Out of the Primitive Part 52

"H'm. I presume Genevieve could come down to visit us occasionally."

"Herbert! You surely cannot mean--?"

"Griffith has told me something in connection with this bridge that proves Thomas Blake to be one of the greatest engineers, if not the greatest, in America. I'd be proud to have him for a son-in-law."

"Impossible! _impossible!_ It can't be you'll withdraw your opposition!"

"Not only that; I'll back him to win. I like your earl. He's a fine young fellow. But, after all, Blake is an _American_."

"He's a brute! Herbert, it is impossible!"

"They said that dam was impossible. He has mastered it. He's big; he's got brains. He'll be a gentleman within six months. He's a genius!"

"_Poof!_ He's a degenerate!"

"You'll see," rejoined Mr. Leslie. He went back to the table and tapped the sleeper sharply on the shoulder.

Blake stirred, and mumbled drowsily: "Huh! what--whatcha want?"

"Wake up," answered Mr. Leslie. "I wish to congratulate you."

Blake slowly heaved himself up and blinked at his disturber with haggard, bloodshot eyes. He was still very weary and only half roused from his stupor.

"Huh!" he muttered. "Must 'uv dropped 'sleep--Dog tired." His bleared gaze swung around and took in Mrs. Gantry. He started and tried to sit more erect. "Excuse me! Didn't know there was a lady here."

"Don't apologize. That's for me to do," interposed Mr. Leslie, offering his hand. "My--that is, the Coville Company officers tell me you've worked out a wonderful piece of engineering for them."

Blake stared hard at the bookcase behind Mrs. Gantry and answered curtly, oblivious of the older man's hand. "That remains to be seen.

It's only on paper, so far."

"But I--h'm--it seems they are sufficiently satisfied to wish to put you in charge of the Michamac Bridge."

"In charge?"

"Yes."

"How about Ashton--their contract with him?"

"That's to be settled later. I wish--h'm--I understand that you are to be sent nominally as a.s.sistant Engineer."

"I am, eh? Excuse _me_!"

"At double the salary of Ashton, and--"

"Not at ten times the salary as _his_ a.s.sistant!"

"But you must know that Griffith's doctor has ordered him to Florida, and with the work rus.h.i.+ng on the bridge--He tells me it has reached the most critical stage of construction--that suspension span--"

"You seem mighty interested in a project you got rid of," remarked Blake, vaguely conscious of the other's repressed eagerness.

"Yes. I was the first to consider the possibility of bridging the strait."

"Your idea, was it?" said Blake, with reluctant admiration. "It was a big one, all right."

"Nothing as compared to the invention of that bridge," returned Mr.

Leslie.

"Your young friend Ashton sure is a great one," countered Blake.

"The man who planned that bridge is a genius," stated Mr. Leslie with enthusiasm. "That's one fact. Another is that Laffie Ashton is unfit to supervise the construction of the suspension span. I'll see to it myself that the matter is so arranged that you--"

"Thanks, no. You'll do nothing of the kind," broke in Blake. He spoke without brusqueness yet with stubborn determination. "I don't want any favors from you, and you know why. I can appreciate your congratulations, long as you seem to want to be friendly. But you needn't say anything to the company."

"Very well, very well, sir!" snapped Mr. Leslie, irritated at the rebuff. He jerked himself about to Mrs. Gantry. "There's time yet. What do you say to another rubber?"

"You should have spoken before we rose," replied the lady. "There'll be others who wish to go. You'll be able to take over some one's hand. I prefer to remain in here for a _tete-a tete_ with Mr. Blake."

Blake and Mr. Leslie stared at her, alike surprised. The younger man muttered in far other than a cordial tone: "Thanks. But I'm not fit company. Ought to've been abed and asleep hours ago."

"Yet if you'll pardon me for insisting, I wish to have a little chat with you," replied Mrs. Gantry.

At her expectant glance, Mr. Leslie started for the door of the cardroom. As he went out and closed the door, Mrs. Gantry took the chair on the other side of the table from Blake, and explained in a confidential tone: "It is about this unfortunate situation."

Blake stared at her, with a puzzled frown. "Unfortunate what?"

"Unfortunate situation," she replied, making an effort to moderate her superciliousness to mere condescension. "I a.s.sure you, I too have learned that first impressions may err. I cannot now believe that you are torturing my niece purposely."

Blake roused up on the instant, for the first time wide awake.

"What!" he demanded. "I--torturing--her?"

"Most unfortunately, that is, at least, the effect of the situation."

"But I--I don't understand! What is it, anyhow? I'd do anything to save her the slightest suffering!"

"Ah!" said Mrs. Gantry, and she averted her gaze.

"Don't you believe me?" he demanded.

"To be sure--to be sure!" she hastened to respond. "Had I not thought you capable of that, I should not have troubled to speak to you."

"But what is it? What do you mean?" he asked, with swift-growing uneasiness.

"I do not say that I blame you for failing to see and understand," she evaded. "No doubt you, too, have suffered."

"Yes, I've--But that's nothing. It's Jenny!" he exclaimed, fast on the barbed hook. "Good G.o.d! if it's true I've made her suffer--But how?

Why? I don't understand."

Mrs. Gantry studied him with a gravity that seemed to include a trace of sympathy. There was an almost imperceptible tremor in her voice.