The Way of the Strong Part 38

Angus rose.

"That all?"

Hendrie reached for a pen, and dipped it in the ink as though about to write. He replied without looking up.

"That's all."

Angus moved toward the door. As he reached it the millionaire's voice stopped him.

"Angus!"

The manager turned. Across the room he beheld a pair of glowing eyes fixed upon him. He saw nothing else. They seemed to occupy his entire focus, devouring him with their merciless stare.

"If what you've told me is not true I'll--kill you."

The words were quietly spoken. They were spoken too quietly. They came coldly to the departing man, and like an icy blast they left him s.h.i.+vering. He knew they were meant, not as a mere expression of anger, but literally. He knew that this man would have no scruples, no mercy.

No one who had offended need expect mercy from him--not even the wife whom he knew he loved above all things in the world.

"They are true," he returned.

The basilisk eyes pa.s.sed out of his focus as Hendrie's head bent over the paper before him.

"We shall see."

As the door softly closed behind the manager, Hendrie flung his pen down upon the writing-pad. He sat back in his chair, and his eyes stared in the direction of the closed door.

He sat quite still. His hard face had lost no color, there was not a sign of emotion in it. His cold eyes gazed on a dead level at--nothing.

Never was there an exhibition of more perfect outward control of a storming brain within. He was thinking, thinking with the lightning rapidity of the perfect machinery of a powerful brain. He was thinking along lines all wholly unexplored and new to him, and such was his concentrative power that no feelings were permitted to confuse the flow.

His whole future was at stake. His whole life. Everything--everything that mattered.

The time pa.s.sed rapidly. Still that silent figure sat on. The automobile was brought round, and a servant announced it. It was kept waiting.

What agony of mind and heart Alexander Hendrie went through as he sat there in his splendid library none would ever know. That h.e.l.l had opened before his startled eyes, that the wounded heart within him had received a mortal blow, there could be no possible doubt. But his sufferings were his own. He had all the brute nature in him which sends a dying animal to the remotenesses of the forest, where no eyes can witness its sufferings, where it may yield up its savage spirit beyond the reach of the pity and sympathy of its fellow-creatures.

CHAPTER XV

PROGRESS OF AFFAIRS

Angus Moraine had done his work. That his motive in enlightening his employer upon those matters which went on in his absence was largely spleenful, even revengeful, there could be no doubt. But, curiously enough, he had kept to the baldest truth. He had neither exaggerated nor invented. Perhaps he had felt that there was no need for either. As he marshaled his facts they were so complete, so entirely d.a.m.ning, that it is doubtful if imagination would have served his purpose better. In spite of Hendrie's threat against his life he was well enough satisfied with the effect of his story upon his employer.

Later on, when Hendrie finally departed, he was still more satisfied; for it was then, as the latter paced the broad, flagged terrace fronting the entrance to the house, he had walked at his side for more than half an hour, receiving final instructions, and listening to some necessary details of future plans.

Hendrie was going away, and Angus was to inform his wife, when she returned from Calford, that he did not expect to return for at least two weeks. In the meantime he gave his manager a telephone number in Gleber! This number would find him at any time, after his wife's return from Calford. Further, he told him that the only message he required from him was news of Mr. Frank Smith's reappearance in Everton. He did not know, as a matter of fact, that he would want it at all, but it must be sent. Furthermore, on Mr. Frank Smith's reappearance in Everton, Angus must hold himself on hand at the Russell Hotel.

"See here," Hendrie concluded, in his concise fas.h.i.+on. "You'll need to be on hand at any moment while this man's around. And--you must know his movements to the last detail. Get me?"

Angus understood. Nor had he forgotten the coldly delivered threat in the library.

"Well," the other went on, with a calmness that was still the marvel of the Scot, "guess I'll get going. I'm going right on to Calford to meet Mrs. Hendrie. She'd be disappointed if I didn't look her up, having missed her here. So long."

Hendrie entered the waiting car, and the two men parted without a sign of that which lay between them. Angus watched the machine roll away down the winding trail, which followed the bend of the picturesque river bank. Then, as it disappeared from view, he turned thoughtfully away, and moved off in the direction of his quarters.

His years of a.s.sociation with the millionaire had taught him much that the world did not know of that individual's character. There were times, even, when he believed he knew all there was to know of it.

There were other times when he was not so sure; just as there were times when some trifling detail brought out a trait that was entirely new to him. At such times he was wont to admit that the man was unfathomable. That is what he admitted to himself now. What did he contemplate? What subtle scheme was in the back of his great head?

There was some definite purpose, he felt sure; some definite and, perhaps, deadly purpose. And it was demanded of him to play his part in it, not with eyes wide open, and with full understanding. But blindly groping--in the dark.

He thought for long as he sat in his office. He considered every detail of the instructions he had received. But the ultimate object of them eluded him. However, his mind was made up from the outset. Come what may, his life was bound up with the life of this man. He would follow him whithersoever he led, and, since it was necessary--blindly.

The supper-room in the Strathmore Hotel at Calford was a blaze of light. The string band, screened off behind a decorative display of palms and ferns, was playing the latest and most popular ragtime. But the room, with its hundred tables, was less than half full, in spite of the important agricultural congress that was being held in this capital of the wheat lands.

The truth was that the late meal was always at an awkward hour in the hotels which catered for a wealthy transient custom. The east and west-bound mails met at Calford at eleven-thirty at night, just at the time when most of the hotel guests were either preparing to start, or transacting the last few details of their business before departing on their transcontinental journeys.

But Monica was delighted at this absence of a crowd. For her, it was one of those happy, utterly unantic.i.p.ated moments in life which are too precious to miss. Just as she had retired to her room after dinner, a chambermaid had announced the arrival of her husband.

Her journey had been taken quite openly. There had been no secrecy about it. She was here purely on business, the nature of which was her own. Therefore she had nothing to fear, and was frankly overjoyed at this unexpected reunion.

Alexander Hendrie was in his best spirits. He explained to her his journey to Deep Willows, and his subsequent disappointment at not finding her there. Then, hearing that she had driven over to Calford, he had followed her at once. The journey, he explained, suited his purpose well, for he must leave by the night mail for Winnipeg, and did not antic.i.p.ate returning home for ten days, or even two weeks.

So Monica spent a happy evening with her husband. His manner was the brightest she had ever known. He never questioned her presence in Calford, but took it for granted she was "doing" the stores. He talked to her of his work and informed her of the progress of the Trust. His hopes and fears he talked of unreservedly, and Monica felt that never was a woman so blessed with the perfect confidence of such a husband.

Thus the brief evening was spent until the final meal of the day came round. Monica required nothing more to eat, and suggested that her husband's meal should be served in her sitting-room. But Hendrie demurred, and it was finally arranged that they should adjourn to the supper-room, where Monica could partake of an oyster c.o.c.ktail, while he fortified himself against his journey.

As the meal drew to a close, and the man leisurely sipped his coffee, he expressed his cordial regrets at his prolonged absences from home.

"It'll soon be over, Mon," he said thoughtfully. "I can see the end of things looming already. Such separations as ours are not good, are they? I shall be glad when--things are settled."

Monica gazed happily into his steady eyes.

"I'm simply yearning for that time to come, Alec," she cried, her eyes s.h.i.+ning across the table into his. "But these separations will soon pa.s.s," she went on hopefully, "now that I am going to be so busy. Do you know, I don't think Angus thinks I'm capable of running the farm?

But I'm just going to show him that I am."

Hendrie's eyes looked a swift inquiry.

"Has he said so--to you?" he asked.

Monica remembered in time. She had no desire to injure the man.

"Oh, no," she declared. "Only--only--I don't think he trusts me. I don't think he has much of an opinion of women."

At that moment a waiter approached.