It was, perhaps, within the next thirty minutes that Betty (who had
been left in charge of the store while Duncan, with coat and collar off
and sleeves rolled above his elbows, hacked and pounded and pried and
banged at the packing-cases in the backyard) sought him on the scene of
his labours.
She waited quietly, a little to one side, watching him, until he should
become aware of her presence. What she was thinking would have been
hard to define, from the inscrutable eyes in her set, tired face of a
child. There was no longer any trace of envy, suspicion or resentment
in her attitude toward the young man. You might have guessed that she
was trying to analyse him, weighing him in the scales of her
impoverished and lopsided knowledge of human nature, and wondering if
such conclusions as she was able to arrive at were dependable.
In the course of time he caught sight of that patient, sad little
figure, and, pausing, panting and perspiring under the July sun,
cheerfully brandished his weapon from the centre of a widespread
area of wreckage and destruction.
"Pretty good work for a York dude--not?" he laughed.
There was a shadowy smile in her grave eyes. "It's an improvement," she
said evenly.
He shot her a curious glance. "_Ouch!_" he said thoughtfully.
"I just came to tell you," she went on, again immobile, "you're wanted
inside."
"Somebody wants to see _me?_" he demanded of her retreating back.
"Yes."
"But who--?"
"Blinky Lockwood," she replied over her shoulder, as she went into the
house.
"Lockwood?" He speculated, for an instant puzzled. Then suddenly:
"Father-in-law!" he cried. "Shivering snakes! he mustn't catch me like
this! I, a business man!"
Hastily rolling down his shirt-sleeves and shrugging himself into his
coat, he made for the store, buttoning his collar and knotting his tie
on the way.
He found Blinky nosing round the room, quite alone. Betty had
disappeared, and the old scoundrel was having quite an enjoyable time
poking into matters that did not concern him and disapproving of them
on general principles. So far as the improvements concerned old Sam
Graham's fortunes, Blinky would concede no health in them. But with
regard to Duncan there was another story to tell: Duncan apparently
controlled money, to some vague extent.
"You're Mr. Duncan, ain't you?" he asked with his leer, moving down to
meet Nat.
"Yes, sir. Mr. Lockwood, I believe?"
"That's me." Blinky clutched his hand in a genial claw. "I'm glad to
meet you."
"Thank you," said Duncan. "Something I can do for you, sir?"
"Wal, Pete Willin' was tellin' me you'd just took up this note of
Graham's?"
"Not exactly; the firm took it up."