"If there is more I can do!"

"No; and I should not ask you if there were. I have gone too far, as it is," she sighed.

"You must take no risks; you must take care that Miss Pat knows nothing."

"No; I must see father. He must go away. I believe he has lost his senses from brooding on his troubles."

"But how did he ever get here? There is something very strange about it."

"Oh, I knew he would follow us! But I did not tell him I was coming here--I hope you did not believe that of me. I did not tell him any more than I told you."

He laughed softly.

"You did not need to tell me; I could have found you anywhere in the world, Helen. That man Donovan is watching you like a hawk; but he's a pretty good fellow, with a Milesian joy in a row. He's going to protect Miss Pat and you if he dies at the business."

She shrugged her shoulders, and I saw her disdain of me in her face. A pretty conspiracy this was, and I seemed to be only the crumpled wrapping of a pack of cards, with no part in the game.

Gillespie drew an envelope from his pocket, held it to the white lantern for an instant, then gave it to her.

"I telegraphed to Chicago for a draft. He will have to leave here to get it--the bank at Annandale carries no such sum; and it will be a means of getting rid of him."

"Oh, I only hope he will leave--he must--he must!" she cried.

"You must go back," he said. "These matters will all come right in the end, Helen," he added kindly. "There is one thing I do not understand."

"Oh, there are many things I do not understand!"

"The thing that troubles me is that your father was here before you."

"No--that isn't possible; I can't believe it."

"He had engaged the _Stiletto_ before you came to Annandale; and while I was tracing you across the country he was already here somewhere. He amuses himself with the yacht."

"Yes, I know; he is more of a menace that way--always in our sight--always where I must see him!"

Her face, clearly lighted by the lanterns, was touched with anxiety and sorrow, and I saw her, with that prettiest gesture of woman's thousand graces--the nimble touch that makes sure no errant bit of hair has gone wandering--lift her hand to her head for a moment. The emerald ring flashed in the lantern light. I recall a thought that occurred to me there--that the widow's peak, so sharply marked in her forehead, was like the finger-print of some playful G.o.d. She turned to go, but he caught her hands.

"Helen!" he cried softly.

"No! Please don't!"

She threw the nun's hood over her head and walked rapidly up the pier and stole away through the garden toward St. Agatha's. Gillespie listened for her step to die away, then he sighed heavily and bent down to draw up his canoe. When I touched him on the shoulder he rose and lifted the paddle menacingly.

"Ah, so it's our young and gifted Irish friend!" he said, grinning.

"No more sprinting stunts for me! I decline to run. The thought of asparagus and powdered gla.s.s saddens me. Look at these hands--these little hands still wrapped in mystical white rags. I have bled at every pore to give you entertainment, and now it's got to be twenty paces with bird-guns."

"What mischief are you in now?" I demanded angrily. "I thought I warned you, Gillespie; I thought I even appealed to your chivalry."

"My dear fellow, everything has changed. If a nun in distress appeals to me for help, I am Johnny-on-the-spot for Mother Church."

"That was not the Sister, it was Miss Holbrook. I saw her distinctly; I heard--"

"By Jove, this is gallant of you, Donovan! You are a marvelous fellow!"

"I have a right to ask--I demand to know what it was you gave the girl."

"Matinee tickets--the American girl without matinee tickets is a lonely pleiad b.u.mping through the void."

"You are a contemptible a.s.s. Your conduct is scoundrelly. If you want to see Miss Holbrook, why don't you go to the house and call on her like a gentleman? And as for her--"

"Yes; and as for her--?"

He stepped close to me threateningly.

"And as for her--?" he repeated.

"As for her, she may go too far!"

"She is not answerable to you. She's the finest girl in the world, and if you intimate--"

"I intimate nothing. But what I saw and heard interested me a good deal, Gillespie."

"What you heard by stealth, creeping about here at night, prying into other people's affairs!"

"I have pledged myself to care for Miss Pat."

"It's n.o.ble of you, Donovan!" and he stepped away from me, grinning.

"Miss Pat suggests nothing to me but 'b.u.t.ton, b.u.t.ton, who's got the b.u.t.ton?' She's a bloomin' aristocrat, while I'm the wealth-cursed child of democracy."

"You're a charming specimen!" I growled.

It was plain that he saw nothing out of the way in thus conniving with Helen Holbrook against her aunt, and that he had not been struck by the enormity of the girl's conduct in taking money from him. He drew in his canoe as I debated with myself what to do with him.

"You've got to leave the lake," I said. "You've got to go."

"Then I'm going, thank you!"

He sprang into the canoe, driving it far out of my reach; his paddle splashed, and he was gone.

"Is that you, sir?" called Ijima behind me. "I thought I heard some one talking."

"It is nothing, Ijima."

CHAPTER X

THE FLUTTER OF A HANDKERCHIEF