"I'll think of you with every beat of my heart," he said pa.s.sionately.

Across her face pa.s.sed the look of fairy wistfulness that was all her own. "No," she said, "it would be better-for both of us-that you should forget, for the time."

He leaned over her:

"'What shall a.s.suage the unforgotten pain And teach the unforgetful to forget?'"

he quoted very low.

"And yet," she persisted, "it would be easier, now that I am going away."

"Going away! For long?"

She nodded with compressed lips. Sedgwick turned very white.

"Oh, don't look like that!" she faltered. "I can't bear it! Can't you see that, after what has happened, I must go? I must have time to forget. There is so much to forget! Surely you can be patient-and trust."

Again he smiled at her, with a courage shining through his pain that brought the quick tears to her eyes.

"Yes. I can wait and trust-and love." Again he leaned to her:

"'And think how she, far from me, with like eyes Sees, through the untuneful bough the wingless skies.'"

He drew her gaze to his own, held it for the s.p.a.ce of a heart-beat, and was gone.

CHAPTER XXI-REWARDS

Summer had waned from the coast and with it had pa.s.sed the keenness of local interest in the strangest victim of Lonesome Cove. Even the indefatigable tongue of Elder Dennett had almost ceased to clack on the topic, by the fall of the first snow. Other subjects of absorbing interest supervened during the long winter: the wreck of the schooner yacht off Dead Men's Eddy; the coming of the new Presbyterian minister at Martindale Center whose wife was reported to be a suffragette; the mysterious benefaction that had befallen old Mrs. Orcutt late in February, enabling her to leave her home next to Annalaka churchyard and take her asthma southward in search of a cure; the rumor that Hedgerow House was to be sold before summer.

"And young Blair's body along with it, I expect," remarked the Elder malevolently. "Seems to me, if I was a millionaire like Alexander Blair, I wouldn't sell my own flesh and blood, dead or alive."

Of Alexander Blair himself, nothing had been seen in the neighborhood since mid-July, nor of his daughter-in-law. Hedgerow House was in charge of Gansett Jim as caretaker. Professor Kent had left about the same time as the Blairs. But Francis Sedgwick had stuck to the Nook, studying first the cold grays and browns of November, and later the wonderful blazing whites and subtle blues of drift and shadow spread before him in winter's endless panorama, with the same enthusiasm that he had devoted to October's riot of color. Though the work prospered, the worker had paled. It was the opinion of Martindale Center and Annalaka alike that the "painter feller" was looking right peaky and piny, like one whose conscience ached. But Sedgwick had nothing worse than a heartache, and the fates were making medicine for that.

Wind-borne on the blast of a mid-March gale, Chester Kent dropped down at the door of the Nook one wild afternoon, without warning. As always, he was impeccably clad, though his stout boots showed the usage of recent hard wear. Leaving Austin that morning, with his light valise slung to his shoulder, he had footed the fifteen miles of soggy earth to Sedgwick's place, in a luxurious tussle against the wind. Throwing open the door, he called his friend's name.

Instantly the artist came loping down the stairs and had him by the shoulders.

"I've got a caller up above," he said after the usual greetings and questionings were over.

"Yes? Have you gone in for local society?"

"Not exactly local. It's Alexander Blair."

"Hel-lo!" said Kent in surprise. "What brings him?"

"Why, he came down to Hedgerow House to look after certain books and papers, and ran over here to make his _amende honorable_ in form. Chet, I hate being apologized to."

"Of course. Every one does. Nevertheless, it's good exercise for Mr. A.

Blair, Esquire. Brings into action some muscles of his soul that might otherwise have atrophied from disuse."

"He's the grim-jawed, hard-bitted Blair of old. Just the same, he made his apology as handsomely as need be. I'll bring him down here."

The fabric magnate descended from the studio and greeted Kent briefly, then turned to his host. "You will excuse me if I ask Mr. Kent to step outside. I have some business with him."

"Stay here," said the artist. "I'll go back to my studio." Which he did.

"When a man once declines employment with me," said Alexander Blair to Kent, "I never give him a second chance. That rule I am going to break.

I need your a.s.sistance."

"Honored, indeed!" murmured Kent.

"Will you accept the commission?"

"Not if it is like your former offer."

"It is not. It is bona fide. Some one has been tampering with my son's grave."

"You mean the grave at Hedgerow House?"

"Yes. Gansett Jim reports that there are signs of recent digging. It looks as if ghouls had been at work there, with the idea of getting the body and holding it for ransom. They would have had a fine surprise if they had got the coffin out!"

"Because they'd have found no body in it, you mean?"

"Certainly. But suppose they discovered that there were no remains, nothing but a punctured sand-bag. Do you see the potentialities of blackmail?"

"No."

"Then you are stupider than I ever took you for," growled the magnate.

"Like most things, it depends on the point of view. I don't think that you are in any danger of blackmail. But, if I understand the matter, you want your mind relieved of anxiety on the point. Very well, I'll take the case."

"That is settled, then," said the older man briskly. "Now, this being a strictly business deal, we will discuss terms."

"Oh, there is no room for discussion as to my terms," said Kent easily.

"I make them and you accept them, that's all."

Alexander Blair's eyebrows drew down in a heavy scowl.

"Do you know of an old lady named Orcutt in Annalaka?" pursued the scientist.

"No."

"She owns the house just next to Annalaka churchyard, where your son was buried as Jane Doe. She is a very worthy old lady. But she suffers severely from asthma. In fact it keeps her awake most of the night. So some interested persons have subscribed money, and sent her south to a sanatorium. I'd like to get you interested in her case."

"You wish me to subscribe?"