Part 46 (1/2)

Mrs. d.i.c.k, in her frank dislike of Bostwick, finally carried her work upstairs.

”Well, well, sweetheart!” Bostwick exclaimed. ”You must have heard the news, of course. I expect your congratulations!”

He rose and approached her eagerly. She was standing. She moved a chair and placed herself behind it.

”I suppose you mean the claim you've--taken,” she said. ”You're elated over that?”

”Good Lord! aren't you?” he answered. ”It's the biggest thing I've ever done! It's worth a million, maybe more--that 'Laughing Water'

claim! And to think that Van Buren, the romantic fool, putting marble slabs on the graves of the _demi-monde_, and riding about like a big tin toreador, should have bought a property on reservation ground, and lost it, gold and all!”

His relish in the triumph was fairly unctuous. His jaw seemed to oscillate in oil as he mouthed his contempt of the horseman.

Beth flamed with resentment. Her love for Van increased despite her judgment, despite her wish, as she heard him thus a.s.sailed. She knew he had placed a stone on Queenie's grave. She admired the fearless friendliness of the action--the token whereby he had linked the unfortunate girl in death to the human family from which she had severed herself in life.

Not to be goaded to indiscretion now she sat down as before with her work.

”And the money--yours and mine--did it go to a.s.sist in this unexpected enterprise, and not to buy a claim with Glen?”

”Certainly. No--no--not all of it--certainly not,” he stammered, caught for a moment off his guard. ”Some of my funds I used, of course, in necessary ways. Don't you worry about your thirty thousand.

You'll get it back a hundredfold, from your interest in the claim.”

She glanced up suddenly, startled by what he had said.

”_My_ interest in the claim?”

”Certainly, your interest. You didn't suppose I'd freeze you out, my little woman--my little wife--to be? You are one of the company, of course. You'll be a director later on--and we'll clean up a fortune in a year!”

She was exceedingly pale. What wonder Van had a grievance! He had doubtless heard it all before he came that night to deliver Glen's letter from Starlight. He might even have thought she had sent him to Glen to got him away from his claim.

A thousand thoughts, that seemed to scorch like fire, went rocketing through her brain. The thing was too much to be understood at once--it went too deep--it involved such possibilities. She must try to hold herself in check--try to be clever with this man.

”Oh,” she said, dropping her eyes to her work, ”and Glen is in it too?”

Bostwick was nervous. He sat down.

”Well, yes--to some extent--a little slice of mine,” he faltered.

”Naturally he has less than I've given to you.”

”But--didn't he discover the opportunity--the chance?”

”Certainly not!” he declared vehemently. ”It's all my doing--everything! Wholly my idea from the start!” The impulse to boast, to vaunt his cleverness, was not to be resisted. ”I told Van Buren the game had only begun! He thought himself so clever!”

She clung to her point.

”But--of course you told me Glen had found the chance, requiring sixty thousand dollars.”

”That was a different proposition--nothing to do with this. I've dropped that game entirely. This is big enough for us all!”

She looked the picture of unsophisticated innocence, sewing at a gaudy square of cloth.