ELEANOR HOLDS THE CLUE
Mrs. Forster had gone out with her daughters, and there was just then
nobody else in the ranch, when Eleanor Wheelock and Carnforth sat
talking in the big general room. This was satisfactory to the girl, for
she desired to have the next half-hour free from interruption. She was
aware that Mrs. Forster might come back before that time had elapsed;
but, although she had a purpose to accomplish, any appearance of haste
would spoil everything, for it was, as she recognized, advisable that
Carnforth should be permitted to take her into his confidence in his own
time and way, without her doing anything to suggest that she was
encouraging him. He had not been very long in Vancouver, and though he
had placed a good deal of money in Merril's hands, and was associated
with him in some of his business ventures, she had reasons for believing
that he did not know exactly what her relations with Jordan were, or
that she had a brother in command of the _Shasta_. Carnforth, as it
happened, had also come there with a purpose in his mind. Indeed, it was
one he had been considering for some little time, though he had at
length decided that it would have to be modified. This did not exactly
please him, but he was prepared to make a sacrifice in case of
necessity.
He was a tall, well-favored man, and his tight-fitting clothes displayed
the straightness of his limbs as he leaned back in his chair, with his
eyes which had a suggestive sparkle in them fixed on the girl. The
fashion in which he regarded her would, in different circumstances, have
aroused Eleanor's resentment, but she was quite aware that there were
certain defects in his character, and she had taken some trouble to
discover why he had left Toronto somewhat hastily. She sat in a canvas
chair opposite him across the room, and, since she had expected him that
afternoon, she was conscious that everything she wore became her well.
The long, light-tinted skirt was no fuller than was necessary, but
Eleanor could afford to wear it so, for both in man and woman the
average Western figure is modeled in long sweeping lines, and the soft
fabric emphasized her dainty slenderness. The pale-blue blouse that hung
in filmy, lace-like folds heightened the color of her eyes and the clear
pallor of her ivory complexion. Eleanor was, in fact, quite satisfied
with her appearance, and aware that it suggested a Puritanical
simplicity, which was in one respect, at least, not altogether
misleading. There is a certain absence of grossness in the men and women
of the West, and even their vices are characterized rather by daring
than by materialistic sensuality. She felt that she loathed the man and
the part circumstances had forced on her while she dressed herself in
expectation of his visit; but, for all that, she was prepared to
undertake it.
"And you are really thinking of going away?" she asked.
Carnforth did not answer hastily, but looked at her with the little
sparkle growing plainer in his eyes while he appeared to reflect; and,
though there was nothing to suggest that she was doing so, Eleanor
listened intently as she marshaled all her forces for the task she had
in hand. The afternoon was hot and still, and she could hear Forster and
his hired man chopping in the bush. The thud of their axes came faintly
out of the shadowy woods, but there was no other sound, and the house
was very quiet. This was reassuring, for she had no wish to hear Mrs.
Forster's footsteps just then. At last her companion spoke.
"Yes," he said, "I have been thinking over it for some time. In fact, I
should have gone before, only I couldn't quite nerve myself to it. I
guess I needn't tell you why I found that difficult."
Eleanor laughed. "Then if you don't wish to, why go away at all?"
"I think it would be nicer to tell you why I wish to stay."
"Well," said Eleanor thoughtfully, "I almost fancy you have suggested
your reasons once or twice already. Still, it's evident they can't have
very much weight with you, or you wouldn't go."
Carnforth leaned forward. "Anyway, my reasons for going would have some
weight with most men."
"Then until I hear what they are, you are on your defense," said
Eleanor, with a smile that set his blood tingling. "In the meanwhile, I
am far from pleased with you. It is not flattering to find one of my
friends so anxious to get away from me."
"That was by no means what I was contemplating," said the man, and there
were signs of strain in his voice, while a trace of darker color crept
into his face. "I guess you know it, too."
"Ah!" said Eleanor, "why should you expect me to? It wouldn't be
reasonable in the circumstances. I was willing to allow you to excuse
yourself for wishing to go away, and you don't seem at all anxious to
profit by my generosity."
"You mightn't find my reasons--they're rather material
ones--interesting."
"Then you are still on your defense, and far from being forgiven. As a
matter of fact, I am interested in almost everything, as you ought to
know by this time."
"I believe you are," and Carnforth made her a little inclination. "I
guess you understand almost everything, too. Well, it seems I have to
tell you."
Eleanor displayed no eagerness, though she was sensible of a little
thrill of satisfaction, for the thing was becoming easier than she had
expected. Instead, she moved with a slow gracefulness in her low chair,
so that the narrow ray of sunlight which shone in between the
half-closed shutters fell on one cheek and delicate ear. She knew that
the pose she had fallen into was one that became her well, and would in
all probability have its effect on her companion, and she meant to make
the utmost of her physical attractiveness, though such a course was
foreign to her nature. Eleanor Wheelock was imperious, and it pleased
her to command instead of allure; but she could on due occasion hold her
pride in check, and she would not have disdained to use any wile just
then. It was with perfect composure that she watched the little glow
kindle in Carnforth's eyes, though she could have struck him for it.
"There is no compulsion," she said indifferently. "It rests with
yourself."
Carnforth laughed in a fashion that jarred on her. "The fact that you
wish it goes a long way with me. Well, I am a man with somewhat
luxurious tastes, which the money I possess would unfortunately not
continue to gratify unless I keep it earning something. That is what
induced me to take a share in one or two of Merril's ventures, and now
makes it advisable for me to leave him. If I elect to remain, I must put
more money into the concern than I consider wise."
"Then Merril's affairs are not prospering?"
"No," said the man, with a keen glance at her. "I believe you are as
aware of that as I am. One way or another you have extracted a good deal
of information out of me--the kind in which women aren't generally
interested. I don't know why you have done so."
"I think I told you that I am interested in everything. You don't feel
warranted in handing the money over to Merril?"
Carnforth shook his head. "The pulp-mill hit us hard; but before he
quite knew that we would have to make the wagon-road, he had bound
himself to take over the steamer we are sending up with the miners," he
said. "She cost him a good deal."
"Still, freights and passage to the north are high."
"They won't continue to be when the C.P.R. and other people put on
modern and economical boats. It is quite clear to me that Merril's boat
can't make a living when she has to run against them."
Eleanor decided to change the subject for a while, though she had not
done with it yet. "Well," she said languidly, "I really don't think it
matters to me whether she does or not. What I gave you permission to do
was to defend yourself for wishing to go away."
"Haven't I done it?" asked the man. "When I break with Merril I shall
naturally have to discover a new field for my abilities. I think it will
be in California."
"You are going to break with him because he is saddled with an
unprofitable vessel? Now, there are tides, and fogs, and reefs up there
in the north; don't they sometimes lose a well-insured steamer?"
Carnforth laughed, but the girl had seen him start. "Well," he said, "I
don't mind admitting that if the one in question went north some day and
didn't come back again, it would be a relief to one or two of us. Still,
I'm 'most afraid that's too fortunate a thing to happen."
"Of course! There would always be a probability of the skipper's
demanding money afterward? Besides, a mate or quartermaster or somebody
who hadn't a hand in it might have his suspicions."
The man gazed at her, and this time his astonishment at her perspicacity
was very evident for a moment. "A wise man wouldn't tamper with the
skipper. Anyway, the people who try to get their money back by means of
that kind 'most always involve themselves in difficulties."
It cost Eleanor an effort to conceal her satisfaction. Little by little
she had, to an extent her companion did not realize, extracted from him
information that enabled her to understand the state of Merril's affairs
tolerably accurately, and she had decided that he would attempt some
daring and drastic remedy. Now her purpose was accomplished, for she
knew what that remedy would be, and it only remained for her to
determine whether Carnforth could be used as a weapon against his
associate or must be flung aside. The latter course was the one she
would prefer, and she decided on it since he had practically answered
the question.
"So you are going to leave him now that he is in difficulties?" she said
with a sardonic smile. "It isn't very generous, but I suppose it's wise,
and I almost think you have cleared yourself. Would you mind looking
whether you can see Mrs. Forster?"
He had served his purpose, and she was anxious to get rid of him; but
the man made no sign of moving.
"I would mind just now, and I hope she'll stay away," he said. "The fact
is I have something to say to you, and don't know why I let you switch
me off on to Merril. His affairs can't concern you."
"Then why did you tell me so much about them?"
The man gazed hard at her in evident bewilderment, and then rose to his
feet with a little air of resolution. "I'm not to be driven away from
the point again. I told you why I have to go, but that is less than half
of it. I can't go alone; I want you to come with me."
"Ah!" said the girl very quietly, though a red spot which her brother
and Jordan would have recognized as a warning showed in each cheek.
"This is unexpected."
Carnforth crossed the room and leaned on a table not far from her chair,
looking down at her with a look from which she shrank.
"No," he said, "I don't think it's unexpected; you knew what I meant
from the beginning."
This was, as a matter of fact, correct, but the color grew plainer in
Eleanor's cheek. She had known exactly what her companion's advances
were worth, and at times it had cost her a strenuous effort to hold her
anger in check. It was, however, characteristic of her that she had made
the effort.
"After that, I think it would save both of us trouble if you understood
once for all that I will not go," she said.
Carnforth laughed harshly, while his face flushed with ill-suppressed
passion. "Pshaw! you don't mean it. For several months you have led me
on, and now that I'm yours altogether, I'm not going to California
without you. You know that, too; you have to go."
"You have had your answer," and Eleanor rose and faced him with
portentous quietness. "Don't make me say anything more."
The man moved forward suddenly, and laid a hot grasp on her wrist. There
was as yet no dismay in his face, and it was very evident that he would
not believe her. There were excuses for him, and the fact that it was so
roused the girl, who remembered what her part had been, to almost
uncontrollable anger.
"You are going to say that you are willing and coming with me, if I have
to make you," he said fiercely. "I mean just that, and I am not afraid
of you, though at times one can see something in your eyes that would
scare off most men. It's there now, but it's one of the things that make
me want you. Eleanor, put an end to this. You know you have me
altogether--isn't that enough? Do you want to drive me mad?"
He stopped a moment, and broke into a harsh laugh as the girl, with a
strength he had not looked for, shook off his grasp. "Oh," he said, "it
seems I've gone on too fast. I'll fix about the wedding soon as I break
with Merril."
There was certainly something in Eleanor Wheelock's eyes just then that
few people would have cared to face. The vindictive hatred she bore
Merril had for the time being driven every womanly attribute out of her,
but she remembered how she had loathed this man's advances and endured
them. To carry out her purpose she would, indeed, have stooped to
anything, for her hatred had possessed her wholly and altogether. Now it
was momentarily turned on her companion.
"It would have been wiser if you had made that clear first," she said,
with a slow incisiveness that made the words cut like the lash of a
whip. "Still, I suppose, the offer is generous, in view of the trouble
you would very probably bring on yourself by attempting to carry it
out."
The man appeared staggered for a moment, but he recovered himself.
"Well," he said, with a little forceful gesture, "there are parts of my
record I can't boast about, but there are points on which you'd go 'way
beyond me. That, I guess, is what got hold of me and won't let me go. By
the Lord, Eleanor, nothing would be impossible to you and me if we
pulled together."
"That will never happen," said the girl, still with a very significant
quietness. "Don't force me to speak too plainly."
Carnforth appeared bewildered, for at last he was compelled to recognize
that she meant what she said, but there was anger in his eyes.
"Well," he said stupidly, "what in the name of wonder did you want? You
know you led me on."
"Perhaps I did. Now that I know what you are, I tell you to go. Had you
been any other man I might have felt some slight compunction, or, at
least, a little kindliness toward you. As it is, I am only longing to
shake off the contamination you have brought upon me."
She broke off with a little gesture of relief, and moving toward the
window flung the shutters back.
"They have finished chopping, and I hear the ox-team in the bush," she
said. "Forster will be here in a minute or two."
Carnforth stood still, irresolute, though his face was darkly flushed;
and Eleanor felt the silence become oppressive as she wondered whether
the rancher would come back to the house or lead his team on into the
bush. Then the trample of the slowly moving oxen's feet apparently
reached her companion, for with a little abrupt movement he took up his
wide hat from the table. He waited a few moments, however, crumpling the
brim of it in one hand, while Eleanor was conscious that her heart was
beating unpleasantly fast as she watched for the first sign of Forster
or his hired man among the dark fir-trunks. At last she heard her
companion move toward the door, and when it swung to behind him she drew
in her breath with a gasp of relief.