Scattergood Baines Part 64

"But I may not get it."

She was silent.

"There is a paper," he said, "and that paper may stand between you and me--and Paris and Rome and the world...." He paused, and then said, carelessly: "Won't you go with me, Sarah--away from this? Won't you let me take you, to love and to make happy?"

Presently she spoke, so low her voice was scarcely audible to Scattergood. "I don't know.... I don't know," she said.

Scattergood had heard enough. He stole away silently. The time had come to act, if he were going to act ... if no woeful story were to be carried to old Nahum Pound concerning his daughter. He might even be too late.... The lure of great cities and foreign sh.o.r.es might have done its work, and Farley Curtis's eloquence have served its purpose.

In the morning Bob Allen was early at his office. His first act was to open the safe to take out a packet of papers he had been laboring over the afternoon before.... The packet was not where he had placed it the night before. He remembered distinctly how he had shoved it into a certain pigeonhole.... It was not there. He found it in the compartment below.... Bob was not easily startled or frightened, so now he paused and took his memory to account. No.... The fault was not with his memory. He had done exactly as he remembered doing.... Somebody had opened that safe since he closed it; somebody had fingered its contents.... He caught his breath, not at the fear of loss, but in sudden terror of the means by which that loss had been brought about, the person who might have been the instrument.... Furiously he began going over the contents of the safe--money, securities, papers.

Everything seemed intact. But one thing remained--the little drawer. He had put off opening that, because he dreaded to open it, for it contained the paper that excluded Farley Curtis from a share in his uncle's estate.... Bob compelled himself to turn the little key, to open the drawer.... It was empty!...

Bob walked slowly to his desk and sat down, his eyes fixed upon the safe as if it fascinated him.... Facts, facts! His soul demanded facts. Those at hand were few, simple. First, the safe had been opened by some one who knew the combination. Three persons existed who might have opened it--or betrayed its combination: Scattergood, himself, Sarah Pound....

Second, he knew he had not opened it nor betrayed the combination.

Third, he was equally certain Scattergood had not done so.... Fourth--he groaned!...

Bob comprehended what had happened; why Farley Curtis had wooed so persistently Sarah Pound. It was not out of love nor desire, but for a more sordid purpose ... it was to win her love, to blind her to honor, to make a tool of her, and through her to secure possession of that bit of paper which stood between him and riches.

Presently Sarah Pound entered. Bob could not force himself to look at her; did not speak. She gazed at him curiously, and when she saw the grayness of his face, the lines about his mouth, and eyes that advanced his age by twenty years, she felt a little catch at her heart, a breathlessness, a sudden alarm.

"Miss Pound," he said, in a voice which he himself could not recognize as his own, "you needn't take off your hat.... You--you actually came back here! You were bold enough to come again to this office.... I fancied you would be gone--from Coldriver." His voice broke queerly. "I suppose you realize what you have done--and are satisfied with the price--the price of forfeiting the respect of every honest man and woman you know! That is a great deal to give up. It ought to command a high price--treachery.... I hope you are getting a sufficient return.... It means nothing to you, of course, but--I loved you. I thought about you as a man thinks about the woman he hopes will be his wife ... and his children's mother ... so it--pains--to find you despicable...."

Sarah's little fists clenched, her eyes glinted.

"How dare you?" she cried. "What affair is it of yours what I do?...

You're a silly, jealous idiot." With which childish invective she flung out of the office.

In an hour Bob Allen was calmer, and so the more unhappy. His mind cleared, and, being cleared, it directed him to carry his trouble to Scattergood Baines.

"Um!... Gone, eh?" said Scattergood. "Sure it's gone?... Um!..."

"Yes, and Sarah Pound will be gone, too. How dared she come back to my office?... Now she'll go with Curtis."

"Shouldn't be s'prised," said Scattergood, waggling his head. "I heard Farley a-pointin' out to her the _dee_-sirability of Paris and Rome and sich European p'ints last night.... You calculate Sairy took the paper?"

"What else can I think?"

"To be sure.... Um!... Paris, Rome, London--might be argued into stealin' it myself, if I was a gal. Um!... Ever see a toad ketch flies, Bob? Does it with his tongue. There's toad men, Bob, that goes huntin'

wimmin the same way--with their tongues. Su'prisin' the number and quality they ketch, too. What was you plannin' on doin', Bob? Goin' back to your office, wasn't you? And keepin' your mouth shet? Was that the idee? Eh?"

"I don't know what to do, Mr. Baines."

"Didn't figger on droppin' around to Grandma Penny's boardin' house about eight sharp, did you? Eight sharp.... And kind of settin' down quiet on the front porch? Jest settin'? Eh?... G'-by, Bob."

After Bob left the store Scattergood sat half an hour staring at the stove; then he left the store to its own devices and wandered up the street toward Grandmother Penny's. He encountered Sarah Pound as she came out through the gate.

"Howdy, Sairy?" he said, cheerfully. "Havin' consid'able amus.e.m.e.nt with life--eh?"

"I've been enjoying myself, Mr. Baines," Sarah said, making an effort at coldness and dignity.

"Bet you hain't enjoyin' yourself enough to warrant your doin' a favor for an old feller like me, eh?... This evenin', for instance?"

"I--I'm going away this evening."

"Um!... Goin' away, eh? Alone? Or along with somebody?"

"That's my own affair."

"To be sure.... To be sure, but the train don't leave till nine, does it? Couldn't manage to do me a favor at eight?"

"What is the favor, Mr. Baines?"

"'Tain't much. Sca'cely anythin' a-tall. I calc'late to be a-settin' in Grandma Penny's parlor at eight sharp. I won't keep you waitin' more 'n a second--unless somebody happens to be with me a-talkin' my arm off. If they hain't n.o.body with me, why, you walk right in. If they is somebody, why, you jest stand outside of the door a second, and they'll be gone.

Then you come in. But don't come rompin' in if you hear voices. It's a mite of business, and 'twon't take but a second. Calc'late you kin manage that, eh?"

"Yes," she said, shortly.

"Promise?"

"Yes."

"G'-by, Sairy."

At five minutes before eight Scattergood Baines rapped at Grandmother Penny's door and asked to speak to Farley Curtis, "Tell him it's somethin' p'tic'lar reegardin' the Beatty estate," he said, and stepped into the parlor. Farley appeared almost instantly; dapper, his usual courteous, self-possessed self. Scattergood began a peculiar and roundabout conversation after the manner of a man who fears to broach a subject plainly. Farley showed his irritation.

"Mr. Baines," he said, "suppose you get down to business. I'm going away this evening."

"To be sure.... To be sure. It's overlappin' eight now, hain't it?"

Scattergood paused, listening. He fancied he heard some one approach and halt just outside the door. He was certain that a chair creaked on the porch outside the window.... He cleared his throat and drew a big yellow envelope from his pocket.

"Calculate I'm ready for business, if you be.... Which d'you calc'late is most desirable--havin' half a loaf, or no bread?"

"What do you mean?"

"You come to Coldriver on business, didn't you? Money business?"

"Why I came is my own affair."

"Certain.... Certain.... But things gets noised about. Things has got noised about concernin' a paper that stands betwixt you and half of the Beatty estate. Heard 'em myself." Scattergood waggled the envelope. "I hain't exactly objectin' to makin' a leetle quick money myself--supposin' it kin be done safe, and the blame, if they is any, throwed somewheres else.... Now, Mr. Curtis, what kind of a course would you foller if that paper we been talkin' about was to fall into the hands of a feller that felt like I do about makin' money?"

"What do you mean?" Farley demanded, moving forward eagerly in his chair.

"Hain't good at guessin', be you?"

"That paper doesn't worry me," said Farley. "Calc'lated on havin' it before you took the train to-night, eh?"

Farley scowled.