the exact hour at which Mrs. West’s arrival might be expected, since the message had neglected to state this, and then sought Jake, to whom she gave instructions that he should go down the lake in one of the motor-boats the next morning to meet the ten o’clock train, north-bound, at the station three miles away. When, that night, Masters, still grumbling, kissed her good night, her lips were passive, which had not been their wont.
Masters reappeared early the next morning, for he was aware that in a few hours his best opportunity to search would be past. He utterly ignored the fact that his engineering work was being neglected to an extent that must soon involve him in serious trouble with his employers. The possibility of wealth had suddenly come to dominate his thoughts, and it allowed no rivalry. He was pale, as if after a sleepless night, and his thatch of hair was tangled in a confusion real for once, not contrived with studied pains. His great, black eyes were glowing, as he encountered May at the cottage door. The girl sighed as she noted the haggard appearance of his face and the tenseness of his movements, usually so briskly graceful. A certain latent fierceness in his expression caused a thrill of apprehension in her heart. She was shocked that he could enter thus whole-souledly into a nefarious project for the sake of gain.
“Where’s the old woman?” Masters questioned curtly, after a scant phrase of greeting.
“In the kitchen,” May answered.
“I must hurry,” the engineer continued, alertly. “But, anyhow, I have almost four hours clear. They can’t get here before eleven, I guess.”
“If the train’s on time, they should get here about half-past ten,” May corrected. There was a note of warning in her voice. “Don’t let them find you—” she broke off, ashamed to finish her thought aloud.
Masters laughed shortly.
“No fear! I’ll watch out; but hold them back as much as you can,” he bade her. Without more ado, he entered the house.
She heard him go quickly into the music-room, shutting the door behind him. For a moment, she rested motionless, irresolute, her face troubled. Then, with a gesture of annoyance, she turned away, and went toward the waiting launch.
The north-bound train arrived hardly a minute behind its schedule. May, waiting eagerly on the station platform, scrutinized the few passengers as they clambered down from the day-coaches. Then, her attention was caught by the activities of a colored porter at the vestibule steps of the Pullman. Beside him, on the cinder path, were three valises of heavy leather, somewhat battered, but of undeniable dignity. As the man adjusted the portable step beside the track, two women appeared above him on the platform of the car. May had no doubt as to their identity. She noted the simple elegance of Mrs. West’s traveling suit, the modish air of the daughter’s. She observed, too, the radiant loveliness of the girl’s face. A subtle premonition of sorrow obsessed her, as she stared half-resentfully at the beauty of Margaret West, elusively revealed from within a mesh of gray veil. She fought against the mood, and went forward to greet the strangers.
The manner of the two travelers was so cordial that the secretary quickly forgot her presentiment. Mrs. West proved to be a handsome, though rather delicate, woman, of perhaps fifty years—in voice and manner, and in nature as well, a true gentlewoman of a type now somewhat out of fashion. As May had already learned from her late employer, this lady had, throughout her life, enjoyed ample means, though not great wealth. The daughter, Margaret, resembled the mother, but in her slender form was the grace of youth.
“There’s no doubt that it’s still a real wilderness hereabouts,” Margaret declared, after the first greetings had been exchanged. “I thought it might have changed, since our visit ten years ago.”
“And it’s still all wilderness for the way we have yet to go in the motor-boat,” May answered, smiling. “Here is Jake—Mr. Dustin, you know. He’ll carry your valises to the landing.” She indicated the embarrassed boatman, who was hovering doubtfully near. With attention thus thrust upon him, he grinned sheepishly, then turned to the luggage.
“Chris will help him,” Mrs. West said.
May looked in the direction of the speaker’s nod, and started in astonishment. In her absorption with the two women, she had observed neither the coming nor the presence of this man. Now, she regarded him curiously. Evidently, from his appearance, as well as from Mrs. West’s words, he was a servant, and May guessed that he must be as well an old and highly esteemed family retainer, since he thus made one of the party on this trip. He was a short man, rather absurdly fat, though not in the least heavy of movement, or wheezy of breath. But he had a general roundness, of a sort almost infantile, incongruous with perfect baldness. His tiny black eyes twinkled benignantly. A somewhat suggestive redness of the skin made the caricature effect of a Bacchic Cupid. For the rest, he was neatly dressed in black, and he smiled genially on May, and touched his hat decorously, at the reference to himself, with a respectful, “Yes, Miss.” Then, he stooped alertly to the luggage, seized a bag in either hand, and waited expectantly for the more sluggish Jake to point the way.
May had wholly forgotten her first impression long before the cottage landing was reached. She found Mrs. West kindly and interested, while Margaret displayed a democratic friendliness that was inexpressibly grateful to the lonely girl. But, at the last, all her apprehensions came crowding back. It was at the moment when they emerged from the boat-house, and started toward the cottage.
“Why, who is that?” Mrs. West asked, with a note of curiosity in her voice.
May looked up, to see Hartley Masters, as he stepped briskly out from the front door of the house. At sight of the party on the shore, he halted abruptly, in seeming confusion; then, after an instant of indecision, he swung sharply to the right, into a path that ran along the lake to the south.
“Oh, it’s Mr. Masters,” May answered, a bit falteringly. “He’s an engineer at work near here—he calls—sometimes.”
Some stress in the speaker’s voice caught the attention of Margaret. She regarded the troubled face of the secretary intently for a moment; then, she stared speculatively after the tall figure of the engineer, as it passed swiftly into the concealment of the forest.
CHAPTER IV
EVE OF BATTLE
MASTERS came suddenly on May Thurston that same afternoon, as she chanced to be alone on the cottage porch. When he appeared so swiftly out of the wood, which was thick behind the house, the girl realized that he must have been lying in wait for this opportunity to meet her unobserved. The stealthiness of the act revolted her anew, and the disagreeable impression was in no wise relieved by the engineer’s conversation or manner.
“Nothing—I found nothing at all!” he declared, curtly. His large eyes were glowing with anger. “I can’t understand it.” His tone was full of rebellion against the injustice of fate.
“But—” May began. Her voice was hesitating, timid.
Masters went on stormily, disregarding her.
“I mustn’t give up though—just because they’ve come.” He nodded toward the cottage. “You must introduce me, at once. Then, get them outside, to look about—and I’ll have another try at the gold.”
The girl was dismayed by his persistence. She wished to point out the danger of discovery, but the engineer would listen to no protests, and, in the end, his inflexible
