Part 11 (1/2)

”I'll take my chances on that,” replied Peter calmly. ”I'm used to commanding men, in emergencies--if that's what you mean.”

”Yes. That's what I mean. Er--you're an Englishman, Mr. Sheldon says.”

”Er--yes,” said Peter, ”an Englishman,” for this was the truth now more than ever before, and then repeated the story he had told in New York about his work in Russia. While Peter was talking, McGuire was pacing up and down the room with short nervous strides, nodding his head in understanding from time to time. When Peter paused he returned to his chair.

”You British are a pretty steady lot,” said McGuire at last. ”I think you'll do. I like the way you talk and I like your looks. Younger than I'd hoped maybe, but then you're strong--Mr. Sheldon says you're strong, Mr. Nichols.”

”Oh, yes,” said Peter, his curiosity now getting the better of him. ”But it might be as well, Mr. McGuire, if you let me know just what, that is unusual, is to be required of me. I a.s.sume that you want me to take command of the men policing your grounds--and immediate property?”

”Er--yes. That will have to be put in shape at once--at once.” He leaned suddenly forward in his chair, his hairy hands clutching at his knees, while he blurted out with a kind of relieved tension, ”No one must come near the house at night. No one, you understand----”

”I understand, sir----” said Peter, waiting patiently for a revelation.

”There'll be no excuse if any one gets near the house without my permission,” he snarled. And then almost sullenly again--”You understand?”

”Perfectly. That should not be difficult to----”

”It may be more difficult than you think,” broke in McGuire, springing to his feet again, and jerking out his phrases with strange fury.

”Nothing is to be taken for granted. Nothing,” he raged. Peter was silent for a moment, watching McGuire who had paced the length of the room and back.

”I understand, sir,” he said at last. ”But doesn't it seem to you that both I and the man under me could do our work with more intelligence if we knew just who or what is to be guarded against?” Mr. McGuire stopped beside him as though transfixed by the thought. Then his fingers clutched at the back of a chair to which he clung for a moment in silence, his brows beetling. And when he spoke all the breath of his body seemed concentrated in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

”You won't know that. You understand, I give the orders. You obey them.

I am not a man who answers questions. Don't ask them.”

”Oh, I beg your pardon. So long as this thing you fear is human----”

”Human! A ghost! Who said I was afraid? Sheldon? Let him think it. This is _my_ business. There are many things of value in this house,” and he glanced towards the safe. ”I'm using the right of any man to protect what belongs to him.”

”I see,” said Peter.

The man's tension relaxed as he realized Peter's coolness.

”Call it a fancy if you like, Mr. Nichols----” he said with a shrug. ”A man of my age may have fancies when he can afford to gratify 'em.”

”That's your affair,” said Peter easily. ”I take it then that the systematic policing of the grounds is the first thing I am to consider.”

”Exactly. The systematic policing of the grounds--the dividing of your men into s.h.i.+fts for day and night work--more at night than in the day.

Three more men come to-morrow. They will all look to you for orders.”

”And who is in charge now?”

”A man named Wells--a native--the foreman from one of the sawmills--but he--er--well, Mr. Nichols--I'm not satisfied. That's why I wanted a man from outside.”

”I understand. And will you give the necessary orders to him?”

”Wells was up here to-day, I told him.”

”How many men are on guard here at the house?”