Part 17 (2/2)

Sometimes, when the cool, evening breezes blew on his bare, fevered head, he laughed at himself for an idiot. How did he know that Macdonald wanted Sheba O'Neill. All the evidence he had was that he had once seen the man watch her while she sang a sentimental song. Whereas it was common talk that he would probably marry Mrs. Mallory, that for months he had been her almost daily companion. If the older woman had lost the sweet, supple slimness of her first youth, she had won in exchange a sophisticated grace, a seductive allure that made her the envy of all the women with whom she a.s.sociated. She held at command a warm, languorous charm which had stirred banked fires in the hearts of many men. Why should not Macdonald woo her? Gordon himself admitted her attractiveness.

And why should he take it for granted that Sheba was ready to drop into the arms of the big Alaskan whenever he said the word? At the least he was twenty years older than she. Surely she might admire him without falling in love with the man. Was there not something almost insulting in the supposition that Macdonald had only to speak to her in order to win?

But in spite of reason he was on fire to come to his journey's end.

No sooner had he reached his hotel than he called up Mrs. Paget. Quite clearly she understood that he wanted an invitation to dinner. Yet she hesitated.

”My 'phone can't be working well,” Gordon told her gayly. ”You must have asked me to dinner, but I didn't just hear it. Never mind. I'll be there. Seven o'clock, did you say?”

Diane laughed. ”You're just as much a boy as you were ten years ago, Gord. All right. Come along. But you're to leave at ten. Do you understand?”

”No, I can't hear that. My 'phone has gone bad again. And if I had heard, I shouldn't think of doing anything so ridiculous as leaving at that hour. It would be an insult to your hospitality. I know when I'm well off.”

”Then I'll have to withdraw my invitation. Perhaps some other day--”

”I'll leave at ten,” promised Elliot meekly.

He could almost hear the smile in her voice as she answered. ”Very well.

Seven sharp. I'll explain about the curfew limit sometime.”

Macdonald was with Miss O'Neill in the living-room when Gordon arrived at the Paget home.

Sheba came forward to greet the new guest. The welcome in her eyes was very genuine.

”You and Mr. Macdonald know each other, of course,” she said after her handshake.

The Scotchman nodded his lean, grizzled head, looking straight into the eyes of the field agent. There was always a certain deliberation about his manner, but it was the slowness of strength and not of weakness.

”Yes, I know Mr. Elliot--now. I'm not so sure that he knows me--yet.”

”I'm beginning to know you rather well, Mr. Macdonald,” answered Gordon quietly, but with a very steady look.

If the Alaskan wanted to declare war he was ready for it. The field agent knew that Selfridge had sent reports detailing what had happened at Kamatlah. Up to date Macdonald had offered him the velvet glove. He wondered if the time had come when the fist of steel was to be doubled.

Paget was frankly pleased to see Gordon again. He was a simple, honest man who moved always in a straight line. He had liked Elliot as a boy and he still liked him. So did Diane, for that matter, but she was a little on her guard against him. She had certain plans under way that she intended to put through. She was not going to let even Gordon Elliot frustrate them.

”Did you have a successful trip, Mr. Elliot?” asked Sheba innocently.

Paget grinned behind his hand. The girl's question was like a match to powder, and every one in the room knew it but she. The engineer's interests and his convictions were on the side of Macdonald, but he recognized that Elliot had been sent in to gather facts for the Government and not to give advice to it. If he played fair, he could only tell the truth as he saw it.

The eyes of Diane held a spark of hostility as she leaned forward. The word had already been pa.s.sed among the faithful that this young man was not taking the right point of view.

”Did you, Gordon?” echoed his hostess.

”I think so,” he answered quietly.

”I hear you put up with old Gideon Holt. Is he as cracked as he used to be?” asked Macdonald.

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