Part 20 (1/2)

”But he is not in Vancouver.”

”There--or thereabouts. When we get there we can ask the policeman, or,” with a grim twinkle, ”we can enquire at the asylums. You forget that my nephew is a celebrated man even if he is a fool.”

The doctor gave in. He hadn't had a chance from the beginning, for Aunt Caroline could answer objections far faster than he could make them.

They arrived at the terminus just four days after the expeditionary party had left for Friendly Bay.

If Aunt Caroline were surprised at finding more than one policeman in Vancouver, she did not admit it. Neither did the general atmosphere of ignorance as to Benis daunt her in the least. She adhered firmly to her campaign of question asking and found it fully justified when inquiry at the post-office revealed that all letters for Professor Benis H.

Spence were to be delivered to the care of the Union Steams.h.i.+p Company.

From the Union Steams.h.i.+p Company to the professor's place of refuge was an easy step. But Dr. Rogers, to whom this last inquiry had been intrusted, returned to the hotel with a careful jauntiness of manner which ill accorded with a disturbed mind.

”Well, we've found him,” he announced cheerfully. ”And now, if we are wise, I think we'll leave him alone. He is camping up the coast at a place called Friendly Bay--no hotels, no accommodation for ladies--he is evidently perfectly well and attending to business. You know he came out here partly to get material for his book? Well, that's what he's doing. Must be, because there are only Indians up there.”

”Indians? What do you mean--Indians? Wild ones?”

”Fairly wild.”

Aunt Caroline snorted. She is one of the few ladies left who possess this Victorian, accomplishment. ”And you advise my leaving my sister's child in his present precarious state of mind alone among fairly wild Indians?”

”Well--er--that's just it, you see. He isn't alone--not exactly.”

”What do you mean--not exactly?”

”I mean that his--er--secretary is with him. He has to have a secretary on account of never being sure whether receive is 'ie' or 'ei.' They are quite all right, though. The captain of the boat says so. And naturally on a trip of that kind, research you know, a man doesn't like to be interrupted.”

Aunt Caroline arose. ”When does the next boat leave?” She asked calmly.

”But--dash it all! We're not invited. We can't b.u.t.t in. I--I won't go.”

Aunt Caroline, admirable woman, knew when she was defeated. She had a formula for it, a formula which seldom failed to turn defeat into victory. When all else failed, Aunt Caroline collapsed. She collapsed now. She had borne a great deal, she had not complained, but to be told that her presence would be a ”b.u.t.ting in” upon the only living child of her only dead sister was more than even her fort.i.tude could endure! No, she wouldn't take a gla.s.s of water, water would choke her. No, she wouldn't lie down. No, she wouldn't lower her voice. What did hotel people matter to her? What did anything matter? She had come to the end. Accustomed to ingrat.i.tude as she was, hardened to injustice and desertion, there were still limits--

There were. The doctor had reached his. Hastily he explained that she had mistaken his meaning. And, to prove it, engaged pa.s.sage at once, for the next upcoast trip, on the same little steamer which a few days earlier had carried Mr. and Mrs. Benis H. Spence.

It was a heavenly day. The mountains lifted them-selves out of veils of tinted mist, the islands lay like jewels--but Aunt Caroline, impervious to mere scenery, turned her thought severely inward.

”I suppose,” she said to her now subdued escort, ”that we shall have to pay the secretary a month's salary. Benis will scarcely wish to take him back east with us.”

The doctor attempted to answer but seemed to have some trouble with his throat.

”It's the damp air,” said Aunt Caroline. ”Have a troche. If Benis really needs a secretary I think I can arrange to get one for him. Do you remember Mary Davis? Her mother was an Ashton--a very good family.

But unfortunate. The girls have had to look out for themselves rather.

Mary took a course. She could be a secretary, I'm sure. Benis could always correct things afterward. And she is not too young. Just about the right age, I should think. They used to know each other. But you know what Benis is. He simply doesn't--your cold is quite distressing, Doctor. Do take a troche.”

The doctor took one.

”Of course Benis may object to a lady secretary--”

”By Jove,” said Rogers as if struck with a brilliant idea. ”Perhaps his secretary is a lady!”