Part 25 (1/2)

It was a rest to their eyes and their minds, therefore, to look down on this peaceful and exquisite valley, Evelyn's home.

”It's all very beautiful,” observed Miss Campbell. ”I'm sure I never saw a more enchanting scene in my life. But there's one thing that makes it more beautiful to me even than the Vale of Cashmere, and that's a hot bath. I'm looking forward to a hot bath, my dears, and a good night's rest on a hair mattress in the best hotel in the city. I trust you feel the same.”

The girls laughed.

”We look a good deal like a United States geological surveying party, after three months in the wilderness,” answered Daniel Moore, looking quizzically at the girls' sunburned faces, and glancing down at his gray flannel s.h.i.+rt, borrowed from Jim Bowles.

”I do feel as if I had returned to my natural element,” said Elinor; ”just a handful of dust. I am chewing dust and seeing dust and hearing dust. My hair is dust and so are my clothes.”

”After we are scrubbed and shampooed and manicured and fed and rested,”

here put in Billie, ”I shall write a note to your Evelyn, Mr. Moore.”

The young man hesitated.

”I've repented my bargain with you, Miss Billie. I'm afraid you might get into some kind of trouble. I should never forgive myself if I involved you in any difficulties.”

”Nonsense,” said Billie, who, having made up her mind to see Evelyn, was not going to be thwarted at the eleventh hour. ”There could be no possible harm in my writing and asking her to call. Besides, we know her now anyhow, quite well. Don't we, Helen?”

”Yes-s-,” hesitated her cousin. ”But I agree with Mr. Moore, that we had better not make any more efforts to see Evelyn, although I can't possibly see how we could become involved in any trouble by renewing our acquaintance.”

So the discussion came to an end. What this beautiful city with the mysteries which hung over it had in store for them, they could not even guess. Perhaps they would visit its chief points of interest like ordinary tourists, and perhaps, who knows, they might penetrate far deeper into its secrets. They were certain of one thing, however, that Daniel Moore, for all his self-contained and calm exterior, was consumed with an unquenchable flame of determination. By hook or by crook, he would see Evelyn Stone, and, provided she was willing, he would take her away from Utah.

”And we are likely to be the 'hook or crook,'” observed Billie, through whose mind these thoughts were pa.s.sing, as she guided the Comet into a broad, s.p.a.cious street, lined with beautiful stone houses.

”Where does Evelyn live?” asked Nancy. ”Couldn't we go by the house on our way to the hotel?”

”Their town house is on this very street,” answered Evelyn's lover, ”but they are likely to be in the country at this time of the year. That's another difficulty. You will see the place presently. It's on the corner. Old Stone is a very rich person, I'm afraid. If he hadn't had so much money, he wouldn't have looked down on me as a son-in-law.”

Billie slowed up as they neared the fine granite mansion built by Evelyn's father. The front shades were all pulled down, and there was not a sign of life about the place.

”It looks more like a prison than a home,” Billie exclaimed. ”Does he keep his pretty Evelyn locked up there all winter?”

”I'm afraid so,” said Daniel ruefully. ”She hasn't had much liberty since she met me, anyhow. He's an infernal old--”

Daniel broke off in the middle of a sentence, for the front door of the Stone house had opened, and there on the threshold, like a dragon at the castle gate, stood John James Stone. He could never be said to glance casually at anything, but his sharp eyes only rested for a moment on the pa.s.sing motor car, and he turned on his heel and entered the house.

”The old fox is never away, you see,” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Daniel Moore.

But they soon approached an immense, splendid hotel, and the thought of hot baths and clean clothes was sweeter to the weary ladies at that moment than the most idyllic romance ever conceived.

It was to this hotel that Daniel Moore's luggage had been checked, and there he found and redeemed it with the check the late train robber had considerately returned to him.

”You won't see us again until seven o'clock to-night, Mr. Moore,” Miss Campbell had said. ”And then you may not know us, we shall be so transformed with soap and water.”

”I may have news for you by then,” he said, as they separated at the elevator.

And that was the last they were to see of Daniel Moore for many a day to come.

”I suppose b.u.t.terflies feel about as we do,” observed Nancy that evening as they filed down to dinner.