Part 36 (1/2)

He placed certain old sheets on one side of the table; newer sheets on the other; some half sheets in the middle. It was like an intricate puzzle, and the same one that Maclin had recently tackled.

That he was meddling with another's property and reading another's letters did not seem to occur to Northrup. He was held by a determined force that was driving him on and an intense interest that justified any means at his disposal.

”Some day I will read my old doctor's letters to you--I have kept them all!”

Northrup looked up. Almost he believed Jan-an had voiced the words, but they had been spoken days ago by Mary-Clare during one of those illuminating talks of theirs and here _were_ some old letters of the doctor's. Were these Mary-Clare's letters? Why were they here and in this state?

Suddenly Northrup's face stiffened. The old, yellowed letters were, apparently, from Doctor Rivers to his son! But there were other letters on bits of fresh paper, the handwriting identical, or nearly so. Northrup's more intelligent eye saw differences. The more recent letters were, evidently, exercises; one improved on the other; in some cases parts of the letters were repeated. All these Northrup sorted and laid in neat piles.

”She set a store by them old letters,” Jan-an was rambling along. ”I'd have taken them back to her, but I 'clar, 'fore G.o.d, I don't know which is which, I'm that cluttered. Why did he want to pest her by taking them and then making more and more?”

”I'm trying to find out.” Northrup spoke almost harshly. He wanted to quiet the girl.

The last sc.r.a.p of paper had been torn from an old, greasy bag and bore clever imitation. It was the last copy, Northrup believed, of what Jan-an said he had just carried away with him.

Northrup grew hot and cold. He read the words and his brain reeled. It was an appeal, or supposed to be one, from a dead man to one whom he trusted in a last emergency.

”So he's this kind of a scoundrel!” muttered Northrup, dazed by the blinding shock of the fear that became, moment by moment, more definite. ”And he's taken the thing to her in order to get money.”

Northrup could grope along, but he could not see clearly. By temperament and training he had evolved a peculiar sensitiveness in relation to inanimate things. If he became receptive and pa.s.sive, articles which he handled or fixed his eyes upon often transmitted messages for him.

So, now, disregarding poor Jan-an, who rambled on, Northrup gazed at the letters near him, and held close the brown-paper sc.r.a.p which was, he believed, the final copy before the finished production which was undoubtedly being borne to Mary-Clare now. Rivers would have a scene with his wife in the yellow house. With no one to interfere! Northrup started affrightedly, then realized that before he could get to the crossroads whatever was to occur would have occurred.

Larry would return to the shack. There was every evidence that he had not departed finally. Believing that no one would disturb his place so late at night he had taken a chance and--been caught by the last person in the world one would have suspected.

As an unconscious sleuth Jan-an was dramatic. Northrup let his eyes fall upon the girl with new significance. She had given him the power to set Mary-Clare free!

Her dull, tear-stained face was turned hopefully to him; her straight, coa.r.s.e hair hung limply on her shoulders--the old coat had slipped away and the ugly nightgown but partly hid the thin, scraggy body.

Lost to all self-consciousness, the poor creature was but an evidence of faith and devotion to them who had been kind to her. Something of n.o.bility crowned the girl. Northrup went around to her and pulled the old coat close under her chin.

”It's all right, Jan-an,” he comforted, patting the unkempt head.

”Are them the letters he stole?”

”Some of them, yes, Jan-an.”

”Kin I take 'em back to her?”

”Not to-night. I think Rivers will take them back.”

”S'pose he won't.”

”He will.”

”You, you're going to fetch him one?” The instinct of the savage rose in the girl.

”If necessary, yes!” Northrup shared the primitive instinct at that moment. ”And now you trot along home, my girl, and don't open your lips to any one.”

”And you?”