Part 10 (1/2)
He wrung his hands, tore off his hat and stamped upon it on the walk, and behaved in such a manner that it was little wonder Helen Cameron was vastly frightened. He seemed beside himself with rage and despair.
Ruth, herself torn by conflicting emotions, could not bear to see the old man so convulsed with what seemed to be anguish of spirit, without offering her sympathy. During this week that she had been at the Red Mill it could not be said that she had gained Uncle Jabez's confidence--that she had drawn close to him at all. But it was not for a will on her part to do so.
The girl now left Aunt Alvirah and Helen on the porch and walked straight down to the old man. She was beside him, with a hand upon his arm, before he was aware of her coming.
He stared at her so angrily--with such an expression of rage and hopelessness upon his face--that she was held speechless for a moment.
”What do you know about it, girl?” he demanded, hoa.r.s.ely.
”About what, Uncle?” she returned.
”The box--the cash-box--my money!” he cried, in a low voice. ”Do you know anything about it? Was it saved?”
”Oh, Uncle! We only got here in the automobile just in time to escape the flood. The office was wrecked at that very moment. Was the box there?”
”Gone! Gone!” he murmured, shaking his head; and turning on his heel, he strode into the mill.
The boy had taken the mules around to the stable. Ruth hesitated, then followed the old man into the mill. There Jabez confronted Tom Cameron, sitting on a sack of meal and watching the turbid waters falling over the dam.
”Ha! Young Cameron,” muttered Uncle Jabez. ”You didn't see the cash-box, of course?”
”Where was it?” asked Tom, quietly.
”In that office--on a shelf, with an old coat thrown over it. I believed it to be as safe there as in the house with n.o.body but an old woman to guard it.”
”Better put your money in the bank, sir,” said Tom, coolly.
”And have some sleek and oily scoundrel steal it, eh?” snarled Uncle Jabez.
”Well, the water stole it, I reckon,” Tom said. ”I'm sorry for you if there was much money in the box. But I know nothing about it. Jasper Parloe might have saved the box had he known about it; he was over there by the office when the water tore away the wall.”
”Jasper Parloe!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Uncle Jabez, starting. ”Was he here?”
”He wasn't here long,” chuckled Tom. ”He thought the mill was going and he lit out in a hurry.”
Uncle Jabez made another despairing gesture and walked away. Ruth followed him and her hands closed upon the toil-hardened fist clenched at his side.
”I'm sorry, Uncle,” she whispered.
He suddenly stared down at her.
”There! I believe you be, child. But your being sorry can't help it none. The money's gone--hard it come and it's hard to part with in this way.”
”Was it a large sum, Uncle?”
”All the ready cash I had in the world. Every cent I owned. That boy said, put it in a bank. I lost money when the Cheslow Bank failed forty year ago. I don't get caught twice in the same trap--no, sir!
I've lost more this time; but no dishonest blackleg will have the benefit of it, that's sure. The river's got it, and n.o.body will ever be a cent the better off for it. All! All gone!”
He jerked his hand away from Ruth's sympathetic pressure and walked moodily away.
CHAPTER XII