THE NEW CAMPER
It could be easily seen that Peggy was under some excitement. She almost
sparkled as she ran into the little clearing, alone first, for Jack was
doing her bidding with the horses. She was wearing a new riding outfit
and cried, "Look at me, folks. Don't I look grown up?"
Not a little was she taken back upon seeing the stranger, but she
recovered herself quickly, especially as Dalton rose and took a step
toward her as if to protect her from criticism. Gaily Peggy extended her
hand high, its fingers drooping. "Congratulate me, Dal," she said, "on
some new clothes. We're having company,--but excuse me, Beth, for
rushing in this way." Then she paused and waited to be introduced.
"Miss Ives," said Beth, formally and sweetly, as if Peggy were as grown
as she claimed to be, "you will be glad to meet Mr. Tudor of New York, a
writer who is taking a vacation in our fine country."
Peggy stepped forward a little to offer her hand prettily and modestly,
as she had been taught to do. "I am glad to see you, Mr. Tudor, and I am
sorry that I interrupted your visit, but this is the first time that the
Eyrie has had company.
"The great excitement, girls," she continued, looking at Leslie and
Sarita, "is that we are having important guests and I can't get over
having new clothes and part of the responsibility."
Evan Tudor had said the few pleasant words of greeting that were proper
when he met Peggy, and stood by, interested. Jack Morgan now appeared,
equally resplendent in riding togs that were new. He came forward as
eagerly as Peggy had done, but as he was not saying anything, he was not
embarrassed when he observed the stranger.
After Jack had been introduced, he began to explain why they had not
been over. "Peggy and I have been trying to help my aunt with her plans.
Uncle is bringing down, or up, from wherever they are a prince and
princess, a grand duchess or two and I don't know whom else for a sort
of house party, I suppose. Aunt Kit had a telegram some time ago, but we
just heard about it lately. Then Uncle wired that he did not know just
when they could get together, but he would bring them in the yacht and
everything was to be ready to entertain them in their accustomed style."
"That might depend upon their recent fortunes, don't you think, Mr.
Morgan?" Mr. Tudor asked. He was standing with his hands behind him, a
little smile on his rather thin face. "European royalty has had rather a
hard time of it in some countries since the war."
"You are right. I imagine that the Russian grand duchess doesn't find it
any too pleasant at home."
"In fact she could not stay there at all," said Dalton, "if I know
anything about it."
"But probably Mrs. Ives' guests are not all exiles," Mr. Tudor added,
open for information.
"Mother and Dad met some of them abroad, I think," Peggy volunteered.
"And I think that Count Herschfeld knows some of them, and the Kravetz,
too."
Beth looked rather disapproving of Peggy's reference to her governess
and Mr. Tudor wanted to ask who the Count and "the Kravetz" were; but he
thought it not in good taste to ask any more questions. Peggy, however,
explained. "The Count, Mr. Tudor, is a sort of secretary for my
step-father. Do come over to see my things, girls. I shall have time to
play around for several days. Dad wrote that they would be here at the
latest somewhere around the twenty-eighth, he thought,--oh, girls,
that--" Peggy had just thought.
But Leslie spoke at once. "Indeed, we shall be over right away, Peggy.
Would to-morrow morning be too soon? It is not very long till the
twenty-eighth, is it, Dal?" Leslie looked soberly at her brother.
"Not very, Les."
"I wish that you would come, too, Dal. You have never been over and
Mother was saying that she wanted to see the rest of the Eyrie family."
"I want to see your mother, too, Peggy, but I'm too busy with the
building, you see. Bring your mother over here."
"I will, when the company goes. But then, she always has somebody."
Peggy looked rather cross at the thought.
"We'll ask your mother out for a little trip in the Sea Crest," Beth
suggested. "Perhaps she will feel that she can run off for a little
while."
"I believe that she might," Peggy replied.
Evan Tudor had noted Peggy's startled pause, and Leslie's question
concerning the date. He had a particular interest in matters here which
he was not disclosing yet, but he welcomed anything which threw any
light upon it. When Peggy and Jack went away after their short visit, he
walked beside Peggy's horse for some distance till it was necessary to
strike off from the trail or bridle path to his own little camp. Several
notes went into his small pocket notebook that night before he went to
sleep. He was inclined to go abroad to do a little investigating, but he
decided that first he should get some familiarity with the woods and
coast by daylight. It might be just as well, too, to have one good
night's rest. He expected to have few before the twenty-eighth.
Early the next morning Evan Tudor was at the roadside, waiting, and who
should come to meet him there but Tom Carey, who then rode to the town
at the railroad and sent a telegram, written at length, and signed E. T.
It was very innocent and related to a certain article which would be
ready for the press to meet the editor's date.
"Are you deeply engaged in the affairs of a certain man here named
Bill?" Evan Tudor facetiously asked Tom, as he handed him the written
message.
"No, sir. I catch fish for him," said Tom. "I might be doing something
else, perhaps, if he meant some things that he said to me, but what I do
I do in the open."
"Do you know what it is that Bill meant?"
"No; I thought that it was liquor, but I am not so sure now." Tom dug
his shoe into the turf by the side of the road with a troubled face.
"Would you consider finding out for me, if I should take you into my
employ without interfering with your work for Bill? Indeed, that would
be a part of it."
Tom looked up quickly. "You are after Bill!"
"I am not sure that I am at all. Something is wrong up here. Can I count
on you not to betray me?"
"Yes, sir. Something _is_ wrong up here. I've got to stay here with my
old grandmom that has been here all her life, and I'd like to see
somebody beside Bill running things."
"I picked you yesterday, from something you said," Mr. Tudor continued.
"I am taking quite a risk to tell anyone that I have a quest here, but I
shall need someone, and I happened to find that I need you right away. I
made this appointment with you not knowing that I should have to send
this telegram, but I hoped to secure your services. I _did_ expect to
enjoy a little fishing, but I suppose that I shall have to keep up my
writing a while, to give you the excuse of bringing fish to me every
day. Tell Bill that the writing chap has ordered fish, shrimp, lobster,
anything that you get particularly fine and every day. I mean to write,
too,--but not _all_ the time."
This mystery appealed to Tom, whose eyes sparkled. "You can count on me,
sir. Prob'ly Bill will charge you fancy prices, though."
"That is all right, and I'll pay you, too. It's going faster than I
thought. Sure you can carry it off so that Bill will not suspect? It's
all right for you to show an interest in me, of course."
"I've kept more than one thing from Bill already, sir."
"Don't forget, then."
Tom carried the telegram into the station with an air of great
indifference, as he happened to see a man who worked for Bill, in fact
one of Bill's chief henchmen, on the platform.
"H'lo, Tom. Wot'e ye doin' here?"
"What ye doin' yourself?" Tom was grinning. Perhaps it would do no harm
to let the man see the telegram. It would be better at any rate than to
make any mystery over it. He went right ahead about the business of
sending off the message, making out the blank and stuffing the original
paper, scribbled by Evan Tudor, into his pocket.
But the man was waiting curiously at the door. Tom hoped that it was
mere curiosity that moved him. "Wot's the matter? Any of yer folks
sick?"
"No. I'm sending a message for somebody else, the new man that came in
yesterday. I s'pose everybody in town knows--"
"Say, wot was it about? Bill was kinda suspicious las' night."
"Bill's always suspicious," laughed Tom. "Read it yourself." Tom pulled
the mussed paper from his pocket. "The man's on some paper. Abner said
that he wouldn't let anybody carry his typewriter but himself
yesterday."
"That so?" The man scanned the paper. "Lemme show this to Bill?"
"I don't know whether I ought to give it to you or not. There's nothing
private in it, I suppose, but he paid me to bring it and I was to ask
whether there was any message for him. Suppose he asks me about this?"
"_Was_ they any message fer him?"
"No."
"Well, I don't want it anyhow. I kin remember if Bill asts me."
But Bill was not quite satisfied with the report of his henchman. He
decided to see himself what the "young chap was up to," as he had done
in the case of the Secrests. Evan Tudor was quite pleased with himself
that he was running his typewriter at top speed, under the trees in his
chosen retreat, when a rough man appeared before him with a "Hello."
"Good morning sir." Evan looked up from his improvised seat on a
boulder. "Too fine a morning to waste this way, isn't it?'"
"Might just as well stay in the city if you have to write."
"Just what I was thinking. But I don't know. This is a pretty good place
to think; and I don't intend to keep it up after I get this off by mail,
and maybe one or two other things out of my system."
"Hunting a quiet place, then?"
"Yes; but it is partly for a vacation, too. Aren't you the man who runs
a lot of the fishing around here?"
"Yes. How did you know?"
"I think I saw you in the village, and someone told me. I got hold of a
boy that works for you and I told him to bring me something every day,
fish, shrimp, your choicest of anything. Can that be done?"
"Yes, but you will have to pay for it."
"All right. Want a little pay in advance?"
"No objection."
"Don't cheat me, then." Evan Tudor's tone was not one which would give
offense, rather one inclined to banter. He felt in his vest pocket and
took out a folded bill, for five dollars. "That all right?"
"We'll do the best we kin fer ye." Bill pocketed the money. This chap
was easy. "Say are ye a friend of them Secrests? You was eatin' there
last night."
"Certainly I am a friend of theirs, though I never saw any of them
before last night. And I don't like that, Mr.--" Not recalling Bill's
name Mr. Tudor paused for a moment. "That looks a little as if I were
being spied on. Are there any parties around here from whom I may need
to protect myself?"
Evan's eyes flashed. Bill's eyes fell. He was used to taking the
initiative in threats. This was something new for him.
"If ye mind yer own business, I reckon ye needn't be afraid of nobody."
"That is good. I'll not be, but it is just as well in a new country to
be ready, I suppose. How are the village people about talking to
strangers? I want a little material in the line of characters and I may
wander among those interesting shacks a little. Will they throw me out?"
Mr. Tudor's face wore a whimsical smile.
"They might. I wouldn't advise ye to git too smart around here."
Bill sauntered off. He had come from the direction of Steeple Rocks, Mr.
Tudor noted. He smiled to himself as he started the typewriter once
more. He was _paying_ Bill, Bill the chief sinner, aside from _those who
paid him for doing what he was doing_.
Evan Tudor spent the rest of the day in spying out the land. He searched
the woods, finding it a glorious grove of beautiful trees and
interesting growths of bush and fern. He had the love of a scientist for
the different phases of wild life and spent some time over curious
flowers, taking a list of those he knew for future use in some setting
of a story. Toward dark, he entered the Ives' land and after dark he
wandered around Steeple Rocks, feeling justified in the intrusion, for
his quest was a trust.
But as it grew late he hurried back to his tent, for he rather expected
that some watcher would know whether he spent the night in his tent or
in "snooping." He thought that so far he had escaped observation since
evening fell. And after all, an early trip about would be only natural
to a newcomer. Evan tried to put himself in the place of the evildoer,
suspicious, fearful, and he wished at first to allay those suspicions.
As he approached his tent, he thought he heard a rustle in the bushes.
He put a tree between himself and the noise, but hummed a little. A shot
in the dark would be possible, but scarcely likely. Bill would be the
first one to be suspected, and Bill, whether able to prove an alibi or
not, did not want any investigating authorities.
So reasoning, young Tudor boldly walked to his tent, turned his
flashlight inside of it and finding it empty, except for his undisturbed
possessions, entered, lit a candle and prepared for the night. He lay
awake for some time, a little uncertain whether or not he might be the
intended victim of some attack. He was ready but nothing happened. No
suspicious noise of any human source disturbed him. Finally he had to
fight to keep awake, but when the stirring of the birds denoted the
dawn, he fell into a deep slumber and slept far into the morning.