He did so until he reached the window, which opened to the side. The hinges were in good order and made no noise when he pushed back the frame.

"Get out," said Agatha. "I'll shoot if you stop."

He climbed quietly over the ledge, his lantern flickered and went out, and next moment Agatha saw nothing but the driving snow. Then she closed the window and fastened the shutter in frantic haste, and afterwards leaned against the wall, trembling and breathing hard. Still the man had gone and she thought he would not come back. Pulling herself together she returned to her room.

Although she had driven the man away, she locked the door, and when she had lighted the lamp sat down to recover her calm. There was no use in wakening Mrs. Farnam, and by and by she began to look about. The papers in the writing-table had been thrown upon the floor; her trunk was empty and the clothes it had held were scattered. The man had obviously been searching for something, and this was curious, because one would not expect to find jewelry in a writing-table, and a bureau with three or four drawers had not been opened. Then she noticed her father's letters lying in a bundle on the table, and put them back in the trunk from which she had recently taken them. After this, she re-packed her clothes, and sitting down again tried to remember all that had happened.

There was something puzzling about the adventure. To begin with, she could not see why the man had come to her room and what he expected to get. A clever thief would have gone to Farnam's office. Then she thought he was not a coward; he had given way because he was cool enough to see that he was in her power and resistance would lead to his getting shot.

Yet he had seemed to shrink when he heard her voice. She reflected with faint amus.e.m.e.nt that her voice was not harsh, and she had studied its control as part of her training when she began to teach. The little tricks of tone and gesture one used to overawe young girls would not frighten a man. For all that, when she first spoke there was a hint of fear in his furtive eyes.

Agatha let this go, and pondered her own feelings and the part she had played. She had, of course, been frightened, but had preserved her judgment and seen that she could control the situation so long as she kept cool. The man had not a pistol, and she could have fired three or four shots before he could seize her; but he might have tried to seize her had she not shown that she was ready to shoot. It looked as if she had the nerve and confidence to face a crisis, which was satisfactory, since she would need these qualities when she traveled through the wilds. She had, however, long trained herself for this object; in fact, as far as possible, she made her life a preparation for the adventurous journey. Then she remembered her brother's warning and wondered whether it was justified. There was, perhaps, a danger of her dwelling too much upon the lode. She must not let it possess her mind and make her deaf to other claims. One ought to keep a proper balance. In the meantime, she was tired, and feeling limp with the reaction from the strain. She got up and shortly afterwards went to bed.

CHAPTER IX

AGATHA ASKS ADVICE

Agatha said nothing next morning about her adventure, although she heard that the lame man had left the packing shed when his companions were asleep and had not come back. Next day Farnam returned and in the evening, when Mrs. Farnam was busy, she found an opportunity of talking to him alone. He looked thoughtful when he heard her story.

"You did right not to tell Mabel; but I certainly can't understand the thing," he said. "I reckon you have your imagination under pretty good control."

"I didn't imagine I saw the man," Agatha rejoined with a smile.

Farnam nodded. "We'll take that for granted. I wanted a teamster and hired the fellow when he asked for the job. He worked well, but I don't know where he came from or where he's gone, and it would scare Mabel if we put the police on his trail. Besides, I guess he lit out by the train in the morning that catches the west-bound express."

"Since he knew you were away, why did he wait instead of coming as soon as you left?"

"He probably reckoned there was a risk of his being heard on a calm, frosty night; I understand it was blowing fresh and snowing when he came. The snow would cover his tracks. But I'm puzzled. It's strange that he took nothing and left my safe alone!"

"Do you think he knew where the safe is?"

"Sure," said Farnam. "The boys come to my office for their pay." He paused and added thoughtfully: "Looks as if the fellow had an object for searching your room!"

"I wonder whether he knew I was a school teacher," Agatha remarked. "If he did know, it complicates the thing, because teachers are not often rich. Besides, how did he learn which was my room?"

"That wouldn't be hard," Farnam replied. "The boys get talking, evenings, with Mabel's kitchen help and I guess she tells them all about the house and our habits. The girl's a powerful talker."

He lighted his pipe and then resumed: "Well, my notion is he expected to find something in your room; something that he thought worth more than money."

"But I have nothing valuable," Agatha objected, with a laugh. "Now I remember, I made him empty his pockets and he left two half-dollars! It wasn't a very big fine, and I can send the dollar to some charity."

"I can't see an explanation, and we'll have to let it go; but the man will find trouble waiting if he comes back. Let me know right away if anybody gets after you like that again."

Agatha said she would do so, and hearing Mrs. Farnam's step in the pa.s.sage, they began to talk about something else.

A week later, Agatha went to visit George, and then feeling braced by the holiday, resumed her duties in Toronto. Soon afterwards, she sat in her room one evening in a thoughtful mood. The house was on the outskirts of the city and she heard cheerful voices and the jingle of sleigh-bells on the road. The moon was nearly full and riding parties were going out for a drive across the glittering snow, while where the wind had swept it clear ice yachts were, no doubt, skimming about the lake. Agatha envied the happy people who could enjoy such sports, and it had cost her something to admit that they were not for her. A ticket for a concert to which she had thought of going was stuck in a picture frame, but she was not in the humor for music, and putting down the book she held, leaned back languidly in her chair.

The room was small, plainly furnished, and shadowy, for the lamp had a deep shade that confined the light to a narrow circle. Three or four books lay upon the table and a map of the North-West Territories occupied the end in front of Agatha. It was not a very good map and the natural features of the country were sketchily indicated, for belts of the northern wilderness had not been thoroughly surveyed, but she had opened it for half an hour's relaxation. After that, she must get to work.

She was not very strong yet, but had undertaken extra duties that necessitated private study. Now she felt tired after lecturing a cla.s.s of absent-minded girls, and closing her eyes, abandoned herself to moody thought. George's warning was bearing fruit. Agatha was young, but knew one soon got jaded and youth slipped away. There was a risk of her spending in unrewarded efforts the years that ought to be happiest, and then finding herself old and soured. Still, when she came to think of it, she had recognized this and felt a vague dissatisfaction with her lot before George had talked to her. In fact, the dissatisfaction had begun soon after she wandered through the bush and paddled about the lake with Thirlwell.

For all that, she was not going to give up the resolve she had made long ago. She owed her father much, and must carry out the task he had unconsciously left her. She meant to search the country he had traveled for the silver vein; and then, if she was persuaded it could not be found, she would have paid her debt and be free to lead the life that others led. In the meantime, she was, so to speak, set apart, like a nun, from common joys and sorrows by a vow that must be kept. Perhaps this was an exaggeration, but it was partly true.

Banishing her thoughts, she put away the map and opened her book, but soon afterwards a servant brought in a card and stated that a man wished to see her. On the card was printed _John Stormont_ and the number of a post-office box at Winnipeg.

"I don't know Mr. Stormont," Agatha remarked. "But if he wants to see me, you may show him in."

A few moments later a man entered the room. He was young and neatly dressed, and smiled urbanely as he bowed.

"Miss Strange, I suppose? If you are not much occupied, I hope you can give me a few minutes."

Agatha, feeling curious, indicated a chair and studied him when he sat down. His voice was rather harsh, his glance was quick, and his alert manner implied self-confidence. There was, however, nothing else to be remarked about him, and she thought him a common type of young business man.

"I am not engaged just now," she replied.

"Thank you," said Stormont. "Perhaps I'd better state that I'm pretty well known in Winnipeg, where I do business in real estate and sometimes undertake the development of mineral claims. I've recently put over two or three big transactions in that line."

"But Manitoba is a farming country."

"Certainly; the prairie belt. The eastern strip, running along the edge of the Territories from Lake of the Woods, is different. There the rocks break out among the pine forests and in the last few years prospectors have found valuable minerals. Some are being worked, and I expect we will soon hear of fresh discoveries. I understand you are the daughter of Gordon Strange, who found a silver lode in North Ontario."

"I am his daughter; but I believe the lode was not in Ontario."

"Then it was in the neighboring Territories. I expect your father often talked to you about his find."

"He did," said Agatha. "Still I don't see--"

Stormont smiled. "You wonder where I am leading you? Well, it's part of my occupation to investigate mining propositions, and where the owners want to sell, to find a buyer. Sometimes I lend them money to improve the claim. In fact, I imagine you would find me useful in many ways."

"I cannot sell the lode before I know where it is."

"That's obvious," Stormont agreed. "The difficulty, however, might be overcome, and that's where I could help. But, to begin with, am I to understand your father altogether failed to relocate the claim? Although he filed no record, he may have found a clue."

Agatha gave him a keen glance. He had said nothing to excite much suspicion, but she felt that he was going too fast and asking too many questions.

"I did not see him after he went back to the North. I suppose you know he lost his life on his last journey?"

Stormont made a sympathetic gesture. "I heard so. But, no doubt, he wrote to you and told you about his prospecting."

"Yes," said Agatha, with some reserve. "He sent me letters."

"Then I expect he told you where he went. It's possible that a study of the letters would give an experienced prospector a useful hint."

Agatha pondered. She had, with the help of her map, followed Strange's journeys, and his letters showed where the silver was not to be found, which eliminated large belts of country. Then if Stormont knew much about mining and was accustomed to negotiate the sale of claims, his curiosity implied that her father's belief in the lode was well grounded. This was encouraging, but the man was a stranger and she felt a vague distrust.

"The person who finds a vein of ore and files his record is registered as its owner when he has complied with the legal formalities," she said.