"Thanks. I hardly expected it."

"And why not?" Iredale was smiling, his grey eyes had a curious look in them--something between quizzical amus.e.m.e.nt and surprise.

"Oh, I don't know," the other retorted with a shrug. "There is no telling how some men will take these things."

Iredale removed his pipe, and pressed the ash down with his little finger. The operation required the momentary lowering of his eyes from his companion's face.

"I don't think I understand you."

Grey laughed unpleasantly.

"There's not much need of comprehension. If two men run after the same girl and one succeeds where the other fails, the successful suitor doesn't usually expect congratulations from his unfortunate rival."

"Supposing such to be the case in point," Iredale replied quietly, but with an ominous lowering of his eyelids. "Mark you, I only say 'supposing.' I admit nothing--to you. The less successful man may surely be honest enough, and man enough, to wish his rival well. I have known such cases among--men."

Grey twisted himself round in his chair and a.s.sumed a truculent att.i.tude.

"Notwithstanding the fact that the rival in question never loses an opportunity of seeking out the particular girl, and continuing his attentions after she is engaged to the other? That may be the way among--men. But not honest men."

The expression of Iredale's face remained quite calm. Only his eyes--keen, direct-gazing eyes--lit up with an angry sparkle. He drew a little more rapidly at his pipe, perhaps, but he spoke quietly still. He quite understood that Grey intended forcing a quarrel upon him.

"I shall not pretend to misunderstand you, Grey. Your manner puts that out of the question. You are unwarrantably accusing me of a most ungentlemanly proceeding. Such an accusation being made by any one--what shall I say?--more responsible than you, I should take considerable notice of; as it is, it is hardly worth my consideration.

You are at best a blunderer. I should pause before I replied had I the misfortune to be you, and try to recollect where you are. If you wish to quarrel there is time and place for so doing."

Iredale's words stung Leslie Grey to the quick. His irresponsible temper fairly jumped within him, his eyes danced with rage, and he could scarcely find words to express himself.

"You may sneer as much as you like," he at length blurted out, "but you cannot deny that your visits to this house are paid with the object of addressing my affianced wife. You are right when you describe such conduct as ungentlemanly. You are no gentleman! But I do not suppose that the man who owns Lonely Ranch will feel the sting of being considered a--a--cad or anything else."

"Stop!" Iredale was roused, and there was no mistaking the set of his square jaw and the compression between his brows. "You have gone a step too far. You shall apologize or----"

"Stop--eh? You may well demand that I should--stop, Mr. George Iredale. Were I to go on you would have a distinctly bad time of it.

But my present consideration is not with the concerns of Lonely Ranch, but only with your visits here, which shall cease from to-day out. And as for apologizing for anything I have said, I'll see you d.a.m.ned first."

There was a pause; a breathless pause. The two men confronted each other, both held calm by a strength which a moment ago would have seemed impossible in at least one of them.

Grey's face worked painfully with suppressed excitement, but he gripped himself. George Iredale was calm under the effort of swift thought. He was the first to break the silence, and he did so in a voice well modulated and under perfect control. But the mouthpiece of his pipe was nearly bitten through.

"Now I shall be glad if you will go on. You apparently have further charges to make against me. I hardly know whether I am in the presence of a madman or a fool. One or the other, I am sure. You may as well make your charges at once. You will certainly answer for all you have already said, so make the list of your accusations complete before----"

"You fool!" hissed Grey, goaded to the last extremity of patience. His headlong nature could not long endure restraint. Now his words came with a blind rush.

"Do you think I'd speak without being sure of my ground? Do you think, because other men who have occupied the position which is mine at Ainsley have been blind, that I am? Lonely Ranch; a fitting t.i.tle for your place," with a sneer. "Lonely! in neighbourhood, yes, but not as regards its owner. You are wealthy, probably the wealthiest man in the province of Manitoba; why, that alone should have been sufficient to set the hounds of the law on your trail. I know the secret of Lonely Ranch. I have watched day after day the notice you have inserted in the _Free Press_--'Yellow booming--slump in Grey.' Nor have I rested until I discovered your secret. I shall make no charge here beyond what I have said, but----"

He suddenly broke off, awakening from his blind rage to the fact of what he was doing. His mouth shut like a trap, and beads of perspiration broke out upon his forehead. His eyes lowered before the ironical gaze of his companion. Thus he sat for a moment a prey to futile regrets. His anger had undone him. The sound of a short laugh fell upon his ears, and, as though drawn by a magnet, his eyes were once more turned on the face of the rancher.

"I was not sure which it was," said Iredale dryly; "whether you were a fool or a madman. Now I know. I had hoped that it was madness. There is hope for a madman, but none for a fool. Thank you, Grey, for the information you have supplied me with. Your folly has defeated your ends. Remember this. You will never be able to use the 'Secret'--as you are pleased to call it--of Lonely Ranch. I will take good care of that. And now, as I hear sounds of people running up-stairs, we will postpone further discussion. This interview has been prolonged sufficiently--more than sufficiently for you."

Iredale rose from his chair; to all appearance he was quite undisturbed. Grey's condition was exactly the reverse.

He, too, rose from his seat. There was a sound of some one approaching the door. Grey stepped up to his companion and put his mouth close to his ear.

"Don't forget that you cannot conceal the traces that are round your--ranch. Traces which are unmistakable to those who have an inkling of the truth."

"No, but I can take steps which will effectually nullify the exertions you have been put to. Remember you said I was wealthy. I am tired of your stupid long-winded talk."

Iredale turned away with a movement of disgust and irritation just as the door opened and Prudence came in.

"Ah, here you are, you two. I have been wondering where you were all this time. Do you know the people are going home?"

The girl ceased speaking abruptly and looked keenly at the two men before her. Iredale was smiling; Grey was gazing down at the stove, and apparently not listening to her.

Prudence saw that something was wrong, but she had no suspicion of the truth. She wondered; then she delivered a message she had brought and dismissed Iredale.

"Mother wants to see you, Mr. Iredale; something about Hervey."

"I will go to her at once." And the owner of Lonely Ranch pa.s.sed out of the room.

The moment the door closed behind him the girl turned anxiously to her lover.

"What is it, Leslie dear? You are not angry with me still?"

The man laughed mirthlessly.

"Angry? No, child. I wonder if I--no, better not. It's time to be off.

Give me a kiss, and I'll say good-night."

CHAPTER VII

LESLIE GREY FULFILS HIS DESTINY

It was early morning. Early even for the staff of the Rodney House Hotel. And Leslie Grey was about to breakfast. The solitary waitress the hotel boasted was laying the tables for the eight-o'clock meal.

The room had not yet a.s.sumed the spick-and-span appearance which it would wear later on. There was a suggestion of last night's supper about the atmosphere; and the girl, too, who moved swiftly here and there arranging the tables, was still clad in her early morning, frowsy print dress, and her hair showed signs of having been hastily adjusted without the aid of a looking-gla.s.s. A sight of her suggested an abrupt rising at the latest possible moment.

From the kitchen beyond a savoury odour of steak and coffee penetrated the green baize swing-door which stood at one end of the room.

"Is that steak nearly ready?" asked Grey irritably, as the girl flicked some crumbs from the opposite end of his table on to the floor, with that deft flourish of a dirty napkin which waitresses usually obtain.

She paused in her work, and her hand went up consciously to the screws of paper which adorned her front hair.

"Yessir, it'll be along right now."

Then she continued to flick the table in other directions.

"I ordered breakfast for six o'clock. This is the slackest place I ever knew. I shall talk to Morton and see if things can't be altered.

Just go and rouse that cook up. I've got to make Leonville before two."