. + +This time, as he tore open the envelope, he saw that besides a check, +there was writing within--an uneven and nervous-looking but plainly +legible communication in longhand. The letter made no explanation. It +told him, rather than asked him, to come to Chicago, gave minute +instructions for the journey, and advised him to telegraph when he +started. The check was for a hundred dollars to pay his expenses. +Check and letter were signed by a name completely strange to him. + +He was a distinctly attractive looking lad, as he stood now on the +station platform of the little town, while the eastbound train rumbled +in, and he fingered in his pocket the letter from Chicago. + +As the train came to a stop, he pushed his suitcase up on to a car +platform and stood on the bottom step, looking back at the little town +standing away from its railroad station among brown, treeless hills, +now scantily snow-covered--the town which was the only home he ever +consciously had known. His eyes dampened and he choked, as he looked +at it and at the people on the station platform--the station-master, +the drayman, the man from the post office who would receive the mail +bag, people who called him by his first name, as he called them by +theirs. He did not doubt at all that he would see the town and them +again. The question was what he would be when he did see them. They +and it would not be changed, but he would. As the train started, he +picked up the suitcase and carried it into the second day-coach. + +Finding a seat, at once he took the letter from his pocket and for the +dozenth time reread it. Was Corvet a relative? Was he the man who had +sent the remittances when Alan was a little boy, and the one who later +had sent the fifteen hundred dollars? Or was he merely a go-between, +perhaps a lawyer? There was no letterhead to give aid in these +speculations. The address to which Alan was to come was in Astor +Street. He had never heard the name of the street before. Was it a +business street, Corvet's address in some great office building, +perhaps? + +He tried by repeating both names over and over to himself to arouse any +obscure, obliterated childhood memory he might have had of then; but +the repetition brought no result. Memory, when he stretched it back to +its furthest, showed him only the Kansas prairie. + +Late that afternoon he reached Kansas City, designated in the letter as +the point where he would change cars. That night saw him in his +train--a transcontinental with berths nearly all made up and people +sleeping behind the curtains. Alan undressed and got into his berth, +but he lay awake most of the night, excited and expectant. The late +February dawn showed him the rolling lands of Iowa which changed, while +he was at breakfast in the dining car, to the snow-covered fields and +farms of northern Illinois. Toward noon, he could see, as the train +rounded curves, that the horizon to the east had taken on a murky look. +Vast, vague, the shadow--the emanation of hundreds of thousands of +chimneys--thickened and grew more definite as the train sped on; +suburban villages began supplanting country towns; stations became more +pretentious. They passed factories; then hundreds of acres of little +houses of the factory workers in long rows; swiftly the buildings +became larger, closer together; he had a vision of miles upon miles of +streets, and the train rolled slowly into a long trainshed and stopped. + +Alan, following the porter with his suitcase from the car, stepped down +among the crowds hurrying to and from the trains. He was not confused, +he was only intensely excited. Acting in implicit accord with the +instructions of the letter, which he knew by heart, he went to the +uniformed attendant and engaged a taxicab--itself no small experience; +there would be no one at the station to meet him, the letter had said. +He gave the Astor Street address and got into the cab. Leaning forward +in his seat, looking to the right and then to the left as he was driven +through the city, his first sensation was only disappointment. + +Except that it was larger, with more and bigger buildings and with more +people upon its streets, Chicago apparently did not differ from Kansas +City. If it was, in reality, the city of his birth, or if ever he had +seen these streets before, they now aroused no memories in him. + +It had begun to snow again. For a few blocks the taxicab drove north +past more or less ordinary buildings, then turned east on a broad +boulevard where tall tile and brick and stone structures towered till +their roofs were hidden in the snowfall. The large, light flakes, +falling lazily, were thick enough so that, when the taxicab swung to +the north again, there seemed to Alan only a great vague void to his +right. For the hundred yards which he could view clearly, the space +appeared to be a park; now a huge granite building, guarded by stone +lions, went by; then more park; but beyond-- A strange stir and +tingle, quite distinct from the excitement of the arrival at the +station, pricked in Alan's veins, and hastily he dropped the window to +his right and gazed out again. The lake, as he had known since his +geography days, lay to the east of Chicago; therefore that void out +there beyond the park was the lake or, at least, the harbor. A +different air seemed to come from it; sounds... Suddenly it all was +shut off; the taxicab, swerving a little, was dashing between business +blocks; a row of buildings had risen again upon the right; they broke +abruptly to show him a wooden-walled chasm in which flowed a river full +of ice with a tug dropping its smokestack as it went below the bridge +which the cab crossed; buildings on both sides again; then, to the +right, a roaring, heaving, crashing expanse. + +The sound, Alan knew, had been coming to him as an undertone for many +minutes; now it overwhelmed, swallowed all other sound. It was great, +not loud; all sound which Alan had heard before, except the soughing of +the wind over his prairies, came from one point; even the monstrous +city murmur was centered in comparison with this. Alan could see only +a few hundred yards out over the water as the taxicab ran along the +lake drive, but what was before him was the surf of a sea; that +constant, never diminishing, never increasing roar came from far beyond +the shore; the surge and rise and fall and surge again were of a sea in +motion. Floes floated, tossed up, tumbled, broke, and rose again with +the rush of the surf; spray flew up between the floes; geysers spurted +high into the air as the pressure of the water, bearing up against the +ice, burst between two great ice-cakes before the waves cracked them +and tumbled them over. And all was without wind; over the lake, as +over the land, the soft snowflakes lazily floated down, scarcely +stirred by the slightest breeze; that roar was the voice of the water, +that awful power its own. + +Alan choked and gasped for breath, his pulses pounding in his throat; +he had snatched off his hat and, leaning out of the window sucked the +lake air into his lungs. There had been nothing to make him expect +this overwhelming crush of feeling. The lake--he had thought of it, of +course, as a great body of water, an interesting sight for a prairie +boy to see; that was all. No physical experience in all his memory had +affected him like this; and it was without warning; the strange thing +that had stirred within him as the car brought him to the drive +down-town was strengthened now a thousand-fold; it amazed, half +frightened, half dizzied him. Now, as the motor suddenly swung around +a corner and shut the sight of the lake from him, Alan sat back +breathless. + +"Astor Street," he read the marker on the corner a block back from the +lake, and he bent quickly forward to look, as the car swung to the +right into Astor Street. It was--as in this neighborhood it must be--a +residence street of handsome mansions built close together. The car +swerved to the east curb about the middle of the block and came to a +stop. The house before which it had halted was a large stone house of +quiet, good design; it was some generation older, apparently, than the +houses on each side of it which were brick and terra cotta of recent, +fashionable architecture; Alan only glanced at them long enough to get +that impression before he opened the cab door and got out; but as the +cab drove away, he stood beside his suitcase looking up at the old +house which bore the number given in Benjamin Corvet's letter, then +around at the other houses and back to that again. + +The neighborhood obviously precluded the probability of Corvet's being +merely a lawyer--a go-between. He must be some relative; the question +ever present in Alan's thought since the receipt of the letter, but +held in abeyance, as to the possibility and nearness of Corvet's +relation to him, took sharper and more exact form now than he had dared +to let it take before. Was his relationship to Corvet, perhaps, the +closest of all relationships? Was Corvet his ... father? He checked +the question within himself, for the time had passed for mere +speculation upon it now. Alan was trembling excitedly; for--whoever +Corvet might be--the enigma of Alan's existence was going to be +answered when he had entered that house. He was going to know who he +was. All the possibilities, the responsibilities, the attachments, the +opportunities, perhaps, of that person whom he was--but whom, as yet, +he did not know--were before him. + +He half expected the heavy, glassless door at the top of the stone +steps to be opened by some one coming out to greet him, as he took up +his suitcase; but the gray house, like the brighter mansions on both +sides of it, remained impassive. If any one in that house had observed +his coming, no sign was given. He went up the steps and, with fingers +excitedly unsteady, he pushed the bell beside the door. + +The door opened almost instantly--so quickly after the ring, indeed, +that Alan, with leaping throb of his heart, knew that some one must +have been awaiting him. But the door opened only halfway, and the man +who stood within, gazing out at Alan questioningly, was obviously a +servant. + +"What is it?" he asked, as Alan stood looking at him and past him to +the narrow section of darkened hall which was in sight. + +Alan put his hand over the letter in his pocket. "I've come to see Mr. +Corvet," he said--"Mr. Benjamin Corvet." + +"What is your name?" + +Alan gave his name; the man repeated it after him, in the manner of a +trained servant, quite without inflection. Alan, not familiar with +such tones, waited uncertainly. So far as he could tell, the name was +entirely strange to the servant, awaking neither welcome nor +opposition, but indifference. The man stepped back, but not in such a +manner as to invite Alan in; on the contrary, he half closed the door +as he stepped back, leaving it open only an inch or two; but it was +enough so that Alan heard him say to some one within: + +"He says he's him." + +"Ask him in; I will speak to him." It was a girl's voice--this second +one, a voice such as Alan never had heard before. It was low and soft +but quite clear and distinct, with youthful, impulsive modulations and +the manner of accent which Alan knew must go with the sort of people +who lived in houses like those on this street. + +The servant, obeying the voice, returned and opened wide the door. + +"Will you come in, sir?" + +Alan put down his suitcase on the stone porch; the man made no move to +pick it up and bring it in. Then Alan stepped into the hall face to +face with the girl who had come from the big room on the right. + +She was quite a young girl--not over twenty-one or twenty-two, Alan +judged; like girls brought up in wealthy families, she seemed to Alan +to have gained young womanhood in far greater degree in some respects +than the girls he knew, while, at the same time, in other ways, she +retained more than they some characteristics of a child. Her slender +figure had a woman's assurance and grace; her soft brown hair was +dressed like a woman's; her gray eyes had the open directness of the +girl. Her face--smoothly oval, with straight brows and a skin so +delicate that at the temples the veins showed dimly blue--was at once +womanly and youthful; and there was something altogether likable and +simple about her, as she studied Alan now. She had on a street dress +and hat; whether it was this, or whether it was the contrast of her +youth and vitality with this somber, darkened house that told him, Alan +could not tell, but he felt instinctively that this house was not her +home. More likely, it was some indefinable, yet convincing expression +of her manner that gave him that impression. While he hazarded, with +fast beating heart, what privilege of acquaintance with her Alan Conrad +might have, she moved a little nearer to him. She was slightly pale, +he noticed now, and there were lines of strain and trouble about her +eyes. + +"I am Constance Sherrill," she announced. Her tone implied quite +evidently that she expected him to have some knowledge of her, and she +seemed surprised to see that her name did not mean more to him. + +"Mr. Corvet is not here this morning," she said. + +He hesitated, but persisted: "I was to see him here to-day, Miss +Sherrill. He wrote me, and I telegraphed him I would be here to-day." + +"I know," she answered. "We had your telegram. Mr. Corvet was not +here when it came, so my father opened it." Her voice broke oddly, and +he studied her in indecision, wondering who that father might be that +opened Mr. Corvet's telegrams. + +"Mr. Corvet went away very suddenly," she explained. She seemed, he +thought, to be trying to make something plain to him which might be a +shock to him; yet herself to be uncertain what the nature of that shock +might be. Her look was scrutinizing, questioning, anxious, but not +unfriendly. "After he had written you and something else had +happened--I think--to alarm my father about him, father came here to +his house to look after him. He thought something might have ... +happened to Mr. Corvet here in his house. But Mr. Corvet was not here." + +"You mean he has--disappeared?" + +"Yes; he has disappeared." + +Alan gazed at her dizzily. Benjamin Corvet--whoever he might be--had +disappeared; he had gone. Did any one else, then, know about Alan +Conrad? + +"No one has seen Mr. Corvet," she said, "since the day he wrote to you. +We know that--that he became so disturbed after doing that--writing to +you--that we thought you must bring with you information of him." + +"Information!" + +"So we have been waiting for you to come here and tell us what you know +about him or--or your connection with him." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +DISCUSSION OF A SHADOW + +Alan, as he looked confusedly and blankly at her, made no attempt to +answer the question she had asked, or to explain. For the moment, as +he fought to realize what she had said and its meaning for himself, all +his thought was lost in mere dismay, in the denial and checking of what +he had been feeling as he entered the house. His silence and +confusion, he knew, must seem to Constance Sherrill unwillingness to +answer her; for she did not suspect that he was unable to answer her. +She plainly took it in that way; but she did not seem offended; it was +sympathy, rather, that she showed. She seemed to appreciate, without +understanding except through her feelings, that--for some +reason--answer was difficult and dismaying for him. + +"You would rather explain to father than to me," she decided. + +He hesitated. What he wanted now was time to think, to learn who she +was and who her father was, and to adjust himself to this strange +reversal of his expectations. + +"Yes; I would rather do that," he said. + +"Will you come around to our house, then, please?" + +She caught up her fur collar and muff from a chair and spoke a word to +the servant. As she went out on to the porch, he followed her and +stooped to pick up his suitcase. + +"Simons will bring that," she said, "unless you'd rather have it with +you. It is only a short walk." + +He was recovering from the first shock of her question now, and, +reflecting that men who accompanied Constance Sherrill probably did not +carry hand baggage, he put the suitcase down and followed her to the +walk. As she turned north and he caught step beside her, he studied +her with quick interested glances, realizing her difference from all +other girls he ever had walked with, but he did not speak to her nor +she to him. Turning east at the first corner, they came within sight +and hearing again of the turmoil of the lake. + +"We go south here," she said at the corner of the Drive. "Our house is +almost back to back with Mr. Corvet's." + +Alan, looking up after he had made the turn with her, recognized the +block as one he had seen pictured sometimes in magazines and +illustrated papers as a "row" of the city's most beautiful homes. +Larger, handsomer, and finer than the mansions on Astor Street, each +had its lawn or terrace in front and on both sides, where snow-mantled +shrubs and straw-bound rosebushes suggested the gardens of spring. +They turned in at the entrance of a house in the middle of the block +and went up the low, wide stone steps; the door opened to them without +ring or knock; a servant in the hall within took Alan's hat and coat, +and he followed Constance past some great room upon his right to a +smaller one farther down the hall. + +"Will you wait here, please?" she asked. + +He sat down, and she left him; when her footsteps had died away, and he +could hear no other sounds except the occasional soft tread of some +servant, he twisted himself about in his chair and looked around. A +door between the room he was in and the large room which had been upon +his right as they came in--a drawing-room--stood open; he could see +into the drawing-room, and he could see through the other door a +portion of the hall; his inspection of these increased the bewilderment +he felt. Who were these Sherrills? Who was Corvet, and what was his +relation to the Sherrills? What, beyond all, was their and Corvet's +relation to Alan Conrad--to himself? The shock and confusion he had +felt at the nature of his reception in Corvet's house, and the +strangeness of his transition from his little Kansas town to a place +and people such as this, had prevented him from inquiring directly from +Constance Sherrill as to that; and, on her part, she had assumed, +plainly, that he already knew and need not be told. + +He got up and moved about the rooms; they, like all rooms, must tell +something about the people who lived in them. The rooms were large and +open; Alan, in dreaming and fancying to himself the places to which he +might some day be summoned, had never dreamed of entering such a home +as this. For it was a home; in its light and in its furnishings there +was nothing of the stiffness and aloofness which Alan, never having +seen such rooms except in pictures, had imagined to be necessary evils +accompanying riches and luxury; it was not the richness of its +furnishings that impressed him first, it was its livableness. Among +the more modern pieces in the drawing-room and hall were some which +were antique. In the part of the hall that he could see, a black and +ancient-looking chair whose lines he recognized, stood against the +wall. He had seen chairs like that, heirlooms of colonial +Massachusetts or Connecticut, cherished in Kansas farmhouses and +recalling some long-past exodus of the family from New England. On the +wall of the drawing-room, among the beautiful and elusive paintings and +etchings, was a picture of a ship, plainly framed; he moved closer to +look at it, but he did not know what kind of ship it was except that it +was a sailing ship of some long-disused design. Then he drew back +again into the smaller room where he had been left, and sat down again +to wait. + +A comfortable fire of cannel coal was burning in this smaller room in a +black fire-basket set in a white marble grate, obviously much older +than the house; there were big easy leather chairs before it, and +beside it there were bookcases. On one of these stood a two-handled +silver trophy cup, and hung high upon the wall above the mantel was a +long racing sweep with the date '85 painted in black across the blade. +He had the feeling, coming quite unconsciously, of liking the people +who lived in this handsome house. + +He straightened and looked about, then got up, as Constance Sherrill +came back into the room. + +"Father is not here just now," she said. "We weren't sure from your +telegram exactly at what hour you would arrive, and that was why I +waited at Mr. Corvet's to be sure we wouldn't miss you. I have +telephoned father, and he's coming home at once." + +She hesitated an instant in the doorway, then turned to go out again. + +"Miss Sherrill--" he said. + +She halted. "Yes." + +"You told me you had been waiting for me to come and explain my +connection with Mr. Corvet. Well--I can't do that; that is what I came +here hoping to find out." + +She came back toward him slowly. + +"What do you mean?" she asked. + +He was forcing himself to disregard the strangeness which his +surroundings and all that had happened in the last half hour had made +him feel; leaning his arms on the back of the chair in which he had +been sitting, he managed to smile reassuringly; and he fought down and +controlled resolutely the excitement in his voice, as he told her +rapidly the little he knew about himself. + +He could not tell definitely how she was affected by what he said. She +flushed slightly, following her first start of surprise after he had +begun to speak; when he had finished, he saw that she was a little pale. + +"Then you don't know anything about Mr. Corvet at all," she said. + +"No; until I got his letter sending for me here, I'd never seen or +heard his name." + +She was thoughtful for a moment. + +"Thank you for telling me," she said. "I'll tell my father when he +comes." + +"Your father is--?" he ventured. + +She understood now that the name of Sherrill had meant nothing to him. +"Father is Mr. Corvet's closest friend, and his business partner as +well," she explained. + +He thought she was going to tell him something more about them; but she +seemed then to decide to leave that for her father to do. She crossed +to the big chair beside the grate and seated herself. As she sat +looking at him, hands clasped beneath her chin, and her elbows resting +on the arm of the chair, there was speculation and interest in her +gaze; but she did not ask him anything more about himself. She +inquired about the Kansas weather that week in comparison with the +storm which had just ceased in Chicago, and about Blue Rapids, which +she said she had looked up upon the map, and he took this chat for what +it was--notification that she did not wish to continue the other topic +just then. + +She, he saw, was listening, like himself, for the sound of Sherrill's +arrival at the house; and when it came, she recognized it first, rose, +and excused herself. He heard her voice in the hall, then her father's +deeper voice which answered; and ten minutes later, he looked up to see +the man these things had told him must be Sherrill standing in the door +and looking at him. + +He was a tall man, sparely built; his broad shoulders had been those of +an athlete in his youth; now, at something over fifty, they had taken +on a slight, rather studious stoop, and his brown hair had thinned upon +his forehead. His eyes, gray like his daughter's, were thoughtful +eyes; just now deep trouble filled them. His look and bearing of a +refined and educated gentleman took away all chance of offense from the +long, inquiring scrutiny to which he subjected Alan's features and +figure before he came into the room. + +Alan had risen at sight of him; Sherrill, as he came in, motioned him +back to his seat; he did not sit down himself, but crossed to the +mantel and leaned against it. + +"I am Lawrence Sherrill," he said. + +As the tall, graceful, thoughtful man stood looking down at him, Alan +could tell nothing of the attitude of this friend of Benjamin Corvet +toward himself. His manner had the same reserve toward Alan, the same +questioning consideration of him, that Constance Sherrill had had after +Alan had told her about himself. + +"My daughter has repeated to me what you told her, Mr. Conrad," +Sherrill observed. "Is there anything you want to add to me regarding +that?" + +"There's nothing I can add," Alan answered. "I told her all that I +know about myself." + +"And about Mr. Corvet?" + +"I know nothing at all about Mr. Corvet." + +"I am going to tell you some things about Mr. Corvet," Sherrill said. +"I had reason--I do not want to explain just yet what that reason +was--for thinking you could tell us certain things about Mr. Corvet, +which would, perhaps, make plainer what has happened to him. When I +tell you about him now, it is in the hope that, in that way, I may +awake some forgotten memory of him in you; if not that, you may +discover some coincidences of dates or events in Corvet's life with +dates or events in your own. Will you tell me frankly, if you do +discover anything like that?" + +"Yes; certainly." + +Alan leaned forward in the big chair, hands clasped between his knees, +his blood tingling sharply in his face and fingertips. So Sherrill +expected to make him remember Corvet! There was strange excitement in +this, and he waited eagerly for Sherrill to begin. For several +moments, Sherrill paced up and down before the fire; then he returned +to his place before the mantel. + +"I first met Benjamin Corvet," he commenced, "nearly thirty years ago. +I had come West for the first time the year before; I was about your +own age and had been graduated from college only a short time, and a +business opening had offered itself here. + +"There was a sentimental reason--I think I must call it that--as well, +for my coming to Chicago. Until my generation, the property of our +family had always been largely--and generally exclusively--in ships. +It is a Salem family; a Sherrill was a sea-captain, living in Salem, +they say, when his neighbors--and he, I suppose--hanged witches; we had +privateers in 1812 and our clippers went round the Horn in '49. The +_Alabama_ ended our ships in '63, as it ended practically the rest of +the American shipping on the Atlantic; and in '73, when our part of the +_Alabama_ claims was paid us, my mother put it in bonds waiting for me +to grow up. + +"Sentiment, when I came of age, made me want to put this money back +into ships flying the American flag; but there was small chance of +putting it--and keeping it, with profit--in American ships on the sea. +In Boston and New York, I had seen the foreign flags on the deep-water +ships--British, German, French, Norwegian, Swedish, and Greek; our flag +flew mostly on ferries and excursion steamers. But times were booming +on the great lakes. Chicago, which had more than recovered from the +fire, was doubling its population every decade; Cleveland, Duluth, and +Milwaukee were leaping up as ports. Men were growing millions of +bushels of grain which they couldn't ship except by lake; hundreds of +thousands of tons of ore had to go by water; and there were tens of +millions of feet of pine and hardwood from the Michigan forests. +Sailing vessels such as the Sherrills had always operated, it is true, +had seen their day and were disappearing from the lakes; were being +'sold,' many of them, as the saying is, 'to the insurance companies' by +deliberate wrecking. Steamers were taking their place. Towing had +come in. The first of the whalebacks was built about that time, and we +began to see those processions of a barge and two, three, or four tows +which the lakemen called 'the sow and her pigs.' Men of all sorts had +come forward, of course, and, serving the situation more or less +accidentally, were making themselves rich. + +"It was railroading which had brought me West; but I had brought with +me the _Alabama_ money to put into ships. I have called it sentiment, +but it was not merely that; I felt, young man though I was, that this +transportation matter was all one thing, and that in the end the +railroads would own the ships. I have never engaged very actively in +the operation of the ships; my daughter would like me to be more active +in it than I have been; but ever since, I have had money in lake +vessels. It was the year that I began that sort of investment that I +first met Corvet." + +Alan looked up quickly. "Mr. Corvet was--?" he asked. + +"Corvet was--is a lakeman," Sherrill said. + +Alan sat motionless, as he recollected the strange exaltation that had +come to him when he saw the lake for the first time. Should he tell +Sherrill of that? He decided it was too vague, too indefinite to be +mentioned; no doubt any other man used only to the prairie might have +felt the same. + +"He was a ship owner, then," he said. + +"Yes; he was a shipowner--not, however, on a large scale at that time. +He had been a master, sailing ships which belonged to others; then he +had sailed one of his own. He was operating then, I believe, two +vessels; but with the boom times on the lakes, his interests were +beginning to expand. I met him frequently in the next few years, and +we became close friends." + +Sherrill broke off and stared an instant down at the rug. Alan bent +forward; he made no interruption but only watched Sherrill attentively. + +"It was one of the great advantages of the West, I think--and +particularly of Chicago at that time--that it gave opportunity for +friendships of that sort," Sherrill said. "Corvet was a man of a sort +I would have been far less likely ever to have known intimately in the +East. He was both what the lakes had made him and what he had made of +himself; a great reader--wholly self-educated; he had, I think, many of +the attributes of a great man--at least, they were those of a man who +should have become great; he had imagination and vision. His whole +thought and effort, at that time, were absorbed in furthering and +developing the traffic on the lakes, and not at all from mere desire +for personal success. I met him for the first time one day when I went +to his office on some business. He had just opened an office at that +time in one of the old ramshackle rows along the river front; there was +nothing at all pretentious about it--the contrary, in fact; but as I +went in and waited with the others who were there to see him, I had the +sense of being in the ante-room of a great man. I do not mean there +was any idiotic pomp or lackyism or red tape about it; I mean that the +others who were waiting to see him, and who knew him, were keyed up by +the anticipation and keyed me up.... + +"I saw as much as I could of him after that, and our friendship became +very close. + +"In 1892, when I married and took my residence here on the lake +shore--the house stood where this one stands now--Corvet bought the +house on Astor Street. His only reason for doing it was, I believe, +his desire to be near me. The neighborhood was what they call +fashionable; neither Corvet nor Mrs. Corvet--he had married in +1889--had social ambitions of that sort. Mrs. Corvet came from +Detroit; she was of good family there--a strain of French blood in the +family; she was a schoolteacher when he married her, and she had made a +wonderful wife for him--a good woman, a woman of very high ideals; it +was great grief to both of them that they had no children. + +"Between 1886, when I first met him, and 1895, Corvet laid the +foundation of great success; his boats seemed lucky, men liked to work +for him, and he got the best skippers and crews. A Corvet captain +boasted of it and, if he had had bad luck on another line, believed his +luck changed when he took a Corvet ship; cargoes in Corvet bottoms +somehow always reached port; there was a saying that in storm a Corvet +ship never asked help; it gave it; certainly in twenty years no Corvet +ship had suffered serious disaster. Corvet was not yet rich, but +unless accident or undue competition intervened, he was certain to +become so. Then something happened." + +Sherrill looked away at evident loss how to describe it. + +"To the ships?" Alan asked him. + +"No; to him. In 1896, for no apparent reason, a great change came over +him." + +"In 1896!" + +"That was the year." + +Alan bent forward, his heart throbbing in his throat. "That was also +the year when I was brought and left with the Weltons in Kansas," he +said. + +Sherrill did not speak for a moment. "I thought," he said finally, "it +must have been about that time; but you did not tell my daughter the +exact date." + +"What kind of change came over him that year?" Alan asked. + +Sherrill gazed down at the rug, then at Alan, then past him. "A change +in his way of living," he replied. "The Corvet line of boats went on, +expanded; interests were acquired in other lines; and Corvet and those +allied with him swiftly grew rich. But in all this great development, +for which Corvet's genius and ability had laid the foundation, Corvet +himself ceased to take active part. I do not mean that he formally +retired; he retained his control of the business, but he very seldom +went to the office and, except for occasional violent, almost pettish +interference in the affairs of the company, he left it in the hands of +others. He took into partnership, about a year later, Henry Spearman, +a young man who had been merely a mate on one of his ships. This +proved subsequently to have been a good business move, for Spearman has +tremendous energy, daring, and enterprise; and no doubt Corvet had +recognized these qualities in him before others did. But at the time +it excited considerable comment. It marked, certainly, the beginning +of Corvet's withdrawal from active management. Since then he has been +ostensibly and publicly the head of the concern, but he has left the +management almost entirely to Spearman. The personal change in Corvet +at that time is harder for me to describe to you." + +Sherrill halted, his eyes dark with thought, his lips, pressed closely +together; Alan waited. + +"When I saw Corvet again, in the summer of '96--I had been South during +the latter part of the winter and East through the spring--I was +impressed by the vague but, to me, alarming change in him. I was +reminded, I recall, of a friend I had had in college who had thought he +was in perfect health and had gone to an examiner for life insurance +and had been refused, and was trying to deny to himself and others that +anything could be the matter. But with Corvet I knew the trouble was +not physical. The next year his wife left him." + +"The year of--?" Alan asked. + +"That was 1897. We did not know at first, of course, that the +separation was permanent. It proved so, however; and Corvet, I know +now, had understood it to be that way from the first. Mrs. Corvet went +to France--the French blood in her, I suppose, made her select that +country; she had for a number of years a cottage near Trouville, in +Normandy, and was active in church work. I know there was almost no +communication between herself and her husband during those years, and +her leaving him markedly affected Corvet. He had been very fond of her +and proud of her. I had seen him sometimes watching her while she +talked; he would gaze at her steadily and then look about at the other +women in the room and back to her, and his head would nod just +perceptibly with satisfaction; and she would see it sometimes and +smile. There was no question of their understanding and affection up +to the very time she so suddenly and so strangely left him. She died +in Trouville in the spring of 1910, and Corvet's first information of +her death come to him through a paragraph in a newspaper." + +Alan had started; Sherrill looked at him questioningly. + +"The spring of 1910," Alan explained, "was when I received the bank +draft for fifteen hundred dollars." + +Sherrill nodded; he did not seem surprised to hear this; rather it +appeared to be confirmation of something in his own thought. + +"Following his wife's leaving him," Sherrill went on, "Corvet saw very +little of any one. He spent most of his time in his own house; +occasionally he lunched at his club; at rare intervals, and always +unexpectedly, he appeared at his office. I remember that summer he was +terribly disturbed because one of his ships was lost. It was not a bad +disaster, for every one on the ship was saved, and hull and cargo were +fully covered by insurance; but the Corvet record was broken; a Corvet +ship had appealed for help; a Corvet vessel had not reached port.... +And later in the fall, when two deckhands were washed from another of +his vessels and drowned, he was again greatly wrought up, though his +ships still had a most favorable record. In 1902 I proposed to him +that I buy full ownership in the vessels I partly controlled and ally +them with those he and Spearman operated. It was a time of +combination--the railroads and the steel interests were acquiring the +lake vessels; and though I believed in this, I was not willing to enter +any combination which would take the name of Sherrill off the list of +American shipowners. I did not give Corvet this as my reason; and he +made me at that time a very strange counter-proposition--which I have +never been able to understand, and which entailed the very obliteration +of my name which I was trying to avoid. He proposed that I accept a +partnership in his concern on a most generous basis, but that the name +of the company remain as it was, merely Corvet and Spearman. +Spearman's influence and mine prevailed upon him to allow my name to +appear; since then, the firm name has been Corvet, Sherrill, and +Spearman. + +"Our friendship had strengthened and ripened during those years. The +intense activity of Corvet's mind, which as a younger man he had +directed wholly to the shipping, was directed, after he had isolated +himself in this way, to other things. He took up almost feverishly an +immense number of studies--strange studies most of them for a man whose +youth had been almost violently active and who had once been a lake +captain. I cannot tell you what they all were--geology, ethnology, +nearly a score of subjects; he corresponded with various scientific +societies; he has given almost the whole of his attention to such +things for about twenty years. Since I have known him, he has +transformed himself from the rather rough, uncouth--though always +spiritually minded--man he was when I first met him into an educated +gentleman whom anybody would be glad to know; but he has made very few +acquaintances in that time, and has kept almost none of his old +friendships. He has lived alone in the house on Astor Street with only +one servant--the same one all these years. + +"The only house he has visited with any frequency has been mine. He +has always liked my wife; he had--he has a great affection for my +daughter, who, when she was a child, ran in and out of his home as she +pleased. He would take long walks with her; he'd come here sometimes +in the afternoon to have tea with her on stormy days; he liked to have +her play and sing to him. My daughter believes now that his present +disappearance--whatever has happened to him--is connected in some way +with herself. I do not think that is so--" + +Sherrill broke off and stood in thought for a moment; he seemed to +consider, and to decide that it was not necessary to say anything more +on that subject. + +"Recently Corvet's moroseness and irritability had very greatly +increased; he had quarreled frequently and bitterly with Spearman over +business affairs. He had seemed more than usually eager at times to +see me or to see my daughter; and at other times he had seemed to avoid +us and keep away. I have had the feeling of late, though I could not +give any actual reason for it except Corvet's manner and look, that the +disturbance which had oppressed him for twenty years was culminating in +some way. That culmination seems to have been reached three days ago, +when he wrote summoning you here. Henry Spearman, whom I asked about +you when I learned you were coming, had never heard of you; Mr. +Corvet's servant had never heard of you.... + +"Is there anything in what I have told you which makes it possible for +you to recollect or to explain?" + +Alan shook his head, flushed, and then grew a little pale. What +Sherrill told him had excited him by the coincidences it offered +between events in Benjamin Corvet's life and his own; it had not made +him "recollect" Corvet, but it had given definiteness and direction to +his speculations as to Corvet's relation to himself. + +Sherrill drew one of the large chairs nearer to Alan and sat down +facing him. He felt in an inner pocket and brought out an envelope; +from the envelope he took three pictures, and handed the smallest of +them to Alan. As Alan took it, he saw that it was a tintype of himself +as a round-faced boy of seven. + +"That is you?" Sherrill asked. + +"Yes; it was taken by the photographer in Blue Rapids. We all had our +pictures taken on that day--Jim, Betty, and I. Mr. Welton"--for the +first time Alan consciously avoided giving the title "Father" to the +man in Kansas--"sent one of me to the 'general delivery' address of the +person in Chicago." + +"And this?" + +The second picture, Alan saw, was one that had been taken in front of +the barn at the farm. It showed Alan at twelve, in overalls and +barefooted, holding a stick over his head at which a shepherd dog was +jumping. + +"Yes; that is Shep and I--Jim's and my dog, Mr. Sherrill. It was taken +by a man who stopped at the house for dinner one day; he liked Shep and +wanted a picture of him; so he got me to make Shep jump, and he took +it." + +"You don't remember anything about the man?" + +"Only that he had a camera and wanted a picture of Shep." + +"Doesn't it occur to you that it was your picture he wanted, and that +he had been sent to get it? I wanted your verification that these +earlier pictures were of you, but this last one is easily recognizable." + +Sherrill unfolded the third picture; it was larger than the others and +had been folded across the middle to get it into the envelope. Alan +leaned forward to look at it. + +"That is the University of Kansas football team," he said. "I am the +second one in the front row; I played end my junior year and tackle +when I was a senior. Mr. Corvet--?" + +"Yes; Mr. Corvet had these pictures. They came into my possession day +before yesterday, the day after Corvet disappeared; I do not want to +tell just yet how they did that." + +Alan's face, which had been flushed at first with excitement, had gone +quite pale, and his hands, as he clenched and unclenched them +nervously, were cold, and his lips were very dry. He could think of no +possible relationship between Benjamin Corvet and himself, except one, +which could account for Corvet's obtaining and keeping these pictures +of him through the years. As Sherrill put the pictures back into their +envelope and the envelope back into his pocket, and Alan watched him, +Alan felt nearly certain now that it had not been proof of the nature +of this relationship that Sherrill had been trying to get from him, but +only corroboration of some knowledge, or partial knowledge, which had +come to Sherrill in some other way. The existence of this knowledge +was implied by Sherrill's withholding of the way he had come into +possession of the pictures, and his manner showed now that he had +received from Alan the confirmation for which he had been seeking. + +"I think you know who I am," Alan said. + +Sherrill had risen and stood looking down at him. + +"You have guessed, if I am not mistaken, that you are Corvet's son." + +The color flamed to Alan's face for an instant, then left it paler than +before. "I thought it must be that way," he answered; "but you said he +had no children." + +"Benjamin Corvet and his wife had no children." + +"I thought that was what you meant." A twinge twisted Alan's face; he +tried to control it but for a moment could not. + +Sherrill suddenly put his hand on Alan's shoulder; there was something +so friendly, so affectionate in the quick, impulsive grasp of +Sherrill's fingers, that Alan's heart throbbed to it; for the first +time some one had touched him in full, unchecked feeling for him; for +the first time, the unknown about him had failed to be a barrier and, +instead, had drawn another to him. + +"Do not misapprehend your father," Sherrill said quietly. "I cannot +prevent what other people may think when they learn this; but I do not +share such thoughts with them. There is much in this I cannot +understand; but I know that it is not merely the result of what others +may think it--of 'a wife in more ports than one,' as you will hear the +lakemen put it. What lies under this is some great misadventure which +had changed and frustrated all your father's life." + +Sherrill crossed the room and rang for a servant. + +"I am going to ask you to be my guest for a short time, Alan," he +announced. "I have had your bag carried to your room; the man will +show you which one it is." + +Alan hesitated; he felt that Sherrill had not told him all he +knew--that there were some things Sherrill purposely was withholding +from him; but he could not force Sherrill to tell more than he wished; +so after an instant's irresolution, he accepted the dismissal. + +Sherrill walked with him to the door, and gave his directions to the +servant; he stood watching, as Alan and the man went up the stairs. +Then he went back and seated himself in the chair Alan had occupied, +and sat with hands grasping the arms of the chair while he stared into +the fire. + +Fifteen minutes later, he heard his daughter's footsteps and looked up. +Constance halted in the door to assure herself that he was now alone; +then she came to him and, seating herself on the arm of the chair, she +put her hand on his thin hair and smoothed it softly; he felt for her +other hand with his and found it, and held it clasped between his palms. + +"You've found out who he is, father?" she asked. + +"The facts have left me no doubt at all as to that, little daughter." + +"No doubt that he is----who?" + +Sherrill was silent for a moment--not from uncertainty, but because of +the effect which what he must say would have upon her; then he told her +in almost the same words he had used to Alan. Constance started, +flushed, and her hand stiffened convulsively between her father's. + +They said nothing more to one another; Sherrill seemed considering and +debating something within himself; and presently he seemed to come to a +decision. He got up, stooped and touched his daughter's hand, and left +the room. He went up the stairs and on the second floor he went to a +front room and knocked. Alan's voice told him to come in. Sherrill +went in and, when he had made sure that the servant was not with Alan, +he closed the door carefully behind him. + +Then he turned back to Alan, and for an instant stood indecisive as +though he did not know how to begin what he wanted to say. As he +glanced down at a key he took from his pocket, his indecision seemed to +receive direction and inspiration from it; and he put it down on Alan's +dresser. + +"I've brought you," he said evenly, "the key to your house." + +Alan gazed at him, bewildered. "The key to my house?" + +"To the house on Astor Street," Sherrill confirmed. "Your father +deeded the house and its furniture and all its contents to you the day +before he disappeared. I have not the deed here; it came into my hands +the day before yesterday at the same time I got possession of the +pictures which might--or might not, for all I knew then--be you. I +have the deed down-town and will give it to you. The house is yours in +fee simple, given you by your father, not bequeathed to you by him to +become your property after his death. He meant by that, I think, even +more than the mere acknowledgment that he is your father." + +Sherrill walked to the window and stood as though looking out, but his +eyes were blank with thought. + +"For almost twenty years," he said, "your father, as I have told you, +lived in that house practically alone; during all those years a shadow +of some sort was over him. I don't know at all, Alan, what that shadow +was. But it is certain that whatever it was that had changed him from +the man he was when I first knew him culminated three days ago when he +wrote to you. It may be that the consequences of his writing to you +were such that, after he had sent the letter, he could not bring +himself to face them and so has merely ... gone away. In that case, as +we stand here talking, he is still alive. On the other hand, his +writing you may have precipitated something that I know nothing of. In +either case, if he has left anywhere any evidence of what it is that +changed and oppressed him for all these years, or if there is any +evidence of what has happened to him now, it will be found in his +house." + +Sherrill turned back to Alan. "It is for you--not me, Alan," he said +simply, "to make that search. I have thought seriously about it, this +last half hour, and have decided that is as he would want it--perhaps +as he did want it--to be. He could have told me what his trouble was +any time in these twenty years, if he had been willing I should know; +but he never did." + +Sherrill was silent for a moment. + +"There are some things your father did just before he disappeared that +I have not told you yet," he went on. "The reason I have not told them +is that I have not yet fully decided in my own mind what action they +call for from me. I can assure you, however, that it would not help +you now in any way to know them." + +He thought again; then glanced to the key on the dresser and seemed to +recollect. + +"That key," he said, "is one I made your father give me some time ago; +he was at home alone so much that I was afraid something might happen +to him there. He gave it me because he knew I would not misuse it. I +used it, for the first time, three days ago, when, after becoming +certain something had gone wrong with him, I went to the house to +search for him; my daughter used it this morning when she went there to +wait for you. Your father, of course, had a key to the front door like +this one; his servant has a key to the servants' entrance. I do not +know of any other keys." + +"The servant is in charge there now?" Alan asked. + +"Just now there is no one in the house. The servant, after your father +disappeared, thought that, if he had merely gone away, he might have +gone back to his birthplace near Manistique, and he went up there to +look for him. I had a wire from him to-day that he had not found him +and was coming back." + +Sherrill waited a moment to see whether there was anything more Alan +wanted to ask; then he went out. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"ARRIVED SAFE; WELL" + +As the door closed behind Sherrill, Alan went over to the dresser and +picked up the key which Sherrill had left. It was, he saw, a flat key +of a sort common twenty years before, not of the more recent corrugated +shape. As he looked at it and then away from it, thoughtfully turning +it over and over in his fingers, it brought no sense of possession to +him. Sherrill had said the house was his, had been given him by his +father; but that fact could not actually make it his in his +realization. He could not imagine himself owning such a house or what +he would do with it if it were his. He put the key, after a moment, on +the ring with two or three other keys he had, and dropped them into his +pocket; then he crossed to a chair and sat down. + +He found, as he tried now to disentangle the events of the afternoon, +that from them, and especially from his last interview with Sherrill, +two facts stood out most clearly. The first of these related more +directly to his father--to Benjamin Corvet. When such a man as +Benjamin Corvet must have been, disappears--when, without warning and +without leaving any account of himself he vanishes from among those who +knew him--the persons most closely interested pass through three stages +of anxiety. They doubt first whether the disappearance is real and +whether inquiry on their part will not be resented; they waken next to +realization that the man is actually gone, and that something must be +done; the third stage is open and public inquiry. Whatever might be +the nature of the information Sherrill was withholding from him, Alan +saw that its effect on Sherrill had been to shorten very greatly +Sherrill's time of doubt as to Corvet's actual disappearance. The +Sherrills--particularly Sherrill himself--had been in the second stage +of anxiety when Alan came; they had been awaiting Alan's arrival in the +belief that Alan could give them information which would show them what +must be "done" about Corvet. Alan had not been able to give them this +information; but his coming, and his interview with Sherrill, had +strongly influenced Sherrill's attitude. Sherrill had shrunk, still +more definitely and consciously, after that, from prying into the +affairs of his friend; he had now, strangely, almost withdrawn himself +from the inquiry, and had given it over to Alan. + +Sherrill had spoken of the possibility that something might have +"happened" to Covert; but it was plain he did not believe he had met +with actual violence. He had left it to Alan to examine Corvet's +house; but he had not urged Alan to examine it at once; he had left the +time of the examination to be determined by Alan. This showed clearly +that Sherrill believed--perhaps had sufficient reason for +believing--that Corvet had simply "gone away." The second of Alan's +two facts related even more closely and personally to Alan himself. +Corvet, Sherrill had said, had married in 1889. But Sherrill in long +knowledge of his friend, had shown firm conviction that there had been +no mere vulgar liaison in Corvet's life. Did this mean that there +might have been some previous marriage of Alan's father--some marriage +which had strangely overlapped and nullified his public marriage? In +that case, Alan could be, not only in fact but legally, Corvet's son; +and such things as this, Alan knew, had sometimes happened, and had +happened by a strange combination of events, innocently for all +parties. Corvet's public separation from his wife, Sherrill had said, +had taken place in 1897, but the actual separation between them might, +possibly, have taken place long before that. + +Alan resolved to hold these questions in abeyance; he would not accept +or grant the stigma which his relationship to Corvet seemed to attach +to himself until it had been proved to him. He had come to Chicago +expecting, not to find that there had never been anything wrong, but to +find that the wrong had been righted in some way at last. But what was +most plain of all to him, from what Sherrill had told him, was that the +wrong--whatever it might be--had not been righted; it existed still. + +The afternoon had changed swiftly into night; dusk had been gathering +during his last talk with Sherrill, so that he hardly had been able to +see Sherrill's face, and just after Sherrill had left him, full dark +had come. Alan did not know how long he had been sitting in the +darkness thinking out these things; but now a little clock which had +been ticking steadily in the blackness tinkled six. Alan heard a knock +at his door, and when it was repeated, he called, "Come in." + +The light which came in from the hall, as the door was opened, showed a +man servant. The man, after a respectful inquiry, switched on the +light. He crossed into the adjoining room--a bedroom; the room where +Alan was, he thought, must be a dressing room, and there was a bath +between. Presently the man reappeared, and moved softly about the +room, unpacking Alan's suitcase. He hung Alan's other suit in the +closet on hangers; he put the linen, except for one shirt, in the +dresser drawers, and he put Alan's few toilet things with the +ivory-backed brushes and comb and other articles on the dressing stand. + +Alan watched him queerly; no one except himself ever had unpacked +Alan's suitcase before; the first time he had gone away to college--it +was a brand new suitcase then--"mother" had packed it; after that first +time, Alan had packed and unpacked it. It gave him an odd feeling now +to see some one else unpacking his things. The man, having finished +and taken everything out, continued to look in the suitcase for +something else. + +"I beg pardon, sir," he said finally, "but I cannot find your buttons." + +"I've got them on," Alan said. He took them out and gave them to the +valet with a smile; it was good to have something to smile at, if it +was only the realization that he never had thought before of any one's +having more than one set of buttons for ordinary shirts. Alan +wondered, with a sort of trepidation, whether the man would expect to +stay and help him dress; but he only put the buttons in the clean shirt +and reopened the dresser drawers and laid out a change of things. + +"Is there anything else, sir?" he asked. + +"Nothing, thank you," Alan said. + +"I was to tell you, sir, Mr. Sherrill is sorry he cannot be at home to +dinner to-night. Mrs. Sherrill and Miss Sherrill will be here. Dinner +is at seven, sir." + +Alan dressed slowly, after the man had gone; and at one minute before +seven he went down-stairs. + +There was no one in the lower hall and, after an instant of +irresolution and a glance into the empty drawing-room, he turned into +the small room at the opposite side of the hall. A handsome, stately, +rather large woman, whom he found there, introduced herself to him +formally as Mrs. Sherrill. + +He knew from Sherrill's mention of the year of their marriage that Mrs. +Sherrill's age must be about forty-five, but if he had not known this, +he would have thought her ten years younger. In her dark eyes and her +carefully dressed, coal-black hair, and in the contour of her youthful +looking, handsome face, he could not find any such pronounced +resemblance to her daughter as he had seen in Lawrence Sherrill. Her +reserved, yet almost too casual acceptance of Alan's presence, told him +that she knew all the particulars about himself which Sherrill had been +able to give; and as Constance came down the stairs and joined them +half a minute later, Alan was certain that she also knew. + +Yet there was in her manner toward Alan a difference from that of her +mother--a difference which seemed almost opposition. Not that Mrs. +Sherrill's was unfriendly or critical; rather, it was kind with the +sort of reserved kindness which told Alan, almost as plainly as words, +that she had not been able to hold so charitable a conviction in regard +to Corvet's relationship with Alan as her husband held, but that she +would be only the more considerate to Alan for that. It was this +kindness which Constance set herself to oppose, and which she opposed +as reservedly and as subtly as it was expressed. It gave Alan a +strange, exhilarating sensation to realize that, as the three talked +together, this girl was defending him. + +Not him alone, of course, or him chiefly. It was Benjamin Corvet, her +friend, whom she was defending primarily; yet it was Alan too; and all +went on without a word about Benjamin Corvet or his affairs being +spoken. + +Dinner was announced, and they went into the great dining-room, where +the table with its linen, silver, and china gleamed under shaded +lights. The oldest and most dignified of the three men servants who +waited upon them in the dining-room Alan thought must be a butler--a +species of creature of whom Alan had heard but never had seen; the +other servants, at least, received and handed things through him, and +took their orders from him. As the silent-footed servants moved about, +and Alan kept up a somewhat strained conversation with Mrs. Sherrill--a +conversation in which no reference to his own affairs was yet made--he +wondered whether Constance and her mother always dressed for dinner in +full evening dress as now, or whether they were going out. A word from +Constance to her mother told him this latter was the case, and while it +did not give complete answer to his internal query, it showed him his +first glimpse of social engagements as a part of the business of life. +In spite of the fact that Benjamin Corvet, Sherrill's close friend, had +disappeared--or perhaps because he had disappeared and, as yet, it was +not publicly known--their and Sherrill's engagements had to be +fulfilled. + +What Sherrill had told Alan of his father had been iterating itself +again and again in Alan's thoughts; now he recalled that Sherrill had +said that his daughter believed that Corvet's disappearance had had +something to do with her. Alan had wondered at the moment how that +could be; and as he watched her across the table and now and then +exchanged a comment with her, it puzzled him still more. He had +opportunity to ask her when she waited with him in the library, after +dinner was finished and her mother had gone up-stairs; but he did not +see then how to go about it. + +"I'm sorry," she said to him, "that we can't be home to-night; but +perhaps you would rather be alone?" + +He did not answer that. + +"Have you a picture here, Miss Sherrill, of--my father?" he asked. + +"Uncle Benny had had very few pictures taken; but there is one here." + +She went into the study, and came back with a book open at a half-tone +picture of Benjamin Corvet. Alan took it from her and carried it +quickly closer to the light. The face that looked up to him from the +heavily glazed page was regular of feature, handsome in a way, and +forceful. There were imagination and vigor of thought in the broad, +smooth forehead; the eyes were strangely moody and brooding; the mouth +was gentle, rather kindly; it was a queerly impelling, haunting face. +This was his father! But, as Alan held the picture, gazing down upon +it, the only emotion which came to him was realization that he felt +none. He had not expected to know his father from strangers on the +street; but he had expected, when told that his father was before him, +to feel through and through him the call of a common blood. Now, +except for consternation at his own lack of feeling, he had no emotion +of any sort; he could not attach to this man, because he bore the name +which some one had told him was his father's, the passions which, when +dreaming of his father, he had felt. + +As he looked up from the picture to the girl who had given it to him, +startled at himself and believing she must think his lack of feeling +strange and unnatural, he surprised her gazing at him with wetness in +her eyes. He fancied at first it must be for his father, and that the +picture had brought back poignantly her fears. But she was not looking +at the picture, but at him; and when his eyes met hers, she quickly +turned away. + +His own eyes filled, and he choked. He wanted to thank her for her +manner to him in the afternoon, for defending his father and him, as +she had at the dinner table, and now for this unplanned, impulsive +sympathy when she saw how he had not been able to feel for this man who +was his father and how he was dismayed by it. But he could not put his +gratitude in words. + +A servant's voice came from the door, startling him. + +"Mrs. Sherrill wishes you told she is waiting, Miss Sherrill." + +"I'll be there at once." Constance, also, seemed startled and +confused; but she delayed and looked back to Alan. + +"If--if we fail to find your father," she said, "I want to tell you +what a man he was." + +"Will you?" Alan asked. "Will you?" + +She left him swiftly, and he heard her mother's voice in the hall. A +motor door closed sharply, after a minute or so; then the house door +closed. Alan stood still a moment longer, then, remembering the book +which he held, he drew a chair up to the light, and read the short, dry +biography of his father printed on the page opposite the portrait. It +summarized in a few hundred words his father's life. He turned to the +cover of the book and read its title, "Year Book of the Great Lakes," +and a date of five years before; then he looked through it. It +consisted in large part, he saw, merely of lists of ships, their kind, +their size, the date when they were built, and their owners. Under +this last head he saw some score of times the name "Corvet, Sherrill +and Spearman." There was a separate list of engines and boilers, and +when they had been built and by whom. There was a chronological table +of events during the year upon the lakes. Then he came to a part +headed "Disasters of the Year," and he read some of them; they were +short accounts, drily and unfeelingly put, but his blood thrilled to +these stories of drowning, freezing, blinded men struggling against +storm and ice and water, and conquering or being conquered by them. +Then he came to his father's picture and biography once more and, with +it, to pictures of other lakemen and their biographies. He turned to +the index and looked for Sherrill's name, and then Spearman's; finding +they were not in the book, he read some of the other ones. + +There was a strange similarity, he found, in these biographies, among +themselves as well as to that of his father. These men had had, the +most of them, no tradition of seamanship, such as Sherrill had told him +he himself had had. They had been sons of lumbermen, of farmers, of +mill hands, miners, or fishermen. They had been very young for the +most part, when they had heard and answered the call of the lakes--the +ever-swelling, fierce demand of lumber, grain, and ore for outlet; and +they had lived hard; life had been violent, and raw, and brutal to +them. They had sailed ships, and built ships, and owned and lost them; +they had fought against nature and against man to keep their ships, and +to make them profitable, and to get more of them. In the end a few, a +very few comparatively, had survived; by daring, by enterprise, by +taking great chances, they had thrust their heads above those of their +fellows; they had come to own a half dozen, a dozen, perhaps a score of +bottoms, and to have incomes of fifty, of a hundred, of two hundred +thousand dollars a year. + +Alan shut the book and sat thoughtful. He felt strongly the immensity, +the power, the grandeur of all this; but he felt also its violence and +its fierceness. What might there not have been in the life of his +father who had fought up and made a way for himself through such things? + +The tall clock in the hall struck nine. He got up and went out into +the hall and asked for his hat and coat. When they had been brought +him, he put them on and went out. + +The snow had stopped some time before; a strong and increasing wind had +sprung up, which Alan, with knowledge of the wind across his prairies, +recognized as an aftermath of the greater storm that had produced it; +for now the wind was from the opposite direction--from the west. He +could see from the Sherrills' door step, when he looked toward the +lighthouse at the harbor mouth winking red, white, red, white, at him, +that this offshore wind was causing some new commotion and upheaval +among the ice-floes; they groaned and labored and fought against the +opposing pressure of the waves, under its urging. + +He went down the steps and to the corner and turned west to Astor +Street. When he reached the house of his father, he stopped under a +street-lamp, looking up at the big, stern old mansion questioningly. +It had taken on a different look for him since he had heard Sherrill's +account of his father; there was an appeal to him that made his throat +grow tight, in its look of being unoccupied, in the blank stare of its +unlighted windows which contrasted with the lighted windows in the +houses on both sides, and in the slight evidences of disrepair about +it. He waited many minutes, his hand upon the key in his pocket; yet +he could not go in, but instead walked on down the street, his thoughts +and feelings in a turmoil. + +He could not call up any sense that the house was his, any more than he +had been able to when Sherrill had told him of it. He own a house on +that street! Yet was that in itself any more remarkable than that he +should be the guest, the friend of such people as the Sherrills? No +one as yet, since Sherrill had told him he was Corvet's son, had called +him by name; when they did, what would they call him? Alan Conrad +still? Or Alan Corvet? + +He noticed, up a street to the west, the lighted sign of a drug store +and turned up that way; he had promised, he had recollected now, to +write to ... those in Kansas--he could not call them "father" and +"mother" any more--and tell them what he had discovered as soon as he +arrived. He could not tell them that, but he could write them at least +that he had arrived safely and was well. He bought a postcard in the +drug store, and wrote just, "Arrived safely; am well" to John Welton in +Kansas. There was a little vending machine upon the counter, and he +dropped in a penny and got a box of matches and put them in his pocket. + +He mailed the card and turned back to Astor Street; and he walked more +swiftly now, having come to his decision, and only shot one quick look +up at the house as he approached it. With what had his father shut +himself up within that house for twenty years? And was it there still? +And was it from that that Benjamin Corvet had fled? He saw no one in +the street, and was certain no one was observing him as, taking the key +from his pocket, he ran up the steps and unlocked the outer door. +Holding this door open to get the light from the street lamp, he fitted +the key into the inner door; then he closed the outer door. For fully +a minute, with fast beating heart and a sense of expectation of he knew +not what, he kept his hand upon the key before he turned it; then he +opened the door and stepped into the dark and silent house. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +AN ENCOUNTER + +Alan, standing in the darkness of the hall, felt in his pocket for his +matches and struck one on the box. The light showed the hall in front +of him, reaching back into some vague, distant darkness, and great +rooms with wide portiered doorways gaping on both sides. He turned +into the room upon his right, glanced to see that the shades were drawn +on the windows toward the street, then found the switch and turned on +the electric light. + +As he looked around, he fought against his excitement and feeling of +expectancy; it was--he told himself--after all, merely a vacant house, +though bigger and more expensively furnished than any he ever had been +in except the Sherrills; and Sherrill's statement to him had implied +that anything there might be in it which could give the reason for his +father's disappearance would be probably only a paper, a record of some +kind. It was unlikely that a thing so easily concealed as that could +be found by him on his first examination of the place; what he had come +here for now--he tried to make himself believe--was merely to obtain +whatever other information it could give him about his father and the +way his father had lived, before Sherrill and he had any other +conversation. + +Alan had not noticed, when he stepped into the hall in the morning, +whether the house then had been heated; now he appreciated that it was +quite cold and, probably, had been cold for the three days since his +father had gone, and his servant had left to look for him. Coming from +the street, it was not the chilliness of the house he felt but the +stillness of the dead air; when a house is heated, there is always some +motion of the air, but this air was stagnant. Alan had dropped his hat +on a chair in the hall; he unbuttoned his overcoat but kept it on, and +stuffed his gloves into his pocket. + +A light in a single room, he thought, would not excite curiosity or +attract attention from the neighbors or any one passing in the street; +but lights in more than one room might do that. He resolved to turn +off the light in each room as he left it, before lighting the next one. + +It had been a pleasant as well as a handsome house, if he could judge +by the little of it he could see, before the change had come over his +father. The rooms were large with high ceilings. The one where he +stood, obviously was a library; bookshelves reached three quarters of +the way to the ceiling on three of its walls except where they were +broken in two places by doorways, and in one place on the south wall by +an open fireplace. There was a big library table-desk in the center of +the room, and a stand with a shaded lamp upon it nearer the fireplace. +A leather-cushioned Morris chair--a lonely, meditative-looking +chair--was by the stand and at an angle toward the hearth; the rug in +front of it was quite worn through and showed the floor underneath. A +sympathy toward his father, which Sherrill had not been able to make +him feel, came to Alan as he reflected how many days and nights +Benjamin Corvet must have passed reading or thinking in that chair +before his restless feet could have worn away the tough, Oriental +fabric of the rug. + +There were several magazines on the top of the large desk, some +unwrapped, some still in their wrappers; Alan glanced at them and saw +that they all related to technical and scientific subjects. The desk +evidently had been much used and had many drawers; Alan pulled one open +and saw that it was full of papers; but his sensation as he touched the +top one made him shut the drawer again and postpone prying of that sort +until he had looked more thoroughly about the house. + +He went to the door of the connecting room and looked into it. This +room, dusky in spite of the light which shone past him through the wide +doorway, was evidently another library; or rather it appeared to have +been the original library, and the front room had been converted into a +library to supplement it. The bookcases here were built so high that a +little ladder on wheels was required for access to the top shelves. +Alan located the light switch in the room; then he returned, switched +off the light in the front room, crossed in the darkness into the +second room, and pressed the switch. + +A weird, uncanny, half wail, half moan, coming from the upper hall, +suddenly filled the house. Its unexpectedness and the nature of the +sound stirred the hair upon his head, and he started back; then he +pressed the switch again, and the noise stopped. He lighted another +match, found the right switch, and turned on the light. Only after +discovering two long tiers of white and black keys against the north +wall did Alan understand that the switch must control the motor working +the bellows of an organ which had pipes in the upper hall; it was the +sort of organ that can be played either with fingers or by means of a +paper roll; a book of music had fallen upon the keys, so that one was +pressed down, causing the note to sound when the bellows pumped. + +But having accounted for the sound did not immediately end the start +that it had given Alan. He had the feeling which so often comes to one +in an unfamiliar and vacant house that there was some one in the house +with him. He listened and seemed to hear another sound in the upper +hall, a footstep. He went out quickly to the foot of the stairs and +looked up them. + +"Is any one here?" he called. "Is any one here?" + +His voice brought no response. He went half way up the curve of the +wide stairway, and called again, and listened; then he fought down the +feeling he had had; Sherrill had said there would be no one in the +house, and Alan was certain there was no one. So he went back to the +room where he had left the light. + +The center of this room, like the room next to it, was occupied by a +library table-desk. He pulled open some of the drawers in it; one or +two had blue prints and technical drawings in them; the others had only +the miscellany which accumulates in a room much used. There were +drawers also under the bookcases all around the room; they appeared, +when Alan opened some of them, to contain pamphlets of various +societies, and the scientific correspondence of which Sherrill had told +him. He looked over the titles of some of the books on the shelves--a +multitude of subjects, anthropology, exploration, deep-sea fishing, +ship-building, astronomy. The books in each section of the shelves +seemed to correspond in subject with the pamphlets and correspondence +in the drawer beneath, and these, by their dates, to divide themselves +into different periods during the twenty years that Benjamin Corvet had +lived alone here. + +Alan felt that seeing these things was bringing his father closer to +him; they gave him a little of the feeling he had been unable to get +when he looked at his father's picture. He could realize better now +the lonely, restless man, pursued by some ghost he could not kill, +taking up for distraction one subject of study after another, +exhausting each in turn until he could no longer make it engross him, +and then absorbing himself in the next. + +These two rooms evidently had been the ones most used by his father; +the other rooms on this floor, as Alan went into them one by one, he +found spoke far less intimately of Benjamin Corvet. A dining-room was +in the front of the house to the north side of the hall; a service room +opened from it, and on the other side of the service room was what +appeared to be a smaller dining-room. The service room communicated +both by dumb waiter and stairway with rooms below; Alan went down the +stairway only far enough to see that the rooms below were servants' +quarters; then he came back, turned out the light on the first floor, +struck another match, and went up the stairs to the second story. + +The rooms opening on to the upper hall, it was plain to him, though +their doors were closed, were mostly bedrooms. He put his hand at +hazard on the nearest door and opened it. As he caught the taste and +smell of the air in the room--heavy, colder, and deader even than the +air in the rest of the house--he hesitated; then with his match he +found the light switch. + +The room and the next one which communicated with it evidently were--or +had been--a woman's bedroom and boudoir. The hangings, which were +still swaying from the opening of the door, had taken permanently the +folds in which they had hung for many years; there were the scores of +long-time idleness, not of use, in the rugs and upholstery of the +chairs. The bed, however, was freshly made up, as though the bed +clothing had been changed occasionally. Alan went through the bedroom +to the door of the boudoir, and saw that that too had the same look of +unoccupancy and disuse. On the low dressing table were scattered such +articles as a woman starting on a journey might think it not worth +while to take with her. There was no doubt that these were the rooms +of his father's wife. + +Had his father preserved them thus, as she had left them, in the hope +that she might come back, permitting himself to fix no time when he +abandoned that hope, or even to change them after he had learned that +she was dead? Alan thought not; Sherrill had said that Corvet had +known from the first that his separation from his wife was permanent. +The bed made up, the other things neglected, and evidently looked after +or dusted only at long separated periods, looked more as though Corvet +had shrunk from seeing them or even thinking of them, and had left them +to be looked after wholly by the servant, without ever being able to +bring himself to give instructions that they should be changed. Alan +felt that he would not be surprised to learn that his father never had +entered these ghostlike rooms since the day his wife had left him. + +On the top of a chest of high drawers in a corner near the dressing +table were some papers. Alan went over to look at them; they were +invitations, notices of concerts and of plays twenty years old--the +mail, probably, of the morning she had gone away, left where her maid +or she herself had laid them, and only picked up and put back there at +the times since when the room was dusted. As Alan touched them, he saw +that his fingers left marks in the dust on the smooth top of the chest; +he noticed that some one else had touched the things and made marks of +the same sort as he had made. The freshness of these other marks +startled him; they had been made within a day or so. They could not +have been made by Sherrill, for Alan had noticed that Sherrill's hands +were slender and delicately formed; Corvet, too, was not a large man; +Alan's own hand was of good size and powerful, but when he put his +fingers over the marks the other man had made, he found that the other +hand must have been larger and more powerful than his own. Had it been +Corvet's servant? It might have been, though the marks seemed too +fresh for that; for the servant, Sherrill had said, had left the day +Corvet's disappearance was discovered. + +Alan pulled open the drawers to see what the other man might have been +after. It had not been the servant; for the contents of the +drawers--old brittle lace and woman's clothing--were tumbled as though +they had been pulled out and roughly and inexpertly pushed back; they +still showed the folds in which they had lain for years and which +recently had been disarranged. + +This proof that some one had been prying about in the house before +himself and since Corvet had gone, startled Alan and angered him. It +brought him suddenly a sense of possession which he had not been able +to feel when Sherrill had told him the house was his; it brought an +impulse of protection of these things about him. Who had been +searching in Benjamin Corvet's--in Alan's house? He pushed the drawers +shut hastily and hurried across the hall to the room opposite. In this +room--plainly Benjamin Corvet's bedroom--were no signs of intrusion. +He went to the door of the room connecting with it, turned on the +light, and looked in. It was a smaller room than the others and +contained a roll-top desk and a cabinet. The cover of the desk was +closed, and the drawers of the cabinet were shut and apparently +undisturbed. Alan recognized that probably in this room he would find +the most intimate and personal things relating to his father; but +before examining it, he turned back to inspect the bedroom. + +It was a carefully arranged and well-cared-for room, plainly in +constant use. A reading stand, with a lamp, was beside the bed with a +book marked about the middle. On the dresser were hair-brushes and a +comb, and a box of razors, none of which were missing. When Benjamin +Corvet had gone away, he had not taken anything with him, even toilet +articles. With the other things on the dresser, was a silver frame for +a photograph with a cover closed and fastened over the portrait; as +Alan took it up and opened it, the stiffness of the hinges and the +edges of the lid gummed to the frame by disuse, showed that it was long +since it had been opened. The picture was of a woman of perhaps +thirty--a beautiful woman, dark-haired, dark-eyed, with a refined, +sensitive, spiritual-looking face. The dress she wore was the same, +Alan suddenly recognized, which he had seen and touched among the +things in the chest of drawers; it gave him a queer feeling now to have +touched her things. He felt instinctively, as he held the picture and +studied it, that it could have been no vulgar bickering between wife +and husband, nor any caprice of a dissatisfied woman, that had made her +separate herself from her husband. The photographer's name was stamped +in one corner, and the date--1894, the year after Alan had been born. + +But Alan felt that the picture and the condition of her rooms across +the hall did not shed any light on the relations between her and +Benjamin Corvet; rather they obscured them; for his father neither had +put the picture away from him and devoted her rooms to other uses, nor +had he kept the rooms arranged and ready for her return and her picture +so that he would see it. He would have done one or the other of these +things, Alan thought, if it were she his father had wronged--or, at +least, if it were only she. + +Alan reclosed the case, and put the picture down; then he went into the +room with the desk. He tried the cover of the desk, but it appeared to +be locked; after looking around vainly for a key, he tried again, +exerting a little more force, and this time the top went up easily, +tearing away the metal plate into which the claws of the lock clasped +and the two long screws which had held it. He examined the lock, +surprised, and saw that the screws must have been merely set into the +holes; scars showed where a chisel or some metal implement had been +thrust in under the top to force it up. The pigeonholes and little +drawers in the upper part of the desk, as he swiftly opened them, he +found entirely empty. He hurried to the cabinet; the drawers of the +cabinet too had been forced, and very recently; for the scars and the +splinters of wood were clean and fresh. These drawers and the drawers +in the lower part of the desk either were empty, or the papers in them +had been disarranged and tumbled in confusion, as though some one had +examined them hastily and tossed them back. + +Sherrill had not done that, nor any one who had a business to be there. +If Benjamin Corvet had emptied some of those drawers before he went +away, he would not have relocked empty drawers. To Alan, the marks of +violence and roughness were unmistakably the work of the man with the +big hands who had left marks upon the top of the chest of drawers; and +the feeling that he had been in the house very recently was stronger +than ever. + +Alan ran out into the hall and listened; he heard no sound; but he went +back to the little room more excited than before. For what had the +other man been searching? For the same things which Alan was looking +for? And had the other man got them? Who might the other be, and what +might be his connection with Benjamin Corvet? Alan had no doubt that +everything of importance must have been taken away, but he would make +sure of that. He took some of the papers from the drawers and began to +examine them; after nearly an hour of this, he had found only one +article which appeared connected in any way with what Sherrill had told +him or with Alan himself. In one of the little drawers of the desk he +found several books, much worn as though from being carried in a +pocket, and one of these contained a series of entries stretching over +several years. These listed an amount--$150.--opposite a series of +dates with only the year and the month given, and there was an entry +for every second month. + +Alan felt his fingers trembling as he turned the pages of the little +book and found at the end of the list a blank, and below, in the same +hand but in writing which had changed slightly with the passage of +years, another date and the confirming entry of $1,500. The other +papers and books were only such things as might accumulate during a +lifetime on the water and in business--government certificates, +manifests, boat schedules of times long gone by, and similar papers. +Alan looked through the little book again and put it in his pocket. It +was, beyond doubt, his father's memorandum of the sums sent to Blue +Rapids for Alan; it told him that here he had been in his father's +thoughts; in this little room, within a few steps from those deserted +apartments of his wife, Benjamin Corvet had sent "Alan's dollar"--that +dollar which had been such a subject of speculation in his childhood +for himself and for all the other children. He grew warm at the +thought as he began putting the other things back into the drawers. + +He started and straightened suddenly; then he listened attentively, and +his skin, warm an instant before, turned cold and prickled. Somewhere +within the house, unmistakably on the floor below him, a door had +slammed. The wind, which had grown much stronger in the last hour, was +battering the windows and whining round the corners of the building; +but the house was tightly closed; it could not be the wind that had +blown the door shut. Some one--it was beyond question now, for the +realization was quite different from the feeling he had had about that +before--was in the house with him. Had his father's servant come back? +That was impossible; Sherrill had received a wire from the man that +day, and he could not get back to Chicago before the following morning +at the earliest. But the servant, Sherrill had said, was the only +other one besides his father who had a key. Was it ... his father who +had come back? That, though not impossible, seemed improbable. + +Alan stooped quickly, unlaced and stripped off his shoes, and ran out +into the hall to the head of the stairs where he looked down and +listened. From here the sound of some one moving about came to him +distinctly; he could see no light below, but when he ran down to the +turn of the stairs, it became plain that there was a very dim and +flickering light in the library. He crept on farther down the +staircase. His hands were cold and moist from his excitement, and his +body was hot and trembling. + +Whoever it was that was moving about down-stairs, even if he was not +one who had a right to be there, at least felt secure from +interruption. He was going with heavy step from window to window; +where he found a shade up, he pulled it down brusquely and with a +violence which suggested great strength under a nervous strain; a +shade, which had been pulled down, flew up, and the man damned it as +though it had startled him; then, after an instant, he pulled it down +again. + +Alan crept still farther down and at last caught sight of him. The man +was not his father; he was not a servant; it was equally sure at the +same time that he was not any one who had any business to be in the +house and that he was not any common house-breaker. + +He was a big, young-looking man, with broad shoulders and very evident +vigor; Alan guessed his age at thirty-five; he was handsome--he had a +straight forehead over daring, deep-set eyes; his nose, lips, and chin +were powerfully formed; and he was expensively and very carefully +dressed. The light by which Alan saw these things came from a flat +little pocket searchlight that the man carried in one hand, which threw +a little brilliant circle of light as he directed it; and now, as the +light chanced to fall on his other hand--powerful and heavily +muscled--Alan recollected the look and size of the finger prints on the +chest of drawers upstairs. He did not doubt that this was the same man +who had gone through the desk; but since he had already rifled the +desks, what did he want here now? As the man moved out of sight, Alan +crept on down as far as the door to the library; the man had gone on +into the rear room, and Alan went far enough into the library so he +could see him. + +He had pulled open one of the drawers in the big table in the rear +room--the room where the organ was and where the bookshelves reached to +the ceiling--and with his light held so as to show what was in it, he +was tumbling over its contents and examining them. He went through one +after another of the drawers of the table like this; after examining +them, he rose and kicked the last one shut disgustedly; he stood +looking about the room questioningly, then he started toward the front +room. + +He cast the light of his torch ahead of him; but Alan had time to +anticipate his action and to retreat to the hall. He held the hangings +a little way from the door jamb so he could see into the room. If this +man were the same who had looted the desk up-stairs, it was plain that +he had not procured there what he wanted or all of what he wanted; and +now he did not know where next to look. + +He had, as yet, neither seen nor heard anything to alarm him, and as he +went to the desk in the front room and peered impatiently into the +drawers, he slammed them shut, one after another. He straightened and +stared about. "Damn Ben! Damn Ben!" he ejaculated violently and +returned to the rear room. Alan, again following him, found him on his +knees in front of one of the drawers under the bookcases. As he +continued searching through the drawers, his irritation became greater +and greater. He jerked one drawer entirely out of its case, and the +contents flew in every direction; swearing at it, and damning "Ben" +again, he gathered up the letters. One suddenly caught his attention; +he began reading it closely, then snapped it back into the drawer, +crammed the rest on top of it, and went on to the next of the files. +He searched in this manner through half a dozen drawers, plainly +finding nothing at all he wanted; he dragged some of the books from +their cases, felt behind them and shoved back some of the books but +dropped others on the floor and blasphemy burst from him. + +He cursed "Ben" again and again, and himself, and God; he damned men by +name, but so violently and incoherently that Alan could not make out +the names; terribly he swore at men living and men "rotting in Hell." +The beam of light from the torch in his hand swayed aside and back and +forth. Without warning, suddenly it caught Alan as he stood in the +dark of the front room; and as the dim white circle of light gleamed +into Alan's face, the man looked that way and saw him. + +The effect of this upon the man was so strange and so bewildering to +Alan that Alan could only stare at him. The big man seemed to shrink +into himself and to shrink back and away from Alan. He roared out +something in a bellow thick with fear and horror; he seemed to choke +with terror. There was nothing in his look akin to mere surprise or +alarm at realizing that another was there and had been seeing and +overhearing him. The light which he still gripped swayed back and +forth and showed him Alan again, and he raised his arm before his face +as he recoiled. + +The consternation of the man was so complete that it checked Alan's +rush toward him; he halted, then advanced silently and watchfully. As +he went forward, and the light shone upon his face again, the big man +cried out hoarsely: + +"Damn you--damn you, with the hole above your eye! The bullet got you! +And now you've got Ben! But you can't get me! Go back to Hell! You +can't get me! I'll get you--I'll get you! You--can't save the +_Miwaka_!" + +He drew back his arm and with all his might hurled the flashlight at +Alan. It missed and crashed somewhere behind him, but did not go out; +the beam of light shot back and wavered and flickered over both of +them, as the torch rolled on the floor. Alan rushed forward and, +thrusting through the dark, his hand struck the man's chest and seized +his coat. + +The man caught at and seized Alan's arm; he seemed to feel of it and +assure himself of its reality. + +"Flesh! Flesh!" he roared in relief; and his big arms grappled Alan. +As they struggled, they stumbled and fell to the floor, the big man +underneath. His hand shifted its hold and caught Alan's throat; Alan +got an arm free and, with all his force, struck the man's face. The +man struck back--a heavy blow on the side of Alan's head which dizzied +him but left him strength to strike again, and his knuckles reached the +man's face once more, but he got another heavy blow in return. The man +was grappling no longer; he swung Alan to one side and off of him, and +rolled himself away. He scrambled to his feet and dashed out through +the library, across the hall, and into the service room. Alan heard +his feet clattering down the stairway to the floor beneath. Alan got +to his feet; dizzied and not yet familiar with the house, he blundered +against a wall and had to feel his way along it to the service room; as +he slipped and stumbled down the stairway, a door closed loudly at the +end of the corridor he had seen at the foot of the stairs. He ran +along the corridor to the door; it had closed with a spring lock, and +seconds passed while he felt in the dark for the catch; he found it and +tore the door open, and came out suddenly into the cold air of the +night in a paved passageway beside the house which led in one direction +to the street and in the other to a gate opening on the alley. He ran +forward to the street and looked up and down, but found it empty; then +he ran back to the alley. At the end of the alley, where it +intersected the cross street, the figure of the man running away +appeared suddenly out of the shadows, then disappeared; Alan, following +as far as the street, could see nothing more of him; this street too +was empty. + +He ran a little farther and looked, then he went back to the house. +The side door had swung shut again and latched. He felt in his pocket +for his key and went around to the front door. The snow upon the steps +had been swept away, probably by the servant who had come to the house +earlier in the day with Constance Sherrill, but some had fallen since; +the footsteps made in the early afternoon had been obliterated by it, +but Alan could see those he had made that evening, and the marks where +some one else had gone into the house and not come out again. In part +it was plain, therefore, what had happened: the man had come from the +south, for he had not seen the light Alan had had in the north and rear +part of the house; believing no one was in the house, the man had gone +in through the front door with a key. He had been some one familiar +with the house; for he had known about the side door and how to reach +it and that he could get out that way. This might mean no more than +that he was the same who had searched through the house before; but at +least it made his identity with the former intruder more certain. + +Alan let himself in at the front door and turned on the light in the +reading lamp in the library. The electric torch still was burning on +the floor and he picked it up and extinguished it; he went up-stairs +and brought down his shoes. He had seen a wood fire set ready for +lighting in the library, and now he lighted it and sat before it drying +his wet socks before he put on his shoes. He was still shaking and +breathing fast from his struggle with the man and his chase after him, +and by the strangeness of what had taken place. + +When the shaft of light from the torch had flashed across Alan's face +in the dark library, the man had not taken him for what he was--a +living person; he had taken him for a specter. His terror and the +things he had cried out could mean only that. The specter of whom? +Not of Benjamin Corvet; for one of the things Alan had remarked when he +saw Benjamin Corvet's picture was that he himself did not look at all +like his father. Besides, what the man had said made it certain that +he did not think the specter was "Ben"; for the specter had "got Ben." +Did Alan look like some one else, then? Like whom? Evidently like the +man--now dead for he had a ghost--who had "got" Ben, in the big man's +opinion. Who could that be? + +No answer, as yet, was possible to that. But if he did look like some +one, then that some one was--or had been--dreaded not only by the big +man who had entered the house, but by Benjamin Corvet as well. "You +got Ben!" the man had cried out. Got him? How? "But you can't get +me!" he had said. "You--with the bullet hole above your eye!" What +did that mean? + +Alan got up and went to look at himself in the mirror he had seen in +the hall. He was white, now that the flush of the fighting was going; +he probably had been pale before with excitement, and over his right +eye there was a round, black mark. Alan looked down at his hands; a +little skin was off one knuckle, where he had struck the man, and his +fingers were smudged with a black and sooty dust. He had smudged them +on the papers up-stairs or else in feeling his way about the dark +house, and at some time he had touched his forehead and left the black +mark. That had been the "bullet hole." + +The rest that the man had said had been a reference to some name; Alan +had no trouble to recollect the name and, while he did not understand +it at all, it stirred him queerly--"the _Miwaka_." What was that? The +queer excitement and questioning that the name brought, when he +repeated it to himself, was not recollection; for he could not recall +ever having heard the name before; but it was not completely strange to +him. He could define the excitement it stirred only in that way. + +He went back to the Morris chair; his socks were nearly dry, and he put +on his shoes. He got up and paced about. Sherrill had believed that +here in this house Benjamin Corvet had left--or might have left--a +memorandum, a record, or an account of some sort which would explain to +Alan, his son, the blight which had hung over his life. Sherrill had +said that it could have been no mere intrigue, no vulgar personal sin; +and the events of the night had made that very certain; for, plainly, +whatever was hidden in that house involved some one else seriously, +desperately. There was no other way to explain the intrusion of the +sort of man whom Alan had surprised there an hour ago. + +The fact that this other man searched also did not prove that Benjamin +Corvet had left a record in the house, as Sherrill believed; but it +certainly showed that another person believed--or feared--it. Whether +or not guilt had sent Benjamin Corvet away four days ago, whether or +not there had been guilt behind the ghost which had "got Ben," there +was guilt in the big man's superstitious terror when he had seen Alan. +A bold, powerful man like that one, when his conscience is clear, does +not see a ghost. And the ghost which he had seen had a bullet hole +above the brows! + +Alan did not flatter himself that in any physical sense he had +triumphed over that man; so far as it had gone, his adversary had had +rather the better of the battle; he had endeavored to stun Alan, or +perhaps do worse than stun; but after the first grapple, his purpose +had been to get away. But he had not fled from Alan; he had fled from +discovery of who he was. Sherrill had told Alan of no one whom he +could identify with this man; but Alan could describe him to Sherrill. + +Alan found a lavatory and washed and straightened his collar and tie +and brushed his clothes. There was a bruise on the side of his head; +but though it throbbed painfully, it did not leave any visible mark. +He could return now to the Sherrills'. It was not quite midnight but +he believed by this time Sherrill was probably home; perhaps already he +had gone to bed. Alan took up his hat and looked about the house; he +was going to return and sleep here, of course; he was not going to +leave the house unguarded for any long time after this; but, after what +had just happened, he felt he could leave it safely for half an hour, +particularly if he left a light burning within. + +He did this and stepped out. The wind from the west was blowing hard, +and the night had become bitter cold; yet, as Alan reached the drive, +he could see far out the tossing lights of a ship and, as he went +toward the Sherrills', he gazed out over the roaring water. Often on +nights like this, he knew, his father must have been battling such +water. + +The man who answered his ring at the Sherrills' recognized him at once +and admitted him; in reply to Alan's question, the servant said that +Mr. Sherrill had not yet returned. When Alan went to his room, the +valet appeared and, finding that Alan was packing, the man offered his +service. Alan let him pack and went down-stairs; a motor had just +driven up to the house. + +It proved to have brought Constance and her mother; Mrs. Sherrill, +after informing Alan that Mr. Sherrill might not return until some time +later, went up-stairs and did not appear again. Constance followed her +mother but, ten minutes later came downstairs. + +"You're not staying here to-night?" she said. + +"I wanted to say to your father," Alan explained, "that I believe I had +better go over to the other house." + +She came a little closer to him in her concern. "Nothing has happened +here?" + +"Here? You mean in this house?" Alan smiled. "No; nothing." + +She seemed relieved. Alan, remembering her mother's manner, thought he +understood; she knew that remarks had been made, possibly, which +repeated by a servant might have offended him. + +"I'm afraid it's been a hard day for you," she said. + +"It's certainly been unusual," Alan admitted. + +It had been a hard day for her, too, he observed; or probably the +recent days, since her father's and her own good friend had gone, had +been trying. She was tired now and nervously excited; but she was so +young that the little signs of strain and worry, instead of making her +seem older, only made her youth more apparent. The curves of her neck +and her pretty, rounded shoulders were as soft as before; her lustrous, +brown hair was more beautiful, and a slight flush colored her clear +skin. + +It had seemed to Alan, when Mrs. Sherrill had spoken to him a few +minutes before, that her manner toward him had been more reserved and +constrained than earlier in the evening; and he had put that down to +the lateness of the hour; but now he realized that she probably had +been discussing him with Constance, and that it was somewhat in +defiance of her mother that Constance had come down to speak with him +again. + +"Are you taking any one over to the other house with you?" she inquired. + +"Any one?" + +"A servant, I mean." + +"No." + +"Then you'll let us lend you a man from here." + +"You're awfully good; but I don't think I'll need any one to-night. +Mr. Corvet's--my father's man--is coming back to-morrow, I understand. +I'll get along very well until then." + +She was silent a moment as she looked away. Her shoulders suddenly +jerked a little. "I wish you'd take some one with you," she persisted. +"I don't like to think of you alone over there." + +"My father must have been often alone there." + +"Yes," she said. "Yes." She looked at him quickly, then away, +checking a question. She wanted to ask, he knew, what he had +discovered in that lonely house which had so agitated him; for of +course she had noticed agitation in him. And he had intended to tell +her or, rather, her father. He had been rehearsing to himself the +description of the man he had met there in order to ask Sherrill about +him; but now Alan knew that he was not going to refer the matter even +to Sherrill just yet. + +Sherrill had believed that Benjamin Corvet's disappearance was from +circumstances too personal and intimate to be made a subject of public +inquiry; and what Alan had encountered in Corvet's house had confirmed +that belief. Sherrill further had said that Benjamin Corvet, if he had +wished Sherrill to know those circumstances, would have told them to +him; but Corvet had not done that; instead, he had sent for Alan, his +son. He had given his son his confidence. + +Sherrill had admitted that he was withholding from Alan, for the time +being, something that he knew about Benjamin Corvet; it was nothing, he +had said, which would help Alan to learn about his father, or what had +become of him; but perhaps Sherrill, not knowing these other things, +could not speak accurately as to that. Alan determined to ask Sherrill +what he had been withholding before he told him all of what had +happened in Corvet's house. There was one other circumstance which +Sherrill had mentioned but not explained; it occurred to Alan now. + +"Miss Sherrill--" he checked himself. + +"What is it?" + +"This afternoon your father said that you believed that Mr. Corvet's +disappearance was in some way connected with you; he said that he did +not think that was so; but do you want to tell me why you thought it?" + +"Yes; I will tell you." She colored quickly. "One of the last things +Mr. Corvet did--in fact, the last thing we know of his doing before he +sent for you--was to come to me and warn me against one of my friends." + +"Warn you, Miss Sherrill? How? I mean, warn you against what?" + +"Against thinking too much of him." She turned away. + +Alan saw in the rear of the hall the man who had been waiting with the +suitcase. It was after midnight now and, for far more than the +intended half hour, Alan had left his father's house unwatched, to be +entered by the front door whenever the man, who had entered it before, +returned with his key. + +"I think I'll come to see your father in the morning," Alan said, when +Constance looked back to him. + +"You won't borrow Simons?" she asked again. + +"Thank you, no." + +"But you'll come over here for breakfast in the morning?" + +"You want me?" + +"Certainly." + +"I'd like to come very much." + +"Then I'll expect you." She followed him to the door when he had put +on his things, and he made no objection when she asked that the man be +allowed to carry his bag around to the other house. When he glanced +back, after reaching the walk, he saw her standing inside the door, +watching through the glass after him. + +When he had dismissed Simons and reentered the house on Astor Street, +he found no evidences of any disturbance while he had been gone. On +the second floor, to the east of the room which had been his father's, +was a bedroom which evidently had been kept as a guest chamber; Alan +carried his suitcase there and made ready for bed. + +The sight of Constance Sherrill standing and watching after him in +concern as he started back to this house, came to him again and again +and, also, her flush when she had spoken of the friend against whom +Benjamin Corvet had warned her. Who was he? It had been impossible at +that moment for Alan to ask her more; besides, if he had asked and she +had told him, he would have learned only a name which he could not +place yet in any connection with her or with Benjamin Corvet. Whoever +he was, it was plain that Constance Sherrill "thought of him"; lucky +man, Alan said to himself. Yet Corvet had warned her not to think of +him.... + +Alan turned back his bed. It had been for him a tremendous day. +Barely twelve hours before he had come to that house, Alan Conrad from +Blue Rapids, Kansas; now ... phrases from what Lawrence Sherrill had +told him of his father were running through his mind as he opened the +door of the room to be able to hear any noise in Benjamin Corvet's +house, of which he was sole protector. The emotion roused by his first +sight of the lake went through him again as he opened the window to the +east. + +Now--he was in bed--he seemed to be standing, a specter before a man +blaspheming Benjamin Corvet and the souls of men dead. "And the hole +above the eye! ... The bullet got you! ... So it's you that got Ben! +... I'll get you! ... You can't save the _Miwaka_!" + +The _Miwaka_! The stir of that name was stronger now even than before; +it had been running through his consciousness almost constantly since +he had heard it. He jumped up and turned on the light and found a +pencil. He did not know how to spell the name and it was not necessary +to write it down; the name had taken on that definiteness and +ineffaceableness of a thing which, once heard, can never again be +forgotten. But, in panic that he might forget, he wrote it, guessing +at the spelling--"_Miwaka_." + +It was a name, of course; but the name of what? It repeated and +repeated itself to him, after he got back into bed, until its very +iteration made him drowsy. + +Outside the gale whistled and shrieked. The wind, passing its last +resistance after its sweep across the prairies before it leaped upon +the lake, battered and clamored in its assault about the house. But as +Alan became sleepier, he heard it no longer as it rattled the windows +and howled under the eaves and over the roof, but as out on the lake, +above the roaring and ice-crunching waves, it whipped and circled with +its chill the ice-shrouded sides of struggling ships. So, with the +roar of surf and gale in his ears, he went to sleep with the sole +conscious connection in his mind between himself and these people, +among whom Benjamin Corvet's summons had brought him, the one name +"_Miwaka_." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +CONSTANCE SHERRILL + +In the morning a great change had come over the lake. The wind still +blew freshly, but no longer fiercely, from the west; and now, from +before the beach beyond the drive, and from the piers and breakwaters +at the harbor mouth, and from all the western shore, the ice had +departed. Far out, a nearly indiscernible white line marked the +ice-floe where it was traveling eastward before the wind; nearer, and +with only a gleaming crystal fringe of frozen snow clinging to the +shore edge, the water sparkled, blue and dimpling, under the morning +sun; multitudes of gulls, hungry after the storm, called to one another +and circled over the breakwaters, the piers, and out over the water as +far as the eye could see; and a half mile off shore, a little work +boat--a shallop twenty feet long--was put-put-ing on some errand along +a path where twelve hours before no horsepower creatable by man could +have driven the hugest steamer. + +Constance Sherrill, awakened by the sunlight reflected from the water +upon her ceiling, found nothing odd or startling in this change; it +roused her but did not surprise her. Except for the short periods of +her visits away from Chicago, she had lived all her life on the shore +of the lake: the water--wonderful, ever altering--was the first sight +each morning. As it made wilder and more grim the desolation of a +stormy day, so it made brighter and more smiling the splendor of the +sunshine and, by that much more, influenced one's feelings. + +Constance held by preference to the seagoing traditions of her family. +Since she was a child, the lake and the life of the ships had delighted +and fascinated her; very early she had discovered that, upon the lake, +she was permitted privileges sternly denied upon land--an arbitrary +distinction which led her to designate water, when she was a little +girl, as her family's "respectable element." For while her father's +investments were, in part, on the water, her mother's property all was +on the land. Her mother, who was a Seaton, owned property somewhere in +the city, in common with Constance's uncles; this property consisted, +as Constance succeeded in ascertaining about the time she was nine, of +large, wholesale grocery buildings. They and the "brand" had been in +the possession of the Seaton family for many years; both Constance's +uncles worked in the big buildings where the canning was done; and, +when Constance was taken to visit them, she found the place most +interesting--the berries and fruit coming up in great steaming +cauldrons; the machines pushing the cans under the enormous faucets +where the preserves ran out and then sealing the cans and pasting the +bright Seaton "brand" about them. The people there were +interesting--the girls with flying fingers sorting fruit, and the men +pounding the big boxes together; and the great shaggy-hoofed horses +which pulled the huge, groaning wagons were most fascinating. She +wanted to ride on one of the wagons; but her request was promptly and +completely squashed. + +It was not "done"; nor was anything about the groceries and the canning +to be mentioned before visitors; Constance brought up the subject once +and found out. It was different about her father's ships. She could +talk about them when she wanted to; and her father often spoke of them; +and any one who came to the house could speak about them. Ships, +apparently, were respectable. + +When she went down to the docks with her father, she could climb all +over them, if she was only careful of her clothes; she could spend a +day watching one of her father's boats discharging grain or another +unloading ore; and, when she was twelve, for a great treat, her father +took her on one of the freighters to Duluth; and for one delightful, +wonderful week she chummed with the captain and mates and wheelmen and +learned all the pilot signals and the way the different lighthouses +winked. + +Mr. Spearman, who recently had become a partner of her father's, was +also on the boat upon that trip. He had no particular duty; he was +just "an owner" like her father; but Constance observed that, while the +captain and the mates and the engineers were always polite and +respectful to her father, they asked Mr. Spearman's opinion about +things in a very different way and paid real attention--not merely +polite attention--when he talked. He was a most desirable sort of +acquisition; for he was a friend who could come to the house at any +time, and yet he, himself, had done all sorts of exciting things. He +had not just gone to Harvard and then become an owner, as Constance's +father had; at fifteen, he had run away from his father's farm back +from the east shore of little Traverse Bay near the northern end of +Lake Michigan. At eighteen, after all sorts of adventures, he had +become mate of a lumber schooner; he had "taken to steam" shortly after +that and had been an officer upon many kinds of ships. Then Uncle +Benny had taken him into partnership. Constance had a most exciting +example of what he could do when the ship ran into a big storm on Lake +Superior. + +Coming into Whitefish Bay, a barge had blundered against the vessel; a +seam started, and water came in so fast that it gained on the pumps. +Instantly, Mr. Spearman, not the captain, was in command and, from the +way he steered the ship to protect the seam and from the scheme he +devised to stay the inrush of water, the pumps began to gain at once, +and the ship went into Duluth safe and dry. Constance liked that in a +man of the sort whom people knew. For, as the most active +partner--though not the chief stockholder--of Corvet, Sherrill and +Spearman, almost every one in the city knew him. He had his bachelor +"rooms" in one of the newest and most fashionable of the apartment +buildings facing the lake just north of the downtown city; he had +become a member of the best city and country clubs; and he was welcomed +quickly along the Drive, where the Sherrills' mansion was coming to be +considered a characteristic "old" Chicago home. + +But little over forty, and appearing even younger, Spearman was +distinctly of the new generation; and Constance Sherrill was only one +of many of the younger girls who found in Henry Spearman refreshing +relief from the youths who were the sons of men but who could never +become men themselves. They were nice, earnest boys with all sorts of +serious Marxian ideas of establishing social justice in the plants +which their fathers had built; and carrying the highest motives into +the city or national politics. But the industrial reformers, Constance +was quite certain, never could have built up the industries with which +they now, so superiorly, were finding fault; the political purifiers +either failed of election or, if elected, seemed to leave politics +pretty much as they had been before. The picture of Spearman, +instantly appealed to and instantly in charge in the emergency, +remained and became more vivid within Constance, because she never saw +him except when he dominated. + +And a decade most amazingly had bridged the abyss which had separated +twelve years and thirty-two. At twenty-two, Constance Sherrill was +finding Henry Spearman--age forty-two--the most vitalizing and +interesting of the men who moved, socially, about the restricted +ellipse which curved down the lake shore south of the park and up Astor +Street. He had, very early, recognized that he possessed the vigor and +courage to carry him far, and he had disciplined himself until the +coarseness and roughness, which had sometimes offended the little girl +of ten years before, had almost vanished. What crudities still came +out, romantically reminded of his hard, early life on the lakes. Had +there been anything in that life of his of which he had not told +her--something worse than merely rough and rugged, which could strike +at her? Uncle Benny's last, dramatic appeal to her had suggested that; +but even at the moment when he was talking to her, fright for Uncle +Benny--not dread that there had been anything wrong in Henry's +life--had most moved her. Uncle Benny very evidently was not himself. +As long as Constance could remember, he had quarreled violently with +Henry; his antagonism to Henry had become almost an obsession; and +Constance had her father's word for it that, a greater part of the +time, Uncle Benny had no just ground for his quarrel with Henry. A +most violent quarrel had occurred upon that last day, and undoubtedly +its fury had carried Uncle Benny to the length of going to Constance as +he did. + +Constance had come to this conclusion during the last gloomy and stormy +days; this morning, gazing out upon the shining lake, clear blue under +the wintry sun, she was more satisfied than before. Summoning her +maid, she inquired first whether anything had been heard since last +night of Mr. Corvet. She was quite sure, if her father had had word, +he would have awakened her; and there was no news. But Uncle Benny's +son, she remembered, was coming to breakfast. + +Uncle Benny's son! That suggested to Constance's mother only something +unpleasant, something to be avoided and considered as little as +possible. But Alan--Uncle Benny's son--was not unpleasant at all; he +was, in fact, quite the reverse. Constance had liked him from the +moment that, confused a little by Benjamin Corvet's absence and +Simons's manner in greeting him, he had turned to her for explanation; +she had liked the way he had openly studied her and approved her, as +she was approving him; she had liked the way he had told her of +himself, and the fact that he knew nothing of the man who proved to be +his father; she had liked very much the complete absence of impulse to +force or to pretend feeling when she had brought him the picture of his +father--when he, amazed at himself for not feeling, had looked at her; +and she had liked most of all his refusal, for himself and for his +father, to accept positive stigma until it should be proved. + +She had not designated any hour for breakfast, and she supposed that, +coming from the country, he would believe breakfast to be early. But +when she got downstairs, though it was nearly nine o'clock, he had not +come; she went to the front window to watch for him, and after a few +minutes she saw him approaching, looking often to the lake as though +amazed by the change in it. + +She went to the door and herself let him in. + +"Father has gone down-town," she told him, as he took off his things. +"Mr. Spearman returns from Duluth this morning, and father wished to +tell him about you as soon as possible. I told father you had come to +see him last night; and he said to bring you down to the office." + +"I overslept, I'm afraid," Alan said. + +"You slept well, then?" + +"Very well--after a while." + +"I'll take you down-town myself after breakfast." + +She said no more but led him into the breakfast room. It was a +delightful, cozy little room, Dutch furnished, with a single wide +window to the east, an enormous hooded fireplace taking up half the +north wall, and blue Delft tiles set above it and paneled in the walls +all about the room. There were the quaint blue windmills, the fishing +boats, the baggy-breeked, wooden-shod folk, the canals and barges, the +dikes and their guardians, and the fishing ship on the Zuyder Zee. + +Alan gazed about at these with quick, appreciative interest. His +quality of instantly noticing and appreciating anything unusual was, +Constance thought, one of his pleasantest and best characteristics. + +"I like those too; I selected them myself in Holland," she observed. + +She took her place beside the coffee pot, and when he remained +standing--"Mother always has her breakfast in bed; that's your place," +she said. + +He took the chair opposite her. There was fruit upon the table; +Constance took an orange and passed the little silver basket across. + +"This is such a little table; we never use it if there's more than two +or three of us; and we like to help ourselves here." + +"I like it very much," Alan said. + +"Coffee right away or later?" + +"Whenever you do. You see," he explained, smiling in a way that +pleased her, "I haven't the slightest idea what else is coming or +whether anything more at all is coming." A servant entered, bringing +cereal and cream; he removed the fruit plates, put the cereal dish and +two bowls before Constance, and went out. "And if any one in Blue +Rapids," Alan went on, "had a man waiting in the dining-room and at +least one other in the kitchen, they would not speak of our activities +here as 'helping ourselves.' I'm not sure just how they would speak of +them; we--the people I was with in Kansas--had a maidservant at one +time when we were on the farm, and when we engaged her, she asked, 'Do +you do your own stretching?' That meant serving from the stove to the +table, usually." + +He was silent for a few moments; when he looked at her across the table +again, he seemed about to speak seriously. His gaze left her face and +then came back. + +"Miss Sherrill," he said gravely, "what is, or was, the _Miwaka_? A +ship?" + +He made no attempt to put the question casually; rather, he had made it +more evident that it was of concern to him by the change in his manner. + +"The _Miwaka_?" Constance said. + +"Do you know what it was?" + +"Yes; I know; and it was a ship." + +"You mean it doesn't exist any more?" + +"No; it was lost a long time ago." + +"On the lakes here?" + +"On Lake Michigan." + +"You mean by lost that it was sunk?" + +"It was sunk, of course; but no one knows what happened to it--whether +it was wrecked or burned or merely foundered." + +The thought of the unknown fate of the ship and crew--of the ship which +had sailed and never reached port and of which nothing ever had been +heard but the beating of the Indian drum--set her blood tingling as it +had done before, when she had been told about the ship, or when she had +told others about it and the superstition connected with it. It was +plain Alan Conrad had not asked about it idly; something about the +_Miwaka_ had come to him recently and had excited his intense concern. + +"Whose ship was it?" he asked. "My father's?" + +"No; it belonged to Stafford and Ramsdell. They were two of the big +men of their time in the carrying trade on the lakes, but their line +has been out of business for years; both Mr. Stafford and Mr. Ramsdell +were lost with the _Miwaka_." + +"Will you tell me about it, and them, please?" + +"I've told you almost all I can about Stafford and Ramsdell, I'm +afraid; I've just heard father say that they were men who could have +amounted to a great deal on the lakes, if they had lived--especially +Mr. Stafford, who was very young. The _Miwaka_ was a great new steel +ship--built the year after I was born; it was the first of nearly a +dozen that Stafford and Ramsdell had planned to build. There was some +doubt among lake men about steel boats at that time; they had begun to +be built very largely quite a few years before, but recently there had +been some serious losses with them. Whether it was because they were +built on models not fitted for the lakes, no one knew; but several of +them had broken in two and sunk, and a good many men were talking about +going back to wood. But Stafford and Ramsdell believed in steel and +had finished this first one of their new boats. + +"She left Duluth for Chicago, loaded with ore, on the first day of +December, with both owners and part of their families on board. She +passed the Soo on the third and went through the Straits of Mackinac on +the fourth into Lake Michigan. After that, nothing was ever heard of +her." + +"So probably she broke in two like the others?" + +"Mr. Spearman and your father both thought so; but nobody ever knew--no +wreckage came ashore--no message of any sort from any one on board. A +very sudden winter storm had come up and was at its worst on the +morning of the fifth. Uncle Benny--your father--told me once, when I +asked him about it, that it was as severe for a time as any he had ever +experienced. He very nearly lost his life in it. He had just finished +laying up one of his boats--the _Martha Corvet_--at Manistee for the +winter; and he and Mr. Spearman, who then was mate of the _Martha +Corvet_, were crossing the lake in a tug with a crew of four men to +Manitowoc, where they were going to lay up more ships. The captain and +one of the deck hands of the tug were washed overboard, and the +engineer was lost trying to save them. Uncle Benny and Mr. Spearman +and the stoker brought the tug in. The storm was worst about five in +the morning, when the _Miwaka_ sunk." + +"How do you know that the _Miwaka_ sunk at five," Alan asked, "if no +one ever heard from the ship?" + +"Oh; that was told by the Drum!" + +"The Drum?" + +"Yes; the Indian Drum! I forgot; of course you didn't know. It's a +superstition that some of the lake men have, particularly those who +come from people at the other end of the lake. The Indian Drum is in +the woods there, they say. No one has seen it; but many people believe +that they have heard it. It's a spirit drum which beats, they say, for +every ship lost on the lake. There's a particular superstition about +it in regard to the _Miwaka_; for the drum beat wrong for the _Miwaka_. +You see, the people about there swear that about five o'clock in the +morning of the fifth, while the storm was blowing terribly, they heard +the drum beating and knew that a ship was going down. They counted the +sounds as it beat the roll of the dead. It beat twenty-four before it +stopped and then began to beat again and beat twenty-four; so, later, +everybody knew it had been beating for the _Miwaka_; for every other +ship on the lake got to port; but there were twenty-five altogether on +the _Miwaka_, so either the drum beat wrong or--" she hesitated. + +"Or what?" + +"Or the drum was right, and some one was saved. Many people believed +that. It was years before the families of the men on board gave up +hope, because of the Drum; maybe some haven't given up hope yet." + +Alan made no comment for a moment. Constance had seen the blood flush +to his face and then leave it, and her own pulse had beat as swiftly as +she rehearsed the superstition. As he gazed at her and then away, it +was plain that he had heard something additional about the +_Miwaka_--something which he was trying to fit into what she told him. + +"That's all anybody knows?" His gaze came back to her at last. + +"Yes; why did you ask about it--the _Miwaka_? I mean, how did you hear +about it so you wanted to know?" + +He considered an instant before replying. "I encountered a reference +to the _Miwaka_--I supposed it must be a ship--in my father's house +last night." + +His manner, as he looked down at his coffee cup, toying with it, +prevented her then from asking more; he seemed to know that she wished +to press it, and he looked up quickly. + +"I met my servant--my father's servant--this morning," he said. + +"Yes; he got back this morning. He came here early to report to father +that he had no news of Uncle Benny; and father told him you were at the +house and sent him over." + +Alan was studying the coffee cup again, a queer expression on his face +which she could not read. + +"He was there when I woke up this morning, Miss Sherrill. I hadn't +heard anybody in the house, but I saw a little table on wheels standing +in the hall outside my door and a spirit lamp and a little coffee pot +on it, and a man bending over it, warming the cup. His back was toward +me, and he had straight black hair, so that at first I thought he was a +Jap; but when he turned around, I saw he was an American Indian." + +"Yes; that was Wassaquam." + +"Is that his name? He told me it was Judah." + +"Yes--Judah Wassaquam. He's a Chippewa from the north end of the lake. +They're very religious there, most of the Indians at the foot of the +lake; and many of them have a Biblical name which they use for a first +name and use their Indian name for a last one." + +"He called me 'Alan' and my father 'Ben.'" + +"The Indians almost always call people by their first names." + +"He said that he had always served 'Ben' his coffee that way before he +got up, and so he had supposed he was to do the same by me; and also +that, long ago, he used to be a deck hand on one of my father's ships." + +"Yes; when Uncle Benny began to operate ships of his own, many of the +ships on the lakes had Indians among the deck hands; some had all +Indians for crews and white men only for officers. Wassaquam was on +the first freighter Uncle Benny ever owned a share in; afterwards he +came here to Chicago with Uncle Benny. He's been looking after Uncle +Benny all alone now for more than ten years--and he's very much devoted +to him, and fully trustworthy; and besides that, he's a wonderful cook; +but I've wondered sometimes whether Uncle Benny wasn't the only city +man in the world who had an Indian body servant." + +"You know a good deal about Indians." + +"A little about the lake Indians, the Chippewas and Pottawatomies in +northern Michigan." + +"Recollection's a funny thing," Alan said, after considering a moment. +"This morning, after seeing Judah and talking to him--or rather hearing +him talk--somehow a story got running in my head. I can't make out +exactly what it was--about a lot of animals on a raft; and there was +some one with them--I don't know who; I can't fit any name to him; but +he had a name." + +Constance bent forward quickly. "Was the name Michabou?" she asked. + +He returned her look, surprised. "That's it; how did you know?" + +"I think I know the story; and Wassaquam would have known it too, I +think, if you'd ask him; but probably he would have thought it impious +to tell it, because he and his people are great Christians now. +Michabou is one of the Indian names for Manitou. What else do you +remember of the story?" + +"Not much, I'm afraid--just sort of scenes here and there; but I can +remember the beginning now that you have given me the name: 'In the +beginning of all things there was only water and Michabou was floating +on the raft with all the animals.' Michabou, it seemed, wanted the +land brought up so that men and animals could live on it, and he asked +one of the animals to go down and bring it up--" + +"The beaver," Constance supplied. + +"Was the beaver the first one? The beaver dived and stayed down a long +time, so long that when he came up he was breathless and completely +exhausted, but he had not been able to reach the bottom. Then Michabou +sent down--" + +"The otter." + +"And he stayed down much longer than the beaver, and when he came up at +last, they dragged him on to the raft quite senseless; but he hadn't +been able to reach the bottom either. So the animals and Michabou +himself were ready to give it up; but then the little muskrat spoke +up--am I right? Was this the muskrat?" + +"Yes." + +"Then you can finish it for me?" + +"He dived and he stayed down, the little muskrat," Constance continued, +"longer than the beaver and the otter both together. Michabou and the +animals waited all day for him to come up, and they watched all through +the night; so then they knew he must be dead. And, sure enough, they +came after a while across the body floating on the water and apparently +lifeless. They dragged him onto the raft and found that his little +paws were all tight shut. They forced open three of the paws and found +nothing in them, but when they opened the last one, they found one +grain of sand tightly clutched in it. The little muskrat had done it; +he'd reached the bottom! And out of that one grain of sand, Michabou +made the world." + +"That's it," he said. "Now what is it?" + +"The Indian story of creation--or one of them." + +"Not a story of the plain Indians surely." + +"No; of the Indians who live about the lakes and so got the idea that +everything was water in the first place--the Indians who live on the +islands and peninsulas. That's how I came to know it." + +"I thought that must be it," Alan said. His hand trembled a little as +he lifted his coffee cup to his lips. + +Constance too flushed a little with excitement; it was a surprisingly +close and intimate thing to have explored with another back into the +concealments of his first child consciousness, to have aided another in +the sensitive task of revealing himself to himself. This which she had +helped to bring back to him must have been one of the first stories +told him; he had been a very little boy, when he had been taken to +Kansas, away from where he must have heard this story--the lakes. She +was a little nervous also from watching the time as told by the tiny +watch on her wrist. Henry's train from Duluth must be in now; and he +had not yet called her, as had been his custom recently, as soon as he +returned to town after a trip. But, in a minute, a servant entered to +inform her that Mr. Spearman wished to speak to her. She excused +herself to Alan and hurried out. Henry was calling her from the +railroad station and, he said, from a most particularly stuffy booth +and, besides having a poor connection, there was any amount of noise +about him; but he was very anxious to see Constance as soon as +possible. Could she be in town that morning and have luncheon with +him? Yes; she was going down-town very soon and, after luncheon, he +could come home with her if he wished. He certainly did wish, but he +couldn't tell yet what he might have to do in the afternoon, but please +would she save the evening for him. She promised and started to tell +him about Alan, then recollected that Henry was going to see her father +immediately at the office. + +Alan was standing, waiting for her, when she returned to the breakfast +room. + +"Ready to go down-town?" she asked. + +"Whenever you are." + +"I'll be ready in a minute. I'm planning to drive; are you afraid?" + +He smiled in his pleasant way as he glanced over her; she had become +conscious of saying that sort of thing to tempt the smile. "Oh, I'll +take the risk." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE DEED IN TRUST + +Her little gasoline-driven car--delicate as though a jeweler had made +it--was waiting for them under the canopy beside the house, when they +went out. She delayed a moment to ask Alan to let down the windows; +the sky was still clear, and the sunshine had become almost warm, +though the breeze was sharp and cold. As the car rolled down the +drive, and he turned for a long look past her toward the lake, she +watched his expression. + +"It's like a great shuttle, the ice there," she commented, "a monster +shuttle nearly three hundred miles long. All winter it moves back and +forth across the lake, from east to west and from west to east as the +winds change, blocking each shore half the time and forcing the winter +boats to fight it always." + +"The gulls go opposite to it, I suppose, sticking to open water." + +"The gulls? That depends upon the weather. 'Sea-gull, sea-gull,'" she +quoted, "'sit on the sand; It's never fair weather when you're on the +land.'" + +Alan started a little. "What was that?" he asked. + +"That rhyme? One which the wives of the lake men teach their children. +Did you remember that too?" + +"After you said it." + +"Can you remember the rest of it?" + +"'Green to Green--Red to Red,'" Alan repeated to himself. "'Green to +green' and then something about--how is it, 'Back her--back and +stopper.'" + +"That's from a lake rhyme too, but another one!" she cried. "And +that's quite a good one. It's one of the pilot rules that every lake +person knows. Some skipper and wheelsman set them to rhyme years ago, +and the lake men teach the rhymes to their children so that they'll +never go wrong with a ship. It keeps them clearer in their heads than +any amount of government printing. Uncle Benny used to say they've +saved any number of collisions. + + "Meeting steamers do not dread," + +she recited, + + "When you see three lights ahead! + Port your helm and show your red. + For passing steamers you should try + To keep this maxim in your eye, + Green to Green--or Red to Red-- + Perfect safety--go ahead. + Both in safety and in doubt, + Always keep a good lookout; + Should there be no room to turn, + Stop your ship and go astern." + + +"Now we're coming to your 'back and stopper': + + "If to starboard Red appear, + 'Tis your duty to keep clear; + Act as judgment says is proper. + Port or starboard--back or stop her! + But when on your port is seen + A steamer with a light of Green, + There's not much for you to do-- + The Green light must look out for you." + + +She had driven the car swiftly on the boulevard to the turn where the +motorway makes west to Rush Street, then it turned south again toward +the bridge. As they reached the approach to the bridge and the cars +congested there, Constance was required to give all her attention to +the steering; not until they were crossing the bridge was she able to +glance at her companion's face. + +To westward, on both sides of the river, summer boats were laid up, +their decks covered with snow. On the other side, still nearer to the +bridge, were some of the winter vessels; and, while the motor was on +the span, the bells began ringing the alarm to clear the bridge so it +could turn to let through a great steamer just in from the lake, the +sun glistening on the ice covering its bows and sides back as far as +Alan could see. + +Forward of the big, black, red-banded funnel, a cloud of steam bellowed +up and floated back, followed by another, and two deep, reverberating +blasts rumbled up the river majestically, imperiously. The shrill +little alarm bells on the bridge jangled more nervously and excitedly, +and the policeman at the south end hastily signalled the motor cars +from the city to stop, while he motioned those still on the bridge to +scurry off; for a ship desired to pass. + +"Can we stop and see it?" Alan appealed, as Constance ran the car from +the bridge just before it began to turn. + +She swung the car to the side of the street and stopped; as he gazed +back, he was--she knew--seeing not only his first great ship close by, +but having his first view of his people--the lake men from whom now he +knew from the feeling he had found within himself, and not only from +what had been told him, that he had come. + +The ship was sheathed in ice from stem to stern; tons of the gleaming, +crystal metal weighed the forecastle; the rail all round had become a +frozen bulwark; the boats were mere hummocks of ice; the bridge was +encased, and from the top of the pilot house hung down giant +stalactites which an axeman was chopping away. Alan could see the +officers on the bridge, the wheelsman, the lookout; he could see the +spurt of water from the ship's side as it expelled with each thrust of +the pumps; he could see the whirlpool about the screw, as slowly, +steadily, with signals clanging clearly somewhere below, the steamer +went through the draw. From up the river ahead of it came the jangling +of bells and the blowing of alarm whistles as the other bridges were +cleared to let the vessel through. It showed its stern now; Alan read +the name and registry aloud: "'_Groton of Escanaba_!' Is that one of +yours, Miss Sherrill; is that one of yours and my--Mr. Corvet's?" + +She shook her head, sorry that she had to say no. "Shall we go on now?" + +The bridge was swinging shut again; the long line of motor cars, which +had accumulated from the boulevard from the city, began slowly to move. +Constance turned the car down the narrow street, fronted by warehouses +which Alan had passed the morning before, to Michigan Avenue, with the +park and harbor to the left. When she glanced now at Alan, she saw +that a reaction of depression had followed excitement at seeing the +steamer pass close by. + +Memory, if he could call it that, had given him a feeling for ships and +for the lake; a single word--_Miwaka_--a childish rhyme and story, +which he might have heard repeated and have asked for a hundred times +in babyhood. But these recollections were only what those of a +three-years' child might have been. Not only did they refuse to +connect themselves with anything else, but by the very finality of +their isolation, they warned him that they--and perhaps a few more +vague memories of similar sort--were all that recollection ever would +give him. He caught himself together and turned his thoughts to the +approaching visit to Sherrill--and his father's offices. + +Observing the towering buildings to his right, he was able to identify +some of the more prominent structures, familiar from photographs of the +city. Constance drove swiftly a few blocks down this boulevard; then, +with a sudden, "Here we are!" she shot the car to the curb and stopped. +She led Alan into one of the tallest and best-looking of the buildings, +where they took an elevator placarded "Express" to the fifteenth floor. + +On several of the doors opening upon the wide marble hall where the +elevator left them, Alan saw the names, "Corvet, Sherrill and +Spearman." As they passed, without entering, one of these doors which +stood propped open, and he looked in, he got his first realization of +the comparatively small land accommodations which a great business +conducted upon the water requires. What he saw within was only one +large room, with hardly more than a dozen, certainly not a score of +desks in it; nearly all the desks were closed, and there were not more +than three or four people in the room, and these apparently +stenographers. Doors of several smaller offices, opening upon the +larger room, bore names, among which he saw "Mr. Corvet" and "Mr. +Spearman." + +"It won't look like that a month from now," Constance said, catching +his expression. "Just now, you know, the straits and all the northern +lakes are locked fast with ice. There's nothing going on now except +the winter traffic on Lake Michigan and, to a much smaller extent, on +Ontario and Erie; we have an interest in some winter boats, but we +don't operate them from here. Next month we will be busy fitting out, +and the month after that all the ships we have will be upon the water." + +She led the way on past to a door farther down the corridor, which bore +merely the name, "Lawrence Sherrill"; evidently Sherrill, who had +interests aside from the shipping business, had offices connected with +but not actually a part of the offices of Corvet, Sherrill, and +Spearman. A girl was on guard on the other side of the door; she +recognized Constance Sherrill at once and, saying that Mr. Sherrill had +been awaiting Mr. Conrad, she opened an inner door and led Alan into a +large, many-windowed room, where Sherrill was sitting alone before a +table-desk. He arose, a moment after the door opened, and spoke a word +to his daughter, who had followed Alan and the girl to the door, but +who had halted there. Constance withdrew, and the girl from the outer +office also went away, closing the door behind her. Sherrill pulled +the "visitor's chair" rather close to his desk and to his own big +leather chair before asking Alan to seat himself. + +"You wanted to tell me, or ask me, something last night, my daughter +has told me," Sherrill said cordially. "I'm sorry I wasn't home when +you came back." + +"I wanted to ask you, Mr. Sherrill," Alan said, "about those facts in +regard to Mr. Corvet which you mentioned to me yesterday but did not +explain. You said it would not aid me to know them; but I found +certain things in Mr. Corvet's house last night which made me want to +know, if I could, everything you could tell me." + +Sherrill opened a drawer and took out a large, plain envelope. + +"I did not tell you about these yesterday, Alan," he said, "not only +because I had not decided how to act in regard to these matters, but +because I had not said anything to Mr. Spearman about them previously, +because I expected to get some additional information from you. After +seeing you, I was obliged to wait for Spearman to get back to town. +The circumstances are such that I felt myself obliged to talk them over +first with him; I have done that this morning; so I was going to send +for you, if you had not come down." + +Sherrill thought a minute, still holding the envelope closed in his +hand. + +"On the day after your father disappeared," he went on, "but before I +knew he was gone--or before any one except my daughter felt any alarm +about him--I received a short note from him. I will show it to you +later, if you wish; its exact wording, however, is unimportant. It had +been mailed very late the night before and apparently at the mail box +near his house or at least, by the postmark, somewhere in the +neighborhood; and for that reason had not been taken up before the +morning collection and did not reach the office until I had been here +and gone away again about eleven o'clock. I did not get it, therefore, +until after lunch. The note was agitated, almost incoherent. It told +me he had sent for you--Alan Conrad, of Blue Rapids, Kansas--but spoke +of you as though you were some one I ought to have known about, and +commended you to my care. The remainder of it was merely an agitated, +almost indecipherable farewell to me. When I opened the envelope, a +key had fallen out. The note made no reference to the key, but +comparing it with one I had in my pocket, I saw that it appeared to be +a key to a safety deposit box in the vaults of a company where we both +had boxes. + +"The note, taken in connection with my daughter's alarm about him, made +it so plain that something serious had happened to Corvet, that my +first thought was merely for him. Corvet was not a man with whom one +could readily connect the thought of suicide; but, Alan, that was the +idea I had. I hurried at once to his house, but the bell was not +answered, and I could not get in. His servant, Wassaquam, has very few +friends, and the few times he has been away from home of recent years +have been when he visited an acquaintance of his--the head porter in a +South Side hotel. I went to the telephone in the house next door and +called the hotel and found Wassaquam there. I asked Wassaquam about +the letter to 'Alan Conrad,' and Wassaquam said Corvet had given it to +him to post early in the evening. Several hours later, Corvet had sent +him out to wait at the mail box for the mail collector to get the +letter back. Wassaquam went out to the mail box, and Corvet came out +there too, almost at once. The mail collector, when he came, told +them, of course, that he could not return the letter; but Corvet +himself had taken the letters and looked them through. Corvet seemed +very much excited when he discovered the letter was not there; and when +the mail man remembered that he had been late on his previous trip and +so must have taken up the letter almost at once after it was mailed, +Corvet's excitement increased on learning that it was already probably +on the train on its way west. He controlled himself later enough at +least to reassure Wassaquam; for an hour or so after, when Corvet sent +Wassaquam away from the house, Wassaquam had gone without feeling any +anxiety about him. + +"I told Wassaquam over the telephone only that something was wrong, and +hurried to my own home to get the key, which I had, to the Corvet +house; but when I came back and let myself into the house, I found it +empty and with no sign of anything having happened. + +"The next morning, Alan, I went to the safe deposit vaults as soon as +they were open. I presented the numbered key and was told that it +belonged to a box rented by Corvet, and that Corvet had arranged about +three days before for me to have access to the box if I presented the +key. I had only to sign my name in their book and open the box. In +it, Alan, I found the pictures of you which I showed you yesterday and +the very strange communications that I am going to show you now." + +Sherrill opened the long envelope from which several thin, folded +papers fell. He picked up the largest of these, which consisted of +several sheets fastened together with a clip, and handed it to Alan +without comment. Alan, as he looked at it and turned the pages, saw +that it contained two columns of typewriting carried from page to page +after the manner of an account. + +The column to the left was an inventory of property and profits and +income by months and years, and the one to the right was a list of +losses and expenditures. Beginning at an indefinite day or month in +the year 1895, there was set down in a lump sum what was indicated as +the total of Benjamin Corvet's holdings at that time. To this, in +sometimes undated items, the increase had been added. In the opposite +column, beginning apparently from the same date in 1895, were the +missing man's expenditures. The painstaking exactness of these left no +doubt of their correctness; they included items for natural +depreciation of perishable properties and, evidently, had been worked +over very recently. Upon the last sheet, the second column had been +deducted from the first, and an apparently purely arbitrary sum of two +hundred thousand dollars had been taken away. From the remainder there +had been taken away approximately one hundred and fifty thousand +dollars more. + +Alan having ascertained that the papers contained only this account, +looked up questioningly to Sherrill; but Sherrill, without speaking, +merely handed him the second of the papers.... This, Alan saw, had +evidently been folded to fit a smaller envelope. Alan unfolded it and +saw that it was a letter written in the same hand which had written the +summons he had received in Blue Rapids and had made the entries in the +little memorandum book of the remittances that had been sent to John +Welton. + +It began simply: + + +Lawrence-- + +This will come to you in the event that I am not able to carry out the +plan upon which I am now, at last, determined. You will find with this +a list of my possessions which, except for two hundred thousand dollars +settled upon my wife which was hers absolutely to dispose of as she +desired and a further sum of approximately one hundred and fifty +thousand dollars presented in memory of her to the Hospital Service in +France, have been transferred to you without legal reservation. + +You will find deeds for all real estate executed and complete except +for recording of the transfer at the county office; bonds, +certificates, and other documents representing my ownership of +properties, together with signed forms for their legal transfer to you, +are in this box. These properties, in their entirety, I give to you in +trust to hold for the young man now known as Alan Conrad of Blue +Rapids, Kansas, to deliver any part or all over to him or to continue +to hold it all in trust for him as you shall consider to be to his +greatest advantage. + +This for the reasons which I shall have told to you or him--I cannot +know which one of you now, nor do I know how I shall tell it. But when +you learn, Lawrence, think as well of me as you can and help him to be +charitable to me. + +With the greatest affection, + BENJAMIN CORVET. + + +Alan, as he finished reading, looked up to Sherrill, bewildered and +dazed. + +"What does it mean, Mr. Sherrill?-- Does it mean that he has gone away +and left everything he had--everything to me?" + +"The properties listed here," Sherrill touched the pages Alan first had +looked at, "are in the box at the vault with the executed forms of +their transfer to me. If Mr. Corvet does not return, and I do not +receive any other instructions, I shall take over his estate as he has +instructed for your advantage." + +"And, Mr. Sherrill, he didn't tell you why? This is all you know?" + +"Yes; you have everything now. The fact that he did not give his +reasons for this, either to you or me, made me think at first that he +might have made his plan known to some one else, and that he had been +opposed--to the extent even of violence done upon him--to prevent his +carrying it out. But the more I have considered this, the less likely +it has seemed to me. Whatever had happened to Corvet that had so much +disturbed and excited him lately, seems rather to have precipitated his +plan than deterred him in it. He may have determined after he had +written this that his actions and the plain indication of his +relationship to you, gave all the explanation he wanted to make. All +we can do, Alan, is to search for him in every way we can. There will +be others searching for him too now; for information of his +disappearance has got out. There have been reporters at the office +this morning making inquiries, and his disappearance will be in the +afternoon papers." + +Sherrill put the papers back in their envelope, and the envelope back +into the drawer, which he relocked. + +"I went over all this with Mr. Spearman this morning," he said. "He is +as much at a loss to explain it as I am." + +He was silent for a few moments. + +"The transfer of Mr. Corvet's properties to me for you," he said +suddenly, "includes, as you have seen, Corvet's interest in the firm of +'Corvet, Sherrill and Spearman.' I went very carefully through the +deeds and transfers in the deposit box, and it was plain that, while he +had taken great care with the forms of transfer for all the properties, +he had taken particular pains with whatever related to his holdings in +this company and to his shipping interests. If I make over the +properties to you, Alan, I shall begin with those; for it seems to me +that your father was particularly anxious that you should take a +personal as well as a financial place among the men who control the +traffic of the lakes. I have told Spearman that this is my intention. +He has not been able to see it my way as yet; but he may change his +views, I think, after meeting you." + +Sherrill got up. Alan arose a little unsteadily. The list of +properties he had read and the letter and Sherrill's statement +portended so much that its meaning could not all come to him at once. +He followed Sherrill through a short private corridor, flanked with +files lettered "Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman," into the large room he +had seen when he came in with Constance. They crossed this, and +Sherrill, without knocking, opened the door of the office marked, "Mr. +Spearman." Alan, looking on past Sherrill as the door opened, saw that +there were some half dozen men in the room, smoking and talking. They +were big men mostly, ruddy-skinned and weather-beaten in look, and he +judged from their appearance, and from the pile of their hats and coats +upon a chair, that they were officers of the company's ships, idle +while the ships were laid up, but reporting now at the offices and +receiving instructions as the time for fitting out approached. + +His gaze went swiftly on past these men to the one who, half seated on +the top of the flat desk, had been talking to them; and his pulse +closed upon his heart with a shock; he started, choked with +astonishment, then swiftly forced himself under control. For this was +the man whom he had met and whom he had fought in Benjamin Corvet's +house the night before--the big man surprised in his blasphemy of +Corvet and of souls "in Hell" who, at sight of an apparition with a +bullet hole above its eye, had cried out in his fright, "You got Ben! +But you won't get me--damn you! Damn you!" + +Alan's shoulders drew up slightly, and the muscles of his hands +tightened, as Sherrill led him to this man. Sherrill put his hand on +the man's shoulder; his other hand was still on Alan's arm. + +"Henry," he said to the man, "this is Alan Conrad. Alan, I want you to +know my partner, Mr. Spearman." + +Spearman nodded an acknowledgment, but did not put out his hand; his +eyes--steady, bold, watchful eyes--seemed measuring Alan attentively; +and in return Alan, with his gaze, was measuring him. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +MR. CORVET'S PARTNER + +The instant of meeting, when Alan recognized in Sherrill's partner the +man with whom he had fought in Corvet's house, was one of swift +readjustment of all his thought--adjustment to a situation of which he +could not even have dreamed, and which left him breathless. But for +Spearman, obviously, it was not that. Following his noncommittal nod +of acknowledgment of Sherrill's introduction and his first steady +scrutiny of Alan, the big, handsome man swung himself off from the desk +on which he sat and leaned against it, facing them more directly. + +"Oh, yes--Conrad," he said. His tone was hearty; in it Alan could +recognize only so much of reserve as might be expected from Sherrill's +partner who had taken an attitude of opposition. The shipmasters, +looking on, could see, no doubt, not even that; except for the +excitement which Alan himself could not conceal, it must appear to them +only an ordinary introduction. + +Alan fought sharply down the swift rush of his blood and the tightening +of his muscles. + +"I can say truly that I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Spearman," he managed. + +There was no recognition of anything beyond the mere surface meaning of +the words in Spearman's slow smile of acknowledgment, as he turned from +Alan to Sherrill. + +"I'm afraid you've taken rather a bad time, Lawrence." + +"You're busy, you mean. This can wait, Henry, if what you're doing is +immediate." + +"I want some of these men to be back in Michigan to-night. Can't we +get together later--this afternoon? You'll be about here this +afternoon?" His manner was not casual; Alan could not think of any +expression of that man as being casual; but this, he thought, came as +near it as Spearman could come. + +"I think I can be here this afternoon," Alan said. + +"Would two-thirty suit you?" + +"As well as any other time." + +"Let's say two-thirty, then." Spearman turned and noted the hour +almost solicitously among the scrawled appointments on his desk pad; +straightening, after this act of dismissal, he walked with them to the +door, his hand on Sherrill's shoulder. + +"Circumstances have put us--Mr. Sherrill and myself--in a very +difficult position, Conrad," he remarked. "We want much to be fair to +all concerned--" + +He did not finish the sentence, but halted at the door. Sherrill went +out, and Alan followed him; exasperation--half outrage yet half +admiration--at Spearman's bearing, held Alan speechless. The blood +rushed hotly to his skin as the door closed behind them, his hands +clenched, and he turned back to the closed door; then he checked +himself and followed Sherrill, who, oblivious to Alan's excitement, led +the way to the door which bore Corvet's name. He opened it, disclosing +an empty room, somewhat larger than Spearman's and similar to it, +except that it lacked the marks of constant use. It was plain that, +since Spearman had chosen to put off discussion of Alan's status, +Sherrill did not know what next to do; he stood an instant in thought, +then, contenting himself with inviting Alan to lunch, he excused +himself to return to his office. When he had gone, closing the door +behind him, Alan began to pace swiftly up and down the room. + +What had just passed had left him still breathless; he felt bewildered. +If every movement of Spearman's great, handsome body had not recalled +to him their struggle of the night before--if, as Spearman's hand +rested cordially on Sherrill's shoulder, Alan had not seemed to feel +again that big hand at his throat--he would almost have been ready to +believe that this was not the man whom he had fought. But he could not +doubt that; he had recognized Spearman beyond question. And Spearman +had recognized him--he was sure of that; he could not for an instant +doubt it; Spearman had known it was Alan whom he had fought in Corvet's +house even before Sherrill had brought them together. Was there not +further proof of that in Spearman's subsequent manner toward him? For +what was all this cordiality except defiance? Undoubtedly Spearman had +acted just as he had to show how undisturbed he was, how indifferent he +might be to any accusation Alan could make. Not having told Sherrill +of the encounter in the house--not having told any one else--Alan could +not tell it now, after Sherrill had informed him that Spearman opposed +his accession to Corvet's estate; or, at least, he could not tell who +the man was. In the face of Spearman's manner toward him to-day, +Sherrill would not believe. If Spearman denied it--and his story of +his return to town that morning made it perfectly certain that he would +deny it--it would be only Alan's word against Spearman's--the word of a +stranger unknown to Sherrill except by Alan's own account of himself +and the inferences from Corvet's acts. There could be no risk to +Spearman in that; he had nothing to fear if Alan blurted an accusation +against him. Spearman, perhaps, even wanted him to do that--hoped he +would do it. Nothing could more discredit Alan than such an +unsustainable accusation against the partner who was opposing Alan's +taking his father's place. For it had been plain that Spearman +dominated Sherrill, and that Sherrill felt confidence in and admiration +toward him. + +Alan grew hot with the realization that, in the interview just past, +Spearman had also dominated him. He had been unable to find anything +adequate to do, anything adequate to answer, in opposition to this man +more than fifteen years older than himself and having a lifelong +experience in dealing with all kinds of men. He would not yield to +Spearman like that again; it was the bewilderment of his recognition of +Spearman that had made him do it. Alan stopped his pacing and flung +himself down in the leather desk-chair which had been Corvet's. He +could hear, at intervals, Spearman's heavy, genial voice addressing the +ship men in his office; its tones--half of comradeship, half of +command--told only too plainly his dominance over those men also. He +heard Spearman's office door open and some of the men go out; after a +time it opened again, and the rest went out. He heard Spearman's voice +in the outer office, then heard it again as Spearman returned alone +into his private office. + +There was a telephone upon Corvet's desk which undoubtedly connected +with the switchboard in the general office. Alan picked up the +receiver and asked for "Mr. Spearman." At once the hearty voice +answered, "Yes." + +"This is Conrad." + +"I thought I told you I was busy, Conrad!" The 'phone clicked as +Spearman hung up the receiver. + +The quality of the voice at the other end of the wire had altered; it +had become suddenly again the harsh voice of the man who had called +down curses upon "Ben" and on men "in Hell" in Corvet's library. + +Alan sat back in his chair, smiling a little. It had not been for him, +then--that pretense of an almost mocking cordiality; Spearman was not +trying to deceive or to influence Alan by that. It had been merely for +Sherrill's benefit; or, rather, it had been because, in Sherrill's +presence, this had been the most effective weapon against Alan which +Spearman could employ. Spearman might, or might not, deny to Alan his +identity with the man whom Alan had fought; as yet Alan did not know +which Spearman would do; but, at least, between themselves there was to +be no pretense about the antagonism, the opposition they felt toward +one another. + +Little prickling thrills of excitement were leaping through Alan, as he +got up and moved about the room again. The room was on a corner, and +there were two windows, one looking to the east over the white and blue +expanse of the harbor and the lake; the other showing the roofs and +chimneys, the towers and domes of Chicago, reaching away block after +block, mile after mile to the south and west, till they dimmed and +blurred in the brown haze of the sunlit smoke. Power and +possession--both far exceeding Alan's most extravagant dream--were +promised him by those papers which Sherrill had shown him. When he had +read down the list of those properties, he had had no more feeling, +that such things could be his than he had had at first that Corvet's +house could be his--until he had heard the intruder moving in that +house. And now it was the sense that another was going to make him +fight for those properties that was bringing to him the realization of +his new power. He "had" something on that man--on Spearman. He did +not know what that thing was; no stretch of his thought, nothing that +he knew about himself or others, could tell him; but, at sight of him, +in the dark of Corvet's house, Spearman had cried out in horror, he had +screamed at him the name of a sunken ship, and in terror had hurled his +electric torch. It was true, Spearman's terror had not been at Alan +Conrad; it had been because Spearman had mistaken him for some one +else--for a ghost. But, after learning that Alan was not a ghost, +Spearman's attitude had not very greatly changed; he had fought, he had +been willing to kill rather than to be caught there. + +Alan thought an instant; he would make sure he still "had" that +something on Spearman and would learn how far it went. He took up the +receiver and asked for Spearman again. + +Again the voice answered--"Yes." + +"I don't care whether you're busy," Alan said evenly. "I think you and +I had better have a talk before we meet with Mr. Sherrill this +afternoon. I am here in Mr. Corvet's office now and will be here for +half an hour; then I'm going out." + +Spearman made no reply but again hung up the receiver. Alan sat +waiting, his watch upon the desk before him--tense, expectant, with +flushes of hot and cold passing over him. Ten minutes passed; then +twenty. The telephone under Corvet's desk buzzed. + +"Mr. Spearman says he will give you five minutes now," the switchboard +girl said. + +Alan breathed deep with relief; Spearman had wanted to refuse to see +him--but he had not refused; he had sent for him within the time Alan +had appointed and after waiting until just before it expired. + +Alan put his watch back into his pocket and, crossing to the other +office, found Spearman alone. There was no pretense of courtesy now in +Spearman's manner; he sat motionless at his desk, his bold eyes fixed +on Alan intently. Alan closed the door behind him and advanced toward +the desk. + +"I thought we'd better have some explanation," he said, "about our +meeting last night." + +"Our meeting?" Spearman repeated; his eyes had narrowed watchfully. + +"You told Mr. Sherrill that you were in Duluth and that you arrived +home in Chicago only this morning. Of course you don't mean to stick +to that story with me?" + +"What are you talking about?" Spearman demanded. + +"Of course, I know exactly where you were a part of last evening; and +you know that I know. I only want to know what explanation you have to +offer." + +Spearman leaned forward. "Talk sense and talk it quick, if you have +anything to say to me!" + +"I haven't told Mr. Sherrill that I found you at Corvet's house last +night; but I don't want you to doubt for a minute that I know you--and +about your damning of Benjamin Corvet and your cry about saving the +_Miwaka_!" + +A flash of blood came to Spearman's face; Alan, in his excitement, was +sure of it; but there was just that flash, no more. He turned, while +Spearman sat chewing his cigar and staring at him, and went out and +partly closed the door. Then, suddenly, he reopened it, looked in, +reclosed it sharply, and went on his way, shaking a little. For, as he +looked back this second time at the dominant, determined, able man +seated at his desk, what he had seen in Spearman's face was fear; fear +of himself, of Alan Conrad of Blue Rapids--yet it was not fear of that +sort which weakens or dismays; it was of that sort which, merely +warning of danger close at hand, determines one to use every means +within his power to save himself. + +Alan, still trembling excitedly, crossed to Corvet's office to await +Sherrill. It was not, he felt sure now, Alan Conrad that Spearman was +opposing; it was not even the apparent successor to the controlling +stock of Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman. That Alan resembled some +one--some one whose ghost had seemed to come to Spearman and might, +perhaps, have come to Corvet--was only incidental to what was going on +now; for in Alan's presence Spearman found a threat--an active, present +threat against himself. Alan could not imagine what the nature of that +threat could be. Was it because there was something still concealed in +Corvet's house which Spearman feared Alan would find? Or was it +connected only with that some one whom Alan resembled? Who was it Alan +resembled? His mother? In what had been told him, in all that he had +been able to learn about himself, Alan had found no mention of his +mother--no mention, indeed, of any woman. There had been mention, +definite mention, of but one thing which seemed, no matter what form +these new experiences of his took, to connect himself with all of +them--mention of a ship, a lost ship--the _Miwaka_. That name had +stirred Alan, when he first heard it, with the first feeling he had +been able to get of any possible connection between himself and these +people here. Spoken by himself just now it had stirred, queerly +stirred, Spearman. What was it, then, that he--Alan--had to do with +the _Miwaka_? Spearman might--must have had something to do with it. +So must Corvet. But himself--he had been not yet three years old when +the _Miwaka_ was lost! Beyond and above all other questions, what had +Constance Sherrill to do with it? + +She had continued to believe that Corvet's disappearance was related in +some way to herself. Alan would rather trust her intuition as to this +than trust to Sherrill's contrary opinion. Yet she, certainly, could +have had no direct connection with a ship lost about the time she was +born and before her father had allied himself with the firm of Corvet +and Spearman. In the misty warp and woof of these events, Alan could +find as yet nothing which could have involved her. But he realized +that he was thinking about her even more than he was thinking about +Spearman--more, at that moment, even than about the mystery which +surrounded himself. + + +Constance Sherrill, as she went about her shopping at Field's, was +feeling the strangeness of the experience she had shared that morning +with Alan when she had completed for him the Indian creation legend and +had repeated the ship rhymes of his boyhood; but her more active +thought was about Henry Spearman, for she had a luncheon engagement +with him at one o'clock. He liked one always to be prompt at +appointments; he either did not keep an engagement at all, or he was on +the minute, neither early nor late, except for some very unusual +circumstance. Constance could never achieve such accurate punctuality, +so several minutes before the hour she went to the agreed corner of the +silverware department. + +She absorbed herself intently with the selection of her purchase as one +o'clock approached. She was sure that, after his three days' absence, +he would be a moment early rather than late; but after selecting what +she wanted, she monopolized twelve minutes more of the salesman's time +in showing her what she had no intention of purchasing, before she +picked out Henry's vigorous step from the confusion of ordinary +footfalls in the aisle behind her. Though she had determined, a few +moments before, to punish him a little, she turned quickly. + +"Sorry I'm late, Connie." That meant that it was no ordinary business +matter that had detained him; but there was nothing else noticeably +unusual in his tone. + +"It's certainly your turn to be the tardy one," she admitted. + +"I'd never take my turn if I could help it--particularly just after +being away; you know that." + +She turned carelessly to the clerk. "I'll take that too,"--she +indicated the trinket which she had examined last. "Send it, please. +I've finished here now, Henry." + +"I thought you didn't like that sort of thing." His glance had gone to +the bit of frippery in the clerk's hand. + +"I don't," she confessed. + +"Then don't buy it. She doesn't want that; don't send it," he directed +the salesman. + +"Very well, sir." + +Henry touched her arm and turned her away. She flushed a little, but +she was not displeased. Any of the other men whom she knew would have +wasted twenty dollars, as lightly as herself, rather than confess, "I +really didn't want anything more; I just didn't want to be seen +waiting." They would not have admitted--those other men--that such a +sum made the slightest difference to her or, by inference, to them; but +Henry was always willing to admit that there had been a time when money +meant much to him, and he gained respect thereby. + +The tea room of such a department store as Field's offers to young +people opportunities for dining together without furnishing reason for +even innocently connecting their names too intimately, if a girl is not +seen there with the same man too often. There is something essentially +casual and unpremeditated about it--as though the man and the girl, +both shopping and both hungry, had just happened to meet and go to +lunch together. As Constance recently had drawn closer to Henry +Spearman in her thought, and particularly since she had been seriously +considering marrying him, she had clung deliberately to this unplanned +appearance about their meetings. She found something thrilling in this +casualness too. Spearman's bigness, which attracted eyes to him always +in a crowd, was merely the first and most obvious of the things which +kept attention on him; there were few women who, having caught sight of +the big, handsome, decisive, carefully groomed man, could look away at +once. If Constance suspected that, ten years before, it might have +been the eyes of shop-girls that followed Spearman with the greatest +interest, she was certain no one could find anything flashy about him +now. What he compelled now was admiration and respect alike for his +good looks and his appearance of personal achievement--a tribute very +different from the tolerance granted those boys brought up as +irresponsible inheritors of privilege like herself. + +As they reached the restaurant and passed between the rows of tables, +women looked up at him; oblivious, apparently, to their gaze, he chose +a table a little removed from the others, where servants hurried to +take his order, recognizing one whose time was of importance. She +glanced across at him, when she had settled herself, and the first +little trivialities of their being together were over. + +"I took a visitor down to your office this morning," she said. + +"Yes," he answered. + +Constance was aware that it was only formally that she had taken Alan +Conrad down to confer with her father; since Henry was there, she knew +her father would not act without his agreement, and that whatever +disposition had been made regarding Alan had been made by him. She +wondered what that disposition had been. + +"Did you like him, Henry?" + +"Like him?" She would have thought that the reply was merely +inattentive; but Henry was never merely that. + +"I hoped you would." + +He did not answer at once. The waitress brought their order, and he +served her; then, as the waitress moved away, he looked across at +Constance with a long scrutiny. + +"You hoped I would!" he repeated, with his slow smile. "Why?" + +"He seemed to be in a difficult position and to be bearing himself +well; and mother was horrid to him." + +"How was she horrid?" + +"About the one thing which, least of all, could be called his +fault--about his relationship to--to Mr. Corvet. But he stood up to +her!" + +The lids drew down a little upon Spearman's eyes as he gazed at her. + +"You've seen a good deal of him, yesterday and to-day, your father +tells me," he observed. + +"Yes." As she ate, she talked, telling him about her first meeting +with Alan and about their conversation of the morning and the queer +awakening in him of those half memories which seemed to connect him in +some way with the lakes. She felt herself flushing now and then with +feeling, and once she surprised herself by finding her eyes wet when +she had finished telling Henry about showing Alan the picture of his +father. Henry listened intently, eating slowly. When she stopped, he +appeared to be considering something. + +"That's all he told you about himself?" he inquired. + +"Yes." + +"And all you told him?" + +"He asked me some things about the lakes and about the _Miwaka_, which +was lost so long ago--he said he'd found some reference to that and +wanted to know whether it was a ship. I told him about it and about +the Drum which made people think that the crew were not all lost." + +"About the Drum! What made you speak of that?" The irritation in his +tone startled her and she looked quickly up at him. "I mean," he +offered, "why did you drag in a crazy superstition like that? You +don't believe in the Drum, Connie!" + +"It would be so interesting if some one really had been saved and if +the Drum had told the truth, that sometimes I think I'd like to believe +in it. Wouldn't you, Henry?" + +"No," he said abruptly. "No!" Then quickly: + +"It's plain enough you like him," he remarked. + +She reflected seriously. "Yes, I do; though I hadn't thought of it +just that way, because I was thinking most about the position he was in +and about--Mr. Corvet. But I do like him." + +"So do I," Spearman said with a seeming heartiness that pleased her. +He broke a piece of bread upon the tablecloth and his big, well-shaped +fingers began to roll it into little balls. "At least I should like +him, Connie, if I had the sort of privilege you have to think whether I +liked or disliked him. I've had to consider him from another point of +view--whether I could trust him or must distrust him." + +"Distrust?" Constance bent toward him impulsively in her surprise. +"Distrust him? In relation to what? Why?" + +"In relation to Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman, Connie--the company +that involves your interests and your father's and mine and the +interests of many other people--small stockholders who have no +influence in its management, and whose interests I have to look after +for them. A good many of them, you know, are our own men--our old +skippers and mates and families of men who have died in our service and +who left their savings in stock in our ships." + +"I don't understand, Henry." + +"I've had to think of Conrad this morning in the same way as I've had +to think of Ben Corvet of recent years--as a threat against the +interests of those people." + +Her color rose, and her pulse quickened. Henry never had talked to +her, except in the merest commonplaces, about his relations with Uncle +Benny; it was a matter in which, she had recognized, they had been +opposed; and since the quarrels between the old friend whom she had +loved from childhood and him, who wished to become now more than a mere +friend to her, had grown more violent, she had purposely avoided +mentioning Uncle Benny to Henry, and he, quite as consciously, had +avoided mentioning Mr. Corvet to her. + +"I've known for a good many years," Spearman said reluctantly, "that +Ben Corvet's brain was seriously affected. He recognized that himself +even earlier, and admitted it to himself when he took me off my ship to +take charge of the company. I might have gone with other people then, +or it wouldn't have been very long before I could have started in as a +ship owner myself; but, in view of his condition, Ben made me promises +that offered me most. Afterwards his malady progressed so that he +couldn't know himself to be untrustworthy; his judgment was impaired, +and he planned and would have tried to carry out many things which +would have been disastrous for the company. I had to fight him--for +the company's sake and for my own sake and that of the others, whose +interests were at stake. Your father came to see that what I was doing +was for the company's good and has learned to trust me. But you--you +couldn't see that quite so directly, of course, and you thought I +didn't--like Ben, that there was some lack in me which made me fail to +appreciate him." + +"No; not that," Constance denied quickly. "Not that, Henry." + +"What was it then, Connie? You thought me ungrateful to him? I +realized that I owed a great deal to him; but the only way I could pay +that debt was to do exactly what I did--oppose him and seem to push +into his place and be an ingrate; for, because I did that, Ben's been a +respected and honored man in this town all these last years, which he +couldn't have remained if I'd let him have his way, or if I told others +why I had to do what I did. I didn't care what others thought about +me; but I did care what you thought; yet if you couldn't see what I was +up against because of your affection for him, why--that was all right +too." + +"No, it wasn't all right," she denied almost fiercely, the flush +flooding her cheeks; a throbbing was in her throat which, for an +instant, stopped her. "You should have told me, Henry; or--I should +have been able to see." + +"I couldn't tell you--dear," he said the last word very distinctly, but +so low that she could scarcely hear. "I couldn't tell you now--if Ben +hadn't gone away as he has and this other fellow come. I couldn't tell +you when you wanted to keep caring so much for your Uncle Benny, and he +was trying to hurt me with you." + +She bent toward him, her lips parted; but now she did not speak. She +never had really known Henry until this moment, she felt; she had +thought of him always as strong, almost brutal, fighting down fiercely, +mercilessly, his opponents and welcoming contest for the joy of +overwhelming others by his own decisive strength and power. And she +had been almost ready to marry that man for his strength and dominance +from those qualities; and now she knew that he was merciful +too--indeed, more than merciful. In the very contest where she had +thought of him as most selfish and regardless of another, she had most +completely misapprehended. + +"I ought to have seen!" she rebuked herself to him. "Surely, I should +have seen that was it!" Her hand, in the reproach of her feeling, +reached toward him across the table; he caught it and held it in his +large, strong hand which, in its touch, was very tender too. She had +never allowed any such demonstration as this before; but now she let +her hand remain in his. + +"How could you see?" he defended her. "He never showed to you the side +he showed to me and--in these last years, anyway--never to me the side +he showed to you. But after what has happened this week, you can +understand now; and you can see why I have to distrust the young fellow +who's come to claim Ben Covert's place." + +"Claim!" Constance repeated; she drew her hand quietly away from his +now. "Why, Henry, I did not know he claimed anything; he didn't even +know when he came here--" + +"He seems, like Ben Corvet," Henry said slowly, "to have the +characteristic of showing one side to you, another to me, Connie. With +you, of course, he claimed nothing; but at the office-- Your father +showed him this morning the instruments of transfer that Ben seems to +have left conveying to him all Ben had--his other properties and his +interest in Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman. I very naturally objected +to the execution of those transfers, without considerable examination, +in view of Corvet's mental condition and of the fact that they put the +controlling stock of Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman in the hands of a +youth no one ever had heard of--and one who, by his own story, never +had seen a ship until yesterday. And when I didn't dismiss my business +with a dozen men this morning to take him into the company, he claimed +occasion to see me alone to threaten me." + +"Threaten you, Henry? How? With what?" + +"I couldn't quite make out myself, but that was his tone; he demanded +an 'explanation' of exactly what, he didn't make clear. He has been +given by Ben, apparently, the technical control of Corvet, Sherrill, +and Spearman. His idea, if I oppose him, evidently is to turn me out +and take the management himself." + +Constance leaned back, confused. "He--Alan Conrad?" she questioned. +"He can't have done that, Henry! Oh, he can't have meant that!" + +"Maybe he didn't; I said I couldn't make out what he did mean," +Spearman said. "Things have come upon him with rather a rush, of +course; and you couldn't expect a country boy to get so many things +straight. He's acting, I suppose, only in the way one might expect a +boy to act who had been brought up in poverty on a Kansas prairie and +was suddenly handed the possible possession of a good many millions of +dollars. It's better to believe that he's only lost his head. I +haven't had opportunity to tell your father these things yet; but I +wanted you to understand why Conrad will hardly consider me a friend." + +"I'll understand you now, Henry," she promised. + +He gazed at her and started to speak; then, as though postponing it on +account of the place, he glanced around and took out his watch. + +"You must go back?" she asked. + +"No; I'm not going back to the office this afternoon, Connie; but I +must call up your father." + +He excused himself and went into the nearest telephone booth. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +VIOLENCE + +At half-past three, Alan left the office. Sherrill had told him an +hour earlier that Spearman had telephoned he would not be able to get +back for a conference that afternoon; and Alan was certain now that in +Spearman's absence Sherrill would do nothing further with respect to +his affairs. + +He halted on the ground floor of the office building and bought copies +of each of the afternoon papers. A line completely across the pink +page of one announced "Millionaire Ship Owner Missing!" The other +three papers, printed at the same hour, did not display the story +prominently; and even the one which did failed to make it the most +conspicuous sensation. A line of larger and blacker type told of a +change in the battle line on the west front and, where the margin might +have been, was the bulletin of some sensation in a local divorce suit. +Alan was some time in finding the small print which went with the +millionaire ship owner heading; and when he found it, he discovered +that most of the space was devoted to the description of Corvet's share +in the development of shipping on the lakes and the peculiarity of his +past life instead of any definite announcement concerning his fate. + +The other papers printed almost identical items under small head-type +at the bottom of their first pages; these items stated that Benjamin +Corvet, the senior but inactive partner of the great shipping firm of +Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman, whose "disappearance" had been made the +subject of sensational rumor, "is believed by his partner, Mr. Henry +Spearman, to have simply gone away for a rest," and that no anxiety was +felt concerning him. Alan found no mention of himself nor any of the +circumstances connected with Corvet's disappearance of which Sherrill +had told him. + +Alan threw the papers away. There was a car line two blocks west, +Sherrill had said, which would take him within a short distance of the +house on Astor Street; but that neighborhood of fashion where the +Sherrills--and now Alan himself--lived was less than a half hour's walk +from the down-town district and, in the present turmoil of his +thoughts, he wanted to be moving. + +Spearman, he reflected as he walked north along the avenue, plainly had +dictated the paragraphs he just had read in the papers. Sherrill, Alan +knew, had desired to keep the circumstances regarding Corvet from +becoming public; and without Sherrill's agreement concealment would +have been impossible, but it was Spearman who had checked the +suspicions of outsiders and determined what they must believe; and, by +so doing, he had made it impossible for Alan to enroll aid from the +newspapers or the police. Alan did not know whether he might have +found it expedient to seek publicity; but now he had not a single proof +of anything he could tell. For Sherrill, naturally, had retained the +papers Corvet had left. Alan could not hope to obtain credence from +Sherrill and, without Sherrill's aid, he could not obtain credence from +any one else. + +Was there, then, no one whom Alan could tell of his encounter with +Spearman in Corvet's house, with probability of receiving belief? Alan +had not been thinking directly of Constance Sherrill, as he walked +swiftly north to the Drive; but she was, in a way, present in all his +thoughts. She had shown interest in him, or at least in the position +he was in, and sympathy; he had even begun to tell her about these +things when he had spoken to her of some event in Corvet's house which +had given him the name "_Miwaka_," and he had asked her if it was a +ship. And there could be no possible consequent peril to her in +telling her; the peril, if there was any, would be only to himself. + +His step quickened. As he approached the Sherrill house, he saw +standing at the curb an open roadster with a liveried chauffeur; he had +seen that roadster, he recognized with a little start, in front of the +office building that morning when Constance had taken him down-town. +He turned into the walk and rang the bell. + +The servant who opened the door knew him and seemed to accept his right +of entry to the house, for he drew back for Alan to enter. Alan went +into the hall and waited for the servant to follow. "Is Miss Sherrill +in?" he asked. + +"I'll see, sir." The man disappeared. Alan, waiting, did not hear +Constance's voice in reply to the announcement of the servant, but +Spearman's vigorous tones. The servant returned. "Miss Sherrill will +see you in a minute, sir." + +Through the wide doorway to the drawing-room, Alan could see the +smaller, portiered entrance to the room beyond--Sherrill's study. The +curtains parted, and Constance and Spearman came into this inner +doorway; they stood an instant there in talk. As Constance started +away, Spearman suddenly drew her back to him and kissed her. Alan's +shoulders spontaneously jerked back, and his hands clenched; he did not +look away and, as she approached, she became aware that he had seen. + +She came to him, very quiet and very flushed; then she was quite pale +as she asked him, "You wanted me?" + +He was white as she, and could not speak at once. "You told me last +night, Miss Sherrill," he said, "that the last thing that Mr. Corvet +did--the last that you know of--was to warn you against one of your +friends. Who was that?" + +She flushed uneasily. "You mustn't attach any importance to that; I +didn't mean you to. There was no reason for what Mr. Corvet said, +except in Mr. Corvet's own mind. He had a quite unreasonable +animosity--" + +"Against Mr. Spearman, you mean." + +She did not answer. + +"His animosity was against Mr. Spearman, Miss Sherrill, wasn't it? +That is the only animosity of Mr. Corvet's that any one has told me +about." + +"Yes." + +"It was against Mr. Spearman that he warned you, then?" + +"Yes." + +"Thank you." He turned and, not waiting for the man, let himself out. +He should have known it when he had seen that Spearman, after +announcing himself as unable to get back to the office, was with +Constance. + +He went swiftly around the block to his own house and let himself in at +the front door with his key. The house was warm; a shaded lamp on the +table in the larger library was lighted, a fire was burning in the open +grate, and the rooms had been swept and dusted. The Indian came into +the hall to take his coat and hat. + +"Dinner is at seven," Wassaquam announced. "You want some change about +that?" + +"No; seven is all right." + +Alan went up-stairs to the room next to Corvet's which he had +appropriated for his own use the night before, and found it now +prepared for his occupancy. His suitcase, unpacked, had been put away +in the closet; the clothing it had contained had been put in the +dresser drawers, and the toilet articles arranged upon the top of the +dresser and in the cabinet of the little connecting bath. So, clearly, +Wassaquam had accepted him as an occupant of the house, though upon +what status Alan could not guess. He had spoken of Wassaquam to +Constance as his servant; but Wassaquam was not that; he was Corvet's +servant--faithful and devoted to Corvet, Constance had said--and Alan +could not think of Wassaquam as the sort of servant that "went with the +house." The Indian's manner toward himself had been noncommittal, even +stolid. + +When Alan came down again to the first floor, Wassaquam was nowhere +about, but he heard sounds in the service rooms on the basement floor. +He went part way down the service stairs and saw the Indian in the +kitchen, preparing dinner. Wassaquam had not heard his approach, and +Alan stood an instant watching the Indian's tall, thin figure and the +quick movements of his disproportionately small, well-shaped hands, +almost like a woman's; then he scuffed his foot upon the stair, and +Wassaquam turned swiftly about. + +"Anybody been here to-day, Judah?" Alan asked. + +"No, Alan. I called tradesmen; they came. There were young men from +the newspapers." + +"They came here, did they? Then why did you say no one came?" + +"I did not let them in." + +"What did you tell them?" + +"Nothing." + +"Why not?" + +"Henry telephoned I was to tell them nothing." + +"You mean Henry Spearman?" + +"Yes." + +"Do you take orders from him, Judah?" + +"I took that order, Alan." + +Alan hesitated. "You've been here in the house all day?" + +"Yes, Alan." + +Alan went back to the first floor and into the smaller library. The +room was dark with the early winter dusk, and he switched on the light; +then he knelt and pulled out one of the drawers he had seen Spearman +searching through the night before, and carefully examined the papers +in it one by one, but found them only ordinary papers. He pulled the +drawer completely out and sounded the wall behind it and the partitions +on both sides but they appeared solid. He put the drawer back in and +went on to examine the next one, and, after that, the others. The +clocks in the house had been wound, for presently the clock in the +library struck six, and another in the hall chimed slowly. An hour +later, when the clocks chimed again, Alan looked up and saw Wassaquam's +small black eyes, deep set in their large eye sockets, fixed on him +intently through the door. How long the Indian had been there, Alan +could not guess; he had not heard his step. + +"What are you looking for, Alan?" the Indian asked. + +Alan reflected a moment. "Mr. Sherrill thought that Mr. Corvet might +have left a record of some sort here for me, Judah. Do you know of +anything like that?" + +"No. That is what you are looking for?" + +"Yes. Do you know of any place where Mr. Corvet would have been likely +to put away anything like that?" + +"Ben put papers in all these drawers; he put them up-stairs, too--where +you have seen." + +"Nowhere else, Judah?" + +"If he put things anywhere else, Alan, I have not seen. Dinner is +served, Alan." + +Alan went to the lavatory on the first floor and washed the dust from +his hands and face; then he went into the dining-room. A place had +been set at the dining table around the corner from the place where, as +the worn rug showed, the lonely occupant of the house had been +accustomed to sit. Benjamin Corvet's armchair, with its worn leather +back, had been left against the wall; so had another unworn armchair +which Alan understood must have been Mrs. Corvet's; and an armless +chair had been set for Alan between their places. Wassaquam, having +served the dinner, took his place behind Alan's chair, ready to pass +him what he needed; but the Indian's silent, watchful presence there +behind him where he could not see his face, disturbed Alan, and he +twisted himself about to look at him. + +"Would you mind, Judah," he inquired, "if I asked you to stand over +there instead of where you are?" + +The Indian, without answering, moved around to the other side of the +table, where he stood facing Alan. + +"You're a Chippewa, aren't you, Judah?" Alan asked. + +"Yes." + +"Your people live at the other end of the lake, don't they?" + +"Yes, Alan." + +"Have you ever heard of the Indian Drum they talk about up there, that +they say sounds when a ship goes down on the lake?" + +The Indian's eyes sparkled excitedly. "Yes," he said. + +"Do you believe in it?" + +"Not just believe; I know. That is old Indian country up there, +Alan--L'arbre Croche--Cross Village--Middle Village. A big town of +Ottawas was there in old days; Pottawatomies too, and Chippewas. +Indians now are all Christians, Catholics, and Methodists who hold camp +meetings and speak beautifully. But some things of the old days are +left. The Drum is like that. Everybody knows that it sounds for those +who die on the lake." + +"How do they know, Judah? How do you yourself know?" + +"I have heard it. It sounded for my father." + +"How was that?" + +"Like this. My father sold some bullocks to a man on Beaver Island. +The man kept store on Beaver Island, Alan. No Indian liked him. He +would not hand anything to an Indian or wrap anything in paper for an +Indian. Say it was like this: An Indian comes in to buy salt pork. +First the man would get the money. Then, Alan, he would take his hook +and pull the pork up out of the barrel and throw it on the dirty floor +for the Indian to pick up. He said Indians must take their food off of +the floor--like dogs. + +"My father had to take the bullocks to the man, across to Beaver +Island. He had a Mackinaw boat, very little, with a sail made brown by +boiling it with tan bark, so that it would not wear out. At first the +Indians did not know who the bullocks were for, so they helped him. He +tied the legs of the bullocks, the front legs and the back legs, then +all four legs together, and the Indians helped him put them in the +boat. When they found out the bullocks were for the man on Beaver +Island, the Indians would not help him any longer. He had to take them +across alone. Besides, it was bad weather, the beginning of a storm. + +"He went away, and my mother went to pick berries--I was small then. +Pretty soon I saw my mother coming back. She had no berries, and her +hair was hanging down, and she was wailing. She took me in her arms +and said my father was dead. Other Indians came around and asked her +how she knew, and she said she had heard the Drum. The Indians went +out to listen." + +"Did you go?" + +"Yes; I went." + +"How old were you, Judah?" + +"Five years." + +"That was the time you heard it?" + +"Yes; it would beat once, then there would be silence; then it would +beat again. It frightened us to hear it. The Indians would scream and +beat their bodies with their hands when the sound came. We listened +until night; there was a storm all the time growing greater in the +dark, but no rain. The Drum would beat once; then nothing; then it +would beat again once--never two or more times. So we knew it was for +my father. It is supposed the feet of the bullocks came untied, and +the bullocks tipped the boat over. They found near the island the body +of one of the bullocks floating in the water, and its feet were untied. +My father's body was on the beach near there." + +"Did you ever hear of a ship called the _Miwaka_, Judah?" + +"That was long ago," the Indian answered. + +"They say that the Drum beat wrong when the _Miwaka_ went down--that it +was one beat short of the right number." + +"That was long ago," Wassaquam merely repeated. + +"Did Mr. Corvet ever speak to you about the _Miwaka_?" + +"No; he asked me once if I had ever heard the Drum. I told him." + +Wassaquam removed the dinner and brought Alan a dessert. He returned +to stand in the place across the table that Alan had assigned to him, +and stood looking down at Alan, steadily and thoughtfully. + +"Do I look like any one you ever saw before, Judah?" Alan inquired of +him. + +"No." + +"Is that what you were thinking?" + +"That is what I was thinking. Will coffee be served in the library, +Alan?" + +Alan crossed to the library and seated himself in the chair where his +father had been accustomed to sit. Wassaquam brought him the single +small cup of coffee, lit the spirit lamp on the smoking stand, and +moved that over; then he went away. When he had finished his coffee, +Alan went into the smaller connecting room and recommenced his +examination of the drawers under the bookshelves. He could hear the +Indian moving about his tasks, and twice Wassaquam came to the door of +the room and looked in on him; but he did not offer to say anything, +and Alan did not speak to him. At ten o'clock, Alan stopped his search +and went back to the chair in the library. He dozed; for he awoke with +a start and a feeling that some one had been bending over him, and +gazed up into Wassaquam's face. The Indian had been scrutinizing him +with intent, anxious inquiry. He moved away, but Alan called him back. + +"When Mr. Corvet disappeared, Judah, you went to look for him up at +Manistique, where he was born--at least Mr. Sherrill said that was +where you went. Why did you think you might find him there?" Alan +asked. + +"In the end, I think, a man maybe goes back to the place where he +began. That's all, Alan." + +"In the end! What do you mean by that? What do you think has become +of Mr. Corvet?" + +"I think now--Ben's dead." + +"What makes you think that?" + +"Nothing makes me think; I think it myself." + +"I see. You mean you have no reason more than others for thinking it; +but that is what you believe." + +"Yes." Wassaquam went away, and Alan heard him on the back stairs, +ascending to his room. + +When Alan went up to his own room, after making the rounds to see that +the house was locked, a droning chant came to him from the third floor. +He paused in the hall and listened, then went on up to the floor above. +A flickering light came to him through the half-open door of a room at +the front of the house; he went a little way toward it and looked in. +Two thick candles were burning before a crucifix, below which the +Indian knelt, prayer book in hand and rocking to and fro as he droned +his supplications. + +A word or two came to Alan, but without them Wassaquam's occupation was +plain; he was praying for the repose of the dead--the Catholic chant +taught to him, as it had been taught undoubtedly to his fathers, by the +French Jesuits of the lakes. The intoned chant for Corvet's soul, by +the man who had heard the Drum, followed and still came to Alan, as he +returned to the second floor. + +He had not been able to determine, during the evening, Wassaquam's +attitude toward him. Having no one else to trust, Alan had been +obliged to put a certain amount of trust in the Indian; so as he had +explained to Wassaquam that morning that the desk and the drawers in +the little room off Corvet's had been forced, and had warned him to see +that no one, who had not proper business there, entered the house. +Wassaquam had appeared to accept this order; but now Wassaquam had +implied that it was not because of Alan's order that he had refused +reporters admission to the house. The developments of the day had +tremendously altered things in one respect; for Alan, the night before, +had not thought of the intruder into the house as one who could claim +an ordinary right of entrance there; but now he knew him to be the one +who--except for Sherrill--might most naturally come to the house; one, +too, for whom Wassaquam appeared to grant a certain right of direction +of affairs there. So, at this thought, Alan moved angrily; the house +was his--Alan's. He had noted particularly, when Sherrill had showed +him the list of properties whose transfer to him Corvet had left at +Sherrill's discretion, that the house was not among them; and he had +understood that this was because Corvet had left Sherrill no discretion +as to the house. Corvet's direct, unconditional gift of the house by +deed to Alan had been one of Sherrill's reasons for believing that if +Corvet had left anything which could explain his disappearance, it +would be found in the house. + +Unless Spearman had visited the house during the day and had obtained +what he had been searching for the night before--and Alan believed he +had not done that--it was still in the house. Alan's hands clenched; +he would not give Spearman such a chance as that again; and he himself +would continue his search of the house--exhaustively, room by room, +article of furniture by article of furniture. + +Alan started and went quickly to the open door of his room, as he heard +voices now somewhere within the house. One of the voices he recognized +as Wassaquam's; the other indistinct, thick, accusing--was unknown to +him; it certainly was not Spearman's. He had not heard Wassaquam go +down-stairs, and he had not heard the doorbell, so he ran first to the +third floor; but the room where he had seen Wassaquam was empty. He +descended again swiftly to the first floor, and found Wassaquam +standing in the front hall, alone. + +"Who was here, Judah?" Alan demanded. + +"A man," the Indian answered stolidly. "He was drunk; I put him out." + +"What did he come for?" + +"He came to see Ben. I put him out; he is gone, Alan." + +Alan flung open the front door and looked out, but he saw no one. + +"What did he want of Mr. Corvet, Judah?" + +"I do not know. I told him Ben was not here; he was angry, but he went +away." + +"Has he ever come here before?" + +"Yes; he comes twice." + +"He has been here twice?" + +"More than that; every year he comes twice, Alan. Once he came +oftener." + +"How long has he been doing that?" + +"Since I can remember." + +"Is he a friend of Mr. Corvet?" + +"No friend--no!" + +"But Mr. Corvet saw him when he came here?" + +"Always, Alan." + +"And you don't know at all what he came about?" + +"How should I know? No; I do not." + +Alan got his coat and hat. The sudden disappearance of the man might +mean only that he had hurried away, but it might mean too that he was +still lurking near the house. Alan had decided to make the circuit of +the house and determine that. But as he came out on to the porch, a +figure more than a block away to the south strode with uncertain step +out into the light of a street lamp, halted and faced about, and shook +his fist back at the house. Alan dragged the Indian out on to the +porch. + +"Is that the man, Judah?" he demanded. + +"Yes, Alan." + +Alan ran down the steps and at full speed after the man. The other had +turned west at the corner where Alan had seen him; but even though Alan +slipped as he tried to run upon the snowy walks, he must be gaining +fast upon him. He saw him again, when he had reached the corner where +the man had turned, traveling westward with that quick uncertain step +toward Clark Street; at that corner the man turned south. But when +Alan reached the corner, he was nowhere in sight. To the south, Clark +Street reached away, garish with electric signs and with a half dozen +saloons to every block. That the man was drunk made it probable he had +turned into one of these places. Alan went into every one of them for +fully a half mile and looked about, but he found no one even resembling +the man he had been following. He retraced his steps for several +blocks, still looking; then he gave it up and returned eastward toward +the Drive. + +The side street leading to the Drive was less well lighted; dark entry +ways and alleys opened on it; but the night was clear. The stars, with +the shining sword of Orion almost overhead, gleamed with midwinter +brightness, and to the west the crescent of the moon was hanging and +throwing faint shadows over the snow. Alan could see at the end of the +street, beyond the yellow glow of the distant boulevard lights, the +smooth, chill surface of the lake. A white light rode above it; now, +below the white light, he saw a red speck--the masthead and port +lanterns of a steamer northward bound. Farther out a second white glow +appeared from behind the obscuration of the buildings and below it a +green speck--a starboard light. The information he had gained that day +enabled him to recognize in these lights two steamers passing one +another at the harbor mouth. + +"Red to red," Alan murmured to himself. "Green to green--Red to red, +perfect safety, go ahead!" he repeated. + +It brought him, with marvelous vividness, back to Constance Sherrill. +Events since he had talked with her that morning had put them far apart +once more; but, in another way, they were being drawn closer together. +For he knew now that she was caught as well as he in the mesh of +consequences of acts not their own. Benjamin Corvet, in the anguish of +the last hours before fear of those consequences had driven him away, +had given her a warning against Spearman so wild that it defeated +itself; for Alan merely to repeat that warning, with no more than he +yet knew, would be equally futile. But into the contest between +Spearman and himself--that contest, he was beginning to feel, which +must threaten destruction either to Spearman or to him--she had +entered. Her happiness, her future, were at stake; her fate, he was +certain now, depended upon discovery of those events tied tight in the +mystery of Alan's own identity which Spearman knew, and the threat of +which at moments appalled him. Alan winced as there came before him in +the darkness of the street the vision of Constance in Spearman's arms +and of the kiss that he had seen that afternoon. + +He staggered, slipped, fell suddenly forward upon his knees under a +stunning, crushing blow upon his head from behind. Thought, +consciousness almost lost, he struggled, twisting himself about to +grasp at his assailant. He caught the man's clothing, trying to drag +himself up; fighting blindly, dazedly, unable to see or think, he +shouted aloud and then again, aloud. He seemed in the distance to hear +answering cries; but the weight and strength of the other was bearing +him down again to his knees; he tried to slip aside from it, to rise. +Then another blow, crushing and sickening, descended on his head; even +hearing left him and, unconscious, he fell forward on to the snow and +lay still. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A WALK BESIDE THE LAKE + +"The name seems like Sherrill," the interne agreed. "He said it before +when we had him on the table up-stairs; and he has said it now twice +distinctly--Sherrill." + +"His name, do you think?" + +"I shouldn't say so; he seems trying to speak to some one named +Sherrill." + +The nurse waited a few minutes. "Yes; that's how it seems to me, sir. +He said something that sounded like 'Connie' a while ago, and once he +said 'Jim.' There are only four Sherrills in the telephone book, two +of them in Evanston and one way out in Minoota." + +"The other?" + +"They're only about six blocks from where he was picked up; but they're +on the Drive--the Lawrence Sherrills." + +The interne whistled softly and looked more interestedly at his +patient's features. He glanced at his watch, which showed the hour of +the morning to be half-past four. "You'd better make a note of it," he +said. "He's not a Chicagoan; his clothes were made somewhere in +Kansas. He'll be conscious some time during the day; there's only a +slight fracture, and-- Perhaps you'd better call the Sherrill house, +anyway. If he's not known there, no harm done; and if he's one of +their friends and he should..." + +The nurse nodded and moved off. + +Thus it was that at a quarter to five Constance Sherrill was awakened +by the knocking of one of the servants at her father's door. Her +father went down-stairs to the telephone instrument where he might +reply without disturbing Mrs. Sherrill. Constance, kimona over her +shoulders, stood at the top of the stairs and waited. It became plain +to her at once that whatever had happened had been to Alan Conrad. + +"Yes.... Yes.... You are giving him every possible care? ... At once." + +She ran part way down the stairs and met her father as he came up. He +told her of the situation briefly. + +"He was attacked on the street late last night; he was unconscious when +they found him and took him to the hospital, and has been unconscious +ever since. They say it was an ordinary street attack for robbery. I +shall go at once, of course; but you can do nothing. He would not know +you if you came; and of course he is in competent hands. No; no one +can say yet how seriously he is injured." + +She waited in the hall while her father dressed, after calling the +garage on the house telephone for him and ordering the motor. When he +had gone, she returned anxiously to her own rooms; he had promised to +call her after reaching the hospital and as soon as he had learned the +particulars of Alan's condition. It was ridiculous, of course, to +attach any responsibility to her father or herself for what had +happened to Alan--a street attack such as might have happened to any +one--yet she felt that they were in part responsible. Alan Conrad had +come to Chicago, not by their direction, but by Benjamin Corvet's; but +Uncle Benny being gone, they had been the ones who met him, they had +received him into their own house; but they had not thought to warn him +of the dangers of the city and, afterward, they had let him go to live +alone in the house in Astor Street with no better adviser than +Wassaquam. Now, and perhaps because they had not warned him, he had +met injury and, it might be, more than mere injury; he might be dying. + +She walked anxiously up and down her room, clutching her kimona about +her; it would be some time yet before she could hear from her father. +She went to the telephone on the stand beside her bed and called Henry +Spearman at his apartments. His servant answered; and, after an +interval, Henry's voice came to her. She told him all that she knew of +what had occurred. + +"Do you want me to go over to the hospital?" he asked at once. + +"No; father has gone. There is nothing any one can do. I'll call you +again as soon as I hear from father." + +He seemed to appreciate from her tone the anxiety she felt; for he set +himself to soothe and encourage her. She listened, answered, and then +hung up the receiver, anxious not to interfere with the expected call +from her father. She moved about the room again, oppressed by the long +wait, until the 'phone rang, and she sprang to it; it was her father +calling from the hospital. Alan had had a few moments' consciousness, +but Sherrill had not been allowed to see him; now, by the report of the +nurse, Alan was sleeping, and both nurse and internes assured Sherrill +that, this being the case, there was no reason for anxiety concerning +him; but Sherrill would wait at the hospital a little longer to make +sure. Constance's breath caught as she answered him, and her eyes +filled with tears of relief. She called Henry again, and he evidently +had been waiting, for he answered at once; he listened without comment +to her repetition of her father's report. + +"All right," he said, when she had finished. "I'm coming over, Connie." + +"Now?" + +"Yes; right away." + +"You must give me time to dress!" His assumption of right to come to +her at this early hour recalled to her forcibly the closer relation +which Henry now assumed as existing between them; indeed, as more than +existing, as progressing. And had not she admitted that relation by +telephoning to him during her anxiety? She had not thought how that +must appear to him; she had not thought about it at all; she had just +done it. + +She had been one of those who think of betrothal in terms of question +and answer, of a moment when decision is formulated and spoken; she had +supposed that, by withholding reply to Henry's question put even before +Uncle Benny went away, she was thereby maintaining the same relation +between Henry and herself. But now she was discovering that this was +not so; she was realizing that Henry had not required formal answer to +him because he considered that such answer had become superfluous; her +yes, if she accepted him now, would not establish a new bond, it would +merely acknowledge what was already understood. She had accepted +that--had she not--when, in the rush of her feeling, she had thrust her +hand into his the day before; she had accepted it, even more +undeniably, when he had seized her and kissed her. + +Not that she had sought or even consciously permitted, that; it had, +indeed, surprised her. While they were alone together, and he was +telling her things about himself, somewhat as he had at the table at +Field's, Alan Conrad was announced, and she had risen to go. Henry had +tried to detain her; then, as he looked down at her, hot impulse had +seemed to conquer him; he caught her, irresistibly; amazed, bewildered, +she looked up at him, and he bent and kissed her. The power of his +arms about her--she could feel them yet, sometimes--half frightened, +half enthralled her. But his lips against her cheek--she had turned +her lips away so that his pressed her cheek! She had been quite unable +to know how she had felt then, because at that instant she had realized +that she was seen. So she had disengaged herself as quickly as +possible and, after Alan was gone, she had fled to her room without +going back to Henry at all. + +How could she have expected Henry to have interpreted that flight from +him as disapproval when she had not meant it as that; when, indeed, she +did not know herself what was stirring in her that instinct to go away +alone? She had not by that disowned the new relation which he had +accepted as established between them. And did she wish to disown it +now? What had happened had come sooner and with less of her will +active in it than she had expected; but she knew it was only what she +had expected to come. The pride she had felt in being with him was, +she realized, only anticipatory of the pride she would experience as +his wife. When she considered the feeling of her family and her +friends, she knew that, though some would go through the formal +deploring that Henry had not better birth, all would be satisfied and +more than satisfied; they would even boast about Henry a little, and +entertain him in her honor, and show him off. There was no one--now +that poor Uncle Benny was gone--who would seriously deplore it at all. + +Constance had recognized no relic of uneasiness from Uncle Benny's last +appeal to her; she understood that thoroughly. Or, at least, she _had_ +understood that; now was there a change in the circumstances of that +understanding, because of what had happened to Alan, that she found +herself re-defining to herself her relation with Henry? No; it had +nothing to do with Henry, of course; it referred only to Benjamin +Corvet. Uncle Benny had "gone away" from his house on Astor Street, +leaving his place there to his son, Alan Conrad. Something which had +disturbed and excited Alan had happened to him on the first night he +had passed in that house; and now, it appeared, he had been prevented +from passing a second night there. What had prevented him had been an +attempted robbery upon the street, her father had said. But suppose it +had been something else than robbery. + +She could not formulate more definitely this thought, but it persisted; +she could not deny it entirely and shake it off. + +To Alan Conrad, in the late afternoon of that day, this same thought +was coming far more definitely and far more persistently. He had been +awake and sane since shortly after noonday. The pain of a head which +ached throbbingly and of a body bruised and sore was beginning to give +place to a feeling merely of lassitude--a languor which revisited +incoherence upon him when he tried to think. He shifted himself upon +his bed and called the nurse. + +"How long am I likely to have to stay here?" he asked her. + +"The doctors think not less than two weeks, Mr. Conrad." + +He realized, as he again lay silent, that he must put out of his head +now all expectation of ever finding in Corvet's house any such record +as he had been looking for. If there had been a record, it +unquestionably would be gone before he could get about again to seek +it; and he could not guard against its being taken from the house; for, +if he had been hopeless of receiving credence for any accusation he +might make against Spearman while he was in health, how much more +hopeless was it now, when everything he would say could be put to the +credit of his injury and to his delirium! He could not even give +orders for the safeguarding of the house and its contents--his own +property--with assurance that they would be carried out. + +The police and hospital attendants, he had learned, had no suspicion of +anything but that he had been the victim of one of the footpads who, +during that month, had been attacking and robbing nightly. Sherrill, +who had visited him about two o'clock, had showed that he suspected no +other possibility. Alan could not prove otherwise; he had not seen his +assailant's face; it was most probable that if he had seen it, he would +not have recognized it. But the man who had assailed him had meant to +kill; he had not been any ordinary robber. That purpose, blindly +recognized and fought against by Alan in their struggle, had been +unmistakable. Only the chance presence of passers-by, who had heard +Alan's shouts and responded to them, had prevented the execution of his +purpose, and had driven the man to swift flight for his own safety. + +Alan had believed, in his struggle with Spearman in Corvet's library, +that Spearman might have killed rather than have been discovered there. +Were there others to whom Alan's presence had become a threat so +serious that they would proceed even to the length of calculated +murder? He could not know that. The only safe plan was to assume that +persons, in number unknown, had definite, vital interest in his +"removal" by violence or otherwise, and that, among them, he must +reckon Henry Spearman; and he must fight them alone. For Sherrill's +liking for him, even Constance Sherrill's interest and sympathy were +nullified in practical intent by their admiration for and their +complete confidence in Spearman. It did not matter that Alan might +believe that, in fighting Spearman, he was fighting not only for +himself but for her; he knew now certainly that he must count her as +Spearman's; her! Things swam before him again dizzily as he thought of +her; and he sank back and closed his eyes. + +A little before six Constance Sherrill and Spearman called to inquire +after him and were admitted for a few moments to his room. She came to +him, bent over him, while she spoke the few words of sympathy the nurse +allowed to her; she stood back then while Spearman spoke to him. In +the succeeding days, he saw her nearly every day, accompanied always by +her father or Spearman; it was the full two weeks the nurse had +allotted for his remaining in the hospital before he saw her alone. + +They had brought him home, the day before--she and her father, in the +motor--to the house on Astor Street. He had insisted on returning +there, refusing the room in their house which they had offered; but the +doctor had enjoined outdoors and moderate exercise for him, and she had +made him promise to come and walk with her. He went to the Sherrill +house about ten o'clock, and they walked northward toward the park. + +It was a mild, sunny morning with warm wind from the south, which +sucked up the last patches of snow from the lawns and dried the tiny +trickles of water across the walks. Looking to the land, one might say +that spring soon would be on the way; but, looking to the lake, +midwinter held. The counterscrap of concrete, beyond the withered sod +that edged the Drive, was sheathed in ice; the frozen spray-hummocks +beyond steamed in the sun; and out as far as one could see, floes +floated close together, exposing only here and there a bit of blue. +Wind, cold and chilling, wafted off this ice field, taking the warm +south breeze upon its flanks. + +Glancing up at her companion from time to time, Constance saw the color +coming to his face, and he strode beside her quite steadily. Whatever +was his inheritance, his certainly were stamina and vitality; a little +less--or a little dissipation of them--and he might not have recovered +at all, much less have leaped back to strength as he had done. For +since yesterday, the languor which had held him was gone. + +They halted a minute near the south entrance of the park at the St. +Gaudens' "Lincoln," which he had not previously seen. The gaunt, sad +figure of the "rail-splitter" in his ill-fitting clothes, seemed to +recall something to him; for he glanced swiftly at her as they turned +away. + +"Miss Sherrill," he asked, "have you ever stayed out in the country?" + +"I go to northern Michigan, up by the straits, almost every summer for +part of the time, at least; and once in a while we open the house in +winter too for a week or so. It's quite wild--trees and sand and shore +and the water. I've had some of my best times up there." + +"You've never been out on the plains?" + +"Just to pass over them on the train on the way to the coast." + +"That would be in winter or in spring; I was thinking about the plains +in late summer, when we--Jim and Betty, the children of the people I +was with in Kansas--" + +"I remember them." + +"When we used to play at being pioneers in our sunflower shacks." + +"Sunflower shacks?" she questioned. + +"I was dreaming we were building them again when I was delirious just +after I was hurt, it seems. I thought that I was back in Kansas and +was little again. The prairie was all brown as it is in late summer, +brown billows of dried grass which let you see the chips of limestone +and flint scattered on the ground beneath; and in the hollows there +were acres and acres of sunflowers, three times as tall as either Jim +or I, and with stalks as thick as a man's wrist, where Jim and Betty +and I ... and you, Miss Sherrill, were playing." + +"I?" + +"We cut paths through the sunflowers with a corn knife," Alan +continued, not looking at her, "and built houses in them by twining the +cut stalks in and out among those still standing. I'd wondered, you +see, what you must have been like when you were a little girl, so, I +suppose, when I was delirious, I saw you that way." + +She had looked up at him a little apprehensively, afraid that he was +going to say something more; but his look reassured her. + +"Then that," she hazarded, "must have been how the hospital people +learned our name. I'd wondered about that; they said you were +unconscious first, and then delirious and when you spoke you said, +among other names, mine--Connie and Sherrill." + +He colored and glanced away. "I thought they might have told you that, +so I wanted you to know. They say that in a dream, or in delirium, +after your brain establishes the first absurdity--like your playing out +among the sunflowers with me when we were little--everything else is +consistent. I wouldn't call a little girl 'Miss Sherrill,' of course. +Ever since I've known you, I couldn't help thinking a great deal about +you; you're not like any one else I've ever known. But I didn't want +you to think I thought of you--familiarly." + +"I speak of you always as Alan to father," she said. + +He was silent for a moment. "They lasted hardly for a day--those +sunflower houses, Miss Sherrill," he said quietly. "They withered +almost as soon as they were made. Castles in Kansas, one might say! +No one could live in them." + +Apprehensive again, she colored. He had recalled to her, without +meaning to do so, she thought, that he had seen her in Spearman's arms; +she was quite sure that recollection of this was in his mind. But in +spite of this--or rather, exactly because of it--she understood that he +had formed his own impression of the relation between Henry and herself +and that, consequently, he was not likely to say anything more like +this. + +They had walked east, across the damp, dead turf to where the Drive +leaves the shore and is built out into the lake; as they crossed to it +on the smooth ice of the lagoon between, he took her arm to steady her. + +"There is something I have been wanting to ask you," she said. + +"Yes." + +"That night when you were hurt--it was for robbery, they said. What do +you think about it?" She watched him as he looked at her and then +away; but his face was completely expressionless. + +"The proceedings were a little too rapid for me to judge, Miss +Sherrill." + +"But there was no demand upon you to give over your money before you +were attacked?" + +"No." + +She breathed a little more quickly. "It must be a strange sensation," +she observed, "to know that some one has tried to kill you." + +"It must, indeed." + +"You mean you don't think that he tried to kill you?" + +"The police captain thinks not; he says it was the work of a man new to +the blackjack, and he hit harder and oftener than he needed. He says +that sort are the dangerous ones--that one's quite safe in the hands of +an experienced slugger, as you would be with the skilful man in any +line. I never thought of it that way before. He almost made it into +an argument for leaving the trained artists loose on the streets, for +the safety of the public, instead of turning the business over to boys +only half educated." + +"What do you think about the man yourself?" Constance persisted. + +"The apprentice who practiced on me?" + +She waited, watching his eyes. "I was hardly in a condition, Miss +Sherrill, to appreciate anything about the man at all. Why do you ask?" + +"Because--" She hesitated an instant, "if you were attacked to be +killed, it meant that you must have been attacked as the son of--Mr. +Corvet. Then that meant--at least it implied, that Mr. Corvet was +killed, that he did not go away. You see that, of course." + +"Were you the only one who thought that? Or did some one speak to you +about it?" + +"No one did; I spoke to father. He thought--" + +"Yes." + +"Well, if Mr. Corvet was murdered--I'm following what father thought, +you understand--it involved something a good deal worse perhaps than +anything that could have been involved if he had only gone away. The +facts we had made it certain that--if what had happened to him was +death at the hands of another--he must have foreseen that death and, +seeking no protection for himself ... it implied, that he preferred to +die rather than to ask protection--that there was something whose +concealment he thought mattered even more to him than life. It--it +might have meant that he considered his life was ... due to whomever +took it." Her voice, which had become very low, now ceased. She was +speaking to Alan of his father--a father whom he had never known, and +whom he could not have recognized by sight until she showed him the +picture a few weeks before; but she was speaking of his father. + +"Mr. Sherrill didn't feel that it was necessary for him to do anything, +even though he thought that?" + +"If Mr. Corvet was dead, we could do him no good, surely, by telling +this to the police; if the police succeeded in finding out all the +facts, we would be doing only what Uncle Benny did not wish--what he +preferred death to. We could not tell the police about it without +telling them all about Mr. Corvet too. So father would not let himself +believe that you had been attacked to be killed. He had to believe the +police theory was sufficient." + +Alan made no comment at once. "Wassaquam believes Mr. Corvet is dead," +he said finally. "He told me so. Does your father believe that?" + +"I think he is beginning to believe it." + +They had reached the little bridge that breaks the Drive and spans the +channel through which the motor boats reach harbor in the lagoon; he +rested his arms upon the rail of the bridge and looked down into the +channel, now frozen. He seemed to her to consider and to decide upon +something. + +"I've not told any one," he said, now watching her, "how I happened to +be out of the house that night. I followed a man who came there to the +house. Wassaquam did not know his name. He did not know Mr. Corvet +was gone; for he came there to see Mr. Corvet. He was not an ordinary +friend of Mr. Corvet's; but he had come there often; Wassaquam did not +know why. Wassaquam had sent the man away, and I ran out after him; +but I could not find him." + +He stopped an instant, studying her. "That was not the first man who +came to the house," he went on quickly, as she was about to speak. "I +found a man in Mr. Corvet's house the first night that I spent there. +Wassaquam was away, you remember, and I was alone in the house." + +"A man there in the house?" she repeated. + +"He wasn't there when I entered the house--at least I don't think he +was. I heard him below, after I had gone up-stairs. I came down then +and saw him. He was going through Mr. Corvet's things--not the silver +and all that, but through his desks and files and cases. He was +looking for something--something which he seemed to want very much; +when I interfered, it greatly excited him." + +They had turned back from the bridge and were returning along the way +that they had come; but now she stopped and looked up at him. + +"What happened when you 'interfered'?" + +"A queer thing." + +"What?" + +"I frightened him." + +"Frightened him?" She had appreciated in his tone more significance +than the casual meaning of the words. + +"He thought I was a ghost." + +"A ghost. Whose ghost?" + +He shrugged. "I don't know; some one whom he seemed to have known +pretty well--and whom Mr. Corvet knew, he thought." + +"Why didn't you tell us this before?" + +"At least--I am telling you now, Miss Sherrill. I frightened him, and +he got away. But I had seen him plainly. I can describe him.... +You've talked with your father of the possibility that something might +'happen' to me such as, perhaps, happened to Mr. Corvet. If anything +does happen to me, a description of the man may ... prove useful." + +He saw the color leave her face, and her eyes brighten; he accepted +this for agreement on her part. Then clearly and definitely as he +could, he described Spearman to her. She did not recognize the +description; he had known she would not. Had not Spearman been in +Duluth? Beyond that, was not connection of Spearman with the prowler +in Corvet's house the one connection of all most difficult for her to +make? But he saw her fixing and recording the description in her mind. + +They were silent as they went on toward her home. He had said all he +could, or dared to say; to tell her that the man had been Spearman +would not merely have awakened her incredulity; it would have destroyed +credence utterly. A definite change in their relation to one another +had taken place during their walk. The fullness, the frankness of the +sympathy there had been between them almost from their first meeting, +had gone; she was quite aware, he saw, that he had not frankly answered +her questions; she was aware that in some way he had drawn back from +her and shut her out from his thoughts about his own position here. +But he had known that this must be so; it had been his first definite +realization after his return to consciousness in the hospital when, +knowing now her relation to Spearman, he had found all questions which +concerned his relations with the people here made immeasurably more +acute by the attack upon him. + +She asked him to come in and stay for luncheon, as they reached her +home, but she asked it without urging; at his refusal she moved slowly +up the steps; but she halted when she saw that he did not go on. + +"Miss Sherrill," he said, looking up at her, "how much money is there +in your house?" + +She smiled, amused and a little perplexed; then sobered as she saw his +intentness on her answer. + +"What do you mean?" she asked. + +"I mean--how much is ordinarily kept there?" + +"Why, very little in actual cash. We pay everything by +check--tradesmen and servants; and even if we happen not to have a +charge account where we make a purchase, they know who we are and are +always willing to charge it to us." + +"Thank you. It would be rather unusual then for you--or your +neighbors--to have currency at hand exceeding the hundreds?" + +"Exceeding the hundreds? That means in the thousands--or at least one +thousand; yes, for us, it would be quite unusual." + +She waited for him to explain why he had asked; it was not, she felt +sure, for any reason which could readily suggest itself to her. But he +only thanked her again and lifted his hat and moved away. Looking +after him from the window after she had entered the house, she saw him +turn the corner in the direction of Astor Street. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A CALLER + +As the first of the month was approaching, Wassaquam had brought his +household bills and budget to Alan that morning directly after +breakfast. The accounts, which covered expenses for the month just +ending and a small amount of cash to be carried for the month +beginning, were written upon a sheet of foolscap in neat, unshaded +writing exactly like the models in a copybook--each letter formed as +carefully and precisely as is the work done upon an Indian basket. The +statement accounted accurately for a sum of cash in hand upon the first +of February, itemized charged expenses, and totaled the bills. For +March, Wassaquam evidently proposed a continuance of the establishment +upon the present lines. To provide for that, and to furnish Alan with +whatever sums he needed, Sherrill had made a considerable deposit in +Alan's name in the bank where he carried his own account; and Alan had +accompanied Sherrill to the bank to be introduced and had signed the +necessary cards in order to check against the deposit; but, as yet, he +had drawn nothing. + +Alan had required barely half of the hundred dollars which Benjamin +Corvet had sent to Blue Rapids, for his expenses in Chicago; and he had +brought with him from "home" a hundred dollars of his own. He had used +that for his personal expenses since. The amount which Wassaquam now +desired to pay the bills was much more than Alan had on hand; but that +amount was also much less than the eleven hundred dollars which the +servant listed as cash on hand. This, Wassaquam stated, was in +currency and kept by him. Benjamin always had had him keep that much +in the house; Wassaquam would not touch that sum now for the payment of +current expenses. + +This sum of money kept inviolate troubled Alan. Constance Sherrill's +statement that, for her family at least, to keep such a sum would have +been unusual, increased this trouble; it did not, however, preclude the +possibility that others than the Sherrills might keep such amounts of +cash on hand. On the first of the month, therefore Alan drew upon his +new bank account to Wassaquam's order; and in the early afternoon +Wassaquam went to the bank to cash his check--one of the very few +occasions when Alan had been left in the house alone; Wassaquam's +habit, it appeared, was to go about on the first of the month and pay +the tradesmen in person. + +Some two hours later, and before Wassaquam could have been expected +back, Alan, in the room which had become his, was startled by a sound +of heavy pounding, which came suddenly to him from a floor below. +Shouts--heavy, thick, and unintelligible--mingled with the pounding. +He ran swiftly down the stairs, then on and down the service stairs +into the basement. The door to the house from the areaway was shaking +to irregular, heavy blows, which stopped as Alan reached the lower +hallway; the shouts continued still a moment more. Now that the noise +of pounding did not interfere, Alan could make out what the man was +saying: "Ben Corvet!"--the name was almost unintelligible--"Ben Corvet! +Ben!" Then the shouts stopped too. + +Alan sped to the door and turned back the latch. The door bore back +upon him, not from a push, but from a weight without which had fallen +against it. A big, heavy man, with a rough cap and mackinaw coat, +would have fallen upon the floor, if Alan had not caught him. His +weight in Alan's arms was so dull, so inert that, if violence had been +his intention, there was nothing to be feared from him now. Alan +looked up, therefore, to see if any one had come with him. The alley +and the street were clear. The snow in the area-way showed that the +man had come to the door alone and with great difficulty; he had fallen +once upon the walk. Alan dragged the man into the house and went back +and closed the door. + +He returned and looked at him. The man was like, very like the one +whom Alan had followed from the house on the night when he was +attacked; certainty that this was the same man came quickly to him. He +seized the fellow again and dragged him up the stairs and to the lounge +in the library. The warmth revived him; he sat up, coughing and +breathing quickly and with a loud, rasping wheeze. The smell of liquor +was strong upon him; his clothes reeked with the unclean smell of +barrel houses. + +He was, or had been, a very powerful man, broad and thick through with +overdeveloped--almost distorting--muscles in his shoulders; but his +body had become fat and soft, his face was puffed, and his eyes watery +and bright; his brown hair, which was shot all through with gray, was +dirty and matted; he had three or four days' growth of beard. He was +clothed as Alan had seen deck hands on the steamers attired; he was not +less than fifty, Alan judged, though his condition made estimate +difficult. When he sat up and looked about, it was plain that whiskey +was only one of the forces working upon him--the other was fever which +burned up and sustained him intermittently. + +"'Lo!" he greeted Alan. "Where's shat damn Injin, hey? I knew Ben +Corvet was shere--knew he was shere all time. 'Course he's shere; he +got to be shere. That's shright. You go get 'im!" + +"Who are you?" Alan asked. + +"Say, who'r _you_? What t'hells syou doin' here? Never see you before +... go--go get Ben Corvet. Jus' say Ben Corvet, Lu--luke's shere. Ben +Corvet'll know Lu--luke all right; alwaysh, alwaysh knows me...." + +"What's the matter with you?" Alan had drawn back but now went to the +man again. The first idea that this might have been merely some old +sailor who had served Benjamin Corvet or, perhaps, had been a comrade +in the earlier days, had been banished by the confident arrogance of +the man's tone--an arrogance not to be explained, entirely, by whiskey +or by the fever. + +"How long have you been this way?" Alan demanded. "Where did you come +from?" He put his hand on the wrist; it was very hot and dry; the +pulse was racing, irregular; at seconds it seemed to stop; for other +seconds it was continuous. The fellow coughed and bent forward. "What +is it--pneumonia?" Alan tried to straighten him up. + +"Gi' me drink! ... Go get Ben Corvet, I tell you! ... Get Ben Corvet +quick! Say--yous shear? You get me Ben Corvet; you better get Ben +Corvet; you tell him Lu--uke's here; won't wait any more; goin' t'have +my money now ... sright away, your shear? Kick me out s'loon; I guess +not no more. Ben Corvet give me all money I want or I talk!" + +"Talk!" + +"Syou know it! I ain't goin'...." He choked up and tottered back; +Alan, supporting him, laid him down and stayed beside him until his +coughing and choking ceased, and there was only the rattling rasp of +his breathing. When Alan spoke to him again, Luke's eyes opened, and +he narrated recent experiences bitterly; all were blamed to Ben +Corvet's absence; Luke, who had been drinking heavily a few nights +before, had been thrown out when the saloon was closed; that was Ben +Corvet's fault; if Ben Corvet had been around, Luke would have had +money, all the money any one wanted; no one would have thrown out Luke +then. Luke slept in the snow, all wet. When he arose, the saloon was +open again, and he got more whiskey, but not enough to get him warm. +He hadn't been warm since. That was Ben Corvet's fault. Ben Corvet +better be 'round now; Luke wouldn't stand any more. + +Alan felt of the pulse again; he opened the coat and under-flannels and +felt the heaving chest. He went to the hall and looked in the +telephone directory. He remembered the name of the druggist on the +corner of Clark Street and he telephoned him, giving the number on +Astor Street. + +"I want a doctor right away," he said. "Any good doctor; the one that +you can get quickest." The druggist promised that a physician would be +there within a quarter of an hour. Alan went back to Luke, who was +silent now except for the gasp of his breath; he did not answer when +Alan spoke to him, except to ask for whiskey. Alan, gazing down at +him, felt that the man was dying; liquor and his fever had sustained +him only to bring him to the door; now the collapse had come; the +doctor, even if he arrived very soon, could do no more than perhaps +delay the end. Alan went up-stairs and brought down blankets and put +them over Luke; he cut the knotted laces of the soaked shoes and pulled +them off; he also took off the mackinaw and the undercoat. The fellow, +appreciating that care was being given him, relaxed; he slept deeply +for short periods, stirred and started up, then slept again. Alan +stood watching, a strange, sinking tremor shaking him. This man had +come there to make a claim--a claim which many times before, +apparently, Benjamin Corvet had admitted. Luke came to Ben Corvet for +money which he always got--all he wanted--the alternative to giving +which was that Luke would "talk." Blackmail, that meant, of course; +blackmail which not only Luke had told of, but which Wassaquam too had +admitted, as Alan now realized. Money for blackmail--that was the +reason for that thousand dollars in cash which Benjamin Corvet always +kept at the house. + +Alan turned, with a sudden shiver of revulsion, toward his father's +chair in place before the hearth; there for hours each day his father +had sat with a book or staring into the fire, always with what this man +knew hanging over him, always arming against it with the thousand +dollars ready for this man, whenever he came. Meeting blackmail, +paying blackmail for as long as Wassaquam had been in the house, for as +long as it took to make the once muscular, powerful figure of the +sailor who threatened to "talk" into the swollen, whiskey-soaked hulk +of the man dying now on the lounge. + +For his state that day, the man blamed Benjamin Corvet. Alan, forcing +himself to touch the swollen face, shuddered at thought of the truth +underlying that accusation. Benjamin Corvet's act--whatever it might +be that this man knew--undoubtedly had destroyed not only him who paid +the blackmail but him who received it; the effect of that act was still +going on, destroying, blighting. Its threat of shame was not only +against Benjamin Corvet; it threatened also all whose names must be +connected with Corvet's. Alan had refused to accept any stigma in his +relationship with Corvet; but now he could not refuse to accept it. +This shame threatened Alan; it threatened also the Sherrills. Was it +not because of this that Benjamin Corvet had objected to Sherrill's +name appearing with his own in the title of the ship-owning firm? And +was it not because of this that Corvet's intimacy with Sherrill and his +comradeship with Constance had been alternated by times in which he had +frankly avoided them both? What Sherrill had told Alan and even +Corvet's gifts to him had not been able to make Alan feel that without +question Corvet was his father, but now shame and horror were making +him feel it; in horror at Corvet's act--whatever it might be--and in +shame at Corvet's cowardice, Alan was thinking of Benjamin Corvet as +his father. This shame, this horror, were his inheritance. + +He left Luke and went to the window to see if the doctor was coming. +He had called the doctor because in his first sight of Luke he had not +recognized that Luke was beyond the aid of doctors and because to +summon a doctor under such circumstances was the right thing to do; but +he had thought of the doctor also as a witness to anything Luke might +say. But now--did he want a witness? He had no thought of concealing +anything for his own sake or for his father's; but he would, at least, +want the chance to determine the circumstances under which it was to be +made public. + +He hurried back to Luke. "What is it, Luke?" he cried to him. "What +can you tell? Listen! Luke--Luke, is it about the _Miwaka_--the +_Miwaka_? Luke!" + +Luke had sunk into a stupor; Alan shook him and shouted in his ear +without awakening response. As Alan straightened and stood hopelessly +looking down at him, the telephone bell rang sharply. Thinking it +might be something about the doctor, he went to it and answered it. +Constance Sherrill's voice came to him; her first words made it clear +that she was at home and had just come in. + +"The servants tell me some one was making a disturbance beside your +house a while ago," she said, "and shouting something about Mr. Corvet. +Is there something wrong there? Have you discovered something?" + +He shook excitedly while, holding his hand over the transmitter lest +Luke should break out again and she should hear it, he wondered what he +should say to her. He could think of nothing, in his excitement, which +would reassure her and merely put her off; he was not capable of +controlling his voice so as to do that. + +"Please don't ask me just now, Miss Sherrill," he managed. "I'll tell +you what I can--later." + +His reply, he recognized, only made her more certain that there was +something the matter, but he could not add anything to it. He found +Luke, when he went back to him, still in coma; the blood-shot veins +stood out against the ghastly grayness of his face, and his stertorous +breathing sounded through the rooms. + + +Constance Sherrill had come in a few moments before from an afternoon +reception; the servants told her at once that something was happening +at Mr. Corvet's. They had heard shouts and had seen a man pounding +upon the door there, but they had not taken it upon themselves to go +over there. She had told the chauffeur to wait with the motor and had +run at once to the telephone and called Alan; his attempt to put her +off made her certain that what had happened was not finished but was +still going on. Her anxiety and the sense of their responsibility for +Alan overrode at once all other thought. She told the servants to call +her father at the office and tell him something was wrong at Mr. +Corvet's; then she called her maid and hurried out to the motor. + +"To Mr. Corvet's--quickly!" she directed. + +Looking through the front doors of her car as it turned into Astor +Street, she saw a young man, carrying a doctor's case, run up the steps +of Corvet's house. This, quite unreasonably since she had just talked +with Alan, added to her alarm; she put her hand on the catch of the +door and opened it a little so as to be ready to leave the car as soon +as it stopped. As the car drew to the curb, she sprang out, and +stopped only long enough to tell the chauffeur to be attentive and to +wait ready to come into the house, if he was called. + +The man with the bag--Constance recognized him as a young doctor who +was starting in practice in the neighborhood--was just being admitted +as she and her maid reached the steps. Alan stood holding the door +open and yet blocking entrance when she came up. The sight of him told +her that it was not physical hurt that happened to him, but his face +showed her there had been basis for her fright. + +"You must not come in!" he denied her; but she followed the doctor so +that Alan could not close the door upon her. He yielded then, and she +and her maid went on into the hall. + +She started as she saw the figure upon the couch in the library, and as +the sound of its heavy breathing reached her; and the wild fancy which +had come to her when the servants had told her of what was going on--a +fancy that Uncle Benny had come back--was banished instantly. + +Alan led her into the room across from the library. + +"You shouldn't have come in," he said. "I shouldn't have let you in; +but--you saw him." + +"Yes." + +"Do you know him?" + +"Know him?" She shook her head. + +"I mean, you've never seen him before?" + +"No." + +"His name is Luke--he speaks of himself by that name. Did you ever +hear my father mention a man named Luke?" + +"No; never." + +Luke's voice cut suddenly their conversation; the doctor probably had +given him some stimulant. + +"Where'sh Ben Corvet?" Luke demanded arrogantly of the doctor. "You go +get Ben Corvet! Tell Ben Corvet I want drink right away. Tell Ben +Corvet I want my thousan' dollar...!" + +Constance turned swiftly to her maid. "Go out to the car and wait for +me," she commanded. + +Luke's muffled, heavy voice went on; moments while he fought for breath +interrupted it. + +"You hear me, you damn Injin! ... You go tell Ben Corvet I want my +thousan' dollars, or I make it two nex' time! You hear me; you go tell +Ben Corvet.... You let me go, you damn Injin!"... + +Through the doorway to the library they could see the doctor force Luke +back upon the couch; Luke fought him furiously; then, suddenly as he +had stirred to strength and fury, Luke collapsed again. His voice went +on a moment more, rapidly growing weaker: + +"You tell Ben Corvet I want my money, or I'll tell. He knows what I'll +tell.... You don't know, you Injin devil.... Ben Corvet knows, and I +know.... Tell him I'll tell ... I'll tell ... I'll tell!" The +threatening voice stopped suddenly. + +Constance, very pale, again faced Alan. "Of course, I understand," she +said. "Uncle Benny has been paying blackmail to this man. For years, +perhaps...." She repeated the word after an instant, in a frightened +voice, "Blackmail!" + +"Won't you please go, Miss Sherrill?" Alan urged her. "It was good of +you to come; but you mustn't stay now. He's--he's dying, of course." + +She seated herself upon a chair. "I'm going to stay with you," she +said simply. It was not, she knew, to share the waiting for the man in +the next room to die; in that, of itself, there could be nothing for +him to feel. It was to be with him while realization which had come to +her was settling upon him too--realization of what this meant to him. +He was realizing that, she thought; he had realized it; it made him, at +moments, forget her while, listening for sounds from the other room, he +paced back and forth beside the table or stood staring away, clinging +to the portieres. He left her presently, and went across the hall to +the doctor. The man on the couch had stirred as though to start up +again; the voice began once more, but now its words were wholly +indistinguishable, meaningless, incoherent. They stopped, and Luke lay +still; the doctor--Alan was helping him now--arranged a quite inert +form upon the couch. The doctor bent over him. + +"Is he dead?" Constance heard Alan ask. + +"Not yet," the doctor answered; "but it won't be long, now." + +"There's nothing you can do for him?" + +The doctor shook his head. + +"There's nothing you can do to make him talk--bring him to himself +enough so that he will tell what he keeps threatening to tell?" + +The doctor shrugged. "How many times, do you suppose, he's been drunk +and still not told? Concealment is his established habit now. It's an +inhibition; even in wandering, he stops short of actually telling +anything." + +"He came here--" Alan told briefly to the doctor the circumstances of +the man's coming. The doctor moved back from the couch to a chair and +sat down. + +"I'll wait, of course," he said, "until it's over." He seemed to want +to say something else, and after a moment he came out with it. "You +needn't be afraid of my talking outside ... professional secrecy, of +course." + +Alan came back to Constance. Outside, the gray of dusk was spreading, +and within the house it had grown dark; Constance heard the doctor turn +on a light, and the shadowy glow of a desk lamp came from the library. +Alan walked to and fro with uneven steps; he did not speak to her, nor +she to him. It was very quiet in the library; she could not even hear +Luke's breathing now. Then she heard the doctor moving; Alan went to +the light and switched it on, as the doctor came out to them. + +"It's over," he said to Alan. "There's a law covers these cases; you +may not be familiar with it. I'll make out the death +certificate--pneumonia and a weak heart with alcoholism. But the +police have to be notified at once; you have no choice as to that. +I'll look after those things for you, if you want." + +"Thank you; if you will." Alan went with the doctor to the door and +saw him drive away. Returning, he drew the library portieres; then, +coming back to Constance, he picked up her muff and collar from the +chair where she had thrown them, and held them out to her. + +"You'll go now, Miss Sherrill," he said. "Indeed, you mustn't stay +here--your car's still waiting, and--you mustn't stay here ... in this +house!" + +He was standing, waiting to open the door for her, almost where he had +halted on that morning, a few weeks ago, when he had first come to the +house in answer to Benjamin Corvet's summons; and she was where she had +stood to receive him. Memory of how he had looked then--eager, +trembling a little with excitement, expecting only to find his father +and happiness--came to her; and as it contrasted with the way she saw +him now, she choked queerly as she tried to speak. He was very white, +but quite controlled; lines not upon his face before had come there. + +"Won't you come over home with me," she said, "and wait for father +there till we can think this thing out together?" + +Her sweetness almost broke him down. "This ... together! Think this +out! Oh, it's plain enough, isn't it? For years--for as long as +Wassaquam has been here, my father has been seeing that man and paying +blackmail to him twice a year, at least! He lived in that man's power. +He kept money in the house for him always! It wasn't anything +imaginary that hung over my father--or anything created in his own +mind. It was something real--real; it was disgrace--disgrace and +worse--something he deserved; and that he fought with blackmail money, +like a coward! Dishonor--cowardice--blackmail!" + +She drew a little nearer to him. "You didn't want me to know," she +said. "You tried to put me off when I called you on the telephone; +and--when I came here, you wanted me to go away before I heard. Why +didn't you want me to know? If he was your father, wasn't he +our--friend? Mine and my father's? You must let us help you." + +As she approached, he had drawn back from her. "No; this is mine!" he +denied her. "Not yours or your father's. You have nothing to do with +this. Didn't he try in little cowardly ways to keep you out of it? +But he couldn't do that; your friendship meant too much to him; he +couldn't keep away from you. But I can--I can do that! You must go +out of this house; you must never come in here again!" + +Her eyes filled, as she watched him; never had she liked him so much as +now, as he moved to open the door for her. + +"I thought," he said almost wistfully, "it seemed to me that, whatever +he had done, it must have been mostly against me. His leaving +everything to me seemed to mean that I was the one that he had wronged, +and that he was trying to make it up to me. But it isn't that; it +can't be that! It is something much worse than that! ... Oh, I'm glad +I haven't used much of his money! Hardly any--not more than I can give +back! It wasn't the money and the house he left me that mattered; what +he really left me was just this ... dishonor, shame..." + +The doorbell rang, and Alan turned to the door and threw it open. In +the dusk the figure of the man outside was not at all recognizable; but +as he entered with heavy and deliberate steps, passing Alan without +greeting and going straight to Constance, Alan saw by the light in the +hall that it was Spearman. + +"What's up?" Spearman asked. "They tried to get your father at the +office and then me, but neither of us was there. They got me +afterwards at the club. They said you'd come over here; but that must +have been more than two hours ago." + +His gaze went on past her to the drawn hangings of the room to the +right; and he seemed to appreciate their significance; for his face +whitened under its tan, and an odd hush came suddenly upon him. + +"Is it Ben, Connie?" he whispered. "Ben ... come back?" + +He drew the curtains partly open. The light in the library had been +extinguished, and the light that came from the hall swayed about the +room with the movement of the curtains and gave a momentary semblance +of life to the face of the man upon the couch. Spearman drew the +curtains quickly together again, still holding to them and seeming for +an instant to cling to them; then he shook himself together, threw the +curtains wide apart, and strode into the room. He switched on the +light and went directly to the couch; Alan followed him. + +"He's--dead?" + +"Who is he?" Alan demanded. + +Spearman seemed to satisfy himself first as to the answer to his +question. "How should I know who he is?" he asked. "There used to be +a wheelsman on the _Martha Corvet_ years ago who looked like him; or +looked like what this fellow may have looked like once. I can't be +sure." + +He turned to Constance. "You're going home, Connie? I'll see you over +there. I'll come back about this afterward, Conrad." + +Alan followed them to the door and closed it after them. He spread the +blankets over Luke. Luke's coats, which Alan had removed, lay upon a +chair, and he looked them over for marks of identification; the +mackinaw bore the label of a dealer in Manitowoc--wherever that might +be; Alan did not know. A side pocket produced an old briar: there was +nothing else. Then Alan walked restlessly about, awaiting Spearman. +Spearman, he believed, knew this man; Spearman had not even ventured +upon modified denial until he was certain that the man was dead; and +then he had answered so as not to commit himself, pending learning from +Constance what Luke had told. + +But Luke had said nothing about Spearman. It had been Corvet, and +Corvet alone, of whom Luke had spoken; it was Corvet whom he had +accused; it was Corvet who had given him money. Was it conceivable, +then, that there had been two such events in Corvet's life? That one +of these events concerned the _Miwaka_ and Spearman and some one--some +one "with a bullet hole above his eye"--who had "got" Corvet; and that +the other event had concerned Luke and something else? It was not +conceivable, Alan was sure; it was all one thing. If Corvet had had to +do with the _Miwaka_, then Luke had had to do with it too. And +Spearman? But if Spearman had been involved in that guilty thing, had +not Luke known it? Then why had not Luke mentioned Spearman? Or had +Spearman not been really involved? Had it been, perhaps, only evidence +of knowledge of what Corvet had done that Spearman had tried to +discover and destroy? + +Alan went to the door and opened it, as he heard Spearman upon the +steps again. Spearman waited only until the door had been reclosed +behind him. + +"Well, Conrad, what was the idea of bringing Miss Sherrill into this?" + +"I didn't bring her in; I tried the best I could to keep her out." + +"Out of what--exactly?" + +"You know better than I do. You know exactly what it is. You know +that man, Spearman; you know what he came here for. I don't mean +money; I mean you know why he came here for money, and why he got it. +I tried, as well as I could, to make him tell me; but he wouldn't do +it. There's disgrace of some sort here, of course--disgrace that +involves my father and, I think, you too. If you're not guilty with my +father, you'll help me now; if you are guilty, then, at least, your +refusal to help will let me know that." + +"I don't know what you're talking about." + +"Then why did you come back here? You came back here to protect +yourself in some way." + +"I came back, you young fool, to say something to you which I didn't +want Miss Sherrill to hear. I didn't know, when I took her away, how +completely you'd taken her into--your father's affairs. I told you +this man may have been a wheelsman on the Corvet; I don't know more +about him than that; I don't even know that certainly. Of course, I +knew Ben Corvet was paying blackmail; I've known for years that he was +giving up money to some one. I don't know who he paid it to; or for +what." + +The strain of the last few hours was telling upon Alan; his skin +flushed hot and cold by turns. He paced up and down while he +controlled himself. + +"That's not enough, Spearman," he said finally. "I--I've felt you, +somehow, underneath all these things. The first time I saw you, you +were in this house doing something you ought not to have been doing; +you fought me then; you would have killed me rather than not get away. +Two weeks ago, some one attacked me on the street--for robbery, they +said; but I know it wasn't robbery--" + +"You're not so crazy as to be trying to involve me in that--" + +There came a sound to them from the hall, a sound unmistakably denoting +some presence. Spearman jerked suddenly up; Alan, going to the door +and looking into the hall, saw Wassaquam. The Indian evidently had +returned to the house some time before; he had been bringing to Alan +now the accounts which he had settled. He seemed to have been standing +in the hall for some time, listening; but he came in now, looking +inquiringly from one to the other of them. + +"Not friends?" he inquired. "You and Henry?" + +Alan's passion broke out suddenly. "We're anything but that, Judah. I +found him, the first night I got here and while you were away, going +through my father's things. I fought with him, and he ran away. He +was the one that broke into my father's desks; maybe you'll believe +that, even if no one else will." + +"Yes?" the Indian questioned. "Yes?" It was plain that he not only +believed but that believing gave him immense satisfaction. He took +Alan's arm and led him into the smaller library. He knelt before one +of the drawers under the bookshelves--the drawer, Alan recalled, which +he himself had been examining when he had found Wassaquam watching him. +He drew out the drawer and dumped its contents out upon the floor; he +turned the drawer about then, and pulled the bottom out of it. Beneath +the bottom which he had removed appeared now another bottom and a few +sheets of paper scrawled in an uneven hand and with different colored +inks. + +At sight of them, Spearman, who had followed them into the room, +uttered an oath and sprang forward. The Indian's small dark hand +grasped Spearman's wrist, and his face twitched itself into a fierce +grin which showed how little civilization had modified in him the +aboriginal passions. But Spearman did not try to force his way; +instead, he drew back suddenly. + +Alan stooped and picked up the papers and put them in his pocket. If +the Indian had not been there, it would not have been so easy for him +to do that, he thought. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE LAND OF THE DRUM + +Alan went with Wassaquam into the front library, after the Indian had +shown Spearman out. + +"This was the man, Judah, who came for Mr. Corvet that night I was +hurt?" + +"Yes, Alan," Wassaquam said. + +"He was the man, then, who came here twice a year, at least, to see Mr. +Corvet." + +"Yes." + +"I was sure of it," Alan said. Wassaquam had made no demonstration of +any sort since he had snatched at Spearman's wrist to hold him back +when Alan had bent to the drawer. Alan could define no real change now +in the Indian's manner; but he knew that, since Wassaquam had found him +quarreling with Spearman, the Indian somehow had "placed" him more +satisfactorily. The reserve, bordering upon distrust, with which +Wassaquam had observed Alan, certainly was lessened. It was in +recognition of this that Alan now asked, "Can you tell me now why he +came here, Judah?" + +"I have told you I do not know," Wassaquam replied. "Ben always saw +him; Ben gave him money. I do not know why." + +Alan had been holding his hand over the papers which he had thrust into +his pocket; he went back into the smaller library and spread them under +the reading lamp to examine them. Sherrill had assumed that Corvet had +left in the house a record which would fully explain what had thwarted +his life, and would shed light upon what had happened to Corvet, and +why he had disappeared; Alan had accepted this assumption. The careful +and secret manner in which these pages had been kept, and the +importance which Wassaquam plainly had attached to them--and which must +have been a result of his knowing that Corvet regarded them of the +utmost importance--made Alan certain that he had found the record which +Sherrill had believed must be there. Spearman's manner, at the moment +of discovery, showed too that this had been what he had been searching +for in his secret visit to the house. + +But, as Alan looked the pages over now, he felt a chill of +disappointment and chagrin. They did not contain any narrative +concerning Benjamin Corvet's life; they did not even relate to a single +event. They were no narrative at all. They were--in his first +examination of them, he could not tell what they were. + +They consisted in all of some dozen sheets of irregular size, some of +which had been kept much longer than others, a few of which even +appeared fresh and new. The three pages which Alan thought, from their +yellowed and worn look, must be the oldest, and which must have been +kept for many years, contained only a list of names and addresses. +Having assured himself that there was nothing else on them, he laid +them aside. The remaining pages, which he counted as ten in number, +contained nearly a hundred brief clippings from newspapers; the +clippings had been very carefully cut out, they had been pasted with +painful regularity on the sheets, and each had been dated across its +face--dates made with many different pens and with many different inks, +but all in the same irregular handwriting as the letter which Alan had +received from Benjamin Corvet. + +Alan, his fingers numb in his disappointment, turned and examined all +these pages; but they contained nothing else. He read one of the +clippings, which was dated "Feb. 1912." + + +The passing away of one of the oldest residents of Emmet county +occurred at the poor farm on Thursday of last week. Mr. Fred Westhouse +was one of four brothers brought by their parents into Emmet county in +1846. He established himself here as a farmer and was well known among +our people for many years. He was nearly the last of his family, which +was quite well off at one time, Mr. Westhouse's three brothers and his +father having perished in various disasters upon the lake. His wife +died two years ago. He is survived by a daughter, Mrs. Arthur Pearl, +of Flint. + + +He read another: + + +Hallford-Spens. On Tuesday last Miss Audrey Hallford, daughter of Mr. +and Mrs. Bert Hallford, of this place, was united in the bonds of holy +matrimony to Mr. Robert Spens, of Escanaba. Miss Audrey is one of our +most popular young ladies and was valedictorian of her class at the +high school graduation last year. All wish the young couple well. + + +He read another: + + +Born to Mr. and Mrs. Hal French, a daughter, Saturday afternoon last. +Miss Vera Arabella French, at her arrival weighed seven and one-half +pounds. + + +This clipping was dated, in Benjamin Corvet's hand, "Sturgeon Bay, +Wis., Aug. 1914." Alan put it aside in bewilderment and amaze and took +up again the sheets he first had looked at. The names and addresses on +these oldest, yellowed pages had been first written, it was plain, all +at the same time and with the same pen and ink, and each sheet in the +beginning had contained seven or eight names. Some of these original +names and even the addresses had been left unchanged, but most of them +had been scratched out and altered many times--other and quite +different names had been substituted; the pages had become finally +almost illegible, crowded scrawls, rewritten again and again in +Corvet's cramped hand. Alan strained forward, holding the first sheet +to the light. + +[Illustration: list of names and addresses] + +Alan seized the clippings he had looked at before and compared them +swiftly with the page he had just read; two of the names--Westhouse and +French--were the same as those upon this list. Suddenly he grasped the +other pages of the list and looked them through for his own name; but +it was not there. He dropped the sheets upon the table and got up and +began to stride about the room. + +He felt that in this list and in these clippings there must be, +somehow, some one general meaning--they must relate in some way to one +thing; they must have deeply, intensely concerned Benjamin Corvet's +disappearance and his present fate, whatever that might be, and they +must concern Alan's fate as well. But in their disconnection, their +incoherence, he could discern no common thread. What conceivable bond +could there have been uniting Benjamin Corvet at once with an old man +dying upon a poor farm in Emmet County, wherever that might be, and +with a baby girl, now some two years old, in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin? +He bent suddenly and swept the pages into the drawer of the table and +reclosed the drawer, as he heard the doorbell ring and Wassaquam went +to answer it. It was the police, Wassaquam came to tell him, who had +come for Luke's body. + +Alan went out into the hall to meet them. The coroner's man either had +come with them or had arrived at the same time; he introduced himself +to Alan, and his inquiries made plain that the young doctor whom Alan +had called for Luke had fully carried out his offer to look after these +things, for the coroner was already supplied with an account of what +had taken place. A sailor formerly employed on the Corvet ships, the +coroner's office had been told, had come to the Corvet house, ill and +seeking aid; Mr. Corvet not being at home, the people of the house had +taken the man in and called the doctor; but the man had been already +beyond doctors' help and had died in a few hours of pneumonia and +alcoholism; in Mr. Corvet's absence it had been impossible to learn the +sailor's full name. + +Alan left corroboration of this story mostly to Wassaquam, the +servant's position in the house being more easily explicable than his +own; but he found that his right there was not questioned, and that the +police accepted him as a member of the household. He suspected that +they did not think it necessary to push inquiry very actively in such a +home as this. + +After the police had gone, he called Wassaquam into the library and +brought the lists and clippings out again. + +"Do you know at all what these are, Judah?" he asked. + +"No, Alan. I have seen Ben have them, and take them out and put them +back. That is all I know." + +"My father never spoke to you about them?" + +"Once he spoke to me; he said I was not to tell or speak of them to any +one, or even to him." + +"Do you know any of these people?" + +He gave the lists to Wassaquam, who studied them through attentively, +holding them to the lamp. + +"No, Alan." + +"Have you ever heard any of their names before?" + +"That may be. I do not know. They are common names." + +"Do you know the places?" + +"Yes--the places. They are lake ports or little villages on the lakes. +I have been in most of them, Alan. Emmet County, Alan, I came from +there. Henry comes from there too." + +"Henry Spearman?" + +"Yes." + +"Then that is where they hear the Drum." + +"Yes, Alan." + +"My father took newspapers from those places, did he not?" + +Wassaquam looked over the addresses again. "Yes; from all. He took +them for the shipping news, he said. And sometimes he cut pieces out +of them--these pieces, I see now; and afterward I burned the papers; he +would not let me only throw them away." + +"That's all you know about them, Judah?" + +"Yes, Alan; that is all." + +Alan dismissed the Indian, who, stolidly methodical in the midst of +these events, went down-stairs and commenced to prepare a dinner which +Alan knew he could not eat. Alan got up and moved about the rooms; he +went back and looked over the lists and clippings once more; then he +moved about again. How strange a picture of his father did these +things call up to him! When he had thought of Benjamin Corvet before, +it had been as Sherrill had described him, pursued by some thought he +could not conquer, seeking relief in study, in correspondence with +scientific societies, in anything which could engross him and shut out +memory. But now he must think of him, not merely as one trying to +forget; what had thwarted Corvet's life was not only in the past; it +was something still going on. It had amazed Sherrill to learn that +Corvet, for twenty years, had kept trace of Alan; but Corvet had kept +trace in the same way and with the same secrecy of many other +people--of about a score of people. When Alan thought of Corvet, alone +here in his silent house, he must think of him as solicitous about +these people; as seeking for their names in the newspapers which he +took for that purpose, and as recording the changes in their lives. +The deaths, the births, the marriages among these people had been of +the intensest interest to Corvet. + +It was possible that none of these people knew about Corvet; Alan had +not known about him in Kansas, but had known only that some unknown +person had sent money for his support. But he appreciated that it did +not matter whether they knew about him or not; for at some point common +to all of them, the lives of these people must have touched Corvet's +life. When Alan knew what had been that point of contact, he would +know about Corvet; he would know about himself. + +Alan had seen among Corvet's books a set of charts of the Great Lakes. +He went and got that now and an atlas. Opening them upon the table, he +looked up the addresses given on Corvet's list. They were most of +them, he found, towns about the northern end of the lake; a very few +were upon other lakes--Superior and Huron--but most were upon or very +close to Lake Michigan. These people lived by means of the lake; they +got their sustenance from it, as Corvet had lived, and as Corvet had +got his wealth. Alan was feeling like one who, bound, has been +suddenly unloosed. From the time when, coming to see Corvet, he had +found Corvet gone until now, he had felt the impossibility of +explaining from anything he knew or seemed likely to learn the mystery +which had surrounded himself and which had surrounded Corvet. But +these names and addresses! They indeed offered something to go upon, +though Luke now was forever still, and his pockets had told Alan +nothing. + +He found Emmet County on the map and put his finger on it. Spearman, +Wassaquam had said came from there. "The Land of the Drum!" he said +aloud. Deep and sudden feeling stirred in him as he traced out this +land on the chart--the little towns and villages, the islands and +headlands, their lights and their uneven shores. A feeling of "home" +had come to him, a feeling he had not had on coming to Chicago. There +were Indian names and French up there about the meetings of the great +waters. Beaver Island! He thought of Michabou and the raft. The +sense that he was of these lakes, that surge of feeling which he had +felt first in conversation with Constance Sherrill was strengthened an +hundredfold; he found himself humming a tune. He did not know where he +had heard it; indeed, it was not the sort of tune which one knows from +having heard; it was the sort which one just knows. A rhyme fitted +itself to the hum, + + "Seagull, seagull sit on the sand, + It's never fair weather when you're on the land." + + +He gazed down at the lists of names which Benjamin Corvet had kept so +carefully and so secretly; these were his father's people too; these +ragged shores and the islands studding the channels were the lands +where his father had spent the most active part of his life. There, +then--these lists now made it certain--that event had happened by which +that life had been blighted. Chicago and this house here had been for +his father only the abode of memory and retribution. North, there by +the meeting of the waters, was the region of the wrong which was done. + +"That's where I must go!" he said aloud. "That's where I must go!" + + +Constance Sherrill, on the following afternoon, received a telephone +call from her father; he was coming home earlier than usual, he said; +if she had planned to go out, would she wait until after he got there? +She had, indeed, just come in and had been intending to go out again at +once; but she took off her wraps and waited for him. The afternoon's +mail was upon a stand in the hall. She turned it over, looking through +it--invitations, social notes. She picked from among them an envelope +addressed to herself in a firm, clear hand, which, unfamiliar to her, +still queerly startled her, and tore it open. + + +Dear Miss Sherrill, she read, + +I am closing for the time being, the house which, for default of other +ownership, I must call mine. The possibility that what has occurred +here would cause you and your father anxiety about me in case I went +away without telling you of my intention is the reason for this note. +But it is not the only reason. I could not go away without telling you +how deeply I appreciate the generosity and delicacy you and your father +have shown to me in spite of my position here and of the fact that I +had no claim at all upon you. I shall not forget those even though +what happened here last night makes it impossible for me to try to see +you again or even to write to you. + +ALAN CONRAD. + + +She heard her father's motor enter the drive and ran to him with the +letter in her hand. + +"He's written to you then," he said, at sight of it. + +"Yes." + +"I had a note from him this afternoon at the office, asking me to hold +in abeyance for the time being the trust that Ben had left me and +returning the key of the house to me for safekeeping." + +"Has he already gone?" + +"I suppose so; I don't know." + +"We must find out." She caught up her wraps and began to put them on. +Sherrill hesitated, then assented; and they went round the block +together to the Corvet house. The shades, Constance saw as they +approached, were drawn; their rings at the doorbell brought no +response. Sherrill, after a few instants' hesitation, took the key +from his pocket and unlocked the door and they went in. The rooms, she +saw, were all in perfect order; summer covers had been put upon the +furniture; protecting cloths had been spread over the beds up-stairs. +Her father tried the water and the gas, and found they had been turned +off. After their inspection, they came out again at the front door, +and her father closed it with a snapping of the spring lock. + +Constance, as they walked away, turned and looked back at the old +house, gloomy and dark among its newer, fresher-looking neighbors; and +suddenly she choked, and her eyes grew wet. That feeling was not for +Uncle Benny; the drain of days past had exhausted such a surge of +feeling for him. That which she could not wink away was for the boy +who had come to that house a few weeks ago and for the man who just now +had gone. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE THINGS FROM CORVET'S POCKETS + +"Miss Constance Sherrill, + Harbor Springs, Michigan." + +The address, in large scrawling letters, was written across the brown +paper of the package which had been brought from the post office in the +little resort village only a few moments before. The paper covered a +shoe box, crushed and old, bearing the name of S. Klug, Dealer in Fine +Shoes, Manitowoc, Wisconsin. The box, like the outside wrapping, was +carefully tied with string. + +Constance, knowing no one in Manitowoc and surprised at the nature of +the package, glanced at the postmark on the brown paper which she had +removed; it too was stamped Manitowoc. She cut the strings about the +box and took off the cover. A black and brown dotted silk cloth filled +the box; and, seeing it, Constance caught her breath. It was--at least +it was very like--the muffler which Uncle Benny used to wear in winter. +Remembering him most vividly as she had seen him last, that stormy +afternoon when he had wandered beside the lake, carrying his coat until +she made him put it on, she recalled this silk cloth, or one just like +it, in his coat pocket; she had taken it from his pocket and put it +around his neck. + +She started with trembling fingers to take it from the box; then, +realizing from the weight of the package that the cloth was only a +wrapping or, at least, that other things were in the box, she hesitated +and looked around for her mother. But her mother had gone out; her +father and Henry both were in Chicago; she was alone in the big summer +"cottage," except for servants. Constance picked up box and wrapping +and ran up to her room. She locked the door and put the box upon the +bed; now she lifted out the cloth. It was a wrapping, for the heavier +things came with it; and now, also, it revealed itself plainly as the +scarf--Uncle Benny's scarf! A paper fluttered out as she began to +unroll it--a little cross-lined leaf evidently torn from a pocket +memorandum book. It had been folded and rolled up. She spread it out; +writing was upon it, the small irregular letters of Uncle Benny's hand. + +"Send to Alan Conrad," she read; there followed a Chicago address--the +number of Uncle Benny's house on Astor Street. Below this was another +line: + +"Better care of Constance Sherrill (Miss)." There followed the +Sherrills' address upon the Drive. And to this was another correction: + +"Not after June 12th; then to Harbor Springs, Mich. Ask some one of +that; be sure the date; after June 12th." + +Constance, trembling, unrolled the scarf; now coins showed from a fold, +next a pocket knife, ruined and rusty, next a watch--a man's large gold +watch with the case queerly pitted and worn completely through in +places, and last a plain little band of gold of the size for a woman's +finger--a wedding ring. Constance, gasping and with fingers shaking so +from excitement that she could scarcely hold these objects, picked them +up and examined them--the ring first. + +It very evidently was, as she had immediately thought, a wedding ring +once fitted for a finger only a trifle less slender than her own. One +side of the gold band was very much worn, not with the sort of wear +which a ring gets on a hand, but by some different sort of abrasion. +The other side of the band was roughened and pitted but not so much +worn; the inside still bore the traces of an inscription. "As long as +we bo ... all live," Constance could read, and the date "June 2, 1891." + +It was in January, 1896, Constance remembered, that Alan Conrad had +been brought to the people in Kansas; he then was "about three years +old." If this wedding ring was his mother's, the date would be about +right; it was a date probably something more than a year before Alan +was born. Constance put down the ring and picked up the watch. +Wherever it had lain, it had been less protected than the ring; the +covers of the case had been almost eroded away, and whatever initialing +or other marks there might have been upon the outside were gone. But +it was like Uncle Benny's watch--or like one of his watches. He had +several, she knew, presented to him at various times--watches almost +always were the testimonials given to seamen for acts of sacrifice and +bravery. She remembered finding some of those testimonials in a drawer +at his house once where she was rummaging, when she was a child. One +of them had been a watch just like this, large and heavy. The spring +which operated the cover would not work, but Constance forced the cover +open. + +There, inside the cover as she had thought it would be, was engraved +writing. Sand had seeped into the case; the inscription was +obliterated in part. + +"For his courage and skill in seam ... master of ... which he brought +to the rescue of the passengers and crew of the steamer _Winnebago_ +foundering ... Point, Lake Erie, November 26th, 1890, this watch is +donated by the Buffalo Merchants' Exchange." + +Uncle Benny's name, evidently, had been engraved upon the outside. +Constance could not particularly remember the rescue of the people of +the _Winnebago_; 1890 was years before she was born, and Uncle Benny +did not tell her that sort of thing about himself. + +The watch, she saw now, must have lain in water, for the hands under +the crystal were rusted away and the face was all streaked and cracked. +She opened the back of the watch and exposed the works; they too were +rusted and filled with sand. Constance left the watch open and, +shivering a little, she gently laid it down upon her bed. The pocket +knife had no distinguishing mark of any sort; it was just a man's +ordinary knife with the steel turned to rust and with sand in it too. +The coins were abraded and pitted discs--a silver dollar, a half dollar +and three quarters, not so much abraded, three nickels, and two pennies. + +Constance choked, and her eyes filled with tears. These +things--plainly they were the things found in Uncle Benny's +pockets--corroborated only too fully what Wassaquam believed and what +her father had been coming to believe.--that Uncle Benny was dead. The +muffler and the scrap of paper had not been in water or in sand. The +paper was written in pencil; it had not even been moistened or it would +have blurred. There was nothing upon it to tell how long ago it had +been written; but it had been written certainly before June twelfth. +"After June 12th," it said. + +That day was August the eighteenth. + +It was seven months since Uncle Benny had gone away. After his strange +interview with her that day and his going home, had Uncle Benny gone +out directly to his death? There was nothing to show that he had not; +the watch and coins must have lain for many weeks, for months, in water +and in sand to become eroded in this way. But, aside from this, there +was nothing that could be inferred regarding the time or place of Uncle +Benny's death. That the package had been mailed from Manitowoc meant +nothing definite. Some one--Constance could not know whom--had had the +muffler and the scrawled leaf of directions; later, after lying in +water and in sand, the things which were to be "sent" had come to that +some one's hand. Most probably this some one had been one who was +going about on ships; when his ship had touched at Manitowoc, he had +executed his charge. + +Constance left the articles upon the bed and threw the window more +widely open. She trembled and felt stirred and faint, as she leaned +against the window, breathing deeply the warm air, full of life and +with the scent of the evergreen trees about the house. + +The "cottage" of some twenty rooms stood among the pines and hemlocks +interspersed with hardwood on "the Point," where were the great fine +summer homes of the wealthier "resorters." White, narrow roads, just +wide enough for two automobiles to pass abreast, wound like a labyrinth +among the tree trunks; and the sound of the wind among the pine needles +was mingled with the soft lapping of water. To south and east from her +stretched Little Traverse--one of the most beautiful bits of water of +the lakes; across from her, beyond the wrinkling water of the bay, the +larger town--Petoskey--with its hilly streets pitching down steeply to +the water's edge and the docks, and with its great resort hotels, was +plainly visible. To westward, from the white life-saving station and +the lighthouse, the point ran out in shingle, bone white, outcropping +above the water; then for miles away the shallow water was treacherous +green and white to where at the north, around the bend of the shore, it +deepened and grew blue again, and a single white tower--Ile-aux-Galets +Light--kept watch above it. + +This was Uncle Benny's country. Here, twenty-five years before, he had +first met Henry, whose birthplace--a farm, deserted now--was only a few +miles back among the hills. Here, before that, Uncle Benny had been a +young man, active, vigorous, ambitious. He had loved this country for +itself and for its traditions, its Indian legends and fantastic +stories. Half her own love for it--and, since her childhood, it had +been to her a region of delight--was due to him and to the things he +had told her about it. Distinct and definite memories of that +companionship came to her. This little bay, which had become now for +the most part only a summer playground for such as she, had been once a +place where he and other men had struggled to grow rich swiftly; he had +outlined for her the ruined lumber docks and pointed out to her the +locations of the dismantled sawmills. It was he who had told her the +names of the freighters passing far out, and the names of the +lighthouses, and something about each. He had told her too about the +Indians. She remembered one starry night when he had pointed out to +her in the sky the Indian "Way of Ghosts," the Milky Way, along which, +by ancient Indian belief, the souls of Indians traveled up to heaven; +and how, later, lying on the recessed seat beside the fireplace where +she could touch the dogs upon the hearth, he had pointed out to her +through the window the Indian "Way of Dogs" among the constellations, +by which the dogs too could make that journey. It was he who had told +her about Michabou and the animals; and he had been the first to tell +her of the Drum. + +The disgrace, unhappiness, the threat of something worse, which must +have made death a relief to Uncle Benny, she had seen passed on now to +Alan. What more had come to Alan since she had last heard of him? +Some terrible substance to his fancies which would assail him again as +she had seen him assailed after Luke had come? Might another attack +have been made upon him similar to that which he had met in Chicago? + +Word had reached her father through shipping circles in May and again +in July which told of inquiries regarding Uncle Benny which made her +and her father believe that Alan was searching for his father upon the +lakes. Now these articles which had arrived made plain to her that he +would never find Uncle Benny; he would learn, through others or through +themselves, that Uncle Benny was dead. Would he believe then that +there was no longer any chance of learning what his father had done? +Would he remain away because of that, not letting her see or hear from +him again? + +She went back and picked up the wedding ring. + +The thought which had come to her that this was Alan's mother's wedding +ring, had fastened itself upon her with a sense of certainty. It +defended that unknown mother; it freed her, at least, from the stigma +which Constance's own mother had been so ready to cast. Constance +could not yet begin to place Uncle Benny in relation to that ring; but +she was beginning to be able to think of Alan and his mother. She held +the little band of gold very tenderly in her hand; she was glad that, +as the accusation against his mother had come through her people, she +could tell him soon of this. She could not send the ring to him, not +knowing where he was; that was too much risk. But she could ask him to +come to her; this gave that right. + +She sat thoughtful for several minutes, the ring clasped warmly in her +hand; then she went to her desk and wrote: + + +Mr. John Welton, + Blue Rapids, Kansas. + +Dear Mr. Welton: + +It is possible that Alan Conrad has mentioned me--or at least told you +of my father--in connection with his stay in Chicago. After Alan left +Chicago, my father wrote, twice to his Blue Rapids address, but +evidently he had instructed the postmaster there to forward his mail +and had not made any change in those instructions, for the letters were +returned to Alan's address and in that way came back to us. We did not +like to press inquiries further than that, as of course he could have +communicated with us if he had not felt that there was some reason for +not doing so. Now, however, something of such supreme importance to +him has come to us that it is necessary for us to get word to him at +once. If you can tell me any address at which he can be reached by +telegraph or mail--or where a messenger can find him--it will oblige us +very much and will be to his interest. + + +She hesitated, about to sign it; then, impulsively, she added: + + +I trust you know that we have Alan's interest at heart and that you can +safely tell us anything you may know as to where he is or what he may +be doing. We all liked him here so very much.... + + +She signed her name. There were still two other letters to write. +Only the handwriting of the address upon the package, the Manitowoc +postmark and the shoe box furnished clue to the sender of the ring and +the watch and the other things. Constance herself could not trace +those clues, but Henry or her father could. She wrote to both of them, +therefore, describing the articles which had come and relating what she +had done. Then she rang for a servant and sent the letters to the +post. They were in time to catch the "dummy" train around the bay and, +at Petoskey, would get into the afternoon mail. The two for Chicago +would be delivered early the next morning, so she could expect replies +from Henry and her father on the second day; the letter to Kansas, of +course, would take much longer than that. + +But the next noon she received a wire from Henry that he was "coming +up." It did not surprise her, as she had expected him the end of the +week. + +Late that evening, she sat with her mother on the wide, screened +veranda. The breeze among the pines had died away; the lake was calm. +A half moon hung midway in the sky, making plain the hills about the +bay and casting a broadening way of silver on the mirror surface of the +water. The lights of some boat turning in between the points and +moving swiftly caught her attention. As it entered the path of the +moonlight, its look was so like that of Henry's power yacht that she +arose. She had not expected him until morning; but now the boat was so +near that she could no longer doubt that it was his. He must have +started within an hour of the receipt of her letter and had been +forcing his engines to their fastest all the way up. + +He had done that partly, perhaps, for the sheer sport of speed; but +partly also for the sake of being sooner with her. It was his way, as +soon as he had decided to leave business again and go to her, to arrive +as soon as possible; that had been his way recently, particularly. So +the sight of the yacht stirred her warmly and she watched while it ran +in close, stopped and instantly dropped a dingey from the davits. She +saw Henry in the stern of the little boat; it disappeared in the shadow +of a pier ... she heard, presently, the gravel of the walk crunch under +his quick steps, and then she saw him in the moonlight among the trees. +The impetuousness, almost the violence of his hurry to reach her, sent +its thrill through her. She went down on the path to meet him. + +"How quickly you came!" + +"You let yourself think you needed me, Connie!" + +"I did..." + +He had caught her hand in his and he held it while he brought her to +the porch and exchanged greetings with her mother. Then he led her on +past and into the house. + +When she saw his face, in the light, there were signs of strain in it; +she could feel strain now in his fingers which held hers strongly but +tensely too. + +"You're tired, Henry!" + +He shook his head. "It's been rotten hot in Chicago; then I guess I +was mentally stoking all the way up here, Connie. When I got started, +I wanted to see you to-night ... but first, where are the things you +wanted me to see?" + +She ran up-stairs and brought them down to him. Her hands were shaking +now as she gave them to him; she could not exactly understand why; but +her tremor increased as she saw his big hands fumbling as he unwrapped +the muffler and shook out the things it enclosed. He took them up one +by one and looked at them, as she had done. His fingers were steady +now but only by mastering of control, the effort for which amazed her. + +He had the watch in his hands. + +"The inscription is inside the front," she said. + +She pried the cover open again and read, with him, the words engraved +within. + +"'As master of...' What ship was he master of then, Henry, and how did +he rescue the _Winnebago's_ people?" + +"He never talked to me about things like that, Connie. This is all?" + +"Yes." + +"And nothing since to show who sent them?" + +"No." + +"Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman will send some one to Manitowoc to make +inquiries." Henry put the things back in the box. "But of course, +this is the end of Benjamin Corvet." + +"Of course," Constance said. She was shaking again and, without +willing it, she withdrew a little from Henry. He caught her hand again +and drew her back toward him. His hand was quite steady. + +"You know why I came to you as quick as I could? You know why I--why +my mind was behind every thrust of the engines?" + +"No." + +"You don't? Oh, you know; you must know now!" + +"Yes, Henry," she said. + +"I've been patient, Connie. Till I got your letter telling me this +about Ben, I'd waited for your sake--for our sakes--though it seemed at +times it was impossible. You haven't known quite what's been the +matter between us these last months, little girl; but I've known. +We've been engaged; but that's about all there's been to it. Don't +think I make little of that; you know what I mean. You've been mine; +but--but you haven't let me realize it, you see. And I've been +patient, for I knew the reason. It was Ben poisoning your mind against +me." + +"No! No, Henry!" + +"You've denied it; I've recognized that you've denied it, not only to +me and to your people but to yourself. I, of course, knew, as I know +that I am here with your hand in mine, and as we will stand before the +altar together, that he had no cause to speak against me. I've waited, +Connie, to give him a chance to say to you what he had to say; I wanted +you to hear it before making you wholly mine. But now there's no need +to wait any longer, you and I. Ben's gone, never to come back. I was +sure of that by what you wrote me, so this time when I started to you I +brought with me--this." + +He felt in his pocket and brought out a ring of plain gold; he held it +before her so that she could see within it her own initials and his and +a blank left for the date. Her gaze went from it for an instant to the +box where he had put back the other ring--Alan's mother's. Feeling for +her long ago gazing thus, as she must have, at that ring, held her for +a moment. Was it because of that that Constance found herself cold now? + +"You mean you want me to marry you--at once, Henry?" + +He drew her to him powerfully; she felt him warm, almost rough with +passions. Since that day when, in Alan Conrad's presence, he had +grasped and kissed her, she had not let him "realize" their engagement, +as he had put it. + +"Why not?" he turned her face up to his now. "Your mother's here; your +father will follow soon; or, if you will, we'll run away--Constance! +You've kept me off so long! You don't believe there's anything against +me, dear? Do you? Do you? + +"No; no! Of course not!" + +"Then we're going to be married.... We're going to be married, aren't +we? Aren't we, Constance?" + +"Yes; yes, of course." + +"Right away, we'll have it then; up here; now!" + +"No; not now, Henry. Not up here!" + +"Not here? Why not?" + +She could give no answer. He held her and commanded her again; only +when he frightened her, he ceased. + +"Why _must_ it be at once, Henry? I don't understand!" + +"It's not must, dear," he denied. "It's just that I want you so!" + +When would it be, he demanded then; before spring, she promised at +last. But that was all he could make her say. And so he let her go. + +The next evening, in the moonlight, she drove him to Petoskey. He had +messages to send and preferred to trust the telegraph office in the +larger town. Returning they swung out along the country roads. The +night was cool here on the hills, under the stars; the fan-shaped glare +from their headlights, blurring the radiance of the moon, sent dancing +before them swiftly-changing, distorted shadows of the dusty bushes +beside the road. Topping a rise, they came suddenly upon his +birthplace. She had not designed coming to that place, but she had +taken a turn at his direction, and now he asked her to stop the car. +He got out and paced about, calling to her and pointing out the +desirableness of the spot as the site for their country home. She sat +in the motor, watching him and calling back to him. + +The house was small, log built, the chinks between the logs stopped +with clay. Across the road from it, the silver bark of the birch trees +gleamed white among the black-barked timber. Smells of rank vegetation +came to her from these woods and from the weed-grown fields about and +beyond the house. There had been a small garden beside the house once; +now neglected strawberry vines ran riot among the weed stems, and a +clump of sunflowers stood with hanging, full-blown heads under the +August moon. + +She gazed proudly at Henry's strong, well proportioned figure moving +about in the moonlight, and she was glad to think that a boy from this +house had become the man that he was. But when she tried to think of +him as a child here, her mind somehow showed her Alan playing about the +sunflowers; and the place was not here; it was the brown, Kansas +prairie of which he had told her. + +"Sunflower houses," she murmured to herself. "Sunflower houses. They +used to cut the stalks and build shacks with them." + +"What's that?" Henry said; he had come back near her. + +The warm blood rushed to her face. "Nothing," she said, a little +ashamed. She opened the door beside her. "Come; we'll go back home +now." + +Coming from that poor little place, and having made of himself what he +had, Henry was such a man as she would be ever proud to have for a +husband; there was no man whom she had known who had proved himself as +much a man as he. Yet now, as she returned to the point, she was +thinking of this lake country not only as Henry's land but as Alan +Conrad's too. In some such place he also had been born--born by the +mother whose ring waited him in the box in her room. + +Alan, upon the morning of the second of these days, was driving +northward along the long, sandy peninsula which separates the blue +waters of Grand Traverse from Lake Michigan; and, thinking of her, he +knew that she was near. He not only had remembered that she would be +north at Harbor Point this month; he had seen in one of the Petoskey +papers that she and her mother were at the Sherrill summer home. His +business now was taking him nearer them than he had been at any time +before; and, if he wished to weaken, he might convince himself that he +might learn from her circumstances which would aid him in his task. +But he was not going to her for help; that was following in his +father's footsteps. When he knew everything, then--not till then--he +could go to her; for then he would know exactly what was upon him and +what he should do. + +His visits to the people named on those sheets written by his father +had been confusing at first; he had had great difficulty in tracing +some of them at all; and, afterwards, he could uncover no certain +connection either between them and Benjamin Corvet or between +themselves. But recently, he had been succeeding better in this latter. + +He had seen--he reckoned them over again--fourteen of the twenty-one +named originally on Benjamin Corvet's lists; that is, he had seen +either the individual originally named, or the surviving relative +written in below the name crossed off. He had found that the crossing +out of the name meant that the person was dead, except in the case of +two who had left the country and whose whereabouts were as unknown to +their present relatives as they had been to Benjamin Corvet, and the +case of one other, who was in an insane asylum. + +He had found that no one of the persons whom he saw had known Benjamin +Corvet personally; many of them did not know him at all, the others +knew him only as a name. But, when Alan proceeded, always there was +one connotation with each of the original names; always one +circumstance bound all together. When he had established that +circumstance as influencing the fortunes of the first two on his lists, +he had said to himself, as the blood pricked queerly under the skin, +that the fact might be a mere coincidence. When he established it also +as affecting the fate of the third and of the fourth and of the fifth, +such explanation no longer sufficed; and he found it in common to all +fourteen, sometimes as the deciding factor of their fate, sometimes as +only slightly affecting them, but always it was there. + +In how many different ways, in what strange, diverse manifestations +that single circumstance had spread to those people whom Alan had +interviewed! No two of them had been affected alike, he reckoned, as +he went over his notes of them. Now he was going to trace those +consequences to another. To what sort of place would it bring him +to-day and what would he find there? He knew only that it would be +quite distinct from the rest. + +The driver beside whom he sat on the front seat of the little +automobile was an Indian; an Indian woman and two round-faced silent +children occupied the seat behind. He had met these people in the +early morning on the road, bound, he discovered, to the annual camp +meeting of the Methodist Indians at Northport. They were going his +way, and they knew the man of whom he was in search; so he had hired a +ride of them. The region through which they were traveling now was of +farms, but interspersed with desolate, waste fields where blackened +stumps and rotting windfalls remained after the work of the lumberers. +The hills and many of the hollows were wooded; there were even places +where lumbering was still going on. To his left across the water, the +twin Manitous broke the horizon, high and round and blue with haze. To +his right, from the higher hilltops, he caught glimpses of Grand +Traverse and of the shores to the north, rising higher, dimmer, and +more blue, where they broke for Little Traverse and where Constance +Sherrill was, two hours away across the water; but he had shut his mind +to that thought. + +The driver turned now into a rougher road, bearing more to the east. + +They passed people more frequently now--groups in farm wagons, or +groups or single individuals, walking beside the road. All were going +in the same direction as themselves, and nearly all were Indians, drab +dressed figures attired obviously in their best clothes. Some walked +barefoot, carrying new shoes in their hands, evidently to preserve them +from the dust. They saluted gravely Alan's driver, who returned their +salutes--"B'jou!" "B'jou!" + +Traveling eastward, they had lost sight of Lake Michigan; and suddenly +the wrinkled blueness of Grand Traverse appeared quite close to them. +The driver turned aside from the road across a cleared field where ruts +showed the passing of many previous vehicles; crossing this, they +entered the woods. Little fires for cooking burned all about them, and +nearer were parked an immense number of farm wagons and buggies, with +horses unharnessed and munching grain. Alan's guide found a place +among these for his automobile, and they got out and went forward on +foot. All about them, seated upon the moss or walking about, were +Indians, family groups among which children played. A platform had +been built under the trees; on it some thirty Indians, all men, sat in +straight-backed chairs; in front of and to the sides of the platform, +an audience of several hundred occupied benches, and around the borders +of the meeting others were gathered, merely observing. A very old +Indian, with inordinately wrinkled skin and dressed in a frock coat, +was addressing these people from the platform in the Indian tongue. + +Alan halted beside his guide. He saw among the drab-clad figures +looking on, the brighter dresses and sport coats of summer visitors who +had come to watch. The figure of a girl among these caught his +attention, and he started; then swiftly he told himself that it was +only his thinking of Constance Sherrill that made him believe this was +she. But now she had seen him; she paled, then as quickly flushed, and +leaving the group she had been with, came toward him. + +He had no choice now whether he would avoid her or not; and his +happiness at seeing her held him stupid, watching her. Her eyes were +very bright and with something more than friendly greeting; there was +happiness in them too. His throat shut together as he recognized this, +and his hand closed warmly over the small, trembling hand which she put +out to him. All his conscious thought was lost for the moment in the +mere realization of her presence; he stood, holding her hand, oblivious +that there were people looking; she too seemed careless of that. Then +she whitened again and withdrew her hand; she seemed slightly confused. +He was confused as well; it was not like this that he had meant to +greet her; he caught himself together. + +Cap in hand, he stood beside her, trying to look and to feel as any +ordinary acquaintance of hers would have looked. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE OWNER OF THE WATCH + +"So they got word to you!" Constance exclaimed; she seemed still +confused. "Oh, no--of course they couldn't have done that! They've +hardly got my letter yet." + +"Your letter?" Alan asked. + +"I wrote to Blue Rapids," she explained. "Some things came--they were +sent to me. Some things of Uncle Benny's which were meant for you +instead of me." + +"You mean you've heard from him?" + +"No--not that." + +"What things, Miss Sherrill?" + +"A watch of his and some coins and--a ring." She did not explain the +significance of those things, and he could not tell from her mere +enumeration of them and without seeing them that they furnished proof +that his father was dead. She could not inform him of that, she felt, +just here and now. + +"I'll tell you about that later. You--you were coming to Harbor Point +to see us?" + +He colored. "I'm afraid not. I got as near as this to you because +there is a man--an Indian--I have to see." + +"An Indian? What is his name? You see, I know quite a lot of them." + +"Jo Papo." + +She shook her head. "No; I don't know him." + +She had drawn him a little away from the crowd about the meeting. His +blood was beating hard with recognition of her manner toward him. +Whatever he was, whatever the disgrace might be that his father had +left to him, she was still resolute to share in it. He had known she +would be so. She found a spot where the moss was covered with dry pine +needles and sat down upon the ground. + +"Sit down," she invited; "I want you to tell me what you have been +doing." + +"I've been on the boats." He dropped down upon the moss beside her. +"It's a--wonderful business, Miss Sherrill; I'll never be able to go +away from the water again. I've been working rather hard at my new +profession--studying it, I mean. Until yesterday I was a not very +highly honored member of the crew of the package freighter _Oscoda_; I +left her at Frankfort and came up here." + +"Is Wassaquam with you?" + +"He wasn't on the _Oscoda_; but he was with me at first. Now, I +believe, he has gone back to his own people--to Middle Village." + +"You mean you've been looking for Mr. Corvet in that way?" + +"Not exactly that." He hesitated; but he could see no reason for not +telling what he had been doing. He had not so much hidden from her and +her father what he had found in Benjamin Corvet's house; rather, he had +refrained from mentioning it in his notes to them when he left Chicago +because he had thought that the lists would lead to an immediate +explanation; they had not led to that, but only to a suggestion, +indefinite as jet. He had known that, if his search finally developed +nothing more than it had, he must at last consult Sherrill and get +Sherrill's aid. + +"We found some writing, Miss Sherrill," he said, "in the house on Astor +Street that night after Luke came." + +"What writing?" + +He took the lists from his pocket and showed them to her. She +separated and looked through the sheets and read the names written in +the same hand that had written the directions upon the slip of paper +that came to her four days before, with the things from Uncle Benny's +pockets. + +"My father had kept these very secretly," he explained. "He had them +hidden. Wassaquam knew where they were, and that night after Luke was +dead and you had gone home, he gave them to me." + +"After I had gone home? Henry went back to see you that night; he had +said he was going back, and afterwards I asked him, and he told me he +had seen you again. Did you show him these?" + +"He saw them--yes." + +"He was there when Wassaquam showed you where they were?" + +"Yes." + +A little line deepened between her brows, and she sat thoughtful. + +"So you have been going about seeing these people," she said. "What +have you found out?" + +"Nothing definite at all. None of them knew my father; they were only +amazed to find that any one in Chicago had known their names." + +She got up suddenly. "You don't mind if I am with you when you talk +with this Indian?" + +He arose and looked around for the guide who had brought him. His +guide had been standing near, evidently waiting until Alan's attention +was turned his way; he gestured now toward a man, a woman, and several +children who were lunching, seated about a basket on the ground. The +man--thin, patient and of medium size--was of the indefinite age of the +Indian, neither young nor yet old. It was evident that life had been +hard for the man; he looked worn and undernourished; his clothing was +the cast-off suit of some one much larger which had been inexpertly +altered to make it fit him. As Alan and Constance approached them, the +group turned on them their dark, inexpressive eyes, and the woman got +up, but the man remained seated on the ground. + +"I'm looking for Jo Papo," Alan explained. + +"What you want?" the squaw asked. "You got work?" The words were +pronounced with difficulty and evidently composed most of her English +vocabulary. + +"I want to see him, that's all." Alan turned to the man. "You're Jo +Papo, aren't you?" + +The Indian assented by an almost imperceptible nod. + +"You used to live near Escanaba, didn't you?" + +Jo Papo considered before replying; either his scrutiny of Alan +reassured him, or he recalled nothing having to do with his residence +near Escanaba which disturbed him. "Yes; once," he said. + +"Your father was Azen Papo?" + +"He's dead," the Indian replied. "Not my father, anyway. Grandfather. +What about him?" + +"That's what I want to ask you," Alan said. "When did he die and how?" + +Jo Papo got up and stood leaning his back against a tree. So far from +being one who was merely curious about Indians, this stranger perhaps +was coming about an Indian claim--to give money maybe for injustices +done in the past. + +"My grandfather die fifteen years ago," he informed them. "From cough, +I think." + +"Where was that?" Alan asked. + +"Escanaba--near there." + +"What did he do?" + +"Take people to shoot deer--fish--a guide. I think he plant a little +too." + +"He didn't work on the boats?" + +"No; my father, he work on the boats." + +"What was his name?" + +"Like me; Jo Papo too. He's dead." + +"What is your Indian name?" + +"Flying Eagle." + +"What boats did your father work on?" + +"Many boats." + +"What did he do?" + +"Deck hand." + +"What boat did he work on last?" + +"Last? How do I know? He went away one year and didn't come back? I +suppose he was drowned from a boat." + +"What year was that?" + +"I was little then; I do not know." + +"How old were you?" + +"Maybe eight years; maybe nine or ten." + +"How old are you now?" + +"Thirty, maybe." + +"Did you ever hear of Benjamin Corvet?" + +"Who?" + +"Benjamin Corvet." + +"No." + +Alan turned to Constance; she had been listening intently, but she made +no comment. "That is all, then," he said to Papo; "if I find out +anything to your advantage, I'll let you know." He had aroused, he +understood, expectations of benefit in these poor Indians. Something +rose in Alan's throat and choked him. Those of whom Benjamin Corvet +had so laboriously kept trace were, very many of them, of the sort of +these Indians; that they had never heard of Benjamin Corvet was not +more significant than that they were people of whose existence Benjamin +Corvet could not have been expected to be aware. What conceivable bond +could there have been between Alan's father and such poor people as +these? Had his father wronged these people? Had he owed them +something? This thought, which had been growing stronger with each +succeeding step of Alan's investigations, chilled and horrified him +now. Revolt against his father more active than ever before seized +him, revolt stirring stronger with each recollection of his interviews +with the people upon his list. As they walked away, Constance +appreciated that he was feeling something deeply; she too was stirred. + +"They all--all I have talked to--are like that," he said to her. "They +all have lost some one upon the lakes." + +In her feeling for him, she had laid her hand upon his arm; now her +fingers tightened to sudden tenseness. "What do you mean?" she asked. + +"Oh, it is not definite yet--not clear!" She felt the bitterness in +his tone. "They have not any of them been able to make it wholly clear +to me. It is like a record that has been--blurred. These original +names must have been written down by my father many years ago--many, +most of those people, I think--are dead; some are nearly forgotten. +The only thing that is fully plain is that in every case my inquiries +have led me to those who have lost one, and sometimes more than one +relative upon the lakes." + +Constance thrilled to a vague horror; it was not anything to which she +could give definite reason. His tone quite as much as what he said was +its cause. His experience plainly had been forcing him to bitterness +against his father; and he did not know with certainty yet that his +father was dead. + +She had not found it possible to tell him that yet; now consciously she +deferred telling him until she could take him to her home and show him +what had come. The shrill whistling of the power yacht in which she +and her party had come recalled to her that all were to return to the +yacht for luncheon, and that they must be waiting for her. + +"You'll lunch with us, of course," she said to Alan, "and then go back +with us to Harbor Point. It's a day's journey around the two bays; but +we've a boat here." + +He assented, and they went down to the water where the white and brown +power yacht, with long, graceful lines, lay somnolently in the +sunlight. A little boat took them out over the shimmering, smooth +surface to the ship; swells from a faraway freighter swept under the +beautiful, burnished craft, causing it to roll lazily as they boarded +it. A party of nearly a dozen men and girls, with an older woman +chaperoning them, lounged under the shade of an awning over the after +deck. They greeted her gaily and looked curiously at Alan as she +introduced him. + +As he returned their rather formal acknowledgments and afterward fell +into general conversation with them, she became for the first time +fully aware of how greatly he had changed from what he had been when he +had come to them six months before in Chicago. These gay, wealthy +loungers would have dismayed him then, and he would have been equally +dismayed by the luxury of the carefully appointed yacht; now he was not +thinking at all about what these people might think of him. In return, +they granted him consideration. It was not, she saw that they accepted +him as one of their own sort, or as some ordinary acquaintance of hers; +if they accounted for him to themselves at all, they must believe him +to be some officer employed upon her father's ships. He looked like +that--with his face darkened and reddened by the summer sun and in his +clothing like that of a ship's officer ashore. He had not weakened +under the disgrace which Benjamin Corvet had left to him, whatever that +might be; he had grown stronger facing it. A lump rose in her throat +as she realized that the lakes had been setting their seal upon him, as +upon the man whose strength and resourcefulness she loved. + +"Have you worked on any of our boats?" she asked him, after luncheon +had been finished, and the anchor of the ship had been raised. + +A queer expression came upon his face. "I've thought it best not to do +that, Miss Sherrill," he replied. + +She did not know why the next moment she should think of Henry. + +"Henry was going to bring us over in his yacht--the _Chippewa_," she +said. "But he was called away suddenly yesterday on business to St. +Ignace and used his boat to go over there." + +"He's at Harbor Point, then." + +"He got there a couple of nights ago and will be back again to-night or +to-morrow morning." + +The yacht was pushing swiftly, smoothly, with hardly a hum from its +motors, north along the shore. He watched intently the rolling, wooded +hills and the ragged little bays and inlets. His work and his +investigatings had not brought him into the neighborhood before, but +she found that she did not have to name the places to him; he knew them +from the charts. + +"Grand Traverse Light," he said to her as a white tower showed upon +their left. Then, leaving the shore, they pushed out across the wide +mouth of the larger bay toward Little Traverse. He grew more silent as +they approached it. + +"It is up there, isn't it," he asked, pointing, "that they hear the +Drum?" + +"Yes; how did you know the place?" + +"I don't know it exactly; I want you to show me." + +She pointed out to him the copse, dark, primeval, blue in its contrast +with the lighter green of the trees about it and the glistening white +of the shingle and of the more distant sand bluffs. He leaned forward, +staring at it, until the changed course of the yacht, as it swung about +toward the entrance to the bay, obscured it. They were meeting other +power boats now of their yacht's own size and many smaller; they passed +white-sailed sloops and cat-boats, almost becalmed, with girls and boys +diving from their sides and swimming about. As they neared the Point, +a panorama of play such as, she knew, he scarcely could have seen +before, was spread in front of them. The sun gleamed back from the +white sides and varnished decks and shining brasswork of a score or +more of cruising yachts and many smaller vessels lying in the anchorage. + +"The Chicago to Mackinac yacht race starts this week, and the cruiser +fleet is working north to be in at the finish," she offered. Then she +saw he was not looking at these things; he was studying with a strange +expression the dark, uneven hills which shut in the two towns and the +bay. + +"You remember how the ship rhymes you told me and that about Michabou +and seeing the ships made me feel that I belonged here on the lakes," +he reminded her. "I have felt something--not recognition exactly, but +something that was like the beginning of recognition--many times this +summer when I saw certain places. It's like one of those dreams, you +know, in which you are conscious of having had the same dream before. +I feel that I ought to know this place." + +They landed only a few hundred yards from the cottage. After bidding +good-by to her friends, they went up to it together through the trees. +There was a small sun room, rather shut off from the rest of the house, +to which she led him. Leaving him there, she ran upstairs to get the +things. + +She halted an instant beside the door, with the box in her hands, +before she went back to him, thinking how to prepare him against the +significance of these relics of his father. She need not prepare him +against the mere fact of his father's death; he had been beginning to +believe that already; but these things must have far more meaning for +him than merely that. They must frustrate one course of inquiry for +him at the same time they opened another; they would close for him +forever the possibility of ever learning anything about himself from +his father; they would introduce into his problem some new, some +unknown person--the sender of these things. + +She went in and put the box down upon the card table. + +"The muffler in the box was your father's," she told him. "He had it +on the day he disappeared. The other things," her voice choked a +little, "are the things he must have had in his pockets. They've been +lying in water and sand--" + +He gazed at her. "I understand," he said after an instant. "You mean +that they prove his death." + +She assented gently, without speaking. As he approached the box, she +drew back from it and slipped away into the next room. She walked up +and down there, pressing her hands together. He must be looking at the +things now, unrolling the muffler.... What would he be feeling as he +saw them? Would he be glad, with that same gladness which had mingled +with her own sorrow over Uncle Benny, that his father was gone--gone +from his guilt and his fear and his disgrace? Or would he resent that +death which thus left everything unexplained to him? He would be +looking at the ring. That, at least, must bring more joy than grief to +him. He would recognize that it must be his mother's wedding ring; if +it told him that his mother must be dead, it would tell him that she +had been married, or had believed that she was married! + +Suddenly she heard him calling her. "Miss Sherrill!" His voice had a +sharp thrill of excitement. + +She hurried toward the sun room. She could see him through the +doorway, bending over the card table with the things spread out upon +its top in front of him. + +"Miss Sherrill!" he called again. + +"Yes." + +He straightened; he was very pale. "Would coins that my father had in +his pocket all have been more than twenty years old?" + +She ran and bent beside him over the coins. "Twenty years!" she +repeated. She was making out the dates of the coins now herself; the +markings were eroded, nearly gone in some instances, but in every case +enough remained to make plain the date. "Eighteen-ninety--1893--1889," +she made them out. Her voice hushed queerly. "What does it mean?" she +whispered. + +He turned over and reexamined the articles with hands suddenly +steadying. "There are two sets of things here," he concluded. "The +muffler and paper of directions--they belonged to my father. The other +things--it isn't six months or less than six months that they've lain +in sand and water to become worn like this; it's twenty years. My +father can't have had these things; they were somewhere else, or some +one else had them. He wrote his directions to that person--after June +twelfth, he said, so it was before June twelfth he wrote it; but we +can't tell how long before. It might have been in February, when he +disappeared; it might have been any time after that. But if the +directions were written so long ago, why weren't the things sent to you +before this? Didn't the person have the things then? Did we have to +wait to get them? Or--was it the instructions to send them that he +didn't have? Or, if he had the instructions, was he waiting to receive +word when they were to be sent?" + +"To receive word?" she echoed. + +"Word from my father! You thought these things proved my father was +dead. I think they prove he is alive! Oh, we must think this out!" + +He paced up and down the room; she sank into a chair, watching him. +"The first thing that we must do," he said suddenly, "is to find out +about the watch. What is the 'phone number of the telegraph office?" + +She told him, and he went out to the telephone; she sprang up to follow +him, but checked herself and merely waited until he came back. + +"I've wired to Buffalo," he announced. "The Merchants' Exchange, if it +is still in existence, must have a record of the presentation of the +watch. At any rate, the wreck of the _Winnebago_ and the name of the +skipper of the other boat must be in the files of the newspapers of +that time." + +"Then you'll stay here with us until an answer comes." + +"If we get a reply by to-morrow morning; I'll wait till then. If not, +I'll ask you to forward it to me. I must see about the trains and get +back to Frankfort. I can cross by boat from there to Manitowoc--that +will be quickest. We must begin there, by trying to find out who sent +the package." + +"Henry Spearman's already sent to have that investigated." + +Alan made no reply; but she saw his lips draw tighter quickly. "I must +go myself as soon as I can," he said, after a moment. + +She helped him put the muffler and the other articles back into the +box; she noticed that the wedding ring was no longer with them. He had +taken that, then; it had meant to him all that she had known it must +mean.... + +In the morning she was up very early; but Alan, the servants told her, +had risen before she had and had gone out. The morning, after the cool +northern night, was chill. She slipped a sweater on and went out on +the veranda, looking about for him. An iridescent haze shrouded the +hills and the bay; in it she heard a ship's bell strike twice; then +another struck twice--then another--and another--and another. The haze +thinned as the sun grew warmer, showing the placid water of the bay on +which the ships stood double--a real ship and a mirrored one. She saw +Alan returning, and knowing from the direction from which he came that +he must have been to the telegraph office, she ran to meet him. + +"Was there an answer?" she inquired eagerly. + +He took a yellow telegraph sheet from his pocket and held it for her to +read. + +"Watch presented Captain Caleb Stafford, master of propeller freighter +_Marvin Halch_ for rescue of crew and passengers of sinking steamer +_Winnebago_ off Long Point, Lake Erie." + +She was breathing quickly in her excitement. "Caleb Stafford!" she +exclaimed. "Why, that was Captain Stafford of Stafford and Ramsdell! +They owned the _Miwaka_!" + +"Yes," Alan said. + +"You asked me about that ship--the _Miwaka_--that first morning at +breakfast!" + +"Yes." + +A great change had come over him since last night; he was under emotion +so strong that he seemed scarcely to dare to speak lest it master +him--a leaping, exultant impulse it was, which he fought to keep down. + +"What is it, Alan?" she asked. "What is it about the _Miwaka_? You +said you'd found some reference to it in Uncle Benny's house. What was +it? What did you find there?" + +"The man--" Alan swallowed and steadied himself and repeated--"the man +I met in the house that night mentioned it." + +"The man who thought you were a ghost?" + +"Yes." + +"How--how did he mention it?" + +"He seemed to think I was a ghost that had haunted Mr. Corvet--the +ghost from the _Miwaka_; at least he shouted out to me that I couldn't +save the _Miwaka_!" + +"Save the _Miwaka_! What do you mean, Alan? The _Miwaka_ was lost +with all her people--officers and crew--no one knows how or where!" + +"All except the one for whom the Drum didn't beat!" + +"What's that?" Blood pricked in her cheeks. "What do you mean, Alan?" + +"I don't know yet; but I think I'll soon find out!" + +"No; you can tell me more now, Alan. Surely you can. I must know. I +have the right to know. Yesterday, even before you found out about +this, you knew things you weren't telling me--things about the people +you'd been seeing. They'd all lost people on the lakes, you said; but +you found out more than that." + +"They'd all lost people on the _Miwaka_!" he said. "All who could tell +me where their people were lost; a few were like Jo Papo we saw +yesterday, who knew only the year his father was lost; but the time +always was the time that the _Miwaka_ disappeared!" + +"Disappeared!" she repeated. Her veins were pricking cold. What did +he know, what could any one know of the _Miwaka_, the ship of which +nothing ever was heard except the beating of the Indian Drum? She +tried to make him say more; but he looked away now down to the lake. + +"The _Chippewa_ must have come in early this morning," he said. "She's +lying in the harbor; I saw her on my way to the telegraph office. If +Mr. Spearman has come back with her, tell him I'm sorry I can't wait to +see him." + +"When are you going?" + +"Now." + +She offered to drive him to Petoskey, but he already had arranged for a +man to take him to the train. + +She went to her room after he was gone and spread out again on her bed +the watch--now the watch of Captain Stafford of the _Miwaka_--with the +knife and coins of more than twenty years ago which came with it. The +meaning of them now was all changed; she felt that; but what the new +meaning might be could not yet come to her. Something of it had come +to Alan; that, undoubtedly, was what had so greatly stirred him; but +she could not yet reassemble her ideas. Yet a few facts had become +plain. + +A maid came to say that Mr. Spearman had come up from his boat for +breakfast with her and was downstairs. She went down to find Henry +lounging in one of the great wicker chairs in the living room. He +arose and came toward her quickly; but she halted before he could seize +her. + +"I got back, Connie--" + +"Yes; I heard you did." + +"What's wrong, dear?" + +"Alan Conrad has been here, Henry." + +"He has? How was that?" + +She told him while he watched her intently. "He wired to Buffalo about +the watch. He got a reply which he brought to me half an hour ago." + +"Yes?" + +"The watch belonged to Captain Stafford who was lost with the _Miwaka_, +Henry." + +He made no reply; but waited. + +"You may not have known that it was his; I mean, you may not have known +that it was he who rescued the people of the _Winnebago_, but you must +have known that Uncle Benny didn't." + +"Yes; I knew that, Connie," he answered evenly. + +"Then why did you let me think the watch was his and that he must +be--dead?" + +"That's all's the matter? You had thought he was dead. I believed it +was better for you--for every one--to believe that." + +She drew a little away from him, with hands clasped behind her back, +gazing intently at him. "There was some writing found in Uncle Benny's +house in Astor Street--a list of names of relatives of people who had +lost their lives upon the lake. Wassaquam knew where those things +were. Alan says they were given to him in your presence." + +She saw the blood rise darkly under his skin. "That is true, Connie." + +"Why didn't you tell me about that?" + +He straightened as if with anger. "Why should I? Because he thought +that I should? What did he tell you about those lists?" + +"I asked you, after you went back, if anything else had happened, +Henry, and you said, 'nothing.' I should not have considered the +finding of those lists 'nothing.'" + +"Why not? What were they but names? What has he told you they were, +Connie? What has he said to you?" + +"Nothing--except that his father had kept them very secretly; but he's +found out they were names of people who had relatives on the _Miwaka_!" + +"What?" + +Recalling how her blood had run when Alan had told her that, Henry's +whiteness and the following suffusion of his face did not surprise her. + +He turned away a moment and considered. "Where's Conrad now, Connie?" + +"He's gone to Frankfort to cross to Manitowoc." + +"To get deeper into that mess, I suppose. He'll only be sorry." + +"Sorry?" + +"I told that fellow long ago not to start stirring these matters up +about Ben Corvet, and particularly I told him that he was not to bring +any of it to you. It's not--a thing that a man like Ben covered up for +twenty years till it drove him crazy is sure not to be a thing for a +girl to know. Conrad seems to have paid no attention to me. But I +should think by this time he ought to begin to suspect what sort of +thing he's going to turn up. I don't know; but I certainly +suspect--Ben leaving everything to that boy, whom no one had heard of, +and the sort of thing which has come up since. It's certainly not +going to be anything pleasant for any of us, Connie--for you, or your +father, or for me, or for anybody who'd cared for Ben, or had been +associated with him. Least of all, I should say, would it prove +anything pleasant for Conrad. Ben ran away from it, because he knew +what it was; why doesn't this fellow let him stay away from it?" + +"He--I mean Alan, Henry," she said, "isn't thinking about himself in +this; he isn't thinking about his father. He believes--he is certain +now--that, whatever his father did, he injured some one; and his idea +in going ahead--he hasn't told it to me that way, but I know--is to +find out the whole matter in order that he may make recompense. It's a +terrible thing, whatever happened. He knows that, and I know; but he +wants--and I want him for his sake, even for Uncle Benny's sake--to see +it through." + +"Then it's a queer concern you've got for Ben! Let it alone, I tell +you." + +She stood flushed and perplexed, gazing at him. She never had seen him +under stronger emotion. + +"You misunderstood me once, Connie!" he appealed. "You'll understand +me now!" + +She had been thinking about that injustice she had done him in her +thought--about his chivalry to his partner and former benefactor, when +Uncle Benny was still keeping his place among men. Was Henry now +moved, in a way which she could not understand, by some other +obligation to the man who long ago had aided him? Had Henry hazarded +more than he had told her of the nature of the thing hidden which, if +she could guess it, would justify what he said? + +In the confusion of her thought, one thing came clearly which troubled +her and of which she could not speak. The watch of Captain Stafford's +and the ring and the coins, which had made her believe that Uncle Benny +was dead, had not been proof of that to Henry. Yet he had taken +advantage of her belief, without undeceiving her, to urge her to marry +him at once. + +She knew of the ruthlessness of Henry's business life; he had forced +down, overcome all who opposed him, and he had made full use for his +own advantage of other men's mistakes and erroneous beliefs and +opinions. If he had used her belief in Uncle Benny's death to hasten +their marriage, it was something which others--particularly she--could +pardon and accept. + +If she was drawn to him for his strength and dominance, which sometimes +ran into ruthlessness, she had no right to complain if he turned it +thus upon her. + +She had made Alan promise to write her, if he was not to return, +regarding what he learned; and a letter came to her on the fourth day +from him in Manitowoc. The postoffice employees had no recollection, +he said, of the person who had mailed the package; it simply had been +dropped by some one into the receptacle for mailing packages of that +sort. They did not know the handwriting upon the wrapper, which he had +taken with him; nor was it known at the bank or in any of the stores +where he had shown it. The shoe dealer had no recollection of that +particular box. Alan, however, was continuing his inquiries. + +In September he reported in a brief, totally impersonal note, that he +was continuing with the investigations he had been making previous to +his visit to Harbor Point; this came from Sarnia, Ontario. In October +he sent a different address where he could be found in case anything +more came, such as the box which had come to Constance in August. + +She wrote to him in reply each time; in lack of anything more important +to tell him, she related some of her activities and inquired about his. +After she had written him thus twice, he replied, describing his life +on the boats pleasantly and humorously; then, though she immediately +replied, she did not hear from him again. + +She had returned to Chicago late in September and soon was very busy +with social affairs, benefits, and bazaars which were given that fall +for the Red Cross and the different Allied causes; a little later came +a series of the more personal and absorbing luncheons and dances and +dinners for her and for Henry, since their engagement, which long had +been taken for granted by every one who knew them, was announced now. +So the days drifted into December and winter again. + +The lake, beating against the esplanade across the Drive before +Constance's windows, had changed its color; it had no longer its autumn +blue and silver; it was gray, sluggish with floating needle-points of +ice held in solution. The floe had not yet begun to form, but the +piers and breakwaters had white ice caps frozen from spray--harbingers +of the closing of navigation. The summer boats, those of Corvet, +Sherrill, and Spearman with the rest, were being tied up. The birds +were gone; only the gulls remained--gray, clamorous shapes circling and +calling to one another across the water. Early in December the +newspapers announced the closing of the locks at the "Soo" by the ice. + +That she had not heard from Alan was beginning to recur to Constance +with strange insistence. He must have left the boats by now, unless he +had found work on one of those few which ran through the winter. + +He and his occupation, instead of slipping from her thoughts with time, +absorbed her more and more. Soon after he had gone to Manitowoc and he +had written that he had discovered nothing, she had gone to the office +of the Petoskey paper and, looking back over the twenty-year-old files, +she had read the account of the loss of the _Miwaka_, with all on +board. That fate was modified only by the Indian Drum beating short. +So one man from the _Miwaka_ had been saved somehow, many believed. If +that could have been, there was, or there had been, some one alive +after the ship "disappeared"--Alan's word went through her with a +chill--who knew what had happened to the ship and who knew of the fate +of his shipmates. + +She had gone over the names again; if there was meaning in the Drum, +who was the man who had been saved and visited that fate on Benjamin +Corvet? Was it Luke? There was no Luke named among the crew; but such +men often went by many names. If Luke had been among the crew of the +_Miwaka_ and had brought from that lost ship something which threatened +Uncle Benny that, at least, explained Luke. + +Then another idea had seized her. Captain Caleb Stafford was named +among the lost, of course; with him had perished his son, a boy of +three. That was all that was said, and all that was to be learned of +him, the boy. + +Alan had been three then. This was wild, crazy speculation. The ship +was lost with all hands; only the Drum, believed in by the +superstitious and the most ignorant, denied that. The Drum said that +one soul had been saved. How could a child of three have been saved +when strong men, to the last one, had perished? And, if he had been +saved, he was Stafford's son. Why should Uncle Benny have sent him +away and cared for him and then sent for him and, himself disappearing, +leave all he had to--Stafford's son? + +Or was he Stafford's son? Her thought went back to the things which +had been sent--the things from a man's pockets with a wedding ring +among them. She had believed that the ring cleared the mother's name; +might it in reality only more involve it? Why had it come back like +this to the man by whom, perhaps, it had been given? Henry's words +came again and again to Constance: "It's a queer concern you've got for +Ben. Leave it alone, I tell you!" He knew then something about Uncle +Benny which might have brought on some terrible thing which Henry did +not know but might guess? Constance went weak within. Uncle Benny's +wife had left him, she remembered. Was it better, after all, to "leave +it alone?" + +But it wasn't a thing which one could command one's mind to leave +alone; and Constance could not make herself try to, so long as it +concerned Alan. Coming home late one afternoon toward the middle of +December, she dismissed the motor and stood gazing at the gulls. The +day was chill, gray; the air had the feel, and the voices of the gulls +had the sound to her, which precede the coming of a severe storm. The +gulls recalled sharply to her the day when Alan first had come to them, +and how she had been the one first to meet him and the child verse +which had told him that he too was of the lakes. + +She went on into the house. A telegraph envelope addressed to her +father was on the table in the hall. A servant told her the message +had come an hour before, and that he had telephoned to Mr. Sherrill's +office, but Mr. Sherrill was not in. There was no reason for her +thinking that the message might be from Alan except his presence in her +thoughts, but she went at once to the telephone and called her father. +He was in now, and he directed her to open the message and read it to +him. + +"Have some one," she read aloud; she choked in her excitement at what +came next--"Have some one who knew Mr. Corvet well enough to recognize +him, even if greatly changed, meet Carferry Number 25 Manitowoc +Wednesday this week. Alan Conrad." + +Her heart was beating fast. "Are you there?" she said into the 'phone. + +"Yes." + +"Whom shall you send?" + +There was an instant's silence. "I shall go myself," her father +answered. + +She hung up the receiver. Had Alan found Uncle Benny? He had found, +apparently, someone whose semblance to the picture she had showed him +was marked enough to make him believe that person might be Benjamin +Corvet; or he had heard of some one who, from the account he had +received, he thought might be. She read again the words of the +telegram ... "even if greatly changed!" and she felt startling and +terrifying warning in that phrase. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +OLD BURR OF THE FERRY + +It was in late November and while the coal carrier _Pontiac_, on which +he was serving as lookout, was in Lake Superior that Alan first heard +of Jim Burr. The name spoken among some other names in casual +conversation by a member of the crew, stirred and excited him; the name +James Burr, occurring on Benjamin Corvet's list, had borne opposite it +the legend "All disappeared; no trace," and Alan, whose investigations +had accounted for all others whom the list contained, had been able +regarding Burr only to verify the fact that at the address given no one +of this name was to be found. + +He questioned the oiler who had mentioned Burr. The man had met Burr +one night in Manitowoc with other men, and something about the old man +had impressed both his name and image on him; he knew no more than +that. At Manitowoc!--the place from which Captain Stafford's watch had +been sent to Constance Sherrill and where Alan had sought for, but had +failed to find, the sender! Had Alan stumbled by chance upon the one +whom Benjamin Corvet had been unable to trace? Had Corvet, after his +disappearance, found Burr? Had Burr been the sender, under Corvet's +direction, of those things? Alan speculated upon this. The man might +well, of course, be some other Jim Burr; there were probably many men +by that name. Yet the James Burr of Corvet's list must have been such +a one as the oiler described--a white haired old man. + +Alan could not leave the _Pontiac_ and go at once to Manitowoc to seek +for Burr; for he was needed where he was. The season of navigation on +Lake Superior was near its close. In Duluth skippers were clamoring +for cargoes; ships were lading in haste for a last trip before ice +closed the lake's outlet at the Soo against all ships. It was fully a +week later and after the Pontiac had been laden again and had repassed +the length of Lake Superior that Alan left the vessel at Sault Ste. +Marie and took the train for Manitowoc. + +The little lake port of Manitowoc, which he reached in the late +afternoon, was turbulent with the lake season's approaching close. +Long lines of bulk freighters, loaded and tied up to wait for spring, +filled the river; their released crews rioted through the town. Alan +inquired for the seamen's drinking place, where his informant had met +Jim Burr; following the directions he received he made his way along +the river bank until he found it. The place was neat, immaculate; a +score of lakemen sat talking at little tables or leaned against the +bar. Alan inquired of the proprietor for Jim Burr. + +The proprietor knew old Jim Burr--yes. Burr was a wheelsman on +Carferry Number 25. He was a lakeman, experienced and capable; that +fact, some months before, had served as introduction for him to the +frequenters of this place. When the ferry was in harbor and his duties +left him idle, Burr came up and waited there, occupying always the same +chair. He never drank; he never spoke to others unless they spoke +first to him, but then he talked freely about old days on the lakes, +about ships which had been lost and about men long dead. + +Alan decided that there could be no better place to interview old Burr +than here; he waited therefore, and in the early evening the old man +came in. + +Alan watched him curiously as, without speaking to any one, he went to +the chair recognized as his and sat down. He was a slender but +muscularly built man seeming about sixty-five, but he might be +considerably younger or older than that. His hair was completely +white; his nose was thin and sensitive; his face was smoothly placid, +emotionless, contented; his eyes were queerly clouded, deepset and +intent. + +Those whose names Alan had found on Corvet's list had been of all ages, +young and old; but Burr might well have been a contemporary of Corvet +on the lakes. Alan moved over and took a seat beside the old man. + +"You're from No. 25?" he asked, to draw him into conversation. + +"Yes." + +"I've been working on the carrier _Pontiac_ as lookout. She's on her +way to tie up at Cleveland, so I left her and came on here. You don't +know whether there's a chance for me to get a place through the winter +on No. 25?" + +Old Burr reflected. "One of our boys has been talking of leaving. I +don't know when he expects to go. You might ask." + +"Thank you; I will. My name's Conrad--Alan Conrad." + +He saw no recognition of the name in Burr's reception of it; but he had +not expected that. None of those on Benjamin Corvet's list had had any +knowledge of Alan Conrad or had heard the name before. + +Alan was silent, watching the old man; Burr, silent too, seemed +listening to the conversation which came to them from the tables near +by, where men were talking of cargoes, and of ships and of men who +worked and sailed upon them. + +"How long have you been on the lakes?" Alan inquired. + +"All my life." The question awakened reminiscence in the old man. "My +father had a farm. I didn't like farming. The schooners--they were +almost all schooners in those days--came in to load with lumber. When +I was nine years old, I ran away and got on board a schooner. I've +been at it, sail or steam, ever since." + +"Do you remember the _Miwaka_?" + +"The _Miwaka_?" + +Old Burr turned abruptly and studied Alan with a slow scrutiny which +seemed to look him through and through; yet while his eyes remained +fixed on Alan suddenly they grew blank. He was not thinking now of +Alan, but had turned his thoughts within himself. + +"I remember her--yes. She was lost in '95," he said. "In '95," he +repeated. + +"You lost a nephew with her, didn't you?" + +"A nephew--no. That is a mistake. I lost a brother." + +"Where were you living then?" + +"In Emmet County, Michigan." + +"When did you move to Point Corbay, Ontario?" + +"I never lived at Point Corbay." + +"Did any of your family live there?" + +"No." Old Burr looked away from Alan, and the queer cloudiness of his +eyes became more evident. + +"Why, do you ask all this?" he said irritably. "What have they been +telling you about me? I told you about myself; our farm was in Emmet +County, but we had a liking for the lake. One of my brothers was lost +in '95 with the _Miwaka_ and another in '99 with the _Susan Hart_." + +"Did you know Benjamin Corvet?" Alan asked. + +Old Burr stared at him uncertainly. "I know who he is, of course." + +"You never met him?" + +"No." + +"Did you receive a communication from him some time this year?" + +"From him? From Benjamin Corvet? No." Old Burr's uneasiness seemed +to increase. "What sort of communication?" + +"A request to send some things to Miss Constance Sherrill at Harbor +Point." + +"I never heard of Miss Constance Sherrill. To send what things?" + +"Several things--among them a watch which had belonged to Captain +Stafford of the _Miwaka_." + +Old Burr got up suddenly and stood gazing down at Alan. "A watch of +Captain Stafford's?--no," he said agitatedly. "No!" + +He moved away and left the place; and Alan sprang up and followed him. + +He was not, it seemed probable to Alan now, the James Burr of Corvet's +list; at least Alan could not see how he could be that one. Among the +names of the crew of the _Miwaka_ Alan had found that of a Frank Burr, +and his inquiries had informed him that this man was a nephew of the +James Burr who had lived near Port Corbay and had "disappeared" with +all his family. Old Burr had not lived at Port Corbay--at least, he +claimed not to have lived there; he gave another address and assigned +to himself quite different connections. For every member of the crew +of the _Miwaka_ there had been a corresponding, but different name upon +Corvet's list--the name of a close relative. If old Burr was not +related to the Burr on Corvet's list, what connection could he have +with the _Miwaka_, and why should Alan's questions have agitated him +so? Alan would not lose sight of old Burr until he had learned the +reason for that. + +He followed, as the old man crossed the bridge and turned to his left +among the buildings on the river front. Burr's figure, vague in the +dusk, crossed the railroad yards and made its way to where a huge black +bulk, which Alan recognized as the ferry, loomed at the waterside. He +disappeared aboard it. Alan, following him, gazed about. + +A long, broad, black boat the ferry was, almost four hundred feet to +the tall, bluff bow. Seen from the stem, the ship seemed only an +unusually rugged and powerful steam freighter; viewed from the beam, +the vessel appeared slightly short for its freeboard; only when +observed from the stern did its distinguishing peculiarity become +plain; for a few feet only above the water line, the stern was all cut +away, and the long, low cavern of the deck gleamed with rails upon +which the electric lights glinted. Save for the supports of the +superstructure and where the funnels and ventilator pipes passed up +from below, that whole strata of the ship was a vast car shed; its +tracks, running to the edge of the stern, touched tracks on the dock. +A freight engine was backing loaded cars from a train of sixteen cars +upon the rails on the starboard side; another train of sixteen big box +cars waited to go aboard on the tracks to the port of the center +stanchions. When the two trains were aboard, the great vessel--"No. +25," in big white stencil upon her black sides were her distinguishing +marks--would thrust out into the ice and gale for the Michigan shore +nearly eighty miles away. + +Alan thrilled a little at his inspection of the ferry. He had not seen +close at hand before one of these great craft which, throughout the +winter, brave ice and storm after all--or nearly all--other lake boats +are tied up. He had not meant to apply there when he questioned old +Burr about a berth on the ferry; he had used that merely as a means of +getting into conversation with the old man. But now he meant to apply; +for it would enable him to find out more about old Burr. + +He went forward between the tracks upon the deck to the companionway, +and ascended and found the skipper and presented his credentials. No +berth on the ferry was vacant yet but one soon would be, and Alan was +accepted in lieu of the man who was about to leave; his wages would not +begin until the other man left, but in the meantime he could remain +aboard the ferry if he wished. Alan elected to remain aboard. The +skipper called a man to assign quarters to Alan, and Alan, going with +the man, questioned him about Burr. + +All that was known definitely about old Burr on the ferry, it appeared, +was that he had joined the vessel in the early spring. Before +that--they did not know; he might be an old lakeman who, after spending +years ashore, had returned to the lakes for a livelihood. He had +represented himself as experienced and trained upon the lakes, and he +had been able to demonstrate his fitness; in spite of his age he was +one of the most capable of the crew. + +The next morning, Alan approached old Burr in the crew's quarters and +tried to draw him into conversation again about himself; but Burr only +stared at him with his intent and oddly introspective eyes and would +not talk upon this subject. A week passed; Alan, established as a +lookout now on No. 25 and carrying on his duties, saw Burr daily and +almost every hour; his watch coincided with Burr's watch at the +wheel--they went on duty and were relieved together. Yet better +acquaintance did not make the old man more communicative; a score of +times Alan attempted to get him to tell more about himself, but he +evaded Alan's questions and, if Alan persisted, he avoided him. Then, +on an evening bitter cold with the coming of winter, clear and filled +with stars, Alan, just relieved from watch, stood by the pilothouse as +Burr also was relieved. The old man paused beside him, looking to the +west. + +"Have you ever been in Sturgeon's Bay?" he asked. + +"In Wisconsin? No." + +"There is a small house there--and a child; born," he seemed figuring +the date, "Feb. 12, 1914." + +"A relative of yours?" + +"Yes." + +"One of your brothers' children or grandchildren?" + +"I had no brothers," old Burr said quietly. + +Alan stared at him, amazed. "But you told me about your brothers and +about their being lost in wrecks on the lake; and about your home in +Emmet County!" + +"I never lived in Emmet County," old Burr replied. "Some one else must +have told you that about me. I come from Canada--of French-Canadian +descent. My family were of the Hudson Bay people. I was a guide and +hunter until recently. Only a few years ago I came onto the lakes, but +my cousin came here before I did. It is his child." + +Old Burr moved away and Alan turned to the mate. + +"What do you make of old Burr?" he asked. + +"He's a romancer. We get 'em that way once in a while--old liars! +He'll give you twenty different accounts of himself--twenty different +lives. None of them is true. I don't know who he is or where he came +from, but it's sure he isn't any of the things he says he is." + +Alan turned away, chill with disappointment. It was only that, +then--old Burr was a romancer after the manner of some old seamen. He +constructed for his own amusement these "lives." He was not only not +the Burr of Corvet's list; he was some one not any way connected with +the _Miwaka_ or with Corvet. Yet Alan, upon reflection, could not +believe that it was only this. Burr, if he had wished to do that, +might perhaps merely have simulated agitation when Alan questioned him +about the _Miwaka_; but why should he have wished to simulate it? Alan +could conceive of no condition which by any possibility could have +suggested such simulation to the old man. + +He ceased now, however, to question Burr since questioning either had +no result at all or led the old man to weaving fictions; in response +the old man became by degrees more communicative. He told Alan, at +different times, a number of other "lives" which he claimed as his own. +In only a few of these lives had he been, by his account, a seaman; he +had been a multitude of other things--in some a farmer, in others a +lumberjack or a fisherman; he had been born, he told, in a half-dozen +different places and came of as many different sorts of people. + +On deck, one night, listening while old Burr related his sixth or +seventh life, excitement suddenly seized Alan. Burr, in this life +which he was telling, claimed to be an Englishman born in Liverpool. +He had been, he said, a seaman in the British navy; he had been present +at the shelling of Alexandria; later, because of some difficulty which +he glossed over, he had deserted and had come to "the States"; he had +been first a deckhand then the mate of a tramp schooner on the lakes. +Alan, gazing at the old man, felt exultation leaping and throbbing +within him. He recognized this "life"; he knew in advance its +incidents. This life which old Burr was rehearsing to him as his own, +was the actual life of Munro Burkhalter, one of the men on Corvet's +list regarding whom Alan had been able to obtain full information! + +Alan sped below, when he was relieved from watch, and got out the +clippings left by Corvet and the notes of what he himself had learned +in his visits to the homes of these people. His excitement grew +greater as he pored over them; he found that he could account, with +their aid, for all that old Burr had told him. Old Burr's "lives" were +not, of course, his; yet neither were they fictions. They--their +incidents, at least--were actualities. They were woven from the lives +of those upon Corvet's list! Alan felt his skin prickling and the +blood beating fast in his temples. How could Burr have known these +incidents? Who could he be to know them all? To what man, but one, +could all of them be known? Was old Burr ... Benjamin Corvet? + +Alan could give no certain answer to that question. He could not find +any definite resemblance in Burr's placid face to the picture of Corvet +which Constance had shown him. Yet, as regarded his age and his +physical characteristics, there was nothing to make his identity with +Benjamin Corvet impossible. Sherrill or others who had known Benjamin +Corvet well, might be able to find resemblances which Alan could not. +And, whether Burr was or was not Corvet, he was undeniably some one to +whom the particulars of Corvet's life were known. + +Alan telegraphed that day to Sherrill; but when the message had gone +doubt seized him. He awaited eagerly the coming of whoever Sherrill +might send and the revelations regarding Corvet which might come then; +but at the same time he shrunk from that revelation. He himself had +become, he knew, wholly of the lakes now; his life, whatever his future +might be, would be concerned with them. Yet he was not of them in the +way he would have wished to be; he was no more than a common seaman. + +Benjamin Corvet, when he went away, had tried to leave his place and +power among lakemen to Alan; Alan, refusing to accept what Corvet had +left until Corvet's reason should be known, had felt obliged also to +refuse friendship with the Sherrills. When revelation came, would it +make possible Alan's acceptance of the place Corvet had prepared for +him, or would it leave him where he was? Would it bring him nearer to +Constance Sherrill, or would it set him forever away from her? + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +A GHOST SHIP + +"Colder some to-night, Conrad." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Strait's freezing over, they say." + +"Pretty stiff ice outside here already, sir." + +The skipper glanced out and smiled confidently but without further +comment; yet he took occasion to go down and pass along the car deck +and observe the men who under direction of the mate were locking the +lugs under the car wheels, as the trains came on board. The wind, +which had risen with nightfall to a gale off the water, whipped snow +with it which swirled and back-eddied with the switching cars into the +great, gaping stern of the ferry. + +Officially, and to chief extent in actuality, navigation now had +"closed" for the winter. Further up the harbor, beyond Number 25, +glowed the white lanterns marking two vessels moored and "laid up" till +spring; another was still in the active process of "laying up." Marine +insurance, as regards all ordinary craft, had ceased; and the +Government at sunrise, five days before, had taken the warning lights +from the Straits of Mackinaw, from Ile-aux-Galets, from north Manitou, +and the Fox Islands; and the light at Beaver Island had but five nights +more to burn. + +Alan followed as the captain went below, and he went aft between the +car tracks, watching old Burr. Having no particular duty when the boat +was in dock, old Burr had gone toward the steamer "laying up," and now +was standing watching with absorption the work going on. There was a +tug a little farther along, with steam up and black smoke pouring from +its short funnel. Old Burr observed this boat too and moved up a +little nearer. Alan, following the wheelsman, came opposite the stern +of the freighter; the snow let through enough of the light from the +dock to show the name _Stoughton_. It was, Alan knew, a Corvet, +Sherrill, and Spearman ship. He moved closer to old Burr and watched +him more intently. + +"What's the matter?" he asked, as the old man halted and, looking down +at the tug, shook his head. + +"They're crossing," the wheelsman said aloud, but more to himself than +to Alan. "They're laying her up here," he jerked his head toward the +_Stoughton_. "Then they're crossing to Manitowoc on the tug." + +"What's the matter with that?" Alan cried. + +Burr drew up his shoulders and ducked his head down as a gust blew. It +was cold, very cold indeed in that wind, but the old man had on a +mackinaw and, out on the lake, Alan had seen him on deck coatless in +weather almost as cold as this. + +"It's a winter storm," Alan cried. "It's like it that way; but +to-day's the 15th, not the 5th of December!" + +"That's right," Burr agreed. "That's right." + +The reply was absent, as though Alan had stumbled upon what he was +thinking, and Burr had no thought yet to wonder at it. + +"And it's the _Stoughton_ they're laying up, not the--" he stopped and +stared at Burr to let him supply the word and, when the old man did +not, he repeated again--"not the--" + +"No," Burr agreed again, as though the name had been given. "No." + +"It was the _Martha Corvet_ you laid up, wasn't it?" Alan cried +quickly. "Tell me--that time on the 5th--it was the _Martha Corvet_?" + +Burr jerked away; Alan caught him again and, with physical strength, +detained him. "Wasn't it that?" he demanded. "Answer me; it was the +_Martha Corvet_?" + +The wheelsman struggled; he seemed suddenly terrified with the terror +which, instead of weakening, supplied infuriated strength. He threw +Alan off for an instant and started to flee back toward the ferry; and +now Alan let him go, only following a few steps to make sure that the +wheelsman returned to Number 25. + +Watching old Burr until he was aboard the ferry, Alan spun about and +went back to the _Stoughton_. + +Work of laying up the big steamer had been finished, and in the +snow-filled dusk her crew were coming ashore. Alan, boarding, went to +the captain's cabin, where he found the _Stoughton's_ master making +ready to leave the ship. The captain, a man of forty-five or fifty, +reminded Alan vaguely of one of the shipmasters who had been in +Spearman's office when Alan first went there in the spring. If he had +been there, he showed no recollection of Alan now, but good-humoredly +looked up for the stranger to state his business. + +"I'm from Number 25," Alan introduced himself. "This is a Corvet, +Sherrill, and Spearman ship. Do you know Mr. Corvet when you see him, +sir?" + +"Know Ben Corvet?" the captain repeated. The manner of the young man +from the car ferry told him it was not an idle question. "Yes; I know +Ben Corvet. I ain't seen him much in late years." + +"Will you come with me for a few minutes then, Captain?" Alan asked. +As the skipper stared at him and hesitated, Alan made explanation, "Mr. +Corvet has been missing for months. His friends have said he's been +away somewhere for his health; but the truth is, he's been missing. +There's a man I want you to look at, Captain--if you used to know Mr. +Corvet." + +"I've heard of that." The captain moved alertly now. "Where is he?" + +Alan led the master to the Ferry. Old Burr had left the car deck; they +found him on his way to the wheelhouse. + +The _Stoughton's_ skipper stared. "That the man?" he demanded. + +"Yes, sir. Remember to allow for his clothes and his not being shaved +and that something has happened." + +The _Stoughton's_ skipper followed to the wheelhouse and spoke to Burr. +Alan's blood beat fast as he watched this conversation. Once or twice +more the skipper seemed surprised; but it was plain that his first +interest in Burr quickly had vanished; when he left the wheelhouse, he +returned to Alan indulgently. "You thought that was Mr. Corvet?" he +asked, amused. + +"You don't think so?" Alan asked. + +"Ben Corvet like that? Did you ever see Ben Corvet?" + +"Only his picture," Alan confessed. "But you looked queer when you +first saw Burr." + +"That was a trick of his eyes. Say, they did give me a start. Ben +Corvet had just that sort of trick of looking through a man." + +"And his eyes were like that?" + +"Sure. But Ben Corvet couldn't be like that!" + +Alan prepared to go on duty. He would not let himself be disappointed +by the skipper's failure to identify old Burr; the skipper had known +immediately at sight of the old man that he was the one whom Alan +thought was Corvet, and he had found a definite resemblance. It might +well have been only the impossibility of believing that Corvet could +have become like this which had prevented fuller recognition. Mr. +Sherrill, undoubtedly, would send some one more familiar with Benjamin +Corvet and who might make proper allowances. + +Alan went forward to his post as a blast from the steam whistle of the +switching engine, announcing that the cars all were on board, was +answered by a warning blast from the ferry. On the car decks the +trains had been secured in place; and, because of the roughness of the +weather, the wheels had been locked upon the tracks with additional +chains as well as with the blocks and chains usually used. Orders now +sounded from the bridge; the steel deck began to shake with the +reverberations of the engines; the mooring lines were taken in; the +rails upon the fantail of the ferry separated from the rails upon the +wharf, and clear water showed between. Alan took up his slow pace as +lookout from rail to rail across the bow, straining his eyes forward +into the thickness of the snow-filled night. + +Because of the severe cold, the watches had been shortened. Alan would +be relieved from time to time to warm himself, and then he would return +to duty again. Old Burr at the wheel would be relieved and would go on +duty at the same hours as Alan himself. Benjamin Corvet! The fancy +reiterated itself to him. Could he be mistaken? Was that man, whose +eyes turned alternately from the compass to the bow of the ferry as it +shifted and rose and fell, the same who had sat in that lonely chair +turned toward the fireplace in the house on Astor Street? Were those +hands, which held the steamer to her course, the hands which had +written to Alan in secret from the little room off his bedroom and +which pasted so carefully the newspaper clippings concealed in the +library? + +Regularly at the end of every minute, a blast from the steam whistle +reverberated; for a while, signals from the shore answered; for a few +minutes the shore lights glowed through the snow. Then the lights were +gone, and the eddies of the gale ceased to bring echoes of the +obscuration signals. Steadily, at short, sixty-second intervals, the +blast of Number 25's warning burst from the whistle; then that too +stopped. The great ferry was on the lake alone; in her course, Number +25 was cutting across the lanes of all ordinary lake travel; but now, +with ordinary navigation closed, the position of every other ship upon +the lake was known to the officers, and formal signals were not thought +necessary. Flat floes, driven by wind and wave, had windrowed in their +course; as Number 25, which was capable of maintaining two thirds its +open water speed when running through solid "green" ice two feet thick, +met this obstruction, its undercut bow rose slightly; the ice, crushed +down and to the sides, hurled, pounding and scraping, under the keel +and along the black, steel sides of the ship; Alan could hear the hull +resounding to the buffeting as it hurled the floes away, and more came, +or the wind threw them back. The water was washing high--higher than +Alan had experienced seas before. The wind, smashing almost straight +across the lake from the west, with only a gust or two from the north, +was throwing up the water in great rushing ridges on which the bow of +Number 25 rose jerkily up and up, suddenly to fall, as the support +passed on, so that the next wave washed nearly to the rail. + +Alan faced the wind with mackinaw buttoned about his throat; to make +certain his hearing, his ears were unprotected. They numbed +frequently, and he drew a hand out of the glove to rub them. The +windows to protect the wheelsman had been dropped, as the snow had +gathered on the glass; and at intervals, as he glanced back, he could +see old Burr's face as he switched on a dim light to look at the +compass. The strange placidity which usually characterized the old +man's face had not returned to it since Alan had spoken with him on the +dock; its look was intent and queerly drawn. Was old Burr beginning to +remember--remember that he was Benjamin Corvet? Alan did not believe +it could be that; again and again he had spoken Corvet's name to him +without effect. Yet there must have been times when, if he was +actually Corvet, he had remembered who he was. He must have remembered +that when he had written directions to some one to send those things to +Constance Sherrill; or, a strange thought had come to Alan, had he +written those instructions to himself? Had there been a moment when he +had been so much himself that he had realized that he might not be +himself again and so had written the order which later, mechanically, +he had obeyed? This certainly would account for the package having +been mailed at Manitowoc and for Alan's failure to find out by whom it +had been mailed. It would account too for the unknown handwriting upon +the wrapper, if some one on the ferry had addressed the package for the +old man. He must inquire whether any one among the crew had done that. + +What could have brought back that moment of recollection to Corvet, +Alan wondered; the finding of the things which he had sent? What might +bring another such moment? Would his seeing the Sherrills again--or +Spearman--act to restore him? + +For half an hour Alan paced steadily at the bow. The storm was +increasing noticeably in fierceness; the wind-driven snowflakes had +changed to hard pellets which, like little bullets, cut and stung the +face; and it was growing colder. From a cabin window came the blue +flash of the wireless, which had been silent after notifying the shore +stations of their departure. It had commenced again; this was unusual. +Something still more unusual followed at once; the direction of the +gale seemed slowly to shift, and with it the wash of the water; instead +of the wind and the waves coming from dead ahead now, they moved to the +port beam, and Number 25, still pitching with the thrust through the +seas, also began to roll. This meant, of course, that the steamer had +changed its course and was making almost due north. It seemed to Alan +to force its engines faster; the deck vibrated more. Alan had not +heard the orders for this change and could only speculate as to what it +might mean. + +His relief came after a few minutes more. + +"Where are we heading?" Alan asked. + +"Radio," the relief announced. "The _H. C. Richardson_ calling; she's +up by the Manitous." + +"What sort of trouble?" + +"She's not in trouble; it's another ship." + +"What ship?" + +"No word as to that." + +Alan, not delaying to question further, went back to the cabins. + +These stretched aft, behind the bridge, along the upper deck, some +score on each side of the ship; they had accommodations for almost a +hundred passengers; but on this crossing only a few were occupied. +Alan had noticed some half dozen men--business men, no doubt, forced to +make the crossing and, one of them, a Catholic priest, returning +probably to some mission in the north; he had seen no women among them. +A little group of passengers were gathered now in the door of or just +outside the wireless cabin, which was one of the row on the starboard +side. Stewards stood with them and the cabin maid; within, and bending +over the table with the radio instrument, was the operator with the +second officer beside him. The violet spark was rasping, and the +operator, his receivers strapped over his ears, strained to listen. He +got no reply, evidently, and he struck his key again; now, as he +listened, he wrote slowly on a pad. + +"You got 'em?" some one cried. "You got 'em now?" + +The operator continued to write; the second mate, reading, shook his +head, "It's only the _Richardson_ again." + +"What is it?" Alan asked the officer. + +"The _Richardson_ heard four blasts of a steam whistle about an hour +ago when she was opposite the Manitous. She answered with the whistle +and turned toward the blasts. She couldn't find any ship." The +officer's reply was interrupted by some of the others. "Then ... that +was a few minutes ago ... they heard the four long again.... They'd +tried to pick up the other ship with radio before.... Yes; we got that +here.... Tried again and got no answer.... But they heard the blasts +for half an hour.... They said they seemed to be almost beside the +ship once.... But they didn't see anything. Then the blasts stopped +... sudden, cut off short in the middle as though something +happened.... She was blowing distress all right.... The +_Richardson's_ searching again now.... Yes, she's searching for boats." + +"Any one else answered?" Alan asked. + +"Shore stations on both sides." + +"Do they know what ship it is?" + +"No." + +"What ship might be there now?" + +The officer could not answer that. He had known where the _Richardson_ +must be; he knew of no other likely to be there at this season. The +spray from the waves had frozen upon Alan; ice gleamed and glinted from +the rail and from the deck. Alan's shoulders drew up in a spasm. The +_Richardson_, they said, was looking for boats; how long could men live +in little boats exposed to that gale and cold? + +He turned back to the others about the radio cabin; the glow from +within showed him faces as gray as his; it lighted a face on the +opposite side of the door--a face haggard with dreadful fright. Old +Burr jerked about as Alan spoke to him and moved away alone; Alan +followed him and seized his arm. + +"What's the matter?" Alan demanded, holding to him. + +"The four blasts!" the wheelsman repeated. "They heard the four +blasts!" He iterated it once more. + +"Yes," Alan urged. "Why not?" + +"But where no ship ought to be; so they couldn't find the ship--they +couldn't find the ship!" Terror, of awful abjectness, came over the +old man. He freed himself from Alan and went forward. + +Alan followed him to the quarters of the crew, where night lunch for +the men relieved from watch had been set out, and took a seat at the +table opposite him. The louder echoing of the steel hull and the roll +and pitching of the vessel, which set the table with its dishes +swaying, showed that the sea was still increasing, and also that they +were now meeting heavier ice. At the table men computed that Number 25 +had now made some twenty miles north off its course, and must therefore +be approaching the neighborhood where the distress signals had been +heard; they speculated uselessly as to what ship could have been in +that part of the lake and made the signals. Old Burr took no part in +this conversation, but listened to it with frightened eyes, and +presently got up and went away, leaving his coffee unfinished. + +Number 25 was blowing its steam whistle again at the end of every +minute. + +Alan, after taking a second cup of coffee, went aft to the car deck. +The roar and echoing tumult of the ice against the hull here drowned +all other sounds. The thirty-two freight cars, in their four long +lines, stood wedged and chained and blocked in place; they tipped and +tilted, rolled and swayed like the stanchions and sides of the ship, +fixed and secure. Jacks on the steel deck under the edges of the cars, +kept them from rocking on their trucks. Men paced watchfully between +the tracks, observing the movement of the cars. The cars creaked and +groaned, as they worked a little this way and that; the men sprang with +sledges and drove the blocks tight again or took an additional turn +upon the jacks. + +As Alan ascended and went forward to his duty, the increase in the +severity of the gale was very evident; the thermometer, the wheelsman +said, had dropped below zero. Ice was making rapidly on the hull of +the ferry, where the spray, flying thicker through the snow, was +freezing as it struck. The deck was all ice now underfoot, and the +rails were swollen to great gleaming slabs which joined and grew +together; a parapet of ice had appeared on the bow; and all about the +swirling snow screen shut off everything. A searchlight which had +flared from the bridge while Alan was below, pierced that screen not a +ship's length ahead, or on the beam, before the glare dimmed to a glow +which served to show no more than the fine, flying pellets of the +storm. Except for the noise of the wind and the water, there had been +no echo from beyond that screen since the shore signals were lost; now +a low, far-away sound came down the wind; it maintained itself for a +few seconds, ceased, and then came again, and continued at uneven +intervals longer than the timed blasts of Number 25's whistle. It +might be the horn of some struggling sailing vessel, which in spite of +the storm and the closed season was braving the seas; at the end of +each interval of silence, the horn blew twice now; the echo came abeam, +passed astern, and was no longer to be heard. How far away its origin +had been, Alan could only guess; probably the sailing vessel, away to +windward, had not heard the whistle of Number 25 at all. + +Alan saw old Burr who, on his way to the wheelhouse, had halted to +listen too. For several minutes the old man stood motionless; he came +on again and stopped to listen. There had been no sound for quite five +minutes now. + +"You hear 'em?" Burr's voice quavered in Alan's ear. "You hear 'em?" + +"What?" Alan asked. + +"The four blasts! You hear 'em now? The four blasts!" + +Burr was straining as he listened, and Alan stood still too; no sound +came to him but the noise of the storm. "No," he replied. "I don't +hear anything. Do you hear them now?" + +Burr stood beside him without making reply; the searchlight, which had +been pointed abeam, shot its glare forward, and Alan could see Burr's +face in the dancing reflection of the flare. The man had never more +plainly resembled the picture of Benjamin Corvet; that which had been +in the picture, that strange sensation of something haunting him, was +upon this man's face, a thousand times intensified; but instead of +distorting the features away from all likeness to the picture, it made +it grotesquely identical. + +And Burr was hearing something--something distinct and terrifying; but +he seemed not surprised, but rather satisfied that Alan had not heard. +He nodded his head at Alan's denial, and, without reply to Alan's +demand, he stood listening. Something bent him forward; he +straightened; again the something came; again he straightened. Four +times Alan counted the motions. Burr was hearing again the four long +blasts of distress! But there was no noise but the gale. "The four +blasts!" He recalled old Burr's terror outside the radio cabin. The +old man was hearing blasts which were not blown! + +He moved on and took the wheel. He was a good wheelsman; the vessel +seemed to be steadier on her course and, somehow, to steam easier when +the old man steered. His illusions of hearing could do no harm, Alan +considered; they were of concern only to Burr and to him. + +Alan, relieving the lookout at the bow, stood on watch again. The +ferry thrust on alone; in the wireless cabin the flame played steadily. +They had been able to get the shore stations again on both sides of the +lake and also the _Richardson_. As the ferry had worked northward, the +_Richardson_ had been working north too, evidently under the impression +that the vessel in distress, if it had headway, was moving in that +direction. By its position, which the _Richardson_ gave, the steamers +were about twenty miles apart. + +Alan fought to keep his thought all to his duty; they must be now very +nearly at the position where the _Richardson_ last had heard the four +long blasts; searching for a ship or for boats, in that snow, was +almost hopeless. With sight even along the searchlight's beam +shortened to a few hundred yards, only accident could bring Number 25 +up for rescue, only chance could carry the ship where the shouts--or +the blasts of distress if the wreck still floated and had steam--would +be heard. + +Half numbed by the cold, Alan stamped and beat his arms about his body; +the swing of the searchlight in the circle about the ship had become +long ago monotonous, purely mechanical, like the blowing of the +whistle; Alan stared patiently along the beam as it turned through the +sector where he watched. They were meeting frequent and heavy floes, +and Alan gave warning of these by hails to the bridge; the bridge +answered and when possible the steamer avoided the floes; when it could +not do that, it cut through them. The windrowed ice beating and +crushing under the bows took strange, distorted, glistening shapes. +Now another such shape appeared before them; where the glare dissipated +to a bare glow in the swirling snow, he saw a vague shadow. The man +moving the searchlight failed to see it, for he swung the beam on. The +shadow was so dim, so ghostly, that Alan sought for it again before he +hailed; he could see nothing now, yet he was surer, somehow, that he +had seen. + +"Something dead ahead, sir!" he shouted back to the bridge. + +The bridge answered the hail as the searchlight pointed forward again. +A gust carried the snow in a fierce flurry which the light failed to +pierce; from the flurry suddenly, silently, spar by spar, a shadow +emerged--the shadow of a ship. It was a steamer, Alan saw, a long, +low-lying old vessel without lights and without smoke from the funnel +slanting up just forward of the after deckhouse; it rolled in the +trough of the sea. The sides and all the lower works gleamed in +ghostly phosphorescence, it was refraction of the searchlight beam from +the ice sheathing all the ship, Alan's brain told him; but the sight of +that soundless, shimmering ship materializing from behind the screen of +snow struck a tremor through him. + +"Ship!" he hailed. "Ahead! Dead ahead, sir! Ship!" + +The shout of quick commands echoed to him from the bridge. Underfoot +he could feel a new tumult of the deck; the engines, instantly stopped, +were being set full speed astern. But Number 25, instead of sheering +off to right or to left to avoid the collision, steered straight on. + +The struggle of the engines against the momentum of the ferry told that +others had seen the gleaming ship or, at least, had heard the hail. +The skipper's instant decision had been to put to starboard; he had +bawled that to the wheelsman, "Hard over!" But, though the screws +turned full astern, Number 25 steered straight on. The flurry was +blowing before the bow again; back through the snow the ice-shrouded +shimmer ahead retreated. Alan leaped away and up to the wheelhouse. + +Men were struggling there--the skipper, a mate, and old Burr, who had +held the wheel. He clung to it yet, as one in a trance, fixed, staring +ahead; his arms, stiff, had been holding Number 25 to her course. The +skipper struck him and beat him away, while the mate tugged at the +wheel. Burr was torn from the wheel now, and he made no resistance to +the skipper's blows; but the skipper, in his frenzy, struck him again +and knocked him to the deck. + +Slowly, steadily, Number 25 was responding to her helm. The bow +pointed away, and the beam of the ferry came beside the beam of the +silent steamer; they were very close now, so close that the +searchlight, which had turned to keep on the other vessel, shot above +its shimmering deck and lighted only the spars; and, as the water rose +and fell between them, the ships sucked closer. Number 25 shook with +an effort; it seemed opposing with all the power of its screws some +force fatally drawing it on--opposing with the last resistance before +giving way. Then, as the water fell again, the ferry seemed to slip +and be drawn toward the other vessel; they mounted, side by side ... +crashed ... recoiled ... crashed again. That second crash threw all +who had nothing to hold by, flat upon the deck; then Number 25 moved +by; astern her now the silent steamer vanished in the snow. + +Gongs boomed below; through the new confusion and the cries of men, +orders began to become audible. Alan, scrambling to his knees, put an +arm under old Burr, half raising him; the form encircled by his arm +struggled up. The skipper, who had knocked Burr away from the wheel, +ignored him now. The old man, dragging himself up and holding to Alan, +was staring with terror at the snow screen behind which the vessel had +disappeared. His lips moved. + +"It was a ship!" he said; he seemed sneaking more to himself than to +Alan. + +"Yes"; Alan said. "It was a ship; and you thought--" + +"It wasn't there!" the wheelsman cried. "It's--it's been there all the +time all night, and I'd--I'd steered through it ten times, twenty +times, every few minutes; and then--that time it was a ship!" + +Alan's excitement grew greater; he seized the old man again. "You +thought it was the _Miwaka_!" Alan exclaimed. "The _Miwaka_! And you +tried to steer through it again." + +"The _Miwaka_!" old Burr's lips reiterated the word. "Yes; yes--the +_Miwaka_!" + +He struggled, writhing with some agony not physical. Alan tried to +hold him, but now the old man was beside himself with dismay. He broke +away and started aft. The captain's voice recalled Alan to himself, as +he was about to follow, and he turned back to the wheelhouse. + +The mate was at the wheel. He shouted to the captain about following +the other ship; neither of them had seen sign of any one aboard it. +"Derelict!" the skipper thought. The mate was swinging Number 25 about +to follow and look at the ship again; and the searchlight beam swept +back and forth through the snow; the blasts of the steam whistle, which +had ceased after the collision, burst out again. As before, no +response came from behind the snow. The searchlight picked up the +silent ship again; it had settled down deeper now by the bow, Alan saw; +the blow from Number 25 had robbed it of its last buoyancy; it was +sinking. It dove down, then rose a little--sounds came from it +now--sudden, explosive sounds; air pressure within hurled up a hatch; +the tops of the cabins blew off, and the stem of the ship slipped down +deep again, stopped, then dove without halt or recovery this time, and +the stern, upraised with the screw motionless, met the high wash of a +wave, and went down with it and disappeared. + +No man had shown himself; no shout had been heard; no little boat was +seen or signalled. + +The second officer, who had gone below to ascertain the damage done to +the ferry, came up to report. Two of the compartments, those which had +taken the crush of the collision, had flooded instantly; the bulkheads +were holding--only leaking a little, the officer declared. Water was +coming into a third compartment, that at the stern; the pumps were +fighting this water. The shock had sprung seams elsewhere; but if the +after compartment did not fill, the pumps might handle the rest. + +Soddenness already was coming into the response of Number 25 to the +lift of the waves; the ferry rolled less to the right as she came +about, beam to the waves, and she dropped away more dully and deeply to +the left; the ship was listing to port and the lift of the ice-heaped +bow told of settling by the stern. Slowly Number 25 circled about, her +engines holding bare headway; the radio, Alan heard, was sending to the +_Richardson_ and to the shore stations word of the finding and sinking +of the ship and of the damage done to Number 25; whether that damage +yet was described in the dispatches as disaster, Alan did not know. +The steam whistle, which continued to roar, maintained the single, +separated blasts of a ship still seaworthy and able to steer and even +to give assistance. Alan was at the bow again on lookout duty, ordered +to listen and to look for the little boats. + +He gave to that duty all his conscious attention; but through his +thought, whether he willed it or not, ran a riotous exultation. As he +paced from side to side and hailed and answered hails from the bridge, +and while he strained for sight and hearing through the gale-swept +snow, the leaping pulse within repeated, "I've found him! I've found +him!" Alan held no longer possibility of doubt of old Burr's identity +with Benjamin Corvet, since the old man had made plain to him that he +was haunted by the _Miwaka_. Since that night in the house on Astor +Street, when Spearman shouted to Alan that name, everything having to +do with the secret of Benjamin Corvet's life had led, so far as Alan +could follow it, to the _Miwaka_; all the change, which Sherrill +described but could not account for, Alan had laid to that. Corvet +only could have been so haunted by that ghostly ship, and there had +been guilt of some awful sort in the old man's cry. Alan had found the +man who had sent him away to Kansas when he was a child, who had +supported him there and then, at last, sent for him; who had +disappeared at his coming and left him all his possessions and his +heritage of disgrace, who had paid blackmail to Luke, and who had sent, +last, Captain Stafford's watch and the ring which came with it--the +wedding ring. + +Alan pulled his hand from his glove and felt in his pocket for the +little band of gold. What would that mean to him now; what of that was +he to learn? And, as he thought of that, Constance Sherrill came more +insistently before him. What was he to learn for her, for his friend +and Benjamin Corvet's friend, whom he, Uncle Benny, had warned not to +care for Henry Spearman, and then had gone away to leave her to marry +him? For she was to marry him, Alan had read. + +It was with this that cold terror suddenly closed over him. Would he +learn anything now from Benjamin Corvet, though he had found him? Only +for an instant--a fleeting instant--had Benjamin Corvet's brain become +clear as to the cause of his hallucination; consternation had +overwhelmed him then, and he struggled free to attempt to mend the +damage he had done. + +More serious damage than first reported! The pumps certainly must be +losing their fight with the water in the port compartment aft; for the +bow steadily was lifting, the stern sinking. The starboard rail too +was raised, and the list had become so sharp that water washed the deck +abaft the forecastle to port. And the ferry was pointed straight into +the gale now; long ago she had ceased to circle and steam slowly in +search for boats; she struggled with all her power against the wind and +the seas, a desperate insistence throbbing in the thrusts of the +engines; for Number 25 was fleeing--fleeing for the western shore. She +dared not turn to the nearer eastern shore to expose that shattered +stern to the seas. + +Four bells beat behind Alan; it was two o'clock. Relief should have +come long before; but no one came. He was numbed now; ice from the +spray crackled upon his clothing when he moved, and it fell in flakes +upon the deck. The stark figure on the bridge was that of the second +officer; so the thing which was happening below--the thing which was +sending strange, violent, wanton tremors through the ship--was serious +enough to call the skipper below, to make him abandon the bridge at +this time! The tremors, quite distinct from the steady tremble of the +engines and the thudding of the pumps, came again. Alan, feeling them, +jerked up and stamped and beat his arms to regain sensation. Some one +stumbled toward him from the cabins now, a short figure in a great +coat. It was a woman, he saw as she hailed him--the cabin maid. + +"I'm taking your place!" she shouted to Alan. "You're wanted--every +one's wanted on the car deck! The cars--" The gale and her fright +stopped her voice as she struggled for speech, "The cars--the cars are +loose!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +"HE KILLED YOUR FATHER" + +Alan ran aft along the starboard side, catching at the rail as the deck +tilted; the sounds within the hull and the tremors following each sound +came to him more distinctly as he advanced. Taking the shortest way to +the car deck, he turned into the cabins to reach the passengers' +companionway. The noises from the car deck, no longer muffled by the +cabins, clanged and resounded in terrible tumult; with the clang and +rumble of metal, rose shouts and roars of men. + +To liberate and throw overboard heavily loaded cars from an endangered +ship was so desperate an undertaking and so certain to cost life that +men attempted it only in final extremities, when the ship must be +lightened at any cost. Alan had never seen the effect of such an +attempt, but he had heard of it as the fear which sat always on the +hearts of the men who navigate the ferries--the cars loose on a +rolling, lurching ship! He was going to that now. Two figures +appeared before him, one half supporting, half dragging the other. +Alan sprang and offered aid; but the injured man called to him to go +on; others needed him. Alan went past them and down the steps to the +car deck. Half-way down, the priest whom he had noticed among the +passengers stood staring aft, a tense, black figure; beside him other +passengers were clinging to the handrail and staring down in awestruck +fascination. The lowest steps had been crushed back and half up-torn; +some monstrous, inanimate thing was battering about below; but the +space at the foot of the steps was clear at that moment. Alan leaped +over the ruin of the steps and down upon the car deck. + +A giant iron casting six feet high and yards across and tons in weight, +tumbled and ground before him; it was this which had swept away the +steps; he had seen it, with two others like it, upon a flat car which +had been shunted upon one of the tracks on the starboard side of the +ferry, one of the tracks on his left now as he faced the stern. He +leaped upon and over the great casting, which turned and spun with the +motion of the ship as he vaulted it. The car deck was a pitching, +swaying slope; the cars nearest him were still upon their tracks, but +they tilted and swayed uglily from side to side; the jacks were gone +from under them; the next cars already were hurled from the rails, +their wheels screaming on the steel deck, clanging and thudding +together in their couplings. + +Alan ran aft between them. All the crew who could be called from deck +and engine room and firehold were struggling at the fantail, under the +direction of the captain, to throw off the cars. The mate was working +as one of the men, and with him was Benjamin Corvet. The crew already +must have loosened and thrown over the stern three cars from the two +tracks on the port side; for there was a space vacant; and as the train +charged into that space and the men threw themselves upon it, Alan +leaped with them. + +The leading car--a box car, heavily laden--swayed and shrieked with the +pitching of the ship. Corvet sprang between it and the car coupled +behind; he drew out the pin from the coupling, and the men with +pinch-bars attacked the car to isolate it and force it aft along the +track. It moved slowly at first; then leaped its length; sharply with +the lift of the deck, it stopped, toppled toward the men who, yelling +to one another, scrambled away. The hundred-ton mass swung from side +to side; the ship dropped swiftly to starboard, and the stern went +down; the car charged, and its aftermost wheels left the deck; it swung +about, slewed, and jammed across both port tracks. The men attacked it +with dismay; Corvet's shout called them away and rallied them farther +back; they ran with him to the car from which he had uncoupled it. + +It was a flat car laden with steel beams. At Corvet's command, the +crew ranged themselves beside it with bars. The bow of the ferry rose +to some great wave and, with a cry to the men, Corvet pulled the pin. +The others thrust with their bars, and the car slid down the sloping +track; and Corvet, caught by some lashing of the beams, came with it. +The car crashed into the box car, splintered it, turned it, shoved it, +and thrust it over the fantail into the water; the flat car, telescoped +into it, was dragged after. Alan leaped upon it and catching at +Corvet, freed him and flung him down to the deck, and dropped with him. +A cheer rose as the car cleared the fantail, dove, and disappeared. + +Alan clambered to his feet. Corvet already was back among the cars +again, shouting orders; the mate and the men who had followed him +before leaped at his yells. The lurch which had cleared the two cars +together had jumped others away from the rails. They hurtled from side +to side, splintering against the stanchions which stayed them from +crashing across the center line of the ship; rebounding, they battered +against the cars on the outer tracks and crushed them against the side +of the ship. The wedges, blocks, and chains which had secured them +banged about on the deck, useless; the men who tried to control these +cars, dodging as they charged, no longer made attempt to secure the +wheels. Corvet called them to throw ropes and chains to bind the loads +which were letting go; the heavier loads--steel beams, castings, +machinery--snapped their lashings, tipped from their flat cars and +thundered down the deck. The cars tipped farther, turned over; others +balanced back; it was upon their wheels that they charged forward, half +riding one another, crashing and demolishing, as the ferry pitched; it +was upon their trucks that they tottered and battered from side to side +as the deck swayed. Now the stern again descended; a line of cars +swept for the fantail. Corvet's cry came to Alan through the screaming +of steel and the clangor of destruction. Corvet's cry sent men with +bars beside the cars as the fantail dipped into the water; Corvet, +again leading his crew, cleared the leader of those madly charging cars +and ran it over the stern. + +The fore trucks fell and, before the rear trucks reached the edge, the +stern lifted and caught the car in the middle; it balanced, half over +the water, half over the deck. Corvet crouched under the car with a +crowbar; Alan and two others went with him; they worked the car on +until the weight of the end over the water tipped it down; the balance +broke, and the car tumbled and dived. Corvet, having cleared another +hundred tons, leaped back, calling to the crew. + +They followed him again, unquestioning, obedient. Alan followed close +to him. It was not pity which stirred him now for Benjamin Corvet; nor +was it bitterness; but it certainly was not contempt. Of all the ways +in which he had fancied finding Benjamin Corvet, he had never thought +of seeing him like this! + +It was, probably, only for a flash; but the great quality of leadership +which he once had possessed, which Sherrill had described to Alan and +which had been destroyed by the threat over him, had returned to him in +this desperate emergency which he had created. How much or how little +of his own condition Corvet understood, Alan could not tell; it was +plain only that he comprehended that he had been the cause of the +catastrophe, and in his fierce will to repair it he not only +disregarded all risk to himself; he also had summoned up from within +him and was spending the last strength of his spirit. But he was +spending it in a losing fight. + +He got off two more cars; yet the deck only dipped lower, and water +washed farther and farther up over the fantail. New avalanches of iron +descended as box cars above burst open; monstrous dynamo drums, +broad-banded steel wheels and splintered crates of machinery battered +about. Men, leaping from before the charging cars, got caught in the +murderous melee of iron and steel and wheels; men's shrill cries came +amid the scream of metal. Alan, tugging at a crate which had struck +down a man, felt aid beside him and, turning, he saw the priest whom he +had passed on the stairs. The priest was bruised and bloody; this was +not his first effort to aid. Together they lifted an end of the crate; +they bent--Alan stepped back, and the priest knelt alone, his lips +repeating the prayer for absolution. Screams of men came from behind; +and the priest rose and turned. He saw men caught between two wrecks +of cars crushing together; there was no moment to reach them; he stood +and raised his arms to them, his head thrown back, his voice calling to +them, as they died, the words of absolution. + +Three more cars at the cost of two more lives the crew cleared, while +the sheathing of ice spread over the steel inboard, and dissolution of +all the cargo became complete. Cut stone and motor parts, chasses and +castings, furniture and beams, swept back and forth, while the cars, +burst and splintered, became monstrous missiles hurtling forward, +sidewise, aslant, recoiling. Yet men, though scattered singly, tried +to stay them by ropes and chains while the water washed higher and +higher. Dimly, far away, deafened out by the clangor, the steam +whistle of Number 25 was blowing the four long blasts of distress; Alan +heard the sound now and then with indifferent wonder. All destruction +had come for him to be contained within this car deck; here the ship +loosed on itself all elements of annihilation; who could aid it from +without? Alan caught the end of a chain which Corvet flung him and, +though he knew it was useless, he carried it across from one stanchion +to the next. Something, sweeping across the deck, caught him and +carried him with it; it brought him before the coupled line of trucks +which hurtled back and forth where the rails of track three had been. +He was hurled before them and rolled over; something cold and heavy +pinned him down; and upon him, the car trucks came. + +But, before them, something warm and living--a hand and bare arm +catching him quickly and pulling at him, tugged him a little farther +on. Alan, looking up, saw Corvet beside him; Corvet, unable to move +him farther, was crouching down there with him. Alan yelled to him to +leap, to twist aside and get out of the way; but Corvet only crouched +closer and put his arms over Alan; then the wreckage came upon them, +driving them apart. As the movement stopped, Alan still could see +Corvet dimly by the glow of the incandescent lamps overhead; the truck +separated them. It bore down upon Alan, holding him motionless and, on +the other side, it crushed upon Corvet's legs. + +He turned over, as far as he could, and spoke to Alan. "You have been +saving me, so now I tried to save you," he said simply. "What reason +did you have for doing that? Why have you been keeping by me?" + +"I'm Alan Conrad of Blue Rapids, Kansas," Alan cried to him. "And +you're Benjamin Corvet! You know me; you sent for me! Why did you do +that?" + +Corvet made no reply to this. Alan, peering at him underneath the +truck, could see that his hands were pressed against his face and that +his body shook. Whether this was from some new physical pain from the +movement of the wreckage, Alan did not know till he lowered his hands +after a moment; and now he did not heed Alan or seem even to be aware +of him. + +"Dear little Connie!" he said aloud. "Dear little Connie! She mustn't +marry him--not him! That must be seen to. What shall I do, what shall +I do?" + +Alan worked nearer him. "Why mustn't she marry him?" he cried to +Corvet. "Why? Ben Corvet, tell me! Tell me why!" + +From above him, through the clangor of the cars, came the four blasts +of the steam whistle. The indifference with which Alan had heard them +a few minutes before had changed now to a twinge of terror. When men +had been dying about him, in their attempts to save the ship, it had +seemed a small thing for him to be crushed or to drown with them and +with Benjamin Corvet, whom he had found at last. But Constance! +Recollection of her was stirring in Corvet the torture of will to live; +in Alan--he struggled and tried to free himself. As well as he could +tell by feeling, the weight above him confined but was not crushing +him; yet what gain for her if he only saved himself and not Corvet too? +He turned back to Corvet. + +"She's going to marry him, Ben Corvet!" he called. "They're betrothed; +and they're going to be married, she and Henry Spearman!" + +"Who are you?" Corvet seemed only with an effort to become conscious +of Alan's presence. + +"I'm Alan Conrad, whom you used to take care of. I'm from Blue Rapids. +You know about me; are you my father, Ben Corvet? Are you my father or +what--what are you to me?" + +"Your father?" Corvet repeated. "Did he tell you that? He killed your +father." + +"Killed him? Killed him how?" + +"Of course. He killed them all--all. But your father--he shot him; he +shot him through the head!" + +Alan twinged. Sight of Spearman came before him as he had first seen +Spearman, cowering in Corvet's library in terror at an apparition. +"And the bullet hole above the eye!" So that was the hole made by the +shot Spearman fired which had killed Alan's father--which shot him +through the head! Alan peered at Corvet and called to him. + +"Father Benitot!" Corvet called in response, not directly in reply to +Alan's question, rather in response to what those questions stirred. +"Father Benitot!" he appealed. "Father Benitot!" + +Some one, drawn by the cry, was moving wreckage near them. A hand and +arm with a torn sleeve showed; Alan could not see the rest of the +figure, but by the sleeve he recognized that it was the mate. + +"Who's caught here?" he called down. + +"Benjamin Corvet of Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman, ship owners of +Chicago," Corvet's voice replied deeply, fully; there was authority in +it and wonder too--the wonder of a man finding himself in a situation +which his recollection cannot explain. + +"Ben Corvet!" the mate shouted in surprise; he cried it to the others, +those who had followed Corvet and obeyed him during the hour before and +had not known why. The mate tried to pull the wreckage aside and make +his way to Corvet; but the old man stopped him. "The priest, Father +Benitot! Send him to me. I shall never leave here; send Father +Benitot!" + +The word was passed without the mate moving away. The mate, after a +minute, made no further attempt to free Corvet; that indeed was +useless, and Corvet demanded his right of sacrament from the priest who +came and crouched under the wreckage beside him. + +"Father Benitot!" + +"I am not Father Benitot. I am Father Perron of L'Anse." + +"It was to Father Benitot of St. Ignace I should have gone, Father! ..." + +The priest got a little closer as Corvet spoke, and Alan heard only +voices now and then through the sounds of clanging metal and the drum +of ice against the hull. The mate and his helpers were working to get +him free. They had abandoned all effort to save the ship; it was +settling. And with the settling, the movement of the wreckage +imprisoning Alan was increasing. This movement made useless the +efforts of the mate; it would free Alan of itself in a moment, if it +did not kill him; it would free or finish Corvet too. But he, as Alan +saw him, was wholly oblivious of that now. His lips moved quietly, +firmly; and his eyes were fixed steadily on the eyes of the priest. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +MR. SPEARMAN GOES NORTH + +The message, in blurred lettering and upon the flimsy tissue paper of a +carbon copy--that message which had brought tension to the offices of +Corvet, Sherrill, and Spearman and had called Constance Sherrill and +her mother downtown where further information could be more quickly +obtained--was handed to Constance by a clerk as soon as she entered her +father's office. She reread it; it already had been repeated to her +over the telephone. + +"4:05 A. M. Frankfort Wireless station has received following message +from No. 25: 'We have Benjamin Corvet, of Chicago, aboard.'" + +"You've received nothing later than this?" she asked. + +"Nothing regarding Mr. Corvet, Miss Sherrill," the clerk replied. + +"Or regarding-- Have you obtained a passenger list?" + +"No passenger list was kept, Miss Sherrill." + +"The crew?" + +"Yes; we have just got the names of the crew." He took another copied +sheet from among the pages and handed it to her, and she looked swiftly +down the list of names until she found that of Alan Conrad. + +Her eyes filled, blinding her, as she put the paper down, and began to +take off her things. She had been clinging determinedly in her thought +to the belief that Alan might not have been aboard the ferry. Alan's +message, which had sent her father north to meet the ship, had implied +plainly that some one whom Alan believed might be Uncle Benny was on +Number 25; she had been fighting, these last few hours, against +conviction that therefore Alan must be on the ferry too. + +She stood by the desk, as the clerk went out, looking through the +papers which he had left with her. + +"What do they say?" her mother asked. + +Constance caught herself together. + +"Wireless signals from No. 25," she read aloud, "were plainly made out +at shore stations at Ludington, Manitowoc, and Frankfort until about +four o'clock, when--" + +"That is, until about six hours ago, Constance." + +"Yes, mother, when the signals were interrupted. The steamer +_Richardson_, in response to whose signals No. 25 made the change in +her course which led to disaster, was in communication until about four +o'clock; Frankfort station picked up one message shortly after four, +and same message was also recorded by Carferry Manitoulin in southern +end of lake; subsequently all efforts to call No. 25 failed of response +until 4:35 when a message was picked up at once by Manitowoc, +Frankfort, and the _Richardson_. Information, therefore, regarding the +fate of the ferry up to that hour received at this office (Corvet, +Sherrill, and Spearman) consists of the following..." + +Constance stopped reading aloud and looked rapidly down the sheet and +then over the next. What she was reading was the carbon of the report +prepared that morning and sent, at his rooms, to Henry, who was not yet +down. It did not contain therefore the last that was known; and she +read only enough of it to be sure of that. + +"After 4:10, to repeated signals to Number 25 from _Richardson_ and +shore stations--'Are you in danger?' 'Shall we send help?' 'Are you +jettisoning cars?' 'What is your position?'--no replies were received. +The _Richardson_ continued therefore to signal, 'Report your position +and course; we will stand by,' at the same time making full speed +toward last position given by Number 25. At 4:35, no other message +having been obtained from Number 25 in the meantime, Manitowoc and +Frankfort both picked up the following: 'S.O.S. Are taking water fast. +S.O.S. Position probably twenty miles west N. Fox. S.O.S.' The +S.O.S. has been repeated, but without further information since." + +The report made to Henry ended here. Constance picked up the later +messages received in response to orders to transmit to Corvet, +Sherrill, and Spearman copies of all signals concerning Number 25 which +had been received or sent. She sorted out from them those dated after +the hour she just had read: + +"4:40, Manitowoc is calling No. 25, 'No. 26 is putting north to you. +Keep in touch.' + +"4:43, No. 26 is calling No. 25, 'What is your position?' + +"4:50, the _Richardson_ is calling No. 25, 'We must be approaching you. +Are you giving whistle signals?' + +"4:53, No. 25 is replying to _Richardson_, 'Yes; will continue to +signal. Do you hear us?' + +"4:59, Frankfort is calling No. 25, 'What is your condition?' + +"5:04, No. 25 is replying to Frankfort, 'Holding bare headway; stern +very low.' + +"5:10, No. 26 is calling No. 25, 'Are you throwing off cars?' + +"5:14, Petoskey is calling Manitowoc, 'We are receiving S.O.S. What is +wrong?' Petoskey has not previously been in communication with shore +stations or ships. + +"5:17, No. 25 is signalling No. 26, 'Are throwing off cars; have +cleared eight; work very difficult. We are sinking.' + +"5:20, No. 25 is calling the _Richardson_, 'Watch for small boats. +Position doubtful because of snow and changes of course; probably due +west N. Fox, twenty to thirty miles.' + +"5:24, No. 26 is calling No. 25, 'Are you abandoning ship?' + +"5:27, No. 25 is replying to No. 26, 'Second boat just getting safely +away with passengers; first boat was smashed. Six passengers in second +boat, two injured of crew, cabin maid, boy and two men.' + +"5:30, Manitowoc and Frankfort are calling No. 25, 'Are you abandoning +ship?' + +"5:34, No. 25 is replying to Manitowoc, 'Still trying to clear cars; +everything is loose below...' + +"5:40, Frankfort is calling Manitowoc, 'Do you get anything now?' + +"5:45, Manitowoc is calling the _Richardson_, 'Do you get anything? +Signals have stopped here.' + +"5:48, The _Richardson_ is calling Petoskey, 'We get nothing now. Do +you?' + +"6:30, Petoskey is calling Manitowoc, 'Signals after becoming +indistinct, failed entirely about 5:45, probably by failure of ship's +power to supply current. Operator appears to have remained at key. +From 5:25 to 5:43 we received disconnected messages, as follows: 'Have +cleared another car ... they are sticking to it down there ... +engine-room crew is also sticking ... hell on car deck ... everything +smashed ... they won't give up ... sinking now ... we're going ... +good-by ... stuck to end ... all they could ... know that ... hand it +to them ... have cleared another car ... sink ... S.O.... Signals then +entirely ceased.'" + +There was no more than this. Constance let the papers fall back upon +the desk and looked to her mother; Mrs. Sherrill loosened her fur +collar and sat back, breathing more comfortably. Constance quickly +shifted her gaze and, trembling and with head erect, she walked to the +window and looked out. The meaning of what she had read was quite +clear; her mother was formulating it. + +"So they are both lost, Mr. Corvet and his--son," Mrs. Sherrill said +quietly. + +Constance did not reply, either to refuse or to concur in the +conclusion. There was not anything which was meant to be merciless in +that conclusion; her mother simply was crediting what probably had +occurred. Constance could not in reason refuse to accept it too; yet +she was refusing it. She had not realized, until these reports of the +wireless messages told her that he was gone, what companionship with +Alan had come to mean to her. She had accepted it as always to be +existent, somehow--a companionship which might be interrupted often but +always to be formed again. It amazed her to find how firm a place he +had found in her world of those close to her with whom she must always +be intimately concerned. + +Her mother arose and came beside her. "May it not be better, +Constance, that it has happened this way?" + +"Better!" Constance cried. She controlled herself. + +It was only what Henry had said to her months ago when Alan had left +her in the north in the search which had resulted in the finding of +Uncle Benny--"Might it not be better for him not to find out?" Henry, +who could hazard more accurately than any one else the nature of that +strange secret which Alan now must have "found out," had believed it; +her mother, who at least had lived longer in the world than she, also +believed it. There came before Constance the vision of Alan's defiance +and refusal to accept the stigma suggested in her father's recital to +him of his relationship to Mr. Corvet. There came to her sight of him +as he had tried to keep her from entering Uncle Benny's house when Luke +was there, and then her waiting with him through the long hour and his +dismissal of her, his abnegation of their friendship. And at that time +his disgrace was indefinite; last night had he learned something worse +than he had dreaded? + +The words of his telegram took for her more terrible significance for +the moment. "Have some one who knew Mr. Corvet well enough to +recognize him even if greatly changed meet..." Were the broken, +incoherent words of the wireless the last that she should hear of him, +and of Uncle Benny, after that? "They are sticking to it ... down +there ... they won't give up ... sinking ... they have cleared another +car ... sink..." Had it come as the best way for them both? + +"The _Richardson_ is searching for boats, mother," Constance returned +steadily, "and Number 26 must be there too by now." + +Her mother looked to the storm. Outside the window which overlooked +the lake from two hundred feet above the street, the sleet-like snow +was driving ceaselessly; all over the western basin of the great lakes, +as Constance knew--over Huron, over Michigan, and Superior--the storm +was established. Its continuance and severity had claimed a front-page +column in the morning papers. Duluth that morning had reported +temperature of eighteen below zero and fierce snow; at Marquette it was +fifteen below; there was driving snow at the Soo, at Mackinac, and at +all ports along both shores. She pictured little boats, at the last +moment, getting away from the ferry, deep-laden with injured and +exhausted men; how long might those men live in open boats in a gale +and with cold like that? The little clock upon her father's desk +marked ten o'clock; they had been nearly five hours in the boats now, +those men. + +Constance knew that as soon as anything new was heard, it would be +brought to her; yet, with a word to her mother, she went from her +father's room and down the corridor into the general office. A hush of +expectancy held this larger room; the clerks moved silently and spoke +to one another in low voices; she recognized in a little group of men +gathered in a corner of the room some officers of Corvet, Sherrill, and +Spearman's ships. Others among them, whom she did not know, were +plainly seamen too--men who knew "Ben" Corvet and who, on hearing he +was on the ferry, had come in to learn what more was known; the +business men and clubmen, friends of Corvet's later life, had not heard +it yet. There was a restrained, professional attentiveness among these +seamen, as of those in the presence of an event which any day might +happen to themselves. They were listening to the clerk who had +compiled the report, who was telephoning now, and Constance, waiting, +listened too to learn what he might be hearing. But he put down the +receiver as he saw her. + +"Nothing more, Miss Sherrill," he reported. "The _Richardson_ has +wirelessed that she reached the reported position of the sinking about +half-past six o'clock. She is searching but has found nothing." + +"She's keeping on searching, though?" + +"Yes; of course." + +"It's still snowing there?" + +"Yes, Miss Sherrill. We've had a message from your father. He has +gone on to Manistique; it's more likely that wreckage or survivors will +be brought in there." + +The telephone switchboard beside Constance suddenly buzzed, and the +operator, plugging in a connection, said: "Yes, sir; at once," and +through the partitions of the private office on the other side, a man's +heavy tones came to Constance. That was Henry's office and, in timbre, +the voice was his, but it was so strange in other characteristics of +expression that she waited an instant before saying to the clerk, + +"Mr. Spearman has come in?" + +The clerk hesitated, but the continuance of the tone from the other +side of the partition made reply superfluous. "Yes, Miss Sherrill." + +"Did you tell him that mother and I were here?" + +The clerk considered again before deciding to reply in the affirmative. +There evidently was some trouble with the telephone number which Henry +had called; the girl at the switchboard was apologizing in frightened +panic, and Henry's voice, loud and abusive, came more plainly through +the partition. Constance started to give an instruction to the clerk; +then, as the abuse burst out again, she changed her plan and went to +Henry's door and rapped. Whether no one else rapped in that way or +whether he realized that she might have come into the general office, +she did not know; but at once his voice was still. He made no answer +and no move to open the door; so, after waiting a moment, she turned +the knob and went in. + +Henry was seated at his desk, facing her, his big hands before him; one +of them held the telephone receiver. He lifted it slowly and put it +upon the hook beside the transmitter as he watched her with steady, +silent, aggressive scrutiny. His face was flushed a little--not much; +his hair was carefully brushed, and there was something about his +clean-shaven appearance and the set of his perfectly fitting coat, one +which he did not ordinarily wear to business, which seemed studied. He +did not rise; only after a moment he recollected that he had not done +so and came to his feet. "Good morning, Connie," he said. "Come in. +What's the news?" + +There was something strained and almost menacing in his voice and in +his manner which halted her. She in some way--or her presence at that +moment--appeared to be definitely disturbing him. It frightened him, +she would have thought, except that the idea was a contradiction. +Henry frightened? But if he was not, what emotion now controlled him? + +The impulse which had brought her into his office went from her. She +had not seen nor heard from Henry directly since before Alan's telegram +had come late yesterday afternoon; she had heard from her father only +that he had informed Henry; that was all. + +"I've no news, Henry," she said. "Have you?" She closed the door +behind her before moving closer to him. She had not known what he had +been doing, since he had heard of Alan's telegram; but she had supposed +that he was in some way cooperating with her father, particularly since +word had come of the disaster to the ferry. + +"How did you happen to be here, Connie?" he asked. + +She made no reply but gazed at him, studying him. The agitation which +he was trying to conceal was not entirely consequent to her coming in +upon him; it had been ruling him before. It had underlain the loudness +and abuse of his words which she had overheard. That was no capricious +outburst of temper or irritation; it had come from something which had +seized and held him in suspense, in dread--in dread; there was no other +way to define her impression to herself. When she had opened the door +and come in, he had looked up in dread, as though preparing himself for +whatever she might announce. Now that the door shut them in alone, he +approached her with arms offered. She stepped back, instinctively +avoiding his embrace; and he stopped at once, but he had come quite +close to her now. + +That she had detected faintly the smell of liquor + +about him was not the whole reason for her drawing back. He was not +drunk; he was quite himself so far as any influence of that kind was +concerned. Long ago, when he was a young man on the boats, he had +drunk a good deal; he had confessed to her once; but he had not done so +for years. Since she had known him, he had been among the most careful +of her friends; it was for "efficiency" he had said. The drink was +simply a part--indeed, only a small part--of the subtle strangeness and +peculiarity she marked in him. If he had been drinking now, it was, +she knew, no temptation, no capricious return to an old appetite. If +not appetite, then it was for the effect--to brace himself. Against +what? Against the thing for which he had prepared himself when she +came upon him? + +As she stared at him, the clerk's voice came to her suddenly over the +partition which separated the office from the larger room where the +clerk was receiving some message over the telephone. Henry +straightened, listened; as the voice stopped, his great, finely shaped +head sank between his shoulders; he fumbled in his pocket for a cigar, +and his big hands shook as he lighted it, without word of excuse to +her. A strange feeling came to her that he felt what he dreaded +approaching and was no longer conscious of her presence. + +She heard footsteps in the larger room coming toward the office door. +Henry was in suspense. A rap came at the door. He whitened and took +the cigar from his mouth and wet his lips. + +"Come in," he summoned. + +One of the office girls entered, bringing a white page of paper with +three or four lines of purple typewriting upon it which Constance +recognized must be a transcript of a message just received. + +She started forward at sight of it, forgetting everything else; but he +took the paper as though he did not know she was there. He merely held +it until the girl had gone out; even then he stood folding and +unfolding it, and his eyes did not drop to the sheet. + +The girl had said nothing at all but, having seen her, Constance was +athrill; the girl had not been a bearer of bad news, that was sure; she +brought some sort of good news! Constance, certain of it, moved nearer +to Henry to read what he held. He looked down and read. + +"What is it, Henry?" + +His muscular reaction, as he read, had drawn the sheet away from her; +he recovered himself almost instantly and gave the paper to her; but, +in that instant, Constance herself was "prepared." She must have +deceived herself the instant before! This bulletin must be something +dismaying to what had remained of hope. + +"8:35 A.M., Manitowoc, Wis.," she read. "The schooner _Anna S. +Solwerk_ has been sighted making for this port. She is not close +enough for communication, but two lifeboats, additional to her own, can +be plainly made out. It is believed that she must have picked up +survivors of No. 25. She carries no wireless, so is unable to report. +Tugs are going out to her." + +"Two lifeboats!" Constance cried. "That could mean that they all are +saved or nearly all; doesn't it, Henry; doesn't it?" + +He had read some other significance in it, she thought, or, from his +greater understanding of conditions in the storm, he had been able to +hold no hope from what had been reported. That was the only way she +could explain to herself as he replied to her; that the word meant to +him that men were saved and that therefore it was dismaying to him, +could not come to her at once. When it came now, it went over her +first only in the flash of incredulous question. + +"Yes," he said to her. "Yes." And he went out of the room to the +outer office. She turned and watched him and then followed to the +door. He had gone to the desk of the girl who had brought him the +bulletin, and Constance heard his voice, strained and queerly +unnatural. "Call Manitowoc on the long distance. Get the harbor +master. Get the names of the people that the _Solwerk_ picked up." + +He stayed beside the girl while she started the call. "Put them on my +wire when you get them," he commanded and turned back to his office. +"Keep my wire clear for that." + +Constance retreated into the room as he approached. He did not want +her there now, she knew; for that reason--if she yet definitely +understood no other--she meant to remain. If he asked her to go, she +intended to stay; but he did not ask her. He wished her to go away; in +every word which he spoke to her, in every moment of their silent +waiting, was his desire to escape her; but he dared not--dared not--go +about that directly. + +The feeling of that flashed over her to her stupefaction. Henry and +she were waiting for word of the fate of Uncle Benny and Alan, and +waiting opposed! She was no longer doubting it as she watched him; she +was trying to understand. The telephone buzzer under his desk sounded; +she drew close as he took up his receiver. + +"Manitowoc?" he said. "I want to know what you've heard from the +_Solwerk_.... You hear me? ... The men the _Solwerk_ picked up. You +have the names yet?" + +"..." + +"The _Benton_?" + +"..." + +"Oh, I understand! All from the _Benton_. I see! ... No; never mind +their names. How about Number 25? Nothing more heard from them?" + +Constance had caught his shoulder while he was speaking and now clung +to it. Release--release of strain was going through him; she could +feel it, and she heard it in his tones and saw it in his eyes. + +"The steamer Number 25 rammed proves to have been the _Benton_," he +told her. "The men are all from her. They had abandoned her in the +small boats, and the _Solwerk_ picked them up before the ferry found +her." + +He was not asking her to congratulate him upon the relief he felt; he +had not so far forgotten himself as that. But it was plain to her that +he was congratulating himself; it had been fear that he was feeling +before--fear, she was beginning to understand, that those on the ferry +had been saved. She shrank a little away from him. Benjamin Corvet +had not been a friend of Henry's--they had quarreled; Uncle Benny had +caused trouble; but nothing which she had understood could explain fear +on Henry's part lest Uncle Benny should be found safe. Henry had not +welcomed Alan; but now Henry was hoping that Alan was dead. Henry's +words to her in the north, after Alan had seen her there, iterated +themselves to her: "I told that fellow Conrad not to keep stirring up +these matters about Ben Corvet.... Conrad doesn't know what he'll turn +up; I don't know either. But it's not going to be anything +pleasant...." Only a few minutes ago she had still thought of these +words as spoken only for Alan's sake and for Uncle Benny's; now she +could not think of them so. This fear of news from the north could not +be for their sake; it was for Henry's own. Had all the warnings been +for Henry's sake too? + +Horror and amazement flowed in upon her with her realization of this in +the man she had promised to marry; and he seemed now to appreciate the +effect he was producing upon her. He tried obviously to pull himself +together; he could not do that fully; yet he managed a manner assertive +of his right over her. + +"Connie," he cried to her, "Connie!" + +She drew back from him as he approached her; she was not yet +consciously denying his right. What was controlling him, what might +underlie his hope that they were dead, she could not guess; she could +not think or reason about that now; what she felt was only overwhelming +desire to be away from him where she could think connectedly. For an +instant she stared at him, all her body tense; then, as she turned and +went out, he followed her, again calling her name. But, seeing the +seamen in the larger office, he stopped, and she understood he was not +willing to urge himself upon her in their presence. + +She crossed the office swiftly; in the corridor she stopped to compose +herself before she met her mother. She heard Henry's voice speaking to +one of the clerks, and flushed hotly with horror. Could she be certain +of anything about him now? Could she be certain even that news which +came through these employees of his would not be kept from her or only +so much given her as would serve Henry's purpose and enable him to +conceal from her the reason for his fear? She pushed the door open. + +"I'm willing to go home now, mother, if you wish," she said steadily. + +Her mother arose at once. "There is no more news, Constance?" + +"No; a schooner has picked up the crew of the ship the ferry rammed; +that is all." + +She followed her mother, but stopped in the ante-room beside the desk +of her father's private secretary. + +"You are going to be here all day, Miss Bennet?" she asked. + +"Yes, Miss Sherrill." + +"Will you please try to see personally all messages which come to +Corvet, Sherrill and Spearman, or to Mr. Spearman about the men from +Number 25, and telephone them to me yourself?" + +"Certainly, Miss Sherrill." + +When they had gone down to the street and were in the car, Constance +leaned back, closing her eyes; she feared her mother might wish to talk +with her. The afternoon papers were already out with news of the loss +of the ferry; Mrs. Sherrill stopped the car and bought one, but +Constance looked at it only enough to make sure that the reporters had +been able to discover nothing more than she already knew; the newspaper +reference to Henry was only as to the partner of the great Chicago ship +owner, Benjamin Corvet, who might be lost with the ship. + +She called Miss Bennet as soon as she reached home; but nothing more +had been received. Toward three o'clock, Miss Bennet called her, but +only to report that the office had heard again from Mr. Sherrill. He +had wired that he was going on from Manistique and would cross the +Straits from St. Ignace; messages from him were to be addressed to +Petoskey. He had given no suggestion that he had news; and there was +no other report except that vessels were still continuing the search +for survivors, because the Indian Drum, which had been beating, was +beating "short," causing the superstitious to be certain that, though +some of the men from Number 25 were lost, some yet survived. + +Constance thrilled as she heard that. She did not believe in the Drum; +at least she had never thought she had really believed in it; she had +only stirred to the idea of its being true. But if the Drum was +beating, she was glad it was beating short. It was serving, at least, +to keep the lake men more alert. She wondered what part the report of +the Drum might have played in her father's movements. None, probably; +for he, of course, did not believe in the Drum. His move was plainly +dictated by the fact that, with the western gale, drift from the ferry +would be toward the eastern shore. + +A little later, as Constance stood at the window, gazing out at the +snow upon the lake, she drew back suddenly out of sight from the +street, as she saw Henry's roadster appear out of the storm and stop +before the house. + +She had been apprehensively certain that he would come to her some time +during the day; he had been too fully aware of the effect he made upon +her not to attempt to remove that effect as soon as he could. As he +got out of the car, shaking the snowflakes from his great fur coat and +from his cap, looking up at the house before he came in and not knowing +that he was observed, she saw something very like triumph in his +manner. Her pulses stopped, then raced, at that; triumph for him! +That meant, if he brought news, it was good news for him; it must be +then, bad news for her. + +She waited in the room where she was. She heard him in the hall, +taking off his coat and speaking to the servant, and he appeared then +at the door. The strain he was under had not lessened, she could see; +or rather, if she could trust her feeling at sight of him, it had +lessened only slightly, and at the same time his power to resist it had +been lessening too. His hands and even his body shook; but his head +was thrust forward, and he stared at her aggressively, and, plainly, he +had determined in advance to act toward her as though their +relationship had not been disturbed. + +"I thought you'd want to know, Connie," he said, "so I came straight +out. The _Richardson's_ picked up one of the boats from the ferry." + +"Uncle Benny and Alan Conrad were not in it," she returned; the triumph +she had seen in him had told her that. + +"No; it was the first boat put off by the ferry, with the passengers +and cabin maid and some injured men of the crew." + +"Were they--alive?" her voice hushed tensely. + +"Yes; that is, they were able to revive them all; but it didn't seem +possible to the _Richardson's_ officers that any one could be revived +who had been exposed much longer than that; so the _Richardson's_ given +up the search, and some of the other ships that were searching have +given up too, and gone on their course." + +"When did you hear that, Henry? I was just speaking with the office." + +"A few minutes ago; a news wire got it before any one else; it didn't +come through the office." + +"I see; how many were in the boat?" + +"Twelve, Connie." + +"Then all the vessels up there won't give up yet!" + +"Why not?" + +"I was just talking with Miss Bennet, Henry; she's heard again from the +other end of the lake. The people up there say the Drum is beating, +but it's beating short still!" + +"Short!" + +She saw Henry stiffen. "Yes," she said swiftly. "They say the Drum +began sounding last night, and that at first it sounded for only two +lives; it's kept on beating, but still is beating only for four. There +were thirty-nine on the ferry--seven passengers and thirty-two crew. +Twelve have been saved now; so until the Drum raises the beats to +twenty-seven there is still a chance that some one will be saved." + +Henry made no answer; his hands fumbled purposelessly with the lapels +of his coat, and his bloodshot eyes wandered uncertainly. Constance +watched him with wonder at the effect of what she had told. When she +had asked him once about the Drum, he had professed the same scepticism +which she had; but he had not held it; at least he was not holding it +now. The news of the Drum had shaken him from his triumph over Alan +and Uncle Benny and over her. It had shaken him so that, though he +remained with her some minutes more, he seemed to have forgotten the +purpose of reconciliation with her which had brought him to the house. +When a telephone call took her out of the room, she returned to find +him gone to the dining-room; she heard a decanter clink there against a +glass. He did not return to her again, but she heard him go. The +entrance door closed after him, and the sound of his starting motor +came. Then alarm, stronger even than that she had felt during the +morning, rushed upon her. + +She dined, or made a pretence of dining, with her mother at seven. Her +mother's voice went on and on about trifles, and Constance did not try +to pay attention. Her thought was following Henry with ever sharpening +apprehension. She called the office in mid-evening; it would be open, +she knew, for messages regarding Uncle Benny and Alan would be expected +there. A clerk answered; no other news had been received; she then +asked Henry's whereabouts. + +"Mr. Spearman went north late this afternoon, Miss Sherrill," the clerk +informed her. + +"North? Where?" + +"We are to communicate with him this evening to Grand Rapids; after +that, to Petoskey." + +Constance could hear her own heart beat. Why had Henry gone, she +wondered; not, certainly, to aid the search. Had he gone to--hinder it? + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE WATCH UPON THE BEACH + +Constance went up to her own rooms; she could hear her mother speaking, +in a room on the same floor, to one of the maids; but for her present +anxiety, her mother offered no help and could not even be consulted. +Nor could any message she might send to her father explain the +situation to him. She was throbbing with determination and action, as +she found her purse and counted the money in it. She never in her life +had gone alone upon an extended journey, much less been alone upon a +train over night. If she spoke of such a thing now, she would be +prevented; no occasion for it would be recognized; she would not be +allowed to go, even if "properly accompanied." She could not, +therefore, risk taking a handbag from the house; so she thrust +nightdress and toilet articles into her muff and the roomy pocket of +her fur coat. She descended to the side door of the house and, +unobserved, let herself out noiselessly on to the carriage drive. She +gained the street and turned westward at the first corner to a street +car which would take her to the railway station. + +There was a train to the north every evening; it was not, she knew, +such a train as ran in the resort season, and she was not certain of +the exact time of its departure; but she would be in time for it. The +manner of buying a railway ticket and of engaging a berth were unknown +to her--there had been servants always to do these things--but she +watched others and did as they did. On the train, the berths had been +made up; people were going to bed behind some of the curtains. She +procured a telegraph blank and wrote a message to her mother, telling +her that she had gone north to join her father. When the train had +started, she gave the message to the porter, directing him to send it +from the first large town at which they stopped. + +She left the light burning in its little niche at the head of the +berth; she had no expectation that she could sleep; shut in by the +green curtains, she drew the covers up about her and stared upward at +the paneled face of the berth overhead. Then new frightened distrust +of the man she had been about to marry flowed in upon her and became +all her thought. + +She had not promised Uncle Benny that she would not marry Henry; her +promise had been that she would not engage herself to that marriage +until she had seen Uncle Benny again. Uncle Benny's own act--his +disappearance---had prevented her from seeing him; for that reason she +had broken her promise; and, from its breaking, something terrifying, +threatening to herself had come. She had been amazed at what she had +seen in Henry; but she was appreciating now that, strangely, in her +thought of him there was no sense of loss to herself. Her feeling of +loss, of something gone from her which could not be replaced, was for +Alan. She had had admiration for Henry, pride in him; had she mistaken +what was merely admiration for love? She had been about to marry him; +had it been only his difference from the other men she knew that had +made her do that? Unconsciously to herself, had she been growing to +love Alan? + +Constance could not, as yet, place Henry's part in the strange +circumstances which had begun to reveal themselves with Alan's coming +to Chicago; but Henry's hope that Uncle Benny and Alan were dead was +beginning to make that clearer. She lay without voluntary movement in +her berth, but her bosom was shaking with the thoughts which came to +her. + +Twenty years before, some dreadful event had altered Uncle Benny's +life; his wife had known--or had learned--enough of that event so that +she had left him. It had seemed to Constance and her father, +therefore, that it must have been some intimate and private event. +They had been confirmed in believing this, when Uncle Benny, in madness +or in fear, had gone away, leaving everything he possessed to Alan +Conrad. But Alan's probable relationship to Uncle Benny had not been +explanation; she saw now that it had even been misleading. For a +purely private event in Uncle Benny's life--even terrible +scandal--could not make Henry fear, could not bring terror of +consequences to himself. That could be only if Henry was involved in +some peculiar and intimate way with what had happened to Uncle Benny. +If he feared Uncle Benny's being found alive and feared Alan's being +found alive too, now that Alan had discovered Uncle Benny, it was +because he dreaded explanation of his own connection with what had +taken place. + +Constance raised her window shade slightly and looked out. It was +still snowing; the train was running swiftly among low sand hills, +snow-covered, and only dimly visible through snow and dark. A +deep-toned, steady roar came to her above the noises of the train. The +lake! Out there, Alan and Uncle Benny were fighting, still struggling +perhaps, against bitter cold and ice and rushing water for their lives. +She must not think of that! + +Uncle Benny had withdrawn himself from men; he had ceased to be active +in his business and delegated it to others. This change had been +strangely advantageous to Henry. Henry had been hardly more than a +common seaman then. He had been a mate--the mate on one of Uncle +Benny's ships. Quite suddenly he had become Uncle Benny's partner. +Henry had explained this to her by saying that Uncle Benny had felt +madness coming on him and had selected him as the one to take charge. +But Uncle Benny had not trusted Henry; he had been suspicious of him; +he had quarreled with him. How strange, then, that Uncle Benny should +have advanced and given way to a man whom he could not trust! + +It was strange, too, that if--as Henry had said--their quarrels had +been about the business, Uncle Benny had allowed Henry to remain in +control. + +Their quarrels had culminated on the day that Uncle Benny went away. +Afterward Uncle Benny had come to her and warned her not to marry +Henry; then he had sent for Alan. There had been purpose in these acts +of Uncle Benny's; had they meant that Uncle Benny had been on the verge +of making explanation--that explanation which Henry feared--and that he +had been--prevented? Her father had thought this; at least, he had +thought that Uncle Benny must have left some explanation in his house. +He had told Alan that, and had given Alan the key to the house so that +he could find it. Alan had gone to the house-- + +In the house Alan had found some one who had mistaken him for a ghost, +a man who had cried out at sight of him something about a ship--about +the _Miwaka_, the ship of whose loss no one had known anything except +by the sounding of the Drum. What had the man been doing in the house? +Had he too been looking for the explanation--the explanation that Henry +feared? Alan had described the man to her; that description had not +had meaning for her before; but now remembering that description she +could think of Henry as the only one who could have been in that house! +Henry had fought with Alan there! Afterwards, when Alan had been +attacked upon the street, had Henry anything to do with that? + +Henry had lied to her about being in Duluth the night he had fought +with Alan; he had not told her the true cause of his quarrels with +Uncle Benny; he had wished her to believe that Uncle Benny was dead +when the wedding ring and watch came to her--the watch which had been +Captain Stafford's of the _Miwaka_! Henry had urged her to marry him +at once. Was that because he wished the security that her father--and +she--must give her husband when they learned the revelation which Alan +or Uncle Benny might bring? + +If so, then that revelation had to do with the _Miwaka_. It was of the +_Miwaka_ that Henry had cried out to Alan in the house; they were the +names of the next of kin of those on the _Miwaka_ that Uncle Benny had +kept. That was beginning to explain to her something of the effect on +Henry of the report that the Drum was telling that some on Ferry Number +25 were alive, and why he had hurried north because of that. The +Drum--so superstition had said--had beat the roll of those who died +with the _Miwaka_; had beaten for all but one! No one of those who +accepted the superstition had ever been able to explain that; but Henry +could! He knew something more about the _Miwaka_ than others knew. He +had encountered the _Miwaka_ somehow or encountered some one saved from +the _Miwaka_; he knew, then, that the Drum had beaten correctly for the +_Miwaka_, that one was spared as the Drum had told! Who had that one +been? Alan? And was he now among those for whom the Drum had not yet +beat? + +She recalled that, on the day when the _Miwaka_ was lost, Henry and +Uncle Benny had been upon the lake in a tug. Afterwards Uncle Benny +had grown rich; Henry had attained advancement and wealth. Her +reasoning had brought her to the verge of a terrible discovery. If she +could take one more step forward in her thought, it would make her +understand it all. But she could not yet take that step. + +In the morning, at Traverse City--where she got a cup of coffee and +some toast in the station eating house--she had to change to a day +coach. It had grown still more bitterly cold; the wind which swept the +long brick-paved platform of the station was arctic; and even through +the double windows of the day coach she could feel its chill. The +points of Grand Traverse Bay were frozen across; frozen across too was +Torch Lake; to north of that, ice, snow-covered, through which frozen +rushes protruded, marked the long chain of little lakes known as the +"Intermediates." The little towns and villages, and the rolling fields +with their leafless trees or blackened stumps, lay under drifts. It +had stopped snowing, however, and she found relief in that; searchers +upon the lake could see small boats now--if there were still small +boats to be seen. + +To the people in her Pullman, the destruction of the ferry had been +only a news item competing for interest with other news on the front +pages of their newspapers; but to these people in the day coach, it was +an intimate and absorbing thing. They spoke by name of the crew as of +persons whom they knew. A white lifeboat, one man told her, had been +seen south of Beaver Island; another said there had been two boats. +They had been far off from shore, but, according to the report cabled +from Beaver, there had appeared to be men in them; the men--her +informant's voice hushed slightly--had not been rowing. Constance +shuddered. She had heard of things like that on the quick-freezing +fresh water of the lakes--small boats adrift crowded with men sitting +upright in them, ice-coated, frozen, lifeless! + +Petoskey, with its great hotels closed and boarded up, and its curio +shops closed and locked, was blocked with snow. She went from the +train directly to the telegraph office. If Henry was in Petoskey, they +would know at that office where he could be found; he would be keeping +in touch with them. The operator in charge of the office knew her, and +his manner became still more deferential when she asked after Henry. + +Mr. Spearman, the man said, had been at the office early in the day; +there had been no messages for him; he had left instructions that any +which came were to be forwarded to him through the men who, under his +direction, were patroling the shore for twenty miles north of Little +Traverse, watching for boats. The operator added to the report she had +heard upon the train. One lifeboat and perhaps two had been seen by a +farmer who had been on the ice to the south of Beaver; the second boat +had been far to the south and west of the first one; tugs were cruising +there now; it had been many hours, however, after the farmer had seen +the boats before he had been able to get word to the town at the north +end of the island--St. James--so that the news could be cabled to the +mainland. Fishermen and seamen, therefore, regarded it as more likely, +from the direction and violence of the gale, that the boats, if they +continued to float, would be drifted upon the mainland than that they +would be found by the tugs. + +Constance asked after her father. Mr. Sherrill and Mr. Spearman, the +operator told her, had been in communication that morning; Mr. Sherrill +had not come to Petoskey; he had taken charge of the watch along the +shore at its north end. It was possible that the boats might drift in +there; but men of experience considered it more probable that the boats +would drift in farther south where Mr. Spearman was in charge. + +Constance crossed the frozen edges of the bay by sledge to Harbor +Point. The driver mentioned Henry with admiration and with pride in +his acquaintance with him; it brought vividly to her the recollection +that Henry's rise in life was a matter of personal congratulation to +these people as lending luster to the neighborhood and to themselves. +Henry's influence here was far greater than her own or her father's; if +she were to move against Henry or show him distrust, she must work +alone; she could enlist no aid from these. + +And her distrust now had deepened to terrible dread. She had not been +able before this to form any definite idea of how Henry could threaten +Alan and Uncle Benny; she had imagined only vague interference and +obstruction of the search for them; she had not foreseen that he could +so readily assume charge of the search and direct, or misdirect, it. + +At the Point she discharged the sledge and went on foot to the house of +the caretaker who had charge of the Sherrill cottage during the winter. +Getting the keys from him, she let herself into the house. The +electric light had been cut off, and the house was darkened by +shutters, but she found a lamp and lit it. Going to her room, she +unpacked a heavy sweater and woolen cap and short fur coat--winter +things which were left there against use when they opened the house +sometimes out of season--and put them on. Then she went down and found +her snowshoes. Stopping at the telephone, she called long distance and +asked them to locate Mr. Sherrill, if possible, and instruct him to +move south along the shore with whomever he had with him. She went out +then, and fastened on her snowshoes. + +It had grown late. The early December dusk--the second dusk since +little boats had put off from Number 25--darkened the snow-locked land. +The wind from the west cut like a knife, even through her fur coat. +The pine trees moaned and bent, with loud whistlings of the wind among +their needles; the leafless elms and maples crashed their limbs +together; above the clamor of all other sounds, the roaring of the lake +came to her, the booming of the waves against the ice, the shatter of +floe on floe. No snow had fallen for a few hours, and the sky was even +clearing; ragged clouds scurried before the wind and, opening, showed +the moon. + +Constance hurried westward and then north, following the bend of the +shore. The figure of a man--one of the shore patrols--pacing the ice +hummocks of the beach and staring out upon the lake, appeared vaguely +in the dusk when she had gone about two miles. He seemed surprised at +seeing a girl, but less surprised when he had recognized her. Mr. +Spearman, he told her, was to the north of them upon the beach +somewhere, he did not know how far; he could not leave his post to +accompany her, but he assured her that there were men stationed all +along the shore. She came, indeed, three quarters of a mile farther +on, to a second man; about an equal distance beyond, she found a third, +but passed him and went on. + +Her legs ached now with the unaccustomed travel upon snowshoes; the +cold, which had been only a piercing chill at first, was stopping +feeling, almost stopping thought. When clouds covered the moon, +complete darkness came; she could go forward only slowly then or must +stop and wait; but the intervals of moonlight were growing longer and +increasing in frequency. As the sky cleared, she went forward quickly +for many minutes at a time, straining her gaze westward over the +tumbling water and the floes. It came to her with terrifying +apprehension that she must have advanced at least three miles since she +had seen the last patrol; she could not have passed any one in the +moonlight without seeing him, and in the dark intervals she had +advanced so little that she could not have missed one that way either. + +She tried to go faster as she realized this; but now travel had become +more difficult. There was no longer any beach. High, precipitous +bluffs, which she recognized as marking Seven Mile Point, descended +here directly to the hummocked ice along the water's edge. She fell +many times, traveling upon these hummocks; there were strange, +treacherous places between the hummocks where, except for her +snowshoes, she would have broken through. Her skirt was torn; she lost +one of her gloves and could not stop to look for it; she fell again and +sharp ice cut her ungloved hand and blood froze upon her finger tips. +She did not heed any of these things. + +She was horrified to find that she was growing weak, and that her +senses were becoming confused. She mistook at times floating ice, +metallic under the moonlight, for boats; her heart beat fast then while +she scrambled part way up the bluff to gain better sight and so +ascertained her mistake. Deep ravines at places broke the shores; +following the bend of the bluffs, she got into these ravines and only +learned her error when she found that she was departing from the shore. +She had come, in all, perhaps eight miles; and she was "playing out"; +other girls, she assured herself--other girls would not have weakened +like this; they would have had strength to make certain no boats were +there, or at least to get help. She had seen no houses; those, she +knew, stood back from the shore, high upon the bluffs, and were not +easy to find; but she scaled the bluff now and looked about for lights. +The country was wild and wooded, and the moonlight showed only the +white stretches of the shrouding snow. + +She descended to the beach again and went on; her gaze continued to +search the lake, but now, wherever there was a break in the bluffs, she +looked toward the shore as well. At the third of these breaks, the +yellow glow of a window appeared, marking a house in a hollow between +snow-shrouded hills. She turned eagerly that way; she could go only +very slowly now. There was no path; at least, if there was, the snow +drifts hid it. Through the drifts a thicket projected; the pines on +the ravine sides overhead stood so close that only a silver tracery of +the moonlight came through; beyond the pines, birch trees, stripped of +their bark, stood black up to the white boughs. + +Constance climbed over leafless briars and through brush and came upon +a clearing perhaps fifty yards across, roughly crescent shaped, as it +followed the configuration of the hills. Dead cornstalks, above the +snow, showed ploughed ground; beyond that, a little, black cabin +huddled in the further point of the crescent, and Constance gasped with +disappointment as she saw it. She had expected a farmhouse; but this +plainly was not even that. The framework was of logs or poles which +had been partly boarded over; and above the boards and where they were +lacking, black building paper had been nailed, secured by big tin +discs. The rude, weather-beaten door was closed; smoke, however, came +from a pipe stuck through the roof. + +She struggled to the door and knocked upon it, and receiving no reply, +she beat upon it with both fists. + +"Who's here?" she cried. "Who's here?" + +The door opened then a very little, and the frightened face of an +Indian woman appeared in the crack. The woman evidently had +expected--and feared--some arrival, and was reassured when she saw only +a girl. She threw the door wider open, and bent to help unfasten +Constance's snowshoes; having done that, she led her in and closed the +door. + +Constance looked swiftly around the single room of the cabin. There +was a cot on one side; there was a table, home carpentered; there were +a couple of boxes for clothing or utensils. The stove, a good range +once in the house of a prosperous farmer, had been bricked up by its +present owners so as to hold fire. Dried onions and yellow ears of +corn hung from the rafters; on the shelves were little birchbark +canoes, woven baskets, and porcupine quill boxes of the ordinary sort +made for the summer trade. Constance recognized the woman now as one +who had come sometimes to the Point to sell such things, and who could +speak fairly good English. The woman clearly had recognized Constance +at once. + +"Where is your man?" Constance had caught the woman's arm. + +"They sent for him to the beach. A ship has sunk." + +"Are there houses near here? You must run to one of them at once. +Bring whoever you can get; or if you won't do that, tell me where to +go." + +The woman stared at her stolidly and moved away. "None near," she +said. "Besides, you could not get somebody before some one will come." + +"Who is that?" + +"He is on the beach--Henry Spearman. He comes here to warm himself. +It is nearly time he comes again." + +"How long has he been about here?" + +"Since before noon. Sit down. I will make you tea." + +Constance gazed at her; the woman was plainly glad of her coming. Her +relief--relief from that fear she had been feeling when she opened the +door--was very evident. It was Henry, then, who had frightened her. + +The Indian woman set a chair for her beside the stove, and put water in +a pan to heat; she shook tea leaves from a box into a bowl and brought +a cup. + +"How many on that ship?" + +"Altogether there were thirty-nine," Constance replied. + +"Some saved?" + +"Yes; a boat was picked up yesterday morning with twelve." + +The woman seemed making some computation which was difficult for her. + +"Seven are living then," she said. + +"Seven? What have you heard? What makes you think so?" + +"That is what the Drum says." + +The Drum! There was a Drum then! At least there was some sound which +people heard and which they called the Drum. For the woman had heard +it. + +The woman shifted, checking something upon her fingers, while her lips +moved; she was not counting, Constance thought; she was more likely +aiding herself in translating something from Indian numeration into +English. "Two, it began with," she announced. "Right away it went to +nine. Sixteen then--that was this morning very early. Now, all day +and to-night, it has been giving twenty. That leaves seven. It is not +known who they may be." + +She opened the door and looked out. The roar of the water and the +wind, which had come loudly, increased, and with it the wood noises. +The woman was not looking about now, Constance realized; she was +listening. Constance arose and went to the door too. The Drum! Blood +prickled in her face and forehead; it prickled in her finger tips. The +Drum was heard only, it was said, in time of severest storm; for that +reason it was heard most often in winter. It was very seldom heard by +any one in summer; and she was of the summer people. Sounds were +coming from the woods now. Were these reverberations the roll of the +Drum which beat for the dead? Her voice was uncontrolled as she asked +the woman: + +"Is that the Drum?" + +The woman shook her head. "That's the trees." + +Constance's shoulders shook convulsively together. When she had +thought about the Drum--and when she had spoken of it with others who, +themselves, never had heard it--they always had said that, if there +were such a sound, it was trees. She herself had heard those strange +wood noises, terrifying sometimes until their source was +known--wailings like the cry of some one in anguish, which were caused +by two crossed saplings rubbing together; thunderings, which were only +some smaller trees beating against a great hollow trunk when a strong +wind veered from a certain direction. But this Indian woman must know +all such sounds well; and to her the Drum was something distinct from +them. The woman specified that now. + +"You'll know the Drum when you hear it." + +Constance grew suddenly cold. For twenty lives, the woman said, the +Drum had beat; that meant to her, and to Constance too now, that seven +were left. Indefinite, desperate denial that all from the ferry must +be dead--that denial which had been strengthened by the news that at +least one boat had been adrift near Beaver--altered in Constance to +conviction of a boat with seven men from the ferry, seven dying, +perhaps, but not yet dead. Seven out of twenty-seven! The score were +gone; the Drum had beat for them in little groups as they had died. +When the Drum beat again, would it beat beyond the score? + +The woman drew back and closed the door; the water was hot now, and she +made the tea and poured a cup for Constance. As she drank it, +Constance was listening for the Drum; the woman too was listening. +Having finished the tea, Constance returned to the door and reopened +it; the sounds outside were the same. A solitary figure appeared +moving along the edge of the ice--the figure of a tall man, walking on +snowshoes; moonlight distorted the figure, and it was muffled too in a +great coat which made it unrecognizable. He halted and stood looking +out at the lake and then, with a sudden movement, strode on; he halted +again, and now Constance got the knowledge that he was not looking; he +was listening as she was. He was not merely listening; his body swayed +and bent to a rhythm--he was counting something that he heard. +Constance strained her ears; but she could hear no sound except those +of the waters and the wind. + +"Is the Drum sounding now?" she asked the woman. + +"No." + +Constance gazed again at the man and found his motion quite +unmistakable; he was counting--if not counting something that he heard, +or thought he heard, he was recounting and reviewing within himself +something that he had heard before--some irregular rhythm which had +become so much a part of him that it sounded now continually within his +own brain; so that, instinctively, he moved in cadence to it. He +stepped forward again now, and turned toward the house. + +Her breath caught as she spoke to the woman. "Mr. Spearman is coming +here now!" + +Her impulse was to remain where she was, lest he should think she was +afraid of him; but realization came to her that there might be +advantage in seeing him before he knew that she was there, so she +reclosed the door and drew back into the cabin. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE SOUNDING OF THE DRUM + +Noises of the wind and the roaring of the lake made inaudible any sound +of his approach to the cabin; she heard his snowshoes, however, scrape +the cabin wall as, after taking them off, he leaned them beside the +door. He thrust the door open then and came in; he did not see her at +first and, as he turned to force the door shut again against the wind, +she watched him quietly. She understood at once why the Indian woman +had been afraid of him. His face was bloodless, yellow, and +swollen-looking, his eyes bloodshot, his lips strained to a thin, +straight line. + +He saw her now and started and, as though sight of her confused him, he +looked away from the woman and then back to Constance before he seemed +certain of her. + +"Hello!" he said tentatively. "Hello!" + +"I'm here, Henry." + +"Oh; you are! You are!" He stood drawn up, swaying a little as he +stared at her; whiskey was upon his breath, and it became evident in +the heat of the room; but whiskey could not account for this condition +she witnessed in him. Neither could it conceal that condition; some +turmoil and strain within him made him immune to its effects. + +She had realized on her way up here what, vaguely, that strain within +him must be. Guilt--guilt of some awful sort connected him, and had +connected Uncle Benny, with the _Miwaka_--the lost ship for which the +Drum had beaten the roll of the dead. Now dread of revelation of that +guilt had brought him here near to the Drum; he had been alone upon the +beach twelve hours, the woman had said--listening, counting the beating +of the Drum for another ship, fearing the survival of some one from +that ship. Guilt was in his thought now--racking, tearing at him. But +there was something more than that; what she had seen in him when he +first caught sight of her was fear--fear of her, of Constance Sherrill. + +He was fully aware, she now understood, that he had in a measure +betrayed himself to her in Chicago; and he had hoped to cover up and to +dissemble that betrayal with her. For that reason she was the last +person in the world whom he wished to find here now. + +"The point is," he said heavily, "why are you here?" + +"I decided to come up last night." + +"Obviously." He uttered the word slowly and with care. "Unless you +came in a flying machine. Who came with you?" + +"No one; I came alone. I expected to find father at Petoskey; he +hadn't been there, so I came on here." + +"After him?" + +"No; after you, Henry." + +"After me?" She had increased the apprehension in him, and he +considered and scrutinized her before he ventured to go on. "Because +you wanted to be up here with me, eh, Connie?" + +"Of course not!" + +"What's that?" + +"Of course not!" + +"I knew it!" he moved menacingly. She watched him quite without fear; +fear was for him, she felt, not her. Often she had wished that she +might have known him when he was a young man; now, she was aware that, +in a way, she was having that wish. Under the surface of the man whose +strength and determination she had admired, all the time had been this +terror--this guilt. If Uncle Benny had carried it for a score of +years, Henry had had it within him too. This had been within him all +the time! + +"You came up here about Ben Corvet?" he challenged. + +"Yes--no!" + +"Which do you mean?" + +"No." + +"I know then. For him, then--eh. For him!" + +"For Alan Conrad? Yes," she said. + +"I knew it!" he repeated. "He's been the trouble between you and me +all the time!" + +She made no denial of that; she had begun to know during the last two +days that it was so. + +"So you came to find him?" Henry went on. + +"Yes, Henry. Have you any news?" + +"News?" + +"News of the boats?" + +"News!" he iterated. "News to-night! No one'll have more'n one news +to-night!" + +From his slow, heavy utterance, a timbre of terrible satisfaction +betrayed itself; his eyes widened a little as he saw it strike +Constance, then his lids narrowed again. He had not meant to say it +that way; yet, for an instant, satisfaction to him had become +inseparable from the saying, before that was followed by fright--the +fright of examination of just what he had said or of what she had made +of it. + +"He'll be found!" she defied him. + +"Be found?" + +"Some are dead," she admitted, "but not all. Twenty are dead; but +seven are not!" + +She looked for confirmation to the Indian woman, who nodded: "Yes." He +moved his head to face the woman, but his eyes, unmoving, remained +fixed on Constance. + +"Seven?" he echoed. "You say seven are not! How do you know?" + +"The Drum has been beating for twenty, but not for more!" Constance +said. Thirty hours before, when she had told Henry of the Drum, she +had done it without belief herself, without looking for belief in him. +But now, whether or not she yet believed or simply clung to the +superstition for its shred of hope, it gave her a weapon to terrify +him; for he believed--believed with all the unreasoning horror of his +superstition and the terror of long-borne and hidden guilt. + +"The Drum, Henry!" she repeated. "The Drum you've been listening to +all day upon the beach--the Indian Drum that sounded for the dead of +the _Miwaka_; sounded, one by one, for all who died! But it didn't +sound for him! It's been sounding again, you know; but, again, it +doesn't sound for him, Henry, not for him!" + +"The _Miwaka_! What do you mean by that? What's that got to do with +this?" His swollen face was thrust forward at her; there was threat +against her in his tense muscles and his bloodshot eyes. + +She did not shrink back from him, or move; and now he was not waiting +for her answer. Something--a sound--had caught him about. Once it +echoed, low in its reverberation but penetrating and quite distinct. +It came, so far as direction could be assigned to it, from the trees +toward the shore; but it was like no forest sound. Distinct too was it +from any noise of the lake. It was like a Drum! Yet, when the echo +had gone, it was a sensation easy to deny--a hallucination, that was +all. But now, low and distinct it came again; and, as before, +Constance saw it catch Henry and hold him. His lips moved, but he did +not speak; he was counting. "Two," she saw his lips form. + +The Indian woman passed them and opened the door, and now the sound, +louder and more distinct, came again. + +"The Drum!" she whispered, without looking about. "You hear? Three, +I've heard. Now four! It will beat twenty; then we will know if more +are dead!" + +The door blew from the woman's hand, and snow, swept up from the drifts +of the slope, swirled into the room; the draft blew the flame of the +lamp in a smoky streak up the glass chimney and snuffed it out. The +moonlight painted a rectangle on the floor; the moonlight gave a green, +shimmering world without. Hurried spots of cloud shuttered away the +moon for moments, casting shadows which swept raggedly up the slope +from the shore. The woman seized the door and, tugging it about +against the gale, she slammed it shut. She did not try at once to +relight the lamp. + +The sound of the Drum was continuing, the beats a few seconds apart. +The opening of the door outside had seemed to Constance to make the +beats come louder and more distinct; but the closing of the door did +not muffle them again. "Twelve," Constance counted to herself. The +beats had seemed to be quite measured and regular at first; but now +Constance knew that this was only roughly true; they beat rather in +rhythm than at regular intervals. Two came close together and there +was a longer wait before the next; then three sounded before the +measure--a wild, leaping rhythm. She recalled having heard that the +strangeness of Indian music to civilized ears was its time; the drums +beat and rattles sounded in a different time from the song which they +accompanied; there were even, in some dances, three different times +contending for supremacy. Now this seemed reproduced in the strange, +irregular sounding of the Drum; she could not count with certainty +those beats. "Twenty--twenty-one--twenty-two!" Constance caught +breath and waited for the next beat; the time of the interval between +the measures of the rhythm passed, and still only the whistle of the +wind and the undertone of water sounded. The Drum had beaten its roll +and, for the moment, was done. + +"Now it begins again," the woman whispered. "Always it waits and then +it begins over." + +Constance let go her breath; the next beat then would not mean another +death. Twenty-two, had been her count, as nearly as she could count at +all; the reckoning agreed with what the woman had heard. Two had died, +then, since the Drum last had beat, when its roll was twenty. Two more +than before; that meant five were left! Yet Constance, while she was +appreciating this, strained forward, staring at Henry; she could not be +certain, in the flickering shadows of the cabin, of what she was seeing +in him; still less, in the sudden stoppage of heart and breathing that +it brought, could she find coherent answer to its meaning. But still +it turned her weak, then spurred her with a vague and terrible impulse. + +The Indian woman lifted the lamp chimney waveringly and scratched a +match and, with unsteady hands, lighted the wick; Constance caught up +her woolen hood from the table and put it on. Her action seemed to +call Henry to himself. + +"What are you going to do?" he demanded. + +"I'm going out." + +He moved between her and the door. "Not alone, you're not!" His heavy +voice had a deep tone of menace in it; he seemed to consider and decide +something about her. "There's a farmhouse about a mile back; I'm going +to take you over there and leave you with those people." + +"I will not go there!" + +He swore. "I'll carry you then!" + +She shrank back from him as he lurched toward her with hands +outstretched to seize her; he followed her, and she avoided him again; +if his guilt and terror had given her mental ascendency over him, his +physical strength could still force her to his will and, realizing the +impossibility of evading him or overcoming him, she stopped. + +"Not that!" she cried. "Don't touch me!" + +"Come with me then!" he commanded; and he went to the door and laid his +snowshoes on the snow and stepped into them, stooping and tightening +the straps; he stood by while she put on hers. He did not attempt +again to put hands upon her as they moved away from the little cabin +toward the woods back of the clearing; but went ahead, breaking the +trail for her with his snowshoes. He moved forward slowly; he could +travel, if he had wished, three feet to every two that she could cover, +but he seemed not wishing for speed but rather for delay. They reached +the trees; the hemlock and pine, black and swaying, shifted their +shadows on the moonlit snow; bare maples and beeches, bent by the gale, +creaked and cracked; now the hemlock was heavier. The wind, which +wailed among the branches of the maples, hissed loudly in the needles +of the hemlocks; snow swept from the slopes and whirled and drove about +them, and she sucked it in with her breath. All through the wood were +noises; a moaning came from a dark copse of pine and hemlock to their +right, rose and died away; a wail followed--a whining, whimpering +wail--so like the crying of a child that it startled her. Shadows +seemed to detach themselves, as the trees swayed, to tumble from the +boughs and scurry over the snow; they hid, as one looked at them, then +darted on and hid behind the tree trunks. + +Henry was barely moving; now he slowed still more. A deep, dull +resonance was booming above the wood; it boomed again and ran into a +rhythm. No longer was it above; at least it was not only above; it was +all about them--here, there, to right and to left, before, behind--the +booming of the Drum. Doom was the substance of that sound of the Drum +beating the roll of the dead. Could there be abiding in the wood a +consciousness which counted that roll? Constance fought the mad +feeling that it brought. The sound must have some natural cause, she +repeated to herself--waves washing in some strange conformation of the +ice caves on the shore, wind reverberating within some great hollow +tree trunk as within the pipe of an organ. But Henry was not denying +the Drum! + +He had stopped in front of her, half turned her way; his body swayed +and bent to the booming of the Drum, as his swollen lips counted its +soundings. She could see him plainly in the moonlight, yet she drew +nearer to him as she followed his count. "Twenty-one," he +counted--"Twenty-two!" The Drum was still going on. +"Twenty-four--twenty-five--twenty-six!" Would he count another? + +He did not; and her pulses, which had halted, leaped with relief; and +through her comprehension rushed. It was thus she had seen him +counting in the cabin, but so vaguely that she had not been certain of +it, but only able to suspect. Then the Drum had stopped short of +twenty-six, but he had not stopped counting because of that; he had +made the sounds twenty-six, when she and the woman had made them, +twenty-two; now he had reckoned them twenty-six, though the Drum, as +she separated the sound from other noises, still went on! + +He moved on again, descending the steep side of a little ravine, and +she followed. One of his snowshoes caught in a protruding root and, +instead of slowing to free it with care, he pulled it violently out, +and she heard the dry, seasoned wood crack. He looked down, swore; saw +that the wood was not broken through and went on; but as he reached the +bottom of the slope, she leaped downward from a little height behind +him and crashed down upon his trailing snowshoe just behind the heel. +The rending snap of the wood came beneath her feet. Had she broken +through his shoe or snapped her own? She sprang back, as he cried out +and swung in an attempt to grasp her; he lunged to follow her, and she +ran a few steps away and stopped. At his next step, his foot entangled +in the mesh of the broken snowshoe, and he stooped, cursing, to strip +it off and hurl it from him; then he tore off the one from the other +foot, and threw it away, and lurched after her again; but now he sank +above his knees and floundered in the snow. She stood for a moment +while the half-mad, half-drunken figure struggled toward her along the +side of the ravine; then she ran to where the tree trunks hid her from +him, but where she could look out from the shadow and see him. He +gained the top of the slope and turned in the direction she had gone; +assured then, apparently, that she had fled in fear of him, he started +back more swiftly toward the beach. She followed, keeping out of his +sight among the trees. + +To twenty-six, he had counted--to twenty-six, each time! That told +that he knew one was living among those who had been upon the ferry! +The Drum--it was not easy to count with exactness those wild, +irregularly leaping sounds; one might make of them almost what one +wished--or feared! And if, in his terror here, Henry made the count +twenty-six, it was because he knew--he knew that one was living! What +one? It could only be one of two to dismay him so; there had been only +two on the ferry whose rescue he had feared; only two who, living, he +would have let lie upon this beach which he had chosen and set aside +for his patrol, while he waited for him to die! + +She forced herself on, unsparingly, as she saw Henry gain the shore and +as, believing himself alone, he hurried northward. She went with him, +paralleling his course among the trees. On the wind-swept ridges of +the ice, where there was little snow, he could travel for long +stretches faster than she; she struggled to keep even with him, her +lungs seared by the cold air as she gasped for breath. But she could +not rest; she could not let herself be exhausted. Merciless minute +after minute she raced him thus-- A dark shape--a figure lay stretched +upon the ice ahead! Beyond and still farther out, something which +seemed the fragments of a lifeboat tossed up and down where the waves +thundered and gleamed at the edge of the floe. + +Henry's pace quickened; hers quickened desperately too. She left the +shelter of the trees and scrambled down the steep pitch of the bluff, +shouting, crying aloud. Henry turned about and saw her; he halted, and +she passed him with a rush and got between him and the form upon the +ice, before she turned and faced him. + +Defeat--defeat of whatever frightful purpose he had had--was his now +that she was there to witness what he might do; and in his realization +of that, he burst out in oaths against her-- He advanced; she stood, +confronting--he swayed slightly in his walk and swung past her and +away; he went past those things on the beach and kept on along the ice +hummocks toward the north. + +She ran to the huddled figure of the man in mackinaw and cap; his face +was hidden partly by the position in which he lay and partly by the +drifting snow; but, before she swept the snow away and turned him to +her, she knew that he was Alan. + +She cried to him and, when he did not answer, she shook him to get him +awake; but she could not rouse him. Praying in wild whispers to +herself, she opened his jacket and felt within his clothes; he was +warm--at least he was not frozen within! No; and there seemed some +stir of his heart! She tried to lift him, to carry him; then to drag +him. But she could not; he fell from her arms into the snow again, and +she sat down, pulling him upon her lap and clasping him to her. She +must have aid, she must get him to some house, she must take him out of +the terrible cold; but dared she leave him? Might Henry return, if she +went away? She arose and looked about. Far up the shore she saw his +figure rising and falling with his flight over the rough ice. A sound +came to her too, the low, deep reverberation of the Drum beating once +more along the shore and in the woods and out upon the lake; and it +seemed to her that Henry's figure, in the stumbling steps of its +flight, was keeping time to the wild rhythm of that sound. And she +stooped to Alan and covered him with her coat, before leaving him; for +she feared no longer Henry's return. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE FATE OF THE "MIWAKA" + +"So this isn't your house, Judah?" + +"No, Alan; this is an Indian's house, but it is not mine. It is Adam +Enos' house. He and his wife went somewhere else when you needed this." + +"He helped to bring me here then?" + +"No, Alan. They were alone here--she and Adam's wife. When she found +you, they brought you here--more than a mile along the beach. Two +women!" + +Alan choked as he put down the little porcupine quill box which had +started this line of inquiry. Whatever questions he had asked of Judah +or of Sherrill these last few days had brought him very quickly back to +her. Moved by some intuitive certainty regarding Spearman, she had +come north; she had not thought of peril to herself; she had struggled +alone across dangerous ice in storm--a girl brought up as she had been! +She had found him--Alan--with life almost extinct upon the beach; she +and the Indian woman, Wassaquam had just said, had brought him along +the shore. How had they managed that, he wondered; they had somehow +got him to this house which, in his ignorance of exactly where he was +upon the mainland, he had thought must be Wassaquam's; she had gone to +get help-- His throat closed up, and his eyes filled as he thought of +this. + +In the week during which he had been cared for here, Alan had not seen +Constance; but there had been a peculiar and exciting alteration in +Sherrill's manner toward him, he had felt; it was something more than +merely liking for him that Sherrill had showed, and Sherrill had spoken +of her to him as Constance, not, as he had called her always before, +"Miss Sherrill" or "my daughter." Alan had had dreams which had seemed +impossible of fulfilment, of dedicating his life and all that he could +make of it to her; now Sherrill's manner had brought to him something +like awe, as of something quite incredible. + +When he had believed that disgrace was his--disgrace because he was +Benjamin Corvet's son--he had hidden, or tried to hide, his feeling +toward her; he knew now that he was not Corvet's son; Spearman had shot +his father, Corvet had said. But he could not be certain yet who his +father was or what revelation regarding himself might now be given. +Could he dare to betray that he was thinking of Constance as--as he +could not keep from thinking? He dared not without daring to dream +that Sherrill's manner meant that she could care for him; and that he +could not presume. What she had undergone for him--her venture alone +up the beach and that dreadful contest which had taken place between +her and Spearman--must remain circumstances which he had learned but +from which he could not yet take conclusions. + +He turned to the Indian. + +"Has anything more been heard of Spearman, Judah?" + +"Only this, Alan; he crossed the Straits the next day upon the ferry +there. In Mackinaw City he bought liquor at a bar and took it with +him; he asked there about trains into the northwest. He has gone, +leaving all he had. What else could he do?" + +Alan crossed the little cabin and looked out the window over the +snow-covered slope, where the bright sun was shining. It was very +still without; there was no motion at all in the pines toward the +ice-bound shore; and the shadow of the wood smoke rising from the cabin +chimney made almost a straight line across the snow. Snow had covered +any tracks that there had been upon the beach where those who had been +in the boat with him had been found dead. He had known that this must +be; he had believed them beyond aid when he had tried for the shore to +summon help for them and for himself. The other boat, which had +carried survivors of the wreck, blown farther to the south, had been +able to gain the shore of North Fox Island; and as these men had not +been so long exposed before they were brought to shelter, four men +lived. Sherrill had told him their names; they were the mate, the +assistant engineer, a deckhand and Father Perron, the priest who had +been a passenger but who had stayed with the crew till the last. +Benjamin Corvet had perished in the wreckage of the cars. + +As Alan went back to his chair, the Indian watched him and seemed not +displeased. + +"You feel good now, Alan?" Wassaquam asked. + +"Almost like myself, Judah." + +"That is right then. It was thought you would be like that to-day." +He looked at the long shadows and at the height of the early morning +sun, estimating the time of day. "A sled is coming soon now." + +"We're going to leave here, Judah?" + +"Yes, Alan." + +Was he going to see her then? Excitement stirred him, and he turned to +Wassaquam to ask that; but suddenly he hesitated and did not inquire. + +Wassaquam brought the mackinaw and cap which Alan had worn on Number +25; he took from the bed the new blankets which had been furnished by +Sherrill. They waited until a farmer appeared driving a team hitched +to a low, wide-runnered sled. The Indian settled Alan on the sled, and +they drove off. + +The farmer looked frequently at Alan with curious interest; the sun +shone down, dazzling, and felt almost warm in the still air. +Wassaquam, with regard for the frostbite from which Alan had been +suffering, bundled up the blankets around him; but Alan put them down +reassuringly. They traveled south along the shore, rounded into Little +Traverse Bay, and the houses of Harbor Point appeared among their +pines. Alan could see plainly that these were snow-weighted and +boarded up without sign of occupation; but he saw that the Sherrill +house was open; smoke rose from the chimney, and the windows winked +with the reflection of a red blaze within. He was so sure that this +was their destination that he started to throw off the robes. + +"Nobody there now," Wassaquam indicated the house. "At Petoskey; we go +on there." + +The sled proceeded across the edge of the bay to the little city; even +before leaving the bay ice, Alan saw Constance and her father; they +were walking at the water front near to the railway station, and they +came out on the ice as they recognized the occupants of the sled. + +Alan felt himself alternately weak and roused to strength as he saw +her. The sled halted and, as she approached, he stepped down. Their +eyes encountered, and hers looked away; a sudden shyness, which sent +his heart leaping, had come over her. He wanted to speak to her, to +make some recognition to her of what she had done, but he did not dare +to trust his voice; and she seemed to understand that. He turned to +Sherrill instead. An engine and tender coupled to a single car stood +at the railway station. + +"We're going to Chicago?" he inquired of Sherrill. + +"Not yet, Alan--to St. Ignace. Father Perron--the priest, you +know--went to St. Ignace as soon as he recovered from his exposure. He +sent word to me that he wished to see me at my convenience; I told him +that we would go to him as soon as you were able." + +"He sent no other word than that?" + +"Only that he had a very grave communication to make to us." + +Alan did not ask more; at mention of Father Perron he had seemed to +feel himself once more among the crashing, charging freight cars on the +ferry and to see Benjamin Corvet, pinned amid the wreckage and speaking +into the ear of the priest. + + +Father Perron, walking up and down upon the docks close to the railway +station at St. Ignace, where the tracks end without bumper or blocking +of any kind above the waters of the lake, was watching south directly +across the Straits. It was mid-afternoon and the ice-crusher _Ste. +Marie_, which had been expected at St. Ignace about this time, was +still some four miles out. During the storm of the week before, the +floes had jammed into that narrow neck between the great lakes of +Michigan and Huron until, men said, the Straits were ice-filled to the +bottom; but the _Ste. Marie_ and the _St. Ignace_ had plied steadily +back and forth. + +Through a stretch where the ice-crusher now was the floes had changed +position, or new ice was blocking the channel; for the _Ste. Marie_, +having stopped, was backing; now her funnels shot forth fresh smoke, +and she charged ahead. The priest clenched his hands as the steamer +met the shock and her third propeller--the one beneath her bow--sucked +the water out from under the floe and left it without support; she met +the ice barrier, crashed some of it aside; she broke through, recoiled, +halted, charged, climbed up the ice and broke through again. As she +drew nearer now in her approach, the priest walked back toward the +railway station. + +It was not merely a confessional which Father Perron had taken from the +lips of the dying man on Number 25; it was an accusation of crime +against another man as well; and the confession and accusation both had +been made, not only to gain forgiveness from God, but to right terrible +wrongs. If the confession left some things unexplained, it did not +lack confirmation; the priest had learned enough to be certain that it +was no hallucination of madness. He had been charged definitely to +repeat what had been told him to the persons he was now going to meet; +so he watched expectantly as the _Ste. Marie_ made its landing. A +train of freight cars was upon the ferry, but a single passenger coach +was among them, and the switching engine brought this off first. A +tall, handsome man whom Father Perron thought must be the Mr. Sherrill +with whom he had communicated appeared upon the car platform; the young +man from Number 25 followed him, and the two helped down a young and +beautiful girl. + +They recognized the priest by his dress and came toward him at once. + +"Mr. Sherrill?" Father Perron inquired. + +Sherrill assented, taking the priest's hand and introducing his +daughter. + +"I am glad to see you safe, Mr. Stafford." The priest had turned to +Alan. "We have thanks to offer up for that, you and I!" + +"I am his son, then! I thought that must be so." + +Alan trembled at the priest's sign of confirmation. There was no shock +of surprise in this; he had suspected ever since August, when Captain +Stafford's watch and the wedding ring had so strangely come to +Constance, that he might be Stafford's son. His inquiries had brought +him, at that time, to St. Ignace, as Father Perron's had brought him +now; but he had not been able to establish proof of any connection +between himself and the baby son of Captain Stafford who had been born +in that town. + +He looked at Constance, as they followed the priest to the motor which +was waiting to take them to the house of old Father Benitot, whose +guest Father Perron was; she was very quiet. What would that grave +statement which Father Perron was to make to them mean to him--to Alan? +Would further knowledge about that father whom he had not known, but +whose blood was his and whose name he now must bear, bring pride or +shame to him? + +A bell was tolling somewhere, as they followed the priest into Father +Benitot's small, bare room which had been prepared for their interview. +Father Perron went to a desk and took therefrom some notes which he had +made. He did not seem, as he looked through these notes, to be +refreshing his memory; rather he seemed to be seeking something which +the notes did not supply; for he put them back and reclosed the desk. + +"What I have," he said, speaking more particularly to Sherrill, "is the +terrible, not fully coherent statement of a dying man. It has given me +names--also it has given me facts. But isolated. It does not give +what came before or what came after; therefore, it does not make plain. +I hope that, as Benjamin Corvet's partner, you can furnish what I lack." + +"What is it you want to know?" Sherrill asked. + +"What were the relations between Benjamin Corvet and Captain Stafford?" + +Sherrill thought a moment. + +"Corvet," he replied, "was a very able man; he had insight and mental +grasp--and he had the fault which sometimes goes with those, a +hesitancy of action. Stafford was an able man too, considerably +younger than Corvet. We, ship owners of the lakes, have not the world +to trade in, Father Perron, as they have upon the sea; if you observe +our great shipping lines you will find that they have, it would seem, +apportioned among themselves the traffic of the lakes; each line has +its own connections and its own ports. But this did not come through +agreement, but through conflict; the strong have survived and made a +division of the traffic; the weak have died. Twenty years ago, when +this conflict of competing interests was at its height, Corvet was the +head of one line, Stafford was head of another, and the two lines had +very much the same connections and competed for the same cargoes." + +"I begin to see!" Father Perron exclaimed. "Please go on." + +"In the early nineties both lines still were young; Stafford had, I +believe, two ships; Corvet had three." + +"So few? Yes; it grows plainer!" + +"In 1894, Stafford managed a stroke which, if fate had not intervened, +must have assured the ultimate extinction of Corvet's line or its +absorption into Stafford's. Stafford gained as his partner Franklin +Ramsdell, a wealthy man whom he had convinced that the lake traffic +offered chances of great profit; and this connection supplied him with +the capital whose lack had been hampering him, as it was still +hampering Corvet. The new firm--Stafford and Ramsdell--projected the +construction, with Ramsdell's money, of a number of great steel +freighters. The first of these--the _Miwaka_, a test ship whose +experience was to guide them in the construction of the rest--was +launched in the fall of 1895, and was lost on its maiden trip with both +Stafford and Ramsdell aboard. The Stafford and Ramsdell interests +could not survive the death of both owners and disappeared from the +lakes. Is this what you wanted to know?" + +The priest nodded. Alan leaned tensely forward, watching; what he had +heard seemed to have increased and deepened the priest's feeling over +what he had to tell and to have aided his comprehension of it. + +"His name was Caleb Stafford," Father Perron began. "(This is what +Benjamin Corvet told to me, when he was dying under the wreckage on the +ferry.) 'He was as fair and able a man as the lakes ever knew. I had +my will of most men in the lake trade in those days; but I could not +have my will of him. With all the lakes to trade in, he had to pick +out for his that traffic which I already had chosen for my own. But I +fought him fair, Father--I fought him fair, and I would have continued +to do that to the end. + +"'I was at Manistee, Father, in the end of the season--December fifth +of 1895. The ice had begun to form very early that year and was +already bad; there was cold and a high gale. I had laid up one of my +ships at Manistee, and I was crossing that night upon a tug to +Manitowoc, where another was to be laid up. I had still a third one +lading upon the northern peninsula at Manistique for a last trip which, +if it could be made, would mean a good profit from a season which so +far, because of Stafford's competition, had been only fair. After +leaving Manistee, it grew still more cold, and I was afraid the ice +would close in on her and keep her where she was, so I determined to go +north that night and see that she got out. None knew, Father, except +those aboard the tug, that I had made that change. + +"'At midnight, Father, to westward of the Foxes, we heard the four +blasts of a steamer in distress--the four long blasts which have +sounded in my soul ever since! We turned toward where we saw the +steamer's lights; we went nearer and, Father, it was his great, new +ship--the _Miwaka_! We had heard two days before that she had passed +the Soo; we had not known more than that of where she was. She had +broken her new shaft, Father, and was intact except for that, but +helpless in the rising sea...'" + +The priest broke off. "The _Miwaka_! I did not understand all that +that had meant to him until just now--the new ship of the rival line, +whose building meant for him failure and defeat! + +"There is no higher duty than the rescue of those in peril at sea. +He--Benjamin Corvet, who told me this--swore to me that, at the +beginning none upon the tug had any thought except to give aid. A +small line was drifted down to the tug and to this a hawser was +attached which they hauled aboard. There happened then the first of +those events which led those upon the tug into doing a great wrong. +He--Benjamin Corvet--had taken charge of the wheel of the tug; three +men were handling the hawser in ice and washing water at the stern. +The whistle accidentally blew, which those on the _Miwaka_ understood +to mean that the hawser had been secured, so they drew in the slack; +the hawser, tightened unexpectedly by the pitching of the sea, caught +and crushed the captain and deckhand of the tug and threw them into the +sea. + +"Because they were short-handed now upon the tug, and also because +consultation was necessary over what was to be done, the young owner of +the _Miwaka_, Captain Stafford, came down the hawser onto the tug after +the line had been put straight. He came to the wheelhouse, where +Benjamin Corvet was, and they consulted. Then Benjamin Corvet learned +that the other owner was aboard the new ship as well--Ramsdell--the man +whose money you have just told me had built this and was soon to build +other ships. I did not understand before why learning that affected +him so much. + +"'Stafford wanted us' (this is what Benjamin Corvet said) 'to tow him +up the lake; I would not do that, but I agreed to tow him to +Manistique. The night was dark, Father--no snow, but frightful wind +which had been increasing until it now sent the waves washing clear +across the tug. We had gone north an hour when, low upon the water to +my right, I saw a light, and there came to me the whistling of a buoy +which told me that we were passing nearer than I would have wished, +even in daytime, to windward of Boulder Reef. There are, Father, no +people on that reef; its sides of ragged rock go straight down forty +fathoms into the lake. + +"'I looked at the man with me in the wheelhouse--at Stafford--and hated +him! I put my head out at the wheelhouse door and looked back at the +lights at the new, great steamer, following safe and straight at the +end of its towline. I thought of my two men upon the tug who had been +crushed by clumsiness of those on board that ship; and how my own ships +had had a name for never losing a man and that name would be lost now +because of the carelessness of Stafford's men! And the sound of the +shoal brought the evil thought to me. Suppose I had not happened +across his ship; would it have gone upon some reef like this and been +lost? I thought that if now the hawser should break, I would be rid of +that ship and perhaps of the owner who was on board as well. We could +not pick up the tow line again so close to the reef. The steamer would +drift down upon the rocks--'" + +Father Perron hesitated an instant. "I bear witness," he said +solemnly, "that Benjamin Corvet assured me--his priest--that it was +only a thought; the evil act which it suggested was something which he +would not do or even think of doing. But he spoke something of what +was in his mind to Stafford, for he said: + +"'I must look like a fool to you to keep on towing your ship!' + +"They stared, he told me, into one another's eyes, and Stafford grew +uneasy. + +"'We'd have been all right,' he answered, 'until we had got help, if +you'd left us where we were!' He too listened to the sound of the buoy +and of the water dashing on the shoal. 'You are taking us too close,' +he said--'too close!' He went aft then to look at the tow line." + +Father Perron's voice ceased; what he had to tell now made his face +whiten as he arranged it in his memory. Alan leaned forward a little +and then, with an effort, sat straight. Constance turned and gazed at +him; but he dared not look at her. He felt her hand warm upon his; it +rested there a moment and moved away. + +"There was a third man in the wheelhouse when these things were +spoken," Father Perron said, "the mate of the ship which had been laid +up at Manistee." + +"Henry Spearman," Sherrill supplied. + +"That is the name. Benjamin Corvet told me of that man that he was +young, determined, brutal, and set upon getting position and wealth for +himself by any means. He watched Corvet and Stafford while they were +speaking, and he too listened to the shoal until Stafford had come +back; then he went aft. + +"'I looked at him, Father,' Benjamin Corvet said to me, 'and I let him +go--not knowing. He came back and looked at me once more, and went +again to the stern; Stafford had been watching him as well as I, and he +sprang away from me now and scrambled after him. The tug leaped +suddenly; there was no longer any tow holding it back, for the hawser +had parted; and I knew, Father, the reason was that Spearman had cut it! + +"'I rang for the engine to be slowed, and I left the wheel and went +aft; some struggle was going on at the stern of the tug; a flash came +from there and the cracking of a shot. Suddenly all was light about me +as, aware of the breaking of the hawser and alarmed by the shot, the +searchlight of the _Miwaka_ turned upon the tug. The cut end of the +hawser was still upon the tug, and Spearman had been trying to clear +this when Stafford attacked him; they fought, and Stafford struck +Spearman down. He turned and cried out against me--accusing me of +having ordered Spearman to cut the line. He held up the cut end toward +Ramsdell on the _Miwaka_ and cried out to him and showed by pointing +that it had been cut. Blood was running from the hand with which he +pointed, for he had been shot by Spearman; and now again and a second +and a third time, from where he lay upon the deck, Spearman fired. The +second of those shots killed the engineer who had rushed out where I +was on the deck; the third shot went through Stafford's head. The +_Miwaka_ was drifting down upon the reef; her whistle sounded again and +again the four long blasts. The fireman, who had followed the engineer +up from below, fawned on me! I was safe for all of him, he said; I +could trust Luke--Luke would not tell! He too thought I had ordered +the doing of that thing! + +"'From the _Miwaka_, Ramsdell yelled curses at me, threatening me for +what he thought that I had done! I looked at Spearman as he got up +from the deck, and I read the thought that had been in him; he had +believed that he could cut the hawser in the dark, none seeing, and +that our word that it had been broken would have as much strength as +any accusation Stafford could make. He had known that to share a +secret such as that with me would "make" him on the lakes; for the loss +of the _Miwaka_ would cripple Stafford and Ramsdell and strengthen me; +and he could make me share with him whatever success I made. But +Stafford had surprised him at the hawser and had seen. + +"'I moved to denounce him, Father, as I realized this; I moved--but +stopped. He had made himself safe against accusation by me! +None--none ever would believe that he had done this except by my order, +if he should claim that; and he made plain that he was going to claim +that. He called me a fool and defied me. Luke--even my own man, the +only one left on the tug with us--believed it! And there was murder in +it now, with Stafford dying there upon the deck and with the certainty +that all those on the _Miwaka_ could not be saved. I felt the noose as +if it had been already tied about my neck! And I had done no wrong, +Father! I had only thought wrong! + +"'So long as one lived among those on the _Miwaka_ who had seen what +was done, I knew I would be hanged; yet I would have saved them if I +could. But, in my comprehension of what this meant, I only stared at +Stafford where he lay and then at Spearman, and I let him get control +of the tug. The tug, whose wheel I had lashed, heading her into the +waves, had been moving slowly. Spearman pushed me aside and went to +the wheelhouse; he sent Luke to the engines, and from that moment Luke +was his. He turned the tug about to where we still saw the lights of +the _Miwaka_. The steamer had struck upon the reef; she hung there for +a time; and Spearman--he had the wheel and Luke, at his orders, was at +the engine--held the tug off and we beat slowly to and fro until the +_Miwaka_ slipped off and sank. Some had gone down with her, no doubt; +but two boats had got off, carrying lights. They saw the tug +approaching and cried out and stretched their hands to us; but Spearman +stopped the tug. They rowed towards us then, but when they got near, +Spearman moved the tug away from them, and then again stopped. They +cried out again and rowed toward us; again he moved the tug away, and +then they understood and stopped rowing and cried curses at us. One +boat soon drifted far away; we knew of its capsizing by the +extinguishing of its light. The other capsized near to where we were. +Those in it who had no lifebelts and could not swim, sank first. Some +could swim and, for a while they fought the waves.'" + +Alan, as he listened, ceased consciously to separate the priest's voice +from the sensations running through him. His father was Stafford, +dying at Corvet's feet while Corvet watched the death of the crew of +the _Miwaka_; Alan himself, a child, was floating with a lifebelt among +those struggling in the water whom Spearman and Corvet were watching +die. Memory; was it that which now had come to him? No; rather it was +a realization of all the truths which the priest's words were bringing +together and arranging rightly for him. + +He, a child, saved by Corvet from the water because he could not bear +witness, seemed to be on that tug, sea-swept and clad in ice, crouching +beside the form of his father while Corvet stood aghast--Corvet, still +hearing the long blasts of distress from the steamer which was gone, +still hearing the screams of the men who were drowned. Then, when all +were gone who could tell, Spearman turned the tug to Manitowoc.... Now +again the priest's voice became audible to Alan. + +Alan's father died in the morning. All day they stayed out in the +storm, avoiding vessels. They dared not throw Stafford's body +overboard or that of the engineer, because, if found, the bullet holes +would have aroused inquiry. When night came again, they had taken the +two ashore at some wild spot and buried them; to make identification +harder, they had taken the things that they had with them and buried +them somewhere else. The child--Alan--Corvet had smuggled ashore and +sent away; he had told Spearman later that the child had died. + +"Peace--rest!" Father Perron said in a deep voice. "Peace to the dead!" + +But for the living there had been no peace. Spearman had forced Corvet +to make him his partner; Corvet had tried to take up his life again, +but had not been able. His wife, aware that something was wrong with +him, had learned enough so that she had left him. Luke had come and +come and come again for blackmail, and Corvet had paid him. Corvet +grew rich; those connected with him prospered; but with Corvet lived +always the ghosts of those he had watched die with the _Miwaka_--of +those who would have prospered with Stafford except for what had been +done. Corvet had secretly sought and followed the fate of the kin of +those people who had been murdered to benefit him; he found some of +their families destroyed; he found almost all poor and struggling. And +though Corvet paid Luke to keep the crime from disclosure, yet Corvet +swore to himself to confess it all and make such restitution as he +could. But each time that the day he had appointed with himself +arrived, he put it off and off and paid Luke again and again. Spearman +knew of his intention and sometimes kept him from it. But Corvet had +made one close friend; and when that friend's daughter, for whom Corvet +cared now most of all in the world, had been about to marry Spearman, +Corvet defied the cost to himself, and he gained strength to oppose +Spearman. So he had written to Stafford's son to come; he had prepared +for confession and restitution; but, after he had done this and while +he waited, something had seemed to break in his brain; too long preyed +upon by terrible memories, and the ghosts of those who had gone, and by +the echo of their voices crying to him from the water, Corvet had +wandered away; he had come back, under the name of one of those whom he +had wronged, to the lake life from which he had sprung. Only now and +then, for a few hours, he had intervals when he remembered all; in one +of these he had dug up the watch and the ring and other things which he +had taken from Captain Stafford's pockets and written to himself +directions of what to do with them, when his mind again failed. + +And for Spearman, strong against all that assailed Corvet, there had +been always the terror of the Indian Drum--the Drum which had beat +short for the _Miwaka_, the Drum which had known that one was saved! +That story came from some hint which Luke had spread, Corvet thought; +but Spearman, born near by the Drum, believed that the Drum had known +and that the Drum had tried to tell; all through the years Spearman had +dreaded the Drum which had tried to betray him. + +So it was by the Drum that, in the end, Spearman was broken. + +The priest's voice had stopped, as Alan slowly realized; he heard +Sherrill's voice speaking to him. + +"It was a trust that he left you, Alan; I thought it must be that--a +trust for those who suffered by the loss of your father's ship. I +don't know yet how it can be fulfilled; and we must think of that." + +"That's how I understand it," Alan said. + +Fuller consciousness of what Father Perron's story meant to him was +flowing through him now. Wrong, great wrong there had been, as he had +known there must be; but it had not been as he had feared, for he and +his had been among the wronged ones. The name--the new name that had +come to him--he knew what that must be: Robert Alan Stafford; and there +was no shadow on it. He was the son of an honest man and a good woman; +he was clean and free; free to think as he was thinking now of the girl +beside him; and to hope that she was thinking so of him. + +Through the tumult in his soul he became aware of physical feelings +again, and of Sherrill's hand put upon his shoulder in a cordial, +friendly grasp. Then another hand, small and firm, touched his, and he +felt its warm, tightening grasp upon his fingers; he looked up, and his +eyes filled and hers, he saw, were brimming too. + + +They walked together, later in the day, up the hill to the small, white +house which had been Caleb Stafford's. Alan had seen the house before +but, not knowing then whether the man who had owned it had or had not +been his father, he had merely looked at it from the outside. There +had been a small garden filled with flowers before it then; now yard +and roofs were buried deep in snow. The woman who came to the door was +willing to show them through the house; it had only five rooms. One of +those upon the second floor was so much larger and pleasanter than the +rest that they became quite sure that it was the one in which Alan had +been born, and where his young mother soon afterward had died. + +They were very quiet as they stood looking about. + +"I wish we could have known her," Constance said. + +The woman, who had showed them about, had gone to another room and left +them alone. + +"There seems to have been no picture of her and nothing of hers left +here that any one can tell me about; but," Alan choked, "it's good to +be able to think of her as I can now." + +"I know," Constance said. "When you were away, I used to think of you +as finding out about her and--and I wanted to be with you. I'm glad +I'm with you now, though you don't need me any more!" + +"Not need you!" + +"I mean--no one can say anything against her now!" + +Alan drew nearer her, trembling. + +"I can never thank you--I can never tell you what you did for me, +believing in--her and in me, no matter how things looked. And then, +coming up here as you did--for me!" + +"Yes, it was for you, Alan!" + +"Constance!" He caught her. She let him hold her; then, still +clinging to him, she put him a little away. + +"The night before you came to the Point last summer, Alan, he--he had +just come and asked me again. I'd promised; but we motored that +evening to his place and--there were sunflowers there, and I knew that +night I couldn't love him." + +"Because of the sunflowers?" + +"Sunflower houses, Alan, they made me think of; do you remember?" + +"Remember!" + +The woman was returning to them now and, perhaps, it was as well; for +not yet, he knew, could he ask her all that he wished; what had +happened was too recent yet for that. But to him, Spearman--half mad +and fleeing from the haunts of men--was beginning to be like one who +had never been; and he knew she shared this feeling. The light in her +deep eyes was telling him already what her answer to him would be; and +life stretched forth before him full of love and happiness and hope. + + + + +THE END + + + + + + +ZANE GREY'S NOVELS + + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS + +A New York society girl buys a ranch which becomes the center of +frontier warfare. Her loyal superintendent rescues her when she is +captured by bandits. A surprising climax brings the story to a +delightful close. + + +THE RAINBOW TRAIL + +The story of a young clergyman who becomes a wanderer in the great +western uplands--until at last love and faith awake. + + +DESERT GOLD + +The story describes the recent uprising along the border, and ends with +the finding of the gold which two prospectors had willed to the girl +who is the story's heroine. + + +RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE + +A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when Mormon +authority ruled. The prosecution of Jane Withersteen is the theme of +the story. + + +THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN + +This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo Jones, +known as the preserver of the American bison, across the Arizona desert +and of a trip in "that wonderful country of deep canyons and giant +pines." + + +THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT + +A lovely girl, who has been reared among Mormons, learns to love a +young New Englander. The Mormon religion, however, demands that the +girl shall become the second wife of one of the Mormons--Well, that's +the problem of this great story. + + +THE SHORT STOP + +The young hero, tiring of his factory grind, starts out to win fame and +fortune as professional ball player. His hard knocks at the start are +followed by such success as clean sportsmanship, courage and honesty +ought to win. + + +BETTY ZANE + +This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautiful +young sister of Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers. + + +THE LONE STAR RANGER + +After killing a man in self defense, Buck Duane becomes an outlaw along +the Texas border. In a camp on the Mexican side of the river, he finds +a young girl held prisoner, and in attempting to rescue her, brings +down upon himself the wrath of her captors and henceforth is hunted on +one side by honest men, on the other by outlaws. + + +THE BORDER LEGION + +Joan Randle, in a spirit of anger, sent Jim Cleve out to a lawless +Western mining camp, to prove his mettle. Then realizing that she +loved him--she followed him out. On her way, she is captured by a +bandit band, and trouble begins when she shoots Kells, the leader--and +nurses him to health again. Here enters another romance--when Joan, +disguised as an outlaw, observes Jim, in the throes of dissipation. A +gold strike, a thrilling robbery--gambling and gun play carry you along +breathlessly. + + +THE LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS. + +By Helen Cody Wetmore and Zane Grey + +The life story of Colonel William F. Cody, "Buffalo Bill," as told by +his sister and Zane Grey. It begins with his boyhood in Iowa and his +first encounter with an Indian. We see "Bill" as a pony express rider, +then near Fort Sumter as Chief of the Scouts, and later engaged in the +most dangerous Indian campaigns. There is also a very interesting +account of the travels of "The Wild West" Show. No character in public +life makes a stronger appeal to the imagination of America than +"Buffalo Bill," whose daring and bravery made him famous. + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + +JACK LONDON'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list + + +JOHN BARLEYCORN. Illustrated by H. T. Dunn. + +This remarkable book is a record of the author's own amazing +experiences. This big, brawny world rover, who has been acquainted +with alcohol from boyhood, comes out boldly against John Barleycorn. +It is a string of exciting adventures, yet it forcefully conveys an +unforgetable idea and makes a typical Jack London book. + + +THE VALLEY OF THE MOON. Frontispiece by George Harper. + +The story opens in the city slums where Billy Roberts, teamster and +ex-prize fighter, and Saxon Brown, laundry worker, meet and love and +marry. They tramp from one end of California to the other, and in the +Valley of the Moon find the farm paradise that is to be their salvation. + + +BURNING DAYLIGHT. Four illustrations. + +The story of an adventurer who went to Alaska and laid the foundations +of his fortune before the gold hunters arrived. Bringing his fortunes +to the States he is cheated out of it by a crowd of money kings, and +recovers it only at the muzzle of his gun. He then starts out as a +merciless exploiter on his own account. Finally he takes to drinking +and becomes a picture of degeneration. About this time he falls in +love with his stenographer and wins her heart but not her hand and +then--but read the story! + + +A SON OF THE SUN. Illustrated by A. O. Fischer and C. W. Ashley. + +David Grief was once a light-haired, blue-eyed youth who came from +England to the South Seas in search of adventure. Tanned like a native +and as lithe as a tiger, he became a real son of the sun. The life +appealed to him and he remained and became very wealthy. + + +THE CALL OF THE WILD. Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin and Charles +Livingston Bull. Decorations by Charles E. Hooper. + +A book of dog adventures as exciting as any man's exploits could be. +Here is excitement to stir the blood and here is picturesque color to +transport the reader to primitive scenes. + + +THE SEA WOLF. Illustrated by W. J. Aylward. + +Told by a man whom Fate suddenly swings from his fastidious life into +the power of the brutal captain of a sealing schooner. A novel of +adventure warmed by a beautiful love episode that every reader will +hail with delight. + + +WHITE FANG. Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull. + +"White Fang" is part dog, part wolf and all brute, living in the frozen +north; he gradually comes under the spell of man's companionship, and +surrenders all at the last in a fight with a bull dog. Thereafter he +is man's loving slave. + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + +B. M. Bower's Novels + +Thrilling Western Romances + +Large 12 mos. Handsomely bound in cloth. Illustrated + + +CHIP, OF THE FLYING U + +A breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of Chip and Delia +Whitman are charmingly and humorously told. Chip's jealousy of Dr. +Cecil Grantham, who turns out to be a big, blue eyed young woman is +very amusing. A clever, realistic story of the American Cow-puncher. + + +THE HAPPY FAMILY + +A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of eighteen +jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst them, we find +Ananias Green, known as Andy, whose imaginative powers cause many +lively and exciting adventures. + + +HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT + +A realistic story of the plains, describing a gay party of Easterners +who exchange a cottage at Newport for the rough homeliness of a Montana +ranch-house. The merry-hearted cowboys, the fascinating Beatrice, and +the effusive Sir Redmond, become living, breathing personalities. + + +THE RANGE DWELLERS + +Here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist. +Spirited action, a range feud between two families, and a Romeo and +Juliet courtship make this a bright, jolly, entertaining story, without +a dull page. + + +THE LURE OF DIM TRAILS + +A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author, among the +cowboys of the West, in search of "local color" for a new novel. "Bud" +Thurston learns many a lesson while following "the lure of the dim +trails" but the hardest, and probably the most welcome, is that of love. + + +THE LONESOME TRAIL + +"Weary" Davidson leaves the ranch for Portland, where conventional city +life palls on him. A little branch of sage brush, pungent with the +atmosphere of the prairie, and the recollection of a pair of large +brown eyes soon compel his return. A wholesome love story. + + +THE LONG SHADOW + +A vigorous Western story, sparkling with the free, outdoor, life of a +mountain ranch. Its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play the game +of life fearlessly and like men. It is a fine love story from start to +finish. + + +Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction. + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK + + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP'S + +DRAMATIZED NOVELS + + +Original, sincere and courageous--often amusing--the kind that are +making theatrical history. + + +MADAME X. By Alexandra Bisson and J. W. McConaughy. Illustrated with +scenes from the play. + +A beautiful Parisienne became an outcast because her husband would not +forgive an error of her youth. Her love for her son is the great final +influence in her career. A tremendous dramatic success. + + +THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens. + +An unconventional English woman and an inscrutable stranger meet and +love in an oasis of the Sahara. Staged this season with magnificent +cast and gorgeous properties. + + +THE PRINCE OF INDIA. By Lew. Wallace. + +A glowing romance of the Byzantine Empire, presenting with +extraordinary power the siege of Constantinople, and lighting its +tragedy with the warm underflow of an Oriental romance. As a play it +is a great dramatic spectacle. + + +TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY. By Grace Miller White. Illust. by Howard +Chandler Christy. + +A girl from the dregs of society, loves a young Cornell University +student, and it works startling changes in her life and the lives of +those about her. The dramatic version is one of the sensations of the +season. + + +YOUNG WALLINGFORD. By George Randolph Chester. Illust. by F. R. +Gruger and Henry Raleigh. + +A series of clever swindles conducted by a cheerful young man, each of +which is just on the safe side of a State's prison offence. As +"Get-Rich-Quick Wallingford," it is probably the most amusing expose of +money manipulation ever seen on the stage. + + +THE INTRUSION OF JIMMY. By P. G. Wodehouse. Illustrations by Will +Grefe. + +Social and club life in London and New York, an amateur burglary +adventure and a love story. Dramatized under the title of "A Gentleman +of Leisure," it furnishes hours of laughter to the play-goers. + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK + + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP'S + +DRAMATIZED NOVELS + + +THE KIND THAT ARE MAKING THEATRICAL HISTORY + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +WITHIN THE LAW. By Bayard Veiller & Marvin Dana. Illustrated by Wm. +Charles Cooke. + +This is a novelization of the immensely successful play which ran for +two years in New York and Chicago. + +The plot of this powerful novel is of a young woman's revenge directed +against her employer who allowed her to be sent to prison for three +years on a charge of theft, of which she was innocent. + + +WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY. By Robert Carlton Brown. Illustrated with +scenes from the play. + +This is a narrative of a young and innocent country girl who is +suddenly thrown into the very heart of New York, "the land of her +dreams," where she is exposed to all sorts of temptations and dangers. + +The story of Mary is being told in moving pictures and played in +theatres all over the world. + + +THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM. By David Belasco. Illustrated by John Rae. + +This is a novelization of the popular play in which David Warfield, as +Old Peter Grimm, scored such a remarkable success. + +The story is spectacular and extremely pathetic but withal, powerful, +both as a book and as a play. + + +THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens. + +This novel is an intense, glowing epic of the great desert, sunlit +barbaric, with its marvelous atmosphere of vastness and loneliness. + +It is a book of rapturous beauty, vivid in word painting. The play has +been staged with magnificent cast and gorgeous properties. + + +BEN HUR. A Tale of the Christ By General Lew Wallace. + +The whole world has placed this famous Religious-Historical Romance on +a height of pre-eminence which no other novel of its time has reached. +The clashing of rivalry and the deepest human passions, the perfect +reproduction of brilliant Roman life, and the tense, fierce atmosphere +of the arena have kept their deep fascination. A tremendous dramatic +success. + + +BOUGHT AND PAID FOR. By George Broadhurst and Arthur Hornblow. +Illustrated with scenes from the play. + +A stupendous arraignment of modern marriage which has created an +interest on the stage that is almost unparalleled. The scenes are laid +in New York, and deal with conditions among both the rich and poor. + +The interest of the story turns on the day-by-day developments which +show the young wife the price she has paid. + + +_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK + + + +JOHN FOX, JR'S. + +STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list. + + +THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE. + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +The "lonesome pine" from which the story takes its name was a tall tree +that stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. The fame of the +pine lured a young engineer through Kentucky to catch the trail, and +when he finally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but +the _foot-prints of a girl_. And the girl proved to be lovely, +piquant, and the trail of these girlish foot-prints led the young +engineer a madder chase than "the trail of the lonesome pine." + + +THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as "Kingdom Come." +It is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural and honest, from which +often springs the flower of civilization. + +"Chad." the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor whence he +came--he had just wandered from door to door since early childhood, +seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who gladly fathered and +mothered this waif about whom there was such a mystery--a charming +waif, by the way, who could play the banjo better that anyone else in +the mountains. + + +A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND. + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland, the lair of +moonshiner and feudsman. The knight is a moonshiner's son, and the +heroine a beautiful girl perversely christened "The Blight." Two +impetuous young Southerners fall under the spell of "The Blight's" +charms and she learns what a large part jealousy and pistols have in +the love making of the mountaineers. + +Included in this volume is "Hell fer-Sartain" and other stories, some +of Mr. Fox's most entertaining Cumberland valley narratives. + + +_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Indian Drum, by +William MacHarg and Edwin Balmer + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INDIAN DRUM *** + +***** This file should be named 33065.txt or 33065.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/0/6/33065/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/33065.zip b/33065.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..28ffcc7 --- /dev/null +++ b/33065.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7559072 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #33065 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/33065) |
