The Cattle-Baron's Daughter

Clavering smiled a little, and taking her fingers lightly closed them on the case.

“Of course,” he said. “Well, you’re pleased with it?”

The sparkle in the girl’s eyes and the little flush in her face was plain enough, but the man’s soft laugh was perfectly genuine. It was scarcely a gift he had made her; but while he expected that the outlay upon the trinket would be repaid him, he could be generous when it suited him, and was quite aware that a less costly lure would have served his purpose equally. He also knew when it was advisable to offer something more tasteful than the obtrusive dollar.

“Oh,” said the girl, “it’s just lovely!”

Clavering, who had discretion, did not look round, but, though he kept his dark eyes on his companion’s face, he listened carefully. He could hear the wind outside, and the crackle of the stove, but nothing else, and knew that the footsteps of anyone approaching would ring tolerably distinctly down the corridor behind the hall. He also remembered that the big door nearest them was shut.

“Well,” he said, “it wouldn’t do to put anything that wasn’t pretty on a neck like that, and I wonder if you would let me fix it.”

The girl made no protest; but though she saw the admiration in the man’s dark eyes as she covertly looked up, it would have pleased her better had he been a trifle more clumsy. His words and glances were usually bold enough, but, as he clasped the little brooch on, his fingers were almost irritatingly deft and steady. Men, she knew, did not make fools of themselves from a purely artistic appreciation of feminine comeliness.

“Now,” she said, slipping away from him with a blush, “I wonder what you expect for this.”

Clavering’s eyebrows went up and there was a faint assumption of haughtiness in his face, which became it.

“Only the pleasure of seeing it where it is. It’s a gift,” he said.

“Well,” said the girl, “that was very kind of you; but you’re quite sure you never gave Miss Torrance anything of this kind?”

“No. I think I told you so.”

The maid was not convinced. “But,” she said, looking at him sideways, “I thought you did. She has a little gold chain, very thin, and not like the things they make now – and just lately she is always wearing it.”

“I never saw it.”

The girl smiled significantly. “I guess that’s not astonishing. She wears it low down on her neck – and the curious thing is that it lay by and she never looked at it for ever so long.”

Clavering felt that the dollars the trinket had cost him had not been wasted; but though he concealed his disgust tolerably well, the maid noticed it. She had, however, vague ambitions, and a scarcely warranted conviction that, given a fair field, she could prove herself a match for her mistress.

“Then, if it wasn’t you, it must have been the other man,” she said.

“The other man?”

“Yes,” with a laugh. “The one I took the wallet with the dollars to.”

Clavering hoped he had not betrayed his astonishment; but she had seen the momentary flash in his eyes and the involuntary closing of his hand.

“Now,” he said firmly, “that can’t be quite straight, and one should be very careful about saying that kind of thing.”

The girl looked at him steadily. “Still, I took a wallet with dollar bills in it to Mr. Grant – at night. I met him on the bluff, and Miss Torrance sent them him.”

It was possible that Clavering would have heard more had he followed the line of conduct he had adopted at first; but he stood thoughtfully silent instead, which did not by any means please his companion as well. He had a vague notion that this was a mistake; but the anger he did not show was too strong for him. Then, he fancied he heard a footstep on the stairway, and laughed in a somewhat strained fashion.

“Well, we needn’t worry about that; and I guess if I stay here any longer, Mr. Torrance will be wondering where I have gone,” he said.

He went out by one door, and a few moments later Miss Schuyler came in by another. She swept a hasty glance round the hall, most of which was in the shadow, and her eyes caught the faint sparkle at the maid’s neck. The next moment the girl moved back out of the light; but Miss Schuyler saw her hand go up, and fancied there was something in it when it came down again. She had also heard a man’s footstep, and could put two and two together.

“Miss Torrance wants the silk. It was here, but I don’t see it,” she said. “Who went out a moment or two ago?”

The girl opened a bureau. “Mr. Clavering. He left his cigar-case when he first came in.”

She took out a piece of folded silk, and Miss Schuyler noticed the fashion in which she held it.

“It is the lighter shade we want; but the other piece is very like it. Unroll it so I can see it,” she said.

The maid seemed to find this somewhat difficult; but Miss Schuyler had seen a strip of red leather between the fingers of one hand, and understanding why it was so, went out thoughtfully. She knew the appearance of a jewel-case tolerably well, and had more than a suspicion as to whom the girl had obtained it from. Miss Schuyler, who would not have believed Clavering’s assertion about the trinket had she heard it, wondered what he expected in exchange for it, which perhaps accounted for the fact that she contrived to overtake him in the corridor at the head of the stairs.

“When you left Hetty and me alone we understood it was because Mr. Torrance was waiting for you,” she said.

“Yes,” said Clavering, smiling. “It is scarcely necessary to explain that if he hadn’t been I would not have gone. I fancied he was in the hall.”

Flora Schuyler nodded as though she believed him, but she determined to leave no room for doubt. “He is in his office,” she said. “Have you the deerskin cigar-case you showed us with you? You will remember I was interested in the Indian embroidery.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t,” said Clavering. “Torrance’s cigars are better than mine, so I usually leave mine at home. But I’ll bring the case next time, and if you would like to copy it, I could get you a piece of the dressed hide from one of the Blackfeet.”

He turned away, and Flora Schuyler decided not to tell Hetty what she had heard – Hetty was a little impulsive occasionally – but it seemed to Miss Schuyler that it would be wise to watch her maid and Clavering closely.

In the meantime, the man walked away towards Torrance’s office, considering what the maid had told him. He had found it difficult to credit, but her manner had convinced him, and he realized that he could not afford the delay he had hitherto considered advisable. A young woman, he reflected, would scarcely send a wallet of dollars at night to a man whose plans were opposed to her father’s without a strong motive, and the fact that Hetty wore a chain hidden about her neck had its meaning. He had, like most of his neighbours, laughed at Larry’s hopeless devotion, but he had seen similar cases in which the lady at last relented, and while he knew Hetty’s loyalty to her own people, and scarcely thought that she had more than a faint, tolerant tenderness for Larry, it appeared eminently desirable to prevent anything of that kind happening. Torrance, who was sitting smoking, glanced at him impatiently when he went in.

“You have been a long while,” he said.

“I have a sufficient excuse, sir,” said Clavering.

“Well,” said Torrance drily, “they are quite clever girls, but I have found myself wishing lately they were a long way from here. That, however, is not what I want to talk about. Apparently none of us can get hold of Larry.”

“It is not for the want of effort. There are few things that would please me better.”

Torrance glanced at Clavering sharply. “No. I fancied once or twice you had a score of your own against him. In fact, I heard Allonby say something of the same kind, too.”

“Chris is a trifle officious,” said Clavering. “Any way, it’s quite evident that we shall scarcely hold the homestead-boys back until we get our thumb on Larry.”

“How are we going to do it? He has come out ahead of us so far.”

“We took the wrong way,” said Clavering. “Now, Larry, as you know, puts all his dealings through the Tillotson Company. Tillotson, as I found out in Chicago, has a free hand to buy stocks or produce with his balances, and Larry, who does not seem to bank his dollars, draws on him. It’s not an unusual thing. Well, I’ve been writing to folks in Chicago, and they tell me Tillotson is in quite a tight place since the upward move in lard. It appears he has been selling right along for a fall.”

Torrance looked thoughtful. “Tillotson is a straight man, but I’ve had a notion he has been financing some of the homestead-boys. He handles all Larry’s dollars?”

Clavering nodded. “He put them into lard. Now, the Brand Company hold Tillotson’s biggest contract, and if it suited them they could break him. I don’t think they want to. Tillotson is a kind of useful man to them.”

Torrance brought his fist down on the table. “Well,” he said grimly, “we have a stronger pull than Tillotson. Most of the business in this country goes to them, and if he thought it worth while, Brand would sell all his relations up to-morrow. I’ll go right through to Chicago and fix the thing.”

Clavering smiled. “If you can manage it, you will cut off Larry’s supplies.”

“Then,” said Torrance, “I’ll start to-morrow. Still, I don’t want to leave the girls here, and it would suit me if you could drive them over to Allonby’s. I don’t mind admitting that they have given me a good deal of anxiety, though they’ve made things pleasant, too, and I’ve ’most got afraid of wondering what Cedar will feel like when they go away.”

“Will Miss Torrance go away?”