"Oh, more than that. I think it would be a good idea if you were to a.s.sume the entire expense of the proceedings."

"You mean reimburse the subscribers?"

"Exactly."

For a few seconds the millionaire studied Kent's candid face. "Very well," he agreed. "How much?"

"Sheriff Schlager can tell you. He is keeping the accounts. You see, it was necessary to get her out of the way. Her windows overlook the churchyard."

"So you took occasion to indicate before."

"Repet.i.tion of a really relevant point is excusable. She left, two weeks ago, very much mystified but pathetically thankful, poor old girl!"

"She has no monopoly on being mystified," observed Mr. Blair, with pursed lips.

"Probably she never will understand. That's where you have the advantage of her, for I think you'll see quite clearly the reason for her trip, and the propriety of your footing the bills."

"Go on."

"When she was safely out of the way, and no longer overlooking Annalaka churchyard by night, from her window, Schlager, Adam Bain and I paid a visit to the place. Technically, what we did there amounts to grave robbery, I suppose. But we covered our tracks well, and I don't think anybody will ever discover what has been done."

"Well?" queried his hearer, with twitching jaw.

"What lay, nameless, in Annalaka churchyard," said Kent gravely, "now rests in its own place at Hedgerow House. The marks found by Gansett Jim were made by us. So your alarm is groundless. But I wish that you might have heard the little prayer made by that simple country lawyer over your son's grave. Once in a while I meet with a really, through-and-through good man like Adam Bain, and then I have to reconstruct my whole formula of the average cussedness of human nature."

Alexander Blair's clenched hands went to his temples in a singular gesture, and dropped again. "What interest did Schlager and Bain have in the matter?" he added in a low tone.

"Why, Schlager had done some dirty work for you, and wanted to even accounts with his own conscience. As for Bain, we needed a third man we could trust. I asked him and got him. It was no small risk for him. If you felt that his risk is worth some reward, you might-"

"Yes, yes!" interrupted the other eagerly. "Do you think a thousand-or perhaps more-"

Kent smiled. "By thinking hard I could think a thousand," he said. "But not more, in this case. It wouldn't be safe. Bain might not survive the shock. Thank you very much, Mr. Blair."

"And now," said the older man, "I am still in the dark as to your interest in the matter."

"Mine? Why, for one thing, I dislike to leave any affair unfinished. I have the satisfaction of knowing now that this is forever settled and done with. Besides there was a promise-practically a promise-as near a promise as I often permit myself to go, in a world of accidents, errors, and uncertainties-made to Mrs. Blair. Is she back from Europe?"

"She is at Hedgerow House." Blair communed with himself for a time, then said abruptly, "By the way, do you think your friend Mr. Sedgwick would come over to a pick-up dinner before we leave?"

Kent's face lighted up. "Ask him," said he heartily, "and see!"

"I will, as soon as I get home. Good day." Blair hesitated. He seemed to have difficulty in going and embarra.s.sment in staying. He coughed and cleared his throat, looked over Kent's head and down at his feet; and finally got himself into words.

"Kent," he blurted, "I realize now why you won't take my money. I can always buy brains; but I can't buy the bigger better thing. It isn't in the market. Thank you!" He caught the scientist's hand in a swift hard grip, and strode off down the road.

Chester Kent went back into the house with a glow at his heart. He shouted up-stairs to Sedgwick, "Go on with your work, Frank. I want to loaf and invite my soul for an hour. Where's your reading matter?"

"Shelf in the corner," answered the artist. "You'll find a few things in your line,-Darwin's _Origin of Species_, Le Conte's-"

"The devil take Darwin!" cried Kent impiously. "I want _Bab Ballads_, or _Through the Looking-Gla.s.s_, or something like that, really fit for an aspiring intellect. Never mind. I'll forage for myself."

Three minutes later he was stretched luxuriously on the divan, with the window-shade pulled down and the big electric chandelier glowing, immersed in the joyous nonsense of _Rhyme and Reason_. The wind alternately shouted profane protests at the window because it couldn't get in, and then fell silent, waiting for an answer. In one of these lulls Kent heard footsteps outside.

He dropped his book. The footsteps approached the window. Then the gale rose again, and the loose end of a garment flapped softly against the gla.s.s. He half rose, listening. There was silence outside.

"Have I fallen into another mystery?" groaned Kent. "Is there no rest for the weary?"

The footsteps mounted the side porch. Kent awaited a knock. None came.

"Odd!" he observed to his pillow. "Few people find the outside of a door so fascinating that they stand for two minutes in a wet gale admiring it."

Tiptoeing to the door, he threw it open. There was a startled cry from without and an equally startled grunt from within. Chester Kent and Marjorie Blair stood face to face.

"I-I-I beg your pardon," gibbered Kent, whelmed instantly in a mora.s.s of embarra.s.sment. "I-I didn't mean to frighten you."

Feminine-wise she built up her self-possession on the ruins of his. "I wonder," she said with a smile, "whether I'm the worse-frightened one of us."

"You see," he said lamely, "it was so sudden, your-your coming that way.

I didn't expect you."

"And for that reason you intend to bar me from the house? It's quite disgustingly wet out here."

With a muttered apology Kent stepped aside, and she entered. Even amid his ill-ease he could not but note how the girlish loveliness had ripened and warmed, yet without forfeiting anything of that quaint appealing wistfulness which made her charm unique. But there glinted now in her deep eyes an elfish spirit of mischief, partly inspired by the confusion of the helpless male creature before her, partly the reaction from the mingled dread and desire of the prospective meeting with Sedgwick; for she had come on a sudden uncontrollable impulse to see him, and would have turned and fled at the last minute had not Kent surprised her. Perhaps there was a little flavor of revenge for this, too, in her att.i.tude toward him.

"What a surprise to find you here, _Mrs._ Kent!" she remarked sweetly.

"Or are you calling youself Mr. Blair nowadays? And how is your poor ear?"

Chester Kent immediately seized that unoffending member and clung to it with much the lost and anguished expression of the pale martyr in the once popular _Rock of Ages_ chromo. His tormentor considered him with malicious eyes.

"Did any woman ever say 'Boo!' to him suddenly, I wonder?" she mused aloud.

Like a saving grace, there came into Kent's mind a fragment of _The Hunting of the Snark_, in which he had just been reveling. Said he gravely:

"He would answer to 'Hi!' or to any loud cry Such as 'Fry me' or 'Fritter my wig'!"

She caught up the stanza:

"To 'What-you-may-call-um' or 'What-was-his-name!'

But especially 'Thing-um-a-jig.'"

"So you know Lewis Carroll. How really human of you!"

"It is better to be humane than human," murmured Kent, relinquishing his aural grip as he began to touch bottom.

"Is that a plea? Very well. I shall be very gentle and soothing. But, oh," she burst out irrepressibly, "may the kindly fates give me to be among those present when you fall in love!"

Kent favored her with an elaborate bow. "Your presence would be the one essential."