Thereafter, when I had despatched Gillespie to the village in the dog-cart, I got into my leggings, reflecting upon the odd circ.u.mstance that Helen Holbrook had been able to speak to me over the telephone a few minutes before, using an instrument that had, by Sister Margaret's testimony, been out of commission for several days. The girl had undoubtedly slipped away from St. Agatha's and spoken to me from some other house in the neighborhood; but this was a matter of little importance, now that I had undertaken her commission.

The chapel clock chimed nine as I gained the road, and I walked my horse to scan St. Agatha's windows through vistas that offered across the foliage. And there, by the open window of her aunt's sitting-room, I saw Helen Holbrook reading. A table-lamp at her side illumined her slightly bent head; and, as though aroused by my horse's quick step in the road, she rose and stood framed against the light, with the soft window draperies fluttering about her.

I spoke to my horse and galloped toward Red Gate.

CHAPTER XVI

AN ODD AFFAIR AT RED GATE

Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you, Which better fits a lion than a man.

--_Troilus and Cressida_.

As I rode through Port Annandale the lilting strains of a waltz floated from the casino, and I caught a glimpse of the lake's cincture of lights. My head was none too clear from its crack on the cabin floor, and my chest was growing sore and stiff from the slash of the Italian's knife; but my spirits were high, and my ears rang with memories of the Voice. Helen had given me a commission, and every fact of my life faded into insignificance compared to this. The cool night air rushing by refreshed me. I was eager for the next turn of the wheel, and my curiosity ran on to the boat-maker's house.

I came now to a lonely sweep, where the road ran through a heavy woodland, and the cool, moist air of the forest rose round me. The lake, I knew, lay close at hand, and the Hartridge cottage was not, as I reckoned my distances, very far ahead. I had drawn in my horse to consider the manner of my approach to the boat-maker's, and was jogging along at an easy trot when a rifle-shot rang out on my left, from the direction of the creek, and my horse shied sharply and plunged on at a wild gallop. He ran several hundred yards before I could check him, and then I turned and rode slowly back, peering into the forest's black shadow for the foe. I paused and waited, with the horse dancing crazily beneath me, but the woodland presented an inscrutable front. I then rode on to the unfenced strip of wood where I had left my horse before.

I began this narrative with every intention of telling the whole truth touching my adventures at Annandale, and I can not deny that the shot from the wood had again shaken my faith in Helen Holbrook. She had sent me to the Tippecanoe on an errand of her own choosing, and I had been fired on from ambush near the place to which she had sent me. I fear that my tower of faith that had grown so tall and strong shook on its foundations; but once more I dismissed my doubts, just as I had dismissed other doubts and misgivings about her. My fleeting glimpse of her in the window of St. Agatha's less than an hour before flashed back upon me, and the tower touched the stars, steadfast and serene again.

I strode on toward Red Gate with my revolver in the side pocket of my Norfolk jacket. A buckboard filled with young folk from the summer colony pa.s.sed me, and then the utter silence of the country held the world. In a moment I had reached the canoe-maker's cottage and entered the gate. I went at once to the front door and knocked. I repeated my knock several times, but there was no answer. The front window-blinds were closed tight.

It was now half-past ten and I walked round the dark house with the sweet scents of the garden rising about me and paused again at the top of the steps leading to the creek.

The house-boat was effectually screened by shrubbery, and I had descended half a dozen steps before I saw a light in the windows. It occurred to me that as I had undoubtedly been sent to Red Gate for some purpose, I should do well not to defeat it by any clumsiness of my own; so I proceeded slowly, pausing several times to observe the lights below. I heard the Tippecanoe slipping by with the subdued murmur of water at night; and then a lantern flashed on deck and I heard voices.

Some one was landing from a boat in the creek. This seemed amiable enough, as the lantern-bearer helped a man in the boat to clamber to the platform, and from the open door of the shop a broad shaft of light shone brightly upon the two men. The man with the lantern was Holbrook, _alias_ Hartridge, beyond a doubt; the other was a stranger.

Holbrook caught the painter of the boat and silently made it fast.

"Now," he said, "come in."

They crossed the deck and entered the boat-maker's shop, and I crept down where I could peer in at an open port-hole. Several bra.s.s ship-lamps of an odd pattern lighted the place brilliantly, and I was surprised to note the unusual furnishings of the room. The end nearest my port-hole was a shop, with a carpenter's bench with litter all about that spoke of practical use. Two canoes in process of construction lay across frames contrived for the purpose, and overhead was a rack of lumber hung away to dry. The men remained at the farther end of the house--it was, I should say, about a hundred feet long--which, without formal division, was fitted as a sitting-room, with a piano in one corner, and a long settle against the wall. In the center was a table littered with books and periodicals; and a woman's sewing-basket, interwoven with bright ribbons, gave a domestic touch to the place. On the inner wall hung a pair of foils and masks. Pictures from ill.u.s.trated journals--striking heads or outdoor scenes--were pinned here and there.

The new-comer stared about, twirling a Tweed cap nervously in his hands, while Holbrook carefully extinguished the lantern and put it aside. His visitor was about fifty, taller than he, and swarthy, with a grayish mustache, and hair white at the temples. His eyes were large and dark, but even with the length of the room between us I marked their restlessness; and now that he spoke it was in a succession of quick rushes of words that were difficult to follow.

Holbrook pushed a chair toward the stranger and they faced each other for a moment, then with a shrug of his shoulders the older man sat down. Holbrook was in white flannels, with a blue scarf knotted in his shirt collar. He dropped into a big wicker chair, crossed his legs and folded his arms.

"Well," he said in a wholly agreeable tone, "you wanted to see me, and here I am."

"You are well hidden," said the other, still gazing about.

"I imagine I am, from the fact that it has taken you seven years to find me."

"I haven't been looking for you seven years," replied the stranger hastily; and his eyes again roamed the room.

The men seemed reluctant to approach the business that lay between them, and Holbrook wore an air of indifference, as though the impending interview did not concern him particularly. The eyes of the older man fell now upon the beribboned work-basket. He nodded toward it, his eyes lighting unpleasantly.

"There seems to be a woman," he remarked with a sneer of implication.

"Yes," replied Holbrook calmly, "there is; that belongs to my daughter."

"Where is she?" demanded the other, glancing anxiously about.

"In bed, I fancy. You need have no fear of her."

Silence fell upon them again. Their affairs were difficult, and Holbrook, waiting patiently for the other to broach his errand, drew out his tobacco-pouch and pipe and began to smoke.

"Patricia is here, and Helen is with her," said the visitor.

"Yes, we are all here, it seems," remarked Holbrook dryly. "It's a nice family gathering."

"I suppose you haven't seen them?" demanded the visitor.

"Yes and no. I have no wish to meet them; but I've had several narrow escapes. They have cut me off from my walks; but I shall leave here shortly."

"Yes, you are going, you are going--" began the visitor eagerly.

"I am going, but not until after you have gone," said Holbrook. "By some strange fate we are all here, and it is best for certain things to be settled before we separate again. I have tried to keep out of your way; I have sunk my ident.i.ty; I have relinquished the things of life that men hold dear--honor, friends, ambition, and now you and I have got to have a settlement."

"You seem rather sure of yourself," sneered the older, turning uneasily in his chair.

"I am altogether sure of myself. I have been a fool, but I see the error of my ways and I propose to settle matters with you now and here.

You have got to drop your game of annoying Patricia; you've got to stop using your own daughter as a spy--"

"You lie, you lie!" roared the other, leaping to his feet. "You can not insinuate that my daughter is not acting honorably toward Patricia."

My mind had slowly begun to grasp the situation and to identify the men before me. It was as though I looked upon a miniature stage in a darkened theater, and, without a bill of the play, was slowly finding names for the players. Holbrook, _alias_ Hartridge, the boat-maker of the Tippecanoe, was not Henry Holbrook, but Henry's brother, Arthur!

and I sought at once to recollect what I knew of him. An instant before I had half turned to go, ashamed of eavesdropping upon matters that did not concern me; but the Voice that had sent me held me to the window. It was some such meeting as this that Helen must have feared when she sent me to the houses-boat, and everything else must await the issue of this meeting.

"You had better sit down, Henry," said Arthur Holbrook quietly. "And I suggest that you make less noise. This is a lonely place, but there are human beings within a hundred miles."

Henry Holbrook paced the floor a moment and then flung himself into a chair again, but he bent forward angrily, nervously beating his hands together. Arthur went on speaking, his voice shaking with pa.s.sion.

"I want to say to you that you have deteriorated until you are a common d.a.m.ned blackguard, Henry Holbrook! You are a blackguard and a gambler.

And you have made murderous attempts on the life of your sister; you drove her from Stamford and you tried to smash her boat out here in the lake. I saw the whole transaction that afternoon, and understood it all--how you hung off there in the _Stiletto_ and sent that beast to do your dirty work."

"I didn't follow her here; I didn't follow her here!" raged the other.

"No; but you watched and waited until you traced me here. You were not satisfied with what I had done for you. You wanted to kill me before I could tell Pat the truth; and if it hadn't been for that man Donovan your a.s.sa.s.sin would have stabbed me at my door." Arthur Holbrook rose and flung down his pipe so that the coals leaped from it. "But it's all over now--this long exile of mine, this pursuit of Pat, this hideous use of your daughter to pluck your chestnuts from the fire. By G.o.d, you've got to quit--you've got to go!"

"But I want my money--I want my money!" roared Henry, as though insisting upon a right; but Arthur ignored him, and went on.

"You were the one who was strong; and great things were expected of you, to add to the traditions of family honor; but our name is only mentioned with a sneer where men remember it at all. You were spoiled and pampered; you have never from your early boyhood had a thought that was not for yourself alone. You were always envious and jealous of anybody that came near you, and not least of me; and when I saved you, when I gave you your chance to become a man at last, to regain the respect you had flung away so shamefully, you did not realize it, you could not realize it; you took it as a matter of course, as though I had handed you a cigar. I ask you now, here in this place, where I am known and respected--I ask you here, where I have toiled with my hands, whether you forget why I am here?"

Henry Holbrook tugged at his scarf nervously and his eyes wandered about uneasily. He did not answer his brother. Arthur stood over him, with folded arms, his back to me so that I could not see his face; but his tone had in it the gathered pa.s.sion and contempt of years. Then he was at once himself, standing away a little, like a lawyer after a round with a refractory witness.

"I must have my money; Patricia must make the division," replied Henry doggedly.