Part 36 (1/2)
So she took her place and ate--ate ravenously, enjoying every mouthful--even though her mind was obsessed with doubts and fears and burning anger.
”You are the caretaker here?” she asked as soon as her hunger was a little satisfied.
”Reckon you might call us that, me and Eph; we've lived here for five years now, taking care of the island--ever since your pa bought it.”
”Eph is your husband?”
”That's him--Ephraim Clover.”
”And--doesn't he do anything else but--caretake?”
”Lord bless you, he don't even do that; I'm the caretaker_ess_. Eph don't do nothing but potter round with the motor-boat and go to town for supplies and fish a little and 'tend to the garden and do the ch.o.r.es and--”
”I should think he must keep pretty busy.”
”Busy? Him? Eph? Lord! he's the busiest thing you ever laid your eyes on--poking round doing nothing at all.”
”And does n.o.body ever come here ...?”
”n.o.body but the boss.”
”Does he often--?”
”That's as may be and the fit's on him. He comes and goes, just as he feels like. Sometimes he's on and off the island half a dozen times a week, and again we don't hear nothing of him for months; sometimes he just stops here for days and mebbe weeks, and again he's here one minute and gone the next. Jumps round like a flea on a griddle, _I_ say; you can't never tell nothing about what he's going to do or where he'll be next.... My land o' mercy, Mr. Searle! What a start you did give me!”
The man had succeeded in startling both women, as a matter of fact.
Eleanor, looking suddenly up from her plate on hearing Mrs. Clover's cry of surprise, saw him lounging carelessly in the hall doorway, where he had appeared as noiselessly as a shadow. His sly, satiric smile was twisting his thin lips, and a sardonic humour glittered in the pale eyes that s.h.i.+fted from Eleanor's face to Mrs. Clover's, and back again.
”I wish,” he said, nodding to the caretaker, ”you'd slip down to the dock and tell Eph to have the boat ready by seven o'clock.”
”Yes, sir,” a.s.sented Mrs. Clover hastily. She crossed at once toward the outer door. From her tone and the alacrity with which she moved to do his bidding, no less than from the half-cringing look with which she met his regard, Eleanor had no difficulty in divining her abject fear of this man whom she could, apparently, have taken in her big hands and broken in two without being annoyed by his struggles.
”And, here!” he called after her--”supper ready?”
”Yes, sir--quite.”
”Very well; I'll have mine. Eph can come up as soon as he's finished overhauling the motor. Wait a minute; tell him to be sure to bring the oars up with him.”
”Yes, sir, I will, sir.”
Mrs. Clover dodged through the door and, running down the pair of steps from the kitchen stoop to the ground, vanished behind the house.
”Enjoying your breakfast, I trust?”
Eleanor pushed back her chair and rose. She feared him, feared him as she might have feared any loathly, venomous thing; but she was not in the least spiritually afraid of him. Contempt and disgust only emphasised the quality of her courage. She confronted him without a tremor.
”Will you take me with you when you leave this island tonight?” she demanded.
He shook his head with his derisive smile. She had discounted that answer.