Part 22 (2/2)
she asked abruptly. ”He wasn't telling the truth, not all the time.
But somehow I believe that was the truth. He said dad stuck it in the pocket of his chaps. I believe it's there yet, Lite. I don't remember ever looking into that pocket. And I believe--Lite, I never said anything about it, but somebody kept coming to the house in the night and hunting around through all the rooms. He never came into my room, so I--I didn't bother him; but I've wondered what he was after. It just occurred to me that maybe--”
”I never could figure out what he was after, either,” Lite observed quietly.
”You?” Jean turned her head, so that her eyes shone in the light of a street lamp while she looked up at him. ”How in the world did you know about him?”
Lite laughed drily. ”I don't think there's much concerns you that I don't know,” he confessed. ”I saw him, I guess, every time he came around. He couldn't have made a crooked move,--and got away with it.
But I never could figure him out exactly.”
Jean looked at him, touched by the care of her that he had betrayed in those few words. Always she had accepted him as the one friend who never failed her, but lately,--since the advent of the motion-picture people, to be exact,--a new note had crept into his friends.h.i.+p; a new meaning into his watching over her. She had sensed it, but she had never faced it openly. She pulled her thoughts away from it now.
”Did you know who he was?”
It was like Jean to come straight to the point. Lite smiled faintly; he knew that question would come, and he knew that he would have to answer it.
”Sure. I made it my business to know who he was.”
”Who was it, Lite?”
Lite did not say. He knew that question was coming also, but he did not know whether he ought to answer it.
”It was Uncle Carl, wasn't it?”
Lite glanced down at her quickly. ”You're a good little guesser.”
”Then it was that letter he was after.” She was silent for a minute, and then she looked at her watch. ”And I can't get at those chaps before to-morrow!” She sighed and leaned back against the post.
”Lite, if it was worth all that hunting for, it must mean something to us. I wonder what it can be; don't you know?”
”No,” said Lite slowly, ”I don't. And it's something a man don't want to do any guessing about.”
This, Jean felt, was a gentle reproof for her own speculations upon the subject. She said no more about the letter.
”I sent him a telegram,” she informed Lite irrelevantly, ”saying I'd located Art and was going to take him back there. I wonder what he thought when he got that!”
Lite turned half around and stared down at her. He opened his lips to speak, hesitated, and closed them without making a sound. He turned away and stared down into the street that was so empty. After a little he glanced at his own watch, with the same impulse Jean had felt. The hours and minutes were beginning to drag their feet as they pa.s.sed.
”You go in,” he ordered gently, ”and lie down. You'll be all worn out when the time comes for you to get busy. We don't know what's ahead of us on this trail, Jean. Right now, it's peaceful as Sunday morning down in Maine; so you go in and get some sleep, while you have a chance, and stop thinking about things. Go on, Jean. I'll call you plenty early; you needn't be afraid of missing the train.”
Jean smiled a little at the tender, protective note of authority in his voice and manner. Whether she permitted it or not, Lite would go right on watching over her and taking care of her. With a sudden desire to please him, she rose obediently. When she pa.s.sed him, she reached out and gave his arm a little squeeze.
”You cantankerous old tyrant,” she drawled in a whisper, ”you do love to haze me around, don't you? Just to spite you, I'll do it!” She went in and left him standing there, smoking and leaning against the post, calm as the stars above. But under that surface calm, the heart of Lite Avery was thumping violently. His arm quivered still under the thrill of Jean's fingers. Your bottled-up souls are quick to sense the meaning in a tone or a touch; Jean, whether she herself knew it or not, had betrayed an emotion that set Lite's thoughts racing out into a golden future. He stood there a long while, staring out upon the darkness, his eyes s.h.i.+ning.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE LETTER IN THE CHAPS
<script>