AGATHA ASKS ADVICE
Agatha said nothing next morning about her adventure, although she heard
that the lame man had left the packing shed when his companions were
asleep and had not come back. Next day Farnam returned and in the
evening, when Mrs. Farnam was busy, she found an opportunity of talking
to him alone. He looked thoughtful when he heard her story.
"You did right not to tell Mabel; but I certainly can't understand the
thing," he said. "I reckon you have your imagination under pretty good
control."
"I didn't imagine I saw the man," Agatha rejoined with a smile.
Farnam nodded. "We'll take that for granted. I wanted a teamster and
hired the fellow when he asked for the job. He worked well, but I don't
know where he came from or where he's gone, and it would scare Mabel if
we put the police on his trail. Besides, I guess he lit out by the train
in the morning that catches the west-bound express."
"Since he knew you were away, why did he wait instead of coming as soon
as you left?"
"He probably reckoned there was a risk of his being heard on a calm,
frosty night; I understand it was blowing fresh and snowing when he
came. The snow would cover his tracks. But I'm puzzled. It's strange
that he took nothing and left my safe alone!"
"Do you think he knew where the safe is?"
"Sure," said Farnam. "The boys come to my office for their pay." He
paused and added thoughtfully: "Looks as if the fellow had an object for
searching your room!"
"I wonder whether he knew I was a school teacher," Agatha remarked. "If
he did know, it complicates the thing, because teachers are not often
rich. Besides, how did he learn which was my room?"
"That wouldn't be hard," Farnam replied. "The boys get talking,
evenings, with Mabel's kitchen help and I guess she tells them all about
the house and our habits. The girl's a powerful talker."
He lighted his pipe and then resumed: "Well, my notion is he expected to
find something in your room; something that he thought worth more than
money."
"But I have nothing valuable," Agatha objected, with a laugh. "Now I
remember, I made him empty his pockets and he left two half-dollars! It
wasn't a very big fine, and I can send the dollar to some charity."
"I can't see an explanation, and we'll have to let it go; but the man
will find trouble waiting if he comes back. Let me know right away if
anybody gets after you like that again."
Agatha said she would do so, and hearing Mrs. Farnam's step in the
passage, they began to talk about something else.
A week later, Agatha went to visit George, and then feeling braced by
the holiday, resumed her duties in Toronto. Soon afterwards, she sat in
her room one evening in a thoughtful mood. The house was on the
outskirts of the city and she heard cheerful voices and the jingle of
sleigh-bells on the road. The moon was nearly full and riding parties
were going out for a drive across the glittering snow, while where the
wind had swept it clear ice yachts were, no doubt, skimming about the
lake. Agatha envied the happy people who could enjoy such sports, and it
had cost her something to admit that they were not for her. A ticket for
a concert to which she had thought of going was stuck in a picture
frame, but she was not in the humor for music, and putting down the book
she held, leaned back languidly in her chair.
The room was small, plainly furnished, and shadowy, for the lamp had a
deep shade that confined the light to a narrow circle. Three or four
books lay upon the table and a map of the North-West Territories
occupied the end in front of Agatha. It was not a very good map and the
natural features of the country were sketchily indicated, for belts of
the northern wilderness had not been thoroughly surveyed, but she had
opened it for half an hour's relaxation. After that, she must get to
work.
She was not very strong yet, but had undertaken extra duties that
necessitated private study. Now she felt tired after lecturing a class
of absent-minded girls, and closing her eyes, abandoned herself to moody
thought. George's warning was bearing fruit. Agatha was young, but knew
one soon got jaded and youth slipped away. There was a risk of her
spending in unrewarded efforts the years that ought to be happiest, and
then finding herself old and soured. Still, when she came to think of
it, she had recognized this and felt a vague dissatisfaction with her
lot before George had talked to her. In fact, the dissatisfaction had
begun soon after she wandered through the bush and paddled about the
lake with Thirlwell.
For all that, she was not going to give up the resolve she had made long
ago. She owed her father much, and must carry out the task he had
unconsciously left her. She meant to search the country he had traveled
for the silver vein; and then, if she was persuaded it could not be
found, she would have paid her debt and be free to lead the life that
others led. In the meantime, she was, so to speak, set apart, like a
nun, from common joys and sorrows by a vow that must be kept. Perhaps
this was an exaggeration, but it was partly true.
Banishing her thoughts, she put away the map and opened her book, but
soon afterwards a servant brought in a card and stated that a man wished
to see her. On the card was printed _John Stormont_ and the number of a
post-office box at Winnipeg.
"I don't know Mr. Stormont," Agatha remarked. "But if he wants to see
me, you may show him in."
A few moments later a man entered the room. He was young and neatly
dressed, and smiled urbanely as he bowed.
"Miss Strange, I suppose? If you are not much occupied, I hope you can
give me a few minutes."
Agatha, feeling curious, indicated a chair and studied him when he sat
down. His voice was rather harsh, his glance was quick, and his alert
manner implied self-confidence. There was, however, nothing else to be
remarked about him, and she thought him a common type of young business
man.
"I am not engaged just now," she replied.
"Thank you," said Stormont. "Perhaps I'd better state that I'm pretty
well known in Winnipeg, where I do business in real estate and sometimes
undertake the development of mineral claims. I've recently put over two
or three big transactions in that line."
"But Manitoba is a farming country."
"Certainly; the prairie belt. The eastern strip, running along the edge
of the Territories from Lake of the Woods, is different. There the rocks
break out among the pine forests and in the last few years prospectors
have found valuable minerals. Some are being worked, and I expect we
will soon hear of fresh discoveries. I understand you are the daughter
of Gordon Strange, who found a silver lode in North Ontario."
"I am his daughter; but I believe the lode was not in Ontario."
"Then it was in the neighboring Territories. I expect your father often
talked to you about his find."
"He did," said Agatha. "Still I don't see--"
Stormont smiled. "You wonder where I am leading you? Well, it's part of
my occupation to investigate mining propositions, and where the owners
want to sell, to find a buyer. Sometimes I lend them money to improve
the claim. In fact, I imagine you would find me useful in many ways."
"I cannot sell the lode before I know where it is."
"That's obvious," Stormont agreed. "The difficulty, however, might be
overcome, and that's where I could help. But, to begin with, am I to
understand your father altogether failed to relocate the claim? Although
he filed no record, he may have found a clue."
Agatha gave him a keen glance. He had said nothing to excite much
suspicion, but she felt that he was going too fast and asking too many
questions.
"I did not see him after he went back to the North. I suppose you know
he lost his life on his last journey?"
Stormont made a sympathetic gesture. "I heard so. But, no doubt, he
wrote to you and told you about his prospecting."
"Yes," said Agatha, with some reserve. "He sent me letters."
"Then I expect he told you where he went. It's possible that a study of
the letters would give an experienced prospector a useful hint."
Agatha pondered. She had, with the help of her map, followed Strange's
journeys, and his letters showed where the silver was not to be found,
which eliminated large belts of country. Then if Stormont knew much
about mining and was accustomed to negotiate the sale of claims, his
curiosity implied that her father's belief in the lode was well
grounded. This was encouraging, but the man was a stranger and she felt
a vague distrust.
"The person who finds a vein of ore and files his record is registered
as its owner when he has complied with the legal formalities," she said.
"That is so," Stormont agreed with a smile. "You feel that if you parted
with the letters, you would run some risk of losing the claim? Well, one
must trust one's agent to some extent, and I'll make you two
propositions. You can give me all the information you have about the
ore, and, if I think it worth while, I will bear the cost of prospecting
and development, and give you a large share of the profits when the
mine is worked. Or I'll pay you a fixed sum for the letters and any
clues you can supply."
"After you have read the letters?"
"Certainly. You can't expect me to make a plunge of this kind in the
dark. Anyhow, if you decide on the first plan, you will be a partner and
have some control. It's plain that you will benefit by my experience."
For a few moments Agatha was tempted to agree. She needed help and could
not begin the search for some time, while a man who knew all about
mining could undertake it with a better chance of success. Still she saw
that much depended on the man's honesty, and she had no grounds for
trusting Stormont.
"Can you give me two or three weeks?" she asked. "I want to consult my
friends."
"The delay might upset my plans. For one thing, it would be necessary to
get as much work as possible done before the thaw comes. Prospecting is
difficult in winter, but it's considerably easier traveling when the
rivers are frozen, and first of all we want to find the spot. I daresay
you could give me some landmarks that would help us."
Agatha hesitated. Strange had often described the neighborhood where he
had found the ore, and she saw that what she knew about it might be
important. Stormont's explanation of his anxiety to begin the search was
plausible; but it was possible he wanted to prevent her asking advice.
"I must wait until I know what my friends think," she insisted.
"Although the loss of time may spoil our chance of locating the ore?"
"Yes," said Agatha firmly. "I must run the risk."
Stormont got up. "Very well! I don't know if we'll be able to do
anything when you make your decision, but you can write to me. In the
meantime, I think you ought to promise that you won't negotiate with
anybody else."
"I will promise this," said Agatha and knitted her brows when he went
out.
She was half afraid she had been too prudent and let a good offer go by;
but although it might bring her trouble and disappointment, she would
sooner look for the ore herself. She had sometimes shrunk from the task,
but after all it was her duty. Then she could not ask George for advice.
He had never believed in the lode and would, no doubt, tell her she was
lucky to get an offer, and had better make the best bargain she could.
Farnam knew nothing about mining; he was absorbed in his orchard, and
Mabel now and then declared that his judgment was only worth trusting
about fruit trees.
Agatha paused and admitted that she had from the beginning meant to ask
Thirlwell. She could trust him; he was honest, but this was not all.
When he talked about important things he had a quiet, decided manner
that she liked. He would not be daunted by obstacles, and if her
resolution wavered, he would not let her shirk. She did not think him
clever, but he would somehow carry out what he undertook. It was curious
that after a fortnight of his society she knew him so well; but she did
know he was trustworthy and there was nothing more to be said.
Since a letter might not reach him for some time, she had better write
at once, and she got some paper and began. It was easy to write to
Thirlwell, and she told him about the lame man who had broken into the
house, before she came to Stormont's offer. Indeed, when she stopped she
was surprised to see how much she had said. After fastening the envelope
she got up and went to the window, where she drew the thick curtain
behind her and looked out.
The moon was higher up the sky and the roofs glittered in the silver
light. Half the street lay in shadow, a belt of grayish blue, but the
rest sparkled where the sleigh-shoes had run. A sleigh came up with a
load of girls and young men in blanket-coats and furs. They seemed to be
talking and laughing, but Agatha no longer envied them; the depression
she had felt had gone. Then as the sleigh went past with a chime of
bells she tried to follow her letter on its journey to the North.
After it left the railroad it would lie in a pack on a half-breed's
shoulders, or perhaps in a skin bag on a hand-sledge, in front of which
men with snowshoes marched. It would travel up winding rivers between
dark walls of ragged pines, across frozen lakes, and among the rocks on
high divides. Then the tired men would stop at a cluster of shacks
beside a shaft and an ore-dump in the wilds, and she wondered what
Thirlwell would think when he opened the envelope; whether he would be
pleased or not.
But this was indulging idle sentiment that she had meant to avoid, and
she went back to the table and opened her books. Thirlwell's answer
would not arrive for some weeks, and if she went north, summer would
come before she could start. In the meantime, she had her pupils to
teach. The subject for the next morning's lesson was difficult and
needed careful study.