A soft, misty pall of midsummer heat hung over and pervaded the
vine-covered forest of wild-apple trees surrounding Garman's house when
Payne set out on Sunday afternoon to keep his appointment. As he
entered the footpath leading from the prairie toward the house, he was
forced to stoop to avoid the curtain of flowering moonvine which hung
overhead, and once in the path he felt again the sickening drowsiness
of the shut-in air. A mingling of many sweet odors hung about him like
a heavy, poisonous drug; and he felt that it was pleasant poison, and
walked swiftly on.
In a shaded pergola running out from the house to the jungle he saw
Annette, and stopped.
An old man with a white Vandyke beard and pompously out-thrown chest
was coming down the path from the house. He strutted as he walked, and
stood for a moment framed between two palm trees where the path entered
the pergola.
"Little Annette!" he murmured, beaming patronizingly upon the girl.
"Happy again. I knew you would be. But I haven't heard you laugh for
a long time."
"No," said the girl, looking at him intently, "I haven't laughed since
we came here."
"But you are happy now. Yes, yes, quite happy, quite happy. Up early
this morning and all round the place like a little lark."
"Because I couldn't sleep. And because--early in the morning--others
are not up--and I can be alone."
"No one can--no one can be alone in this world, dear. No one should.
The laws of God and man, of Nature, forbid it." His old,
self-satisfied eyes took in the long rounded lines of her figure and
the virgin freshness of her throat and face with assuring calculation.
"Especially, my dear, is it a crime to attempt to remain alone when
nature has so abundantly endowed one for the purpose of--not remaining
alone. Also, my dear," he continued, the playfulness gone from his
tones as he pointed sternly at the diamond upon the third finger of her
left hand, "you will kindly not forget that you wear that."
"Do you think there is any opportunity for me to forget it?" she asked.
"Do you! Think!"
He attempted to face down her steadfast eyes. He failed, and, turning
his glance uneasily, he saw Roger Payne.
"What's this? What's this?"
His eyes ran wildly from Roger to the girl and back again; and as they
rested upon Payne they grew dead and gray with hatred, the futile
hopeless hatred of an old man for one who is young.
"Who is this man, Annette? How does he come to be here? Answer me at
once; answer me, I say!"
The girl looked long at him, looked with clear, calm eyes until the old
man's pouter-pigeon effect disappeared.
"My dear! Forgive my vehemence. You see I think only of you. I was
afraid----"
"Yes. What are you afraid of, father?" asked the girl swiftly. "Tell
me that. I often wonder."
"Afraid? I?"
"Yes. I sometimes see it in your eyes when you think no one is
looking. Have you done something----?"
"Child?"
"Land sales, for instance? If so, I must know. I'm not little Annette
any longer. I must know things now."
The old man stroked his white beard nervously. His eyes shifted
uneasily toward Payne.
"Oh! pardon my negligence," exclaimed the girl. "This is Mr. Payne,
father. He's purchased a lot of land down here. Mr. Payne, this is my
father, Senator Fairclothe."
Payne bowed automatically. He was dumbfounded for a moment, but in a
flash his self-control had returned.
"We have had some correspondence--business correspondence--Senator," he
said.
Senator Fairclothe was watching him with the shifty eyes of a cornered
man who stands on guard, ready to parry a blow.
"Have we? I don't recall the name, young man. Lane, Caine?"
"Payne."
"No. No, I don't remember the name."
"You're sure you don't, father?" interposed Miss Fairclothe.
Payne came to the rescue.
"Of course you wouldn't remember my name, Senator. You have too many
large affairs to occupy your mind. It was merely about some land down
here. I've meant for some time to write you and thank you for
influencing me to buy the land down here."
"What!" cried the girl, and stood dumb, staring at Payne, with a hand
pressed to her lips.
"Influence you?" snapped Fairclothe testily. "How could I influence
you? You are no child. The buyer must protect himself. It is the
first rule of business."
"Nevertheless, you did influence me. It was your letters that caused
me to decide to buy. And I want to thank you, because otherwise I
would not be where I stand at present."
The Senator tugged at his beard, watching Payne narrowly, suspicious of
some trick.
"Any letters I may have written to you--which I do not remember
doing--were merely a formal part of one phase of my activities. It is
gratifying, of course, to hear you express your satisfaction. On the
other hand, as I said, the oldest law in business is 'Let the buyer
beware,' and it would not have disturbed me in the least, young man,
had you appeared with a poppycock song of dissatisfaction with your
purchase."
"But I am satisfied," insisted Payne. "Some of the land I bought for
$30 an acre will be worth $200 when the ditcher gets in and we drain
it. It's rich, black muck, three feet deep in spots. I see profit of
$100 an acre within a year."
"Hm," said Senator Fairclothe. "As much as that?"
"That's the minimum."
"You will make a hundred dollars on our land--the land you've
purchased, I should say?"
"As soon as I get it drained, yes, sir."
Senator Fairclothe tugged again at his beard. There was a new look in
his eyes as he revolved over and over again the words, "one hundred
dollars profit per acre." Payne had purchased a thousand acres from
his company. A hundred times a thousand meant a hundred thousand
dollars.
"I am glad to hear you say that," he said finally. "I hope you will
dig your drainage ditches soon?"
"The ditch contractor will come up the river to-morrow. It won't take
long after he gets to work."
"I am glad to hear that, too. If I can do anything to assist you in
getting your drainage work done, pray command me."
"Just what I told him, Senator," boomed Garman's voice behind them.
"We want to help him get his improvement work done promptly."
Garman stood leaning against the custard-apple tree which had hidden
his approach and looked at Payne and Annette as he spoke. So far as
his expression was concerned the Senator, whom he addressed, did not
exist for him. His lips uttered words for Fairclothe's ears; but his
lazy, heavily lidded eyes searched Payne and the girl to the bottom of
their souls. Roger returned the look steadily; and by the flickering
mockery in Garman's eyes he knew that it was Garman's ring that gleamed
on Annette's finger.