CHAPTER XXXIII
Quite oblivious of her uncle's departure for San Francisco, Shirley layawake throughout the remainder of the night, turning over and over inher mind the various aspects of the Cardigan-Fennington imbroglio. Ofone thing she was quite certain; peace must be declared at all hazards.She had been obsessed of a desire, rather unusual in her sex, to see afight worth while; she had planned to permit it to go to a knockout, touse Bryce Cardigan's language, because she believed Bryce Cardigan wouldbe vanquished--and she had desired to see him smashed--but not beyondrepair, for her joy in the conflict was to lie in the task of puttingthe pieces together afterward! She realized now, however, that shehad permitted matters to go too far. A revulsion of feeling toward heruncle, induced by the memory of Bryce Cardigan's blood on her whitefinger-tips, convinced the girl that, at all hazards to her financialfuture, henceforth she and her uncle must tread separate paths. She hadfound him out at last, and because in her nature there was some of hisown fixity of purpose, the resolution cost her no particular pang.
It was rather a relief, therefore, when the imperturbable James handedher at breakfast the following note:
Shirley, Dear
After leaving you last night, I decided that in your present frameof mind my absence for a few days might tend to a calmer and clearerperception, on your part, of the necessary tactics which in a moment ofdesperation, I saw fit, with regret, to pursue last night. And in thehope that you will have attained your old attitude toward me beforemy return, I am leaving in the motor for San Francisco. Your terribleaccusation has grieved me to such an extent that I do not feel equal tothe task of confronting you until, in a more judicial frame of mind,you can truly absolve me of the charge of wishing to do away with youngCardigan. Your affectionate Uncle Seth.
Shirley's lip curled. With a rarer, keener intuition than she hadhitherto manifested, she sensed the hypocrisy between the lines; she wasnot deceived.
"He has gone to San Francisco for more ammunition," she soliloquized."Very well, Unkie-dunk! While you're away, I shall manufacture a fewbombs myself."
After breakfast she left the house and walked to the intersection of Bwith Water Street. Jules Rondeau and his crew of lumberjacks were there,and with two policemen guarded the crossing.
Rondeau glanced at Shirley, surprised, then lifted his hat. Shirleylooked from the woods bully to the locomotive and back to Rondeau.
"Rondeau," she said, "Mr. Cardigan is a bad man to fight. You fought himonce. Are you going to do it again?"
He nodded.
"By whose orders?"
"Mr. Sexton, he tell me to do it."
"Well, Rondeau, some day I'll be boss of Laguna Grande and there'llbe no more fighting," she replied, and passed on down B Street to theoffice of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company. Moira McTavish looked upas she entered.
"Where is he, dear?" Shirley asked. "I must see him."
"In that office, Miss Shirley," Moira replied, and pointed to the door.Shirley stepped to the door, knocked, and then entered. Bryce Cardigan,seated at his desk, looked up as she came in. His left arm was in asling, and he looked harassed and dejected.
"Don't get up, Bryce," she said as he attempted to rise. "I know you'requite exhausted. You look it." She sat down. "I'm so sorry," she saidsoftly.
His dull glance brightened. "It doesn't amount to that, Shirley." And hesnapped his fingers. "It throbs a little and it's stiff and sore, so Icarry it in the sling. That helps a little. What did you want to see meabout?"
"I wanted to tell you," said Shirley, "that--that last night's affairwas not of my making." He smiled compassionately. "I--I couldn't bear tohave you think I'd break my word and tell him."
"It never occurred to me that you had dealt me a hand from the bottom ofthe deck, Shirley. Please don't worry about it. Your uncle has had twoprivate detectives watching Ogilvy and me."
"Oh!" she breathed, much relieved. A ghost of the old bantering smilelighted her winsome features. "Well, then," she challenged, "I supposeyou don't hate me."
"On the contrary, I love you," he answered. "However, since you musthave known this for some time past, I suppose it is superfluous tomention it. Moreover, I haven't the right--yet."
She had cast her eyes down modestly. She raised them now and looked athim searchingly. "I suppose you'll acknowledge yourself whipped at last,Bryce?" she ventured.
"Would it please you to have me surrender?" He was very serious.
"Indeed it would, Bryce."
"Why?"
"Because I'm tired of fighting. I want peace. I'm--I'm afraid to letthis matter go any further. I'm truly afraid."
"I think I want peace, too," he answered wearily. "I'd be glad toquit--with honour. And I'll do it, too, if you can induce your uncle togive me the kind of logging contract I want with his road."
"I couldn't do that, Bryce. He has you whipped--and he is not mercifulto the fallen. You'll have to--surrender unconditionally." Again shelaid her little hand timidly on his wounded forearm. "Please give up,Bryce--for my sake. If you persist, somebody will get killed."
"I suppose I'll have to," he murmured sadly. "I dare say you'reright, though one should never admit defeat until he is counted out.I suppose," he continued bitterly, "your uncle is in high feather thismorning."
"I don't know, Bryce. He left in his motor for San Francisco about oneo'clock this morning."
For an instant Bryce Cardigan stared at her; then a slow, mocking littlesmile crept around the corners of his mouth, and his eyes lighted withmirth.
"Glorious news, my dear Shirley, perfectly glorious! So the old fox hasgone to San Francisco, eh? Left in a hurry and via the overland route!Couldn't wait for the regular passenger-steamer to-morrow, eh? Greatjumping Jehoshaphat! He must have had important business to attend to."And Bryce commenced to chuckle. "Oh, the poor old Colonel," he continuedpresently, "the dear old pirate! What a horrible right swing he'srunning into! And you want me to acknowledge defeat! My dear girl, inthe language of the classic, there is nothing doing. I shall put in mycrossing Sunday morning, and if you don't believe it, drop around andsee me in action."
"You mustn't try," protested Shirley. "Rondeau is there with hiscrew--and he has orders to stop you. Besides, you can't expect help fromthe police. Uncle Seth has made a deal with the Mayor," Shirley pleadedfrantically.
"That for the police and that venal Mayor Poundstone!" Bryce retorted,with another snap of his fingers. "I'll rid the city of them at the fallelection."
"I came prepared to suggest a compromise, Bryce," she declared, but heinterrupted her with a wave of his hand.
"You can't effect a compromise. You've been telling me I shall neverbuild the N.C.O. because you will not permit me to. You're powerless, Itell you. I shall build it."
"You shan't!" she fired back at him, and a spot of anger glowed in eachcheek. "You're the most stubborn and belligerent man I have ever known.Sometimes I almost hate you."
"Come around at ten to-morrow morning and watch me put in thecrossing--watch me give Rondeau and his gang the run." He reached oversuddenly, lifted her hand, and kissed it. "How I love you, dear littleantagonist!" he murmured.
"If you loved me, you wouldn't oppose me," she protested softly. "I tellyou again, Bryce, you make it very hard for me to be friendly with you."
"I don't want to be friendly with you. You're driving me crazy,Shirley. Please run along home, or wherever you're bound. I've tried tounderstand your peculiar code, but you're too deep for me; so let me gomy way to the devil. George Sea Otter is outside asleep in the tonneauof the car. Tell him to drive you wherever you're going. I supposeyou're afoot to-day, for I noticed the Mayor riding to his office inyour sedan this morning."
She tried to look outraged, but for the life of her she could nottake offense at his bluntness; neither did she resent a look which shedetected in his eyes, even though it told her he was laughing at her.
"Oh, very well," she replied with what dignity she could muster. "Haveit your own way
. I've tried to warn you. Thank you for your offer ofthe car. I shall be glad to use it. Uncle Seth sold my car to MayorPoundstone last night. Mrs. P. admired it so!"
"Ah! Then it was that rascally Poundstone who told your uncle about thetemporary franchise, thus arousing his suspicions to such an extent thatwhen he heard his locomotive rumbling into town, he smelled a rat andhurried down to the crossing?"
"Possibly. The Poundstones dined at our house last night."
"Pretty hard on you, I should say. But then I suppose you have to playthe game with Uncle Seth. Well, good morning, Shirley. Sorry to hurryyou away, but you must remember we're on a strictly business basis--yet;and you mustn't waste my time."
"You're horrid, Bryce Cardigan."
"You're adorable. Good morning."
"You'll be sorry for this," she warned him. "Good morning." She passedout into the general office, visited with Moira about five minutes, anddrove away in the Napier. Bryce watched her through the window. Sheknew he was watching her, but nevertheless she could not forbear turninground to verify her suspicions. When she did, he waved his sound arm ather, and she flushed with vexation.
"God bless her!" he murmured. "She's been my ally all along, and I neversuspected it! I wonder what her game can be."
He sat musing for a long time. "Yes," he concluded presently, "oldPoundstone has double-crossed us--and Pennington made it worth hiswhile. And the Colonel sold the Mayor his niece's automobile. It'sworth twenty-five hundred dollars, at least, and since old Poundstone'sfinances will not permit such an extravagance, I'm wondering howPennington expects him to pay for it. I smell a rat as big as akangaroo. In this case two and two don't make four. They make six! GuessI'll build a fire under old Poundstone."
He took down the telephone-receiver and called up the Mayor. "BryceCardigan speaking, Mr. Poundstone," he greeted the chief executive ofSequoia.
"Oh, hello, Bryce, my boy," Poundstone boomed affably. "How's tricks?"
"So-so! I hear you've bought that sedan from Colonel Pennington's niece.Wish I'd known it was for sale. I'd have outbid you. Want to make aprofit on your bargain?"
"No, not this morning, Bryce. I think we'll keep it. Mrs. P. has beenwanting a closed car for a long time, and when the Colonel offered methis one at a bargain, I snapped it up. Couldn't afford a new one, youknow, but then this one's just as good as new."
"And you don't care to get rid of it at a profit?" Bryce repeated.
"No, sirree!"
"Oh, you're mistaken, Mr. Mayor. I think you do. I would suggest thatyou take that car back to Pennington's garage and leave it there. Thatwould be the most profitable thing you could do."
"Wha--what--what in blue blazes are you driving at?" the Mayorsputtered.
"I wouldn't care to discuss it over the telephone. I take it, however,that a hint to the wise is sufficient; and I warn you, Mayor, that ifyou keep that car it will bring you bad luck. To-day is Friday, andFriday is an unlucky day. I'd get rid of that sedan before noon if Iwere you."
There was a long, fateful silence. Then in a singularly small, quaveringvoice: "You think it best, Cardigan?"
"I do. Return it to No. 38 Redwood Boulevard, and no questions will beasked. Good-bye!"
When Shirley reached home at noon, she found her car parked in front ofthe porte cochere; and a brief note, left with the butler, informed herthat after thinking the matter over, Mrs. Poundstone had decided thePoundstone family could not afford such an extravagance, and accordinglythe car was returned with many thanks for the opportunity to purchase itat such a ridiculously low figure. Shirley smiled, and put the car up inthe garage. When she returned to the house her maid Thelma informed herthat Mr. Bryce Cardigan had been calling her on the telephone. So shecalled Bryce up at once.
"Has Poundstone returned your car?" he queried.
"Why, yes. What makes you ask?"
"Oh, I had a suspicion he might. You see, I called him up and suggestedit; somehow His Honour is peculiarly susceptible to suggestions from me,and--"
"Bryce Cardigan," she declared, "you're a sly rascal--that's what youare. I shan't tell you another thing."
"I hope you had a stenographer at the dictograph when the Mayor and youruncle cooked up their little deal," he continued. "That was thoughtfulof you, Shirley. It was a bully club to have up your sleeve at the finalshow-down, for with it you can make Unkie-dunk behave himself and forcethat compromise you spoke of. Seriously, however, I don't want you touse it, Shirley. We must avoid a scandal by all means; and praise be,I don't need your club to beat your uncle's brains out. I'm taking HISclub away from him to use for that purpose."
"Really, I believe you're happy to-day."
"Happy? I should tell a man! If the streets of Sequoia were paved witheggs, I could walk them all day without making an omelette."
"It must be nice to feel so happy, after so many months of the blues."
"Indeed it is, Shirley. You see until very recently I was very muchworried as to your attitude toward me. I couldn't believe you'd so farforget yourself as to love me in spite of everything--so I never tookthe trouble to ask you. And now I don't have to ask you. I know! AndI'll be around to see you after I get that crossing in!"
"You're perfectly horrid," she blazed, and hung up without the formalityof saying good-bye.
The Valley of the Giants Page 33
