Chapter V
The nose of the setter quivered and, going to the window, he growled.
"He does hear something," asserted Sylvia. "What do you suppose it is?"
"Gulls, most likely. They circle above the house in clouds," wasMarcia's careless answer. "The Prince regards them as his naturalenemies. He delights to chase them up the beach and send them whirlinginto the air. Apparently he resents their chatter. He seems to thinkthey are talking about him--and they may be for aught I know--talkingabout all of us."
A faint echo of her recent irritation still lingered in the tone and,conscious of it, she laughed to conceal it.
Again the dog growled.
Almost immediately a hand fumbled with the latch, and as the door swungopen, a man staggered blindly into the room.
He was hatless, wet to the skin, and shivering with cold, and beforeMarcia could reach his side, he lurched forward and fell at her feet.
"Quick, Sylvia, close the door and heat some broth. The poor fellow isexhausted. He's chilled to the bone."
"Who is it?"
"No one I know--a stranger. Bring that pillow and help me to slip itunder his head. We'll let him rest where he is a moment."
Her fingers moved to the bronzed wrist.
"He's all right," she whispered. "Just cold and worn out. He'll behimself presently."
She swept the matted hair, lightly sprinkled with grey, from the man'sforehead and wiped his face.
An interesting face it was--intelligent and highbred, with well-cutfeatures and a firm, determined chin.
A sweater of blue wool, a blue serge suit, socks of tan and sport shoesto match them clung to the tall, slender figure, and on the hand lyingacross it sparkled a diamond sunk in a band of wrought gold.
It was not the hand of a fisherman, tanned though it was; nor yet thatof a sailor. There could be no doubt about that. Rather, it belonged toa scholar, a writer, a painter, or possibly to a physician, for it wasstrong as well as beautifully formed.
Sylvia bent to adjust the pillow, and her eyes and Marcia's met.
Who was this man?
Whence came he?
What disaster had laid him here helpless before them?
As if their questions penetrated his consciousness, the stranger slowlyopened his eyes.
"Sorry to come here like this," he murmured. "The fog was so thick, Ilost my bearings and my power-boat ran aground. I've been trying hoursto get her off. She's hard and fast on your sand-bar."
"Not on the ocean side?" Marcia exclaimed.
The man shook his head.
"Luckily not. I rounded the point all right, but missed the channel."
He struggled to rise and Marcia, kneeling beside him, helped him into anupright position where he sat, leaning against her shoulder.
"I seem to have brought in about half the sea with me," he apologized,looking about in vague, half-dazed fashion.
"No matter. We're used to salt water here," she answered. "How do youfeel? You're not hurt?"
"Only a little. Nothing much. I've done something queer to my wrist."
Attempting to move it, he winced.
"It isn't broken?"
"I don't know. I was trying to push the boat off, and something suddenlygave way."
Turning his head aside, he bit his lip as if in pain.
"We'll telephone Doctor Stetson. The town is fortunate in having a verygood physician. Meantime, you mustn't remain in these wet clothes. Thereis no surer way of catching cold. Do you think you could get upstairsif Sylvia and I guided you?"
"I guess so--if it isn't far. I'm absurdly dizzy. I don't know why. Isuppose, though, I must shed these wet togs."
"You certainly must. Come, Sylvia, lend a hand! We'll help him up."
"Oh, I'm not in such a bad way as all that. I can get up alone," heprotested. "Only please wait just another minute. The whole place hassuddenly begun to pitch again like a ship in midocean. Either I've lostmy sea-legs or I'm all sea-legs, and nothing else. Perhaps I may befaint. I haven't eaten anything for a day or two."
"Why didn't you tell me? The soup, quick, Sylvia. I only wish I hadsome brandy. Well, at least this is hot, and will warm you up. I'llfeed you."
"No, no. I needn't trouble you to do that. I'm sure I can manage with myleft hand."
"Don't be silly. You'll spill it all over yourself. Goodness knows,you're wet enough as it is. Hand me the cup and spoon, Sylvia."
"But I feel like a baby," fretted the stranger.
"No matter. We must get something hot inside you right away. Don't fussabout how it's done," said the practical-minded Marcia. "There! Youlook better already! Later you shall have a real, honest-to-goodnessmeal. Run and call Doctor Stetson, Sylvia, and open the bed in the roomopposite mine. You might light the heater there, too."
As the girl sped away, Marcia turned toward her visitor.
"Suppose we try to make the rocking-chair now. Shall we? We won't aspireto going upstairs until the doctor comes. You're not quite good for thatyet. But at least you needn't sit on the floor. What worries me is yourwet clothing. I'm afraid you'll take your death of cold. Let me peel offyour shoes and socks. I can do that. And I believe I could get you outof your water-soaked sweater if I were to cut the sleeve. May I try? Weneedn't mind wrecking it, for I have another I can give you."
The man did not answer.
Instead, he sat tense and unsmiling, his penetrating brown eyes fixedon Marcia's face. Apparently the scrutiny crystalized in him some swiftresolution, for after letting his glance travel about the room toconvince himself that no one was within hearing, he leaned forward:
"There is something else I'd rather you did for me first," he whispered,dropping his voice until it became almost inaudible. "I've a packagehere I wish you'd take charge of. It's inside my shirt. But for thisinfernal wrist, I could reach it."
"I'll get it."
"I'd rather you didn't talk about it," continued he, hurriedly. "Justput it in a safe place. Will you, please?"
"Certainly."
Puzzled, but unquestioning, Marcia thrust her hand beneath his soddenclothing and drew forth a small, flat box, wrapped in a bedraggledhandkerchief.
"If you'll look out for it, I'll be tremendously obliged."
"Of course I will," smiled Marcia. "Is it valuable?"
The question, prompted by a desire to perform faithfully the serviceentrusted to her, rather than by curiosity, produced a disconcertingresult.
The man's eyes fell.
"I shouldn't like to--to lose it," he stammered.
"I'll be careful. You yourself shall see where it is put. Look! Here ismy pet hiding-place. This brick in the hearth is loose and under it isplenty of space for this small box. I'll tuck it in there. Just hold ita second until I pry the brick up. There we are! Now give it to me."
She reached hurriedly for the package, but as their hands met, themoist, clinging handkerchief became entangled in their fingers andslipping from its coverings a leather jewel-case dropped to the floor.
Out of it rolled a flashing necklace and a confusion of smaller gems.
Marcia stifled an involuntary cry.
Nevertheless, she neither looked up nor delayed.
"Sorry to be so clumsy," she muttered, as she swiftly scooped up thejewels.
It was well she had made haste, for no sooner was the clasp on thebox snapped and the treasure concealed beneath the floor than Sylviareturned, and a moment later came both Doctor Jared Stetson and ElishaWinslow.
"Mornin', Marcia," nodded the doctor. "'Lish happened to be in theoffice when your niece called up, an' hearin' you had a man patient, hethought mebbe he might be of use. What 'pears to be the trouble, sir?"
"I've done something to my right wrist."
"H--m--m! Keepin' your diagnosis private, I see. That's wise. A wristcan be broken, fractured, dislocated, or just plain sprained an' stillpain like the deuce." With skilled hand, he pushed back the drippingsleeve.
"You're a mite water-logged,
I notice," observed he. "Been overboard?"
"Something of the sort," returned the man with the flicker of a smile.
"Mr.--" for the fraction of a second, Marcia hesitated; then continuedin an even tone, "--Mr. Carlton grounded his boat and had to swimashore."
"You don't say! Well, I ain't surprised. 'Tain't no day to be afloat.You couldn't cut this fog with a carvin'-knife. But for knowin' thechannel well's I do, I might 'a' been aground myself. How come you totake your boat out in such weather?" the doctor demanded.
"I was--was cruising."
"Oh, an' the fog shut down on you. I see. That's different. Fog has atrick of doin' that, unless one keeps an eye out for fog symptoms. Now,what I'd recommend for you first of all, Mr. Carlton, is a warm bed. Youlook clean beat out. Had an anxious, tiresome trip, I'll wager."
"Yes."
"I 'magined as much. Well, you can rest here. There'll be nothin' todisturb your slumbers. We sell quiet by the square yard in Wilton."
A kindly chuckle accompanied the words.
"Better let 'Lish an' me help you upstairs, an' out of your wet things,'cause with a wrist such as yours, I figger you won't be very handyat buttons. Not that 'Lish is a professional lady's maid. That ain'texactly his callin'. Still, in spite of bein' town sheriff, he can turnhis hand to other things. It's lucky he can, too, for he don't get muchsheriffin' down this way. Wilton doesn't go in for crime. In fact, wewas laughin' 'bout that very thing this noon at the post-office. 'Pearsthere's been a robbery at one of the Long Island estates. Quantities ofjewelry taken, an' no trace of the thief. The alarm was sent out overthe radio early yesterday an' listenin' in 'Lish, here, got quite het upan' not a little envious. He said he 'most wished the burglary had tookplace in our town, excitement bein' at a pretty low ebb now."
"Zenas Henry suggested mebbe we might hire an up-to-date robber, was weto advertise," put in the sheriff, "but on thinkin' it over, we decidedthe scheme wouldn't work, 'cause of there bein' nothin' in the villageworth stealin'." He laughed.
Marcia, standing by the stove, spun about.
"Now, Elisha, don't you run down Wilton. Why, I have twenty-five dollarsin my purse this minute," she asserted, taking a worn pocket-book fromher dress and slapping it with challenging candor down upon the table."I keep it in that china box above the stove."
"That might serve as a starter," remarked the stranger, regarding herquizzically.
She faced him, chin drawn in, and head high and defiant.
"Besides that, in my top bureau drawer is a string of gold beads thatbelonged to my great-grandmother," she continued, daring laughtercurling her lips. "They are very old and are really quite valuable."
"We'll make a note of those, too," nodded the man, his eyes on hers.
"I'm afraid that's all I can offer in the way of burglary inducements."
"That bein' the case, s'pose you an' me start gettin' the patientupstairs, 'Lish," broke in Doctor Stetson. "If we don't, next we knowhe'll be havin' pneumonia as well as a bad wrist. Besides, I want to geta good look at that wrist. Mebbe 'tain't goin' to be bad as it 'pears."
The stranger's admiring glance fixed itself on Marcia's.
"What is my next move?" he inquired.
"I told you before--you must take off your wet things and rest," sherepeated.
"You still prescribe that treatment?"
"I still prescribe it."
"In spite of the--the symptoms?"
"Why not?" was her quick answer.
"Very well. I am ready, gentlemen." Erect, even with a hint of defiancein his mocking smile, the man rose to his full height. "Before we go,however, I must correct a slight error. You misunderstood my name. It isnot Carlton. It is Heath--Stanley Heath."
Shifting Sands Page 5
