The Essential Winston Churchill Collection. Winston Churchill
is not only immoral, but suicidal," said Miss Thorn. "Perhaps," she added meaningly, "he will listen to you."
"I don't understand," answered Miss Trevor.
"Miss Thorn has been good enough to point out," I explained, "that the political machine in this section, which has the honor to detest me, will seize upon the pretext of the Celebrity's capture to ruin me. They will take the will for the deed."
"Of course they will do just that," cried Miss Trevor. "How bright of you to think of it, Marian!"
Miss Thorn stood up.
"I leave you to persuade him," said she; "I have no doubt you will be able to do it."
With that she left us, quite suddenly. Abruptly, I thought. And her manner seemed to impress Miss Trevor.
"I wonder what is the matter with Marian," said she, and leaned over the skylight. "Why, she has gone down to talk with the Celebrity."
"Isn't that rather natural?" I asked with asperity.
She turned to me with an amused expression.
"Her conduct seems to worry you vastly, Mr. Crocker. I noticed that you were quite upset this morning in the cave. Why was it?"
"You must have imagined it," I said stiffly.
"I should like to know," she said, with the air of one trying to solve a knotty problem, "I should like to know how many men are as blind as you."
"You are quite beyond me, Miss Trevor," I answered; "may I request you to put that remark in other words?"
"I protest that you are a most unsatisfactory person," she went on, not heeding my annoyance. "Most abnormally modest people are. If I were to stick you with this hat-pin, for instance, you would accept the matter as a positive insult."
"I certainly should," I said, laughing; "and, besides, it would be painful."
"There you are," said she, exultingly; "I knew it. But I flatter myself there are men who would go into an ecstasy of delight if I ran a hat-pin into them. I am merely taking this as an illustration of my point."
"It is a very fine point," said I. "But some people take pleasure in odd things. I can easily conceive of a man gallant enough to suffer the agony for the sake of pleasing a pretty girl."
"I told you so," she pouted; "you have missed it entirely. You are hopelessly blind on that side, and numb. Perhaps you didn't know that you have had a hat-pin sticking in you for some time."
I began feeling myself, nervously.
"For more than a month," she cried, "and to think that you have never felt it." My action was too much for her gravity, and she fell back against the skylight in a fit of merriment, which threatened to wake her father. And I hoped it would.
"It pleases you to speak in parables this morning," I said.
"Mr. Crocker," she began again, when she had regained her speech, "shall I tell you of a great misfortune which might happen to a girl?"
"I should be pleased to hear it," I replied courteously.
"That misfortune, then, would be to fall in love with you."
"Happily that is not within the limits of probability," I answered, beginning to be a little amused. "But why?"
"Lightning often strikes where it is least expected," she replied archly. "Listen. If a young woman were unlucky enough to lose her heart to you, she might do everything but tell you, and you would never know it. I scarcely believe you would know it if she did tell you."
I must have jumped unconsciously.
"Oh, you needn't think I am in love with you."
"Not for a minute," I made haste to say.
She pointed towards the timber-covered hills beyond the shore.
"Do you see that stream which comes foaming down the notch into the lake in front of us?" she asked. "Let us suppose that you lived in a cabin beside that brook; and that once in a while, when you went out to draw your water, you saw a nugget of--gold washing along with the pebbles on the bed. How many days do you think you would be in coming to the conclusion that there was a pocket of gold somewhere above you, and in starting in search of it?"
"Not long, surely."
"Ah, you are not lacking in perception there. But if I were to tell you that I knew of the existence of such a mine, from various proofs I have had, and that the mine was in the possession of a certain person who was quite willing to share it with you on application, you would not believe me."
"Probably not."
"Well," said Miss Trevor, with a nod of finality, "I was actually about to make such a disclosure. But I see it would be useless."
I confess she aroused my curiosity. No coaxing, however, would induce her to interpret.
"No," she insisted strangely, "if you cannot put two and two together, I fear I cannot help you. And no one I ever heard of has come to any good by meddling."
Miss Trevor folded her hands across her lap. She wore that air which I am led to believe is common to all women who have something of importance to disclose; or at least what they consider is of importance. There was an element of pity, too, in her expression. For she had given me my chance, and my wits had been found wanting.
Do not let it be surmised that I attach any great value to such banter as she had been indulging in. At the same time, however, I had an uneasy feeling that I had missed something which might have been to my advantage. It was in vain that I whipped my dull senses; but one conclusion was indicated by all this inference, and I don't care even to mention that: it was preposterous.
Then Miss Trevor shifted to a very serious mood. She honestly did her best to persuade me to relinquish our enterprise, to go to Mr. Cooke and confess the whole thing.
"I wish we had washed our hands of this Celebrity from the first," she said, with a sigh. "How dreadful if you lose your position on account of this foolishness!"
"But I shan't," I answered reassuringly; "we are getting near the border now, and no sign of trouble. And besides," I added, "I think Miss Thorn tried to frighten me. And she very nearly succeeded. It was prettily done."
"Of course she tried to frighten you. I wish she had succeeded."
"But her object was transparent."
"Her object!" she exclaimed. "Her object was to save you."
"I think not," I replied; "it was to save the Celebrity."
Miss Trevor rose and grasped one of the sail rings to keep her balance. She looked at me pityingly.
"Do you really believe that?"
"Firmly."
"Then you are hopeless, Mr. Crocker, totally hopeless. I give you up." And she went back to her seat beside the refrigerator.
CHAPTER XVII
"Crocker, old man, Crocker, what the devil does that mean?"
I turned with a start to perceive a bare head thrust above the cabin roof, the scant hair flying, and two large, brown eyes staring into mine