Thrice Armed Part 44

"Mr. Merril is not here," he said. "He went out of town last night, and executed a trust deed before he left. Mr. Cathcart, one of the trustees, is now inside."

Jordan looked at Jimmy. "I don't mind admitting that I expected this,"

he said. Then he turned to the clerk: "Take our names in."

They were shown into the inner office, where a gray-haired gentleman listened gravely to what they had to say. Then he took the salvage claim from Jordan, and laid it beneath a pile of other papers.

"It will be considered in its turn," he said. "I do not know whether we shall attempt to contest it, or whether there will be funds to meet it, but I may be able to tell you more to-morrow, and would ask you to take no further steps until you have seen me. I am at liberty to say that Mr.

Merril's affairs appear to be considerably involved."

Jordan promised to wait, and when he turned toward the door, the trustee, who took up an envelope, made a sign to Jimmy.

"I was instructed to hand you this, Captain Wheelock, and to tell you that Miss Merril leaves for Toronto by to-day's express, on the understanding that you make no attempt to communicate with her. It contains her address."

Jimmy went out with his thoughts confused. All that had come about was, he felt, the result of his action, but he realized that in any case the crisis could not have been much longer delayed. They found the others awaiting them, and when Forster had quietly but firmly insisted on escorting Eleanor into a dry-goods store and leaving her there, they went back together to Jordan's office, where the latter related what he had heard.

"To be quite straight, I must admit that I had a notion of what Jimmy meant to do last night, and took no steps to restrain him," he said. "If I had done so, Merril would not have got away. We are both in your hands, but, while you may think differently, I am not sure that what has happened is a serious misfortune from a business point of view."

Forster said nothing, and there was a few moments' awkward silence until old Leeson spoke.

"Considering everything, I guess you're right," he said. "Cathcart's a straight man, and as they can't sell the _Adelaide_ without permission from us, we'll get some of our money, although it's hardly likely the estate will realize enough to go around. Seems to me that's more than we should have done if Merril had kept hold. Well, it's not my proposition that we turn you out."

He stopped a moment, and glanced at Jimmy with a little dry smile.

"Captain Wheelock has gone 'way further than he should have done without our sanction, but I guess it will meet the case if we leave him to his sister. It's a sure thing Miss Wheelock is far from pleased with him.

Now, there's a point or two I want to mention."

The others seemed relieved at this, and when Leeson had said his say Forster went away with him. Then Jordan glanced at Jimmy with apprehension in his eyes as Eleanor came in. She stood still, looking at them with the portentous red flush burning in her cheek.

"What I foresaw all along has happened. Jimmy has betrayed you to save that girl," she said.

Then she turned to Jimmy, flicking her glove in her hand as though she would have struck him with it. "Jimmy," she said incisively, "you are no longer a brother of mine. Neither Charley nor I will speak to you again."

Jordan straightened himself resolutely. "Stop there, Eleanor!" he said.

"If you won't speak to him I can't compel you to, but, in this one thing, at least, you can't compel me. Jimmy was my friend before I met you, and I'm standing by him now. Anyway, what has he done?"

"Ah!" said the girl, with an audible indrawing of her breath, "he has spoiled everything. If he hadn't played the traitor Merril would never have got away. Oh!" and her anger shook her, "I can never forgive him!"

Once more she turned to her brother. "There is no longer any tie between us. You have broken it, and that is the last and only thing I have to say to you."

Jimmy rose, and quietly reached for his hat. "Then," he said, "there is nothing to be gained by pointing out what my views are. We can only wait until you see things differently."

He went out, and Eleanor sank somewhat limply into a chair.

"Charley," she said, "it's a little horrible, but he is a weak coward, and I hate him. You had better break off our engagement; I'm not fit to marry anybody."

"That's the one thing that holds in spite of everything," and Jordan looked at her gravely with trouble in his face. "Go quietly, Eleanor. It will straighten out in time."

The girl sat still for a while saying nothing, and then she rose with a little s.h.i.+ver. "Find Forster, and if he is not going back, get a team,"

she said. "I want Mrs. Forster. I can't stay in the city."

Jordan went out with her, and, though he had a good deal to do, was not sorry when he failed to find Forster and it became necessary for him to drive her back to the ranch. Eleanor, however, said very little to him during the journey, and he had sense enough to confine his attention to his team. He had also little time to think of anything that did not concern his business when he returned to the city, for the _Shasta_ had to be got ready to go back to sea, and the _Adelaide_ arrived early on the following day. The skipper went with him to interview Merril's trustee, and the latter announced that no steps would be taken to contest the salvage claim when he heard what he had to say. However, he added dryly that it would probably be advisable for the _Shasta_ Company to consider the compromise proposition he would shortly make. Jordan, who fancied he was right in this, went away without having found it necessary to hand him the engineer's confession, and was glad he had not offered to produce it when he ransacked his office for it a few days later.

"I certainly had the thing the morning Forster and Eleanor were here,"

he said. "Jimmy laid it down, and I don't remember having seen him take it up again. Still, I suppose he must have done so."

Jimmy had, however, gone north again by that time, and the compromise had been agreed to before he came back again. The _Shasta_ had also made several other successful trips when he had occasion to call at Victoria on his southward run, and seeing the _Sorata_ in the harbor rowed off to her. He spent that evening in her little forecastle with Valentine, who was busy with deep-water fis.h.i.+ng-lines. The latter wore an old blue s.h.i.+rt and canvas trousers stained with paint and grease, and he laid down a big hank of line when at length Jimmy, who had been whipping on hooks for him, inquired what plans he had.

"So you're not going back to the West Coast to drum up cargo for us?" he said.

"No," said Valentine. "Although they didn't intimate it, I don't think your people have any more use for me. They have the trade in their hands, and the boat they put on instead of yours is coming down full every time. In fact, I believe they're buying another one, as well as a big pa.s.senger carrier for your northern trip."

Jimmy looked astonished. "It's the first I've heard of it--but, of course, it's a little while since I was in Vancouver. Where did they raise the money?"

"I believe they got some of it from Cathcart on the salvage claim, and Leeson and two or three of his friends raised the rest. The _Adelaide_ and Merril's house were sold at auction. I heard it from Jordan, who was over here a week ago, and it's scarcely necessary to say that he's going to send you in the new boat. He seems to have some notion of trying to get into the South Sea trade, too, and I shouldn't wonder if eventually you're made general supervisor of the _Shasta_ Company's growing fleet."

Jimmy was sensible of a thrill of satisfaction, but he changed the subject. "You have given up your chartering?"

"I have," said Valentine, with a curious smile. "The people who hired my boat had an unsettling effect on me, and now I'm going to try the halibut fis.h.i.+ng with a couple of Siwash hands. Austerly's was my last charter--I don't think I shall ever take another."

Jimmy nodded, for he felt that he understood. "Well," he said, "in one way it wouldn't be nice to see anybody else occupying that after-cabin.

Of course, the notion is a fanciful one, but I shouldn't like to think of it myself."

Again the curious little smile flickered into Valentine's eyes. "It is scarcely likely to happen. I think you will understand my views when I show you the room."

Jimmy went aft with him through the saloon, and Valentine, unlocking a door beneath the companion slide, opened it gently. The fas.h.i.+on in which he did it had its significance, and Jimmy understood altogether as he looked into the little room. It was immaculate. Bulkhead and paneling gleamed with snowy paint, the berths with their varnished ledges were filled with spotless linen, and there was not a speck on the deck beneath. A few fresh sprays of balsam that hung beneath the beams diffused a faint aromatic fragrance.

"Those," said Valentine gravely, "are to keep out the smell of the halibut. I shouldn't like it to come in here. She had the lower berth.

The top one was Miss Merril's."

Jimmy felt the blood rise to his face. Valentine's manner was very quiet, and there was not the slightest trace of sentimentality in it, but Jimmy felt that he knew what he was thinking. Besides, Anthea had slept in that little snowy berth. They turned away without a word, when Valentine carefully fastened the door, and the latter had sat down again in the forecastle before Jimmy spoke.

"Have you heard anything of Miss Austerly lately?" he asked.

Valentine lighted the lamp beneath the beams, for it was growing dark, and taking something from a box in the upper berth stood still a moment with it in his hands. They were scarred and hardened by physical toil, and the man was big and bronzed and very quiet, though every line of his face and figure was stamped with the wholesome vigor of the sea.

"I see you do not know," he said. "This is the letter Austerly sent me.

As you will notice, it was at her request. She would not have minded your reading it."

Jimmy started as he saw that the envelope had a broad black edge, and his companion nodded gravely.

"Yes," he said, "there is neither tide nor fog where she has gone.

There, at least, we are told, the sea is gla.s.sy."

Jimmy took the letter out of the envelope, and once or twice his eyes grew a trifle hazy as he read. Then he handed it back to Valentine, almost reverently.

"I am sorry," was all he said.

Valentine looked at him with the little grave smile still in his eyes.

"I do not think there is any need for that. What had this world but pain to offer her? She has slipped away, but she has left something behind--something one can hold on by. What there is out yonder we do not know--but perhaps we shall not be sorry when we slip out beyond the shrouding mists some day."