<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</SPAN></span>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III<br/> <small>THE ASSEMBLING</small></h2></div>
<p class="drop-cap">THE dwelling in the wilderness contained
only two servants, a woman of
fifty, who performed the duties of housekeeper
and cook, and her husband, slightly
older, who did the small amount of outdoor
work required about the cottage, but, during
the open weather, was chiefly concerned
with the care of the two motor boats, which
had been the miser’s single extravagance.</p>
<p>After the funeral, the lawyer of the
deceased ordered Jake Dustin and his wife
to remain at the cottage for the time being,
to await the outcome of the bequest. May
Thurston, also, was retained as the one person
most conversant with Abernethey’s
affairs. These arrangements made, the
attorney returned to Boston, holding himself
in readiness for another visit to the cottage
at any time when his presence there
might be required in connection with the
inheritance. Masters, naturally enough,
rejoiced in the situation thus created, which<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</SPAN></span>
left him entire freedom in the prosecution of
his illicit search for the treasure. He
realized to the full that his best opportunity
would be limited to the short interval before
the arrival on the scene of others, who would
inevitably regard his presence with surprise,
if not with actual suspicion. For the
moment, however, there was none to offer
any hindrance. Jake was engaged in overhauling
his engines within the boat-house,
which was situated a full hundred yards
from the cottage; he had neither eyes nor
ears for the actions of Hartley Masters who,
in his opinion, was merely “sparkin’ that
Thurston gal mighty clus.” Mrs. Dustin,
for her part, was absorbed, as always, in a
relentless warfare against matter out of
place, which she consistently loathed as dirt.
As she invariably talked aloud to herself, she
gave ample warning of her whereabouts at
all times, and it was no difficult thing to
evade her.</p>
<p>Yet, despite the advantages of his situation,
Masters, to his chagrin, learned nothing
concerning the treasure.</p>
<p>The young man’s failure was pleasing,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</SPAN></span>
rather than otherwise, to May Thurston,
who, at intervals, kept alongside him in the
quest, though always without affording him
other assistance than the doubtful comfort
of her presence. Despite the fact that his
specious arguments had silenced her, she
was by no means convinced as to the propriety
of his undertaking. Her conscience
still spoke clearly, even while she abandoned
controversy with Masters for love’s sake.</p>
<p>A telegram from Mrs. West came to May,
in which it was announced that the widow
and her daughter, Margaret, would arrive
at the lake on the day following. The lawyer
had advised Mrs. West concerning the
death of Abernethey and her daughter’s
inheritance of this property, together with
the possibility of another fortune, should
Saxe Temple fail in his search for the
secreted hoard of gold. On receiving the
telegram, May was in a flutter of pleasureable
excitement. Notwithstanding her
devotion to Masters, the isolation of this life
in the wilderness was a weariness to her
spirit, and she joyously looked forward to
the coming of the heiress, a girl presumably<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</SPAN></span>
of about her own age, who might afford her
that companionship she so craved.</p>
<p>Masters, on the other hand, was filled with
an impotent rage against the promptitude of
Mrs. West’s answer to the announcement
of Abernethey’s death.</p>
<p>“The vultures flock to feed on the carcass,”
the engineer sneered, with an angry tug at
the flowing length of his mustache.</p>
<p>May’s lips set primly, as she stared at the
handsome face of her lover with rather less
than her usual admiration for his romantic
air. It occurred to her active intelligence that
Hartley was hardly the one to scorn those
who came lawfully to claim their own, while
he was unlawfully seeking the property of
another with such feverish eagerness. But,
with feminine wisdom, she held her peace,
while Masters went on fuming futilely
against fate. With the aid of time-tables,
she calculated the exact hour at which Mrs.
West’s arrival might be expected, since the
message had neglected to state this, and
then sought Jake, to whom she gave instructions
that he should go down the lake in one
of the motor-boats the next morning to meet<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</SPAN></span>
the ten o’clock train, north-bound, at the
station three miles away. When, that night,
Masters, still grumbling, kissed her good
night, her lips were passive, which had not
been their wont.</p>
<p>Masters reappeared early the next morning,
for he was aware that in a few hours
his best opportunity to search would be past.
He utterly ignored the fact that his engineering
work was being neglected to an extent
that must soon involve him in serious trouble
with his employers. The possibility of
wealth had suddenly come to dominate his
thoughts, and it allowed no rivalry. He was
pale, as if after a sleepless night, and his
thatch of hair was tangled in a confusion
real for once, not contrived with studied
pains. His great, black eyes were glowing,
as he encountered May at the cottage door.
The girl sighed as she noted the haggard
appearance of his face and the tenseness of
his movements, usually so briskly graceful.
A certain latent fierceness in his expression
caused a thrill of apprehension in her heart.
She was shocked that he could enter thus
whole-souledly into a nefarious project for<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</SPAN></span>
the sake of gain.</p>
<p>“Where’s the old woman?” Masters questioned
curtly, after a scant phrase of greeting.</p>
<p>“In the kitchen,” May answered.</p>
<p>“I must hurry,” the engineer continued,
alertly. “But, anyhow, I have almost four
hours clear. They can’t get here before
eleven, I guess.”</p>
<p>“If the train’s on time, they should get
here about half-past ten,” May corrected.
There was a note of warning in her voice.
“Don’t let them find you—” she broke off,
ashamed to finish her thought aloud.</p>
<p>Masters laughed shortly.</p>
<p>“No fear! I’ll watch out; but hold them
back as much as you can,” he bade her.
Without more ado, he entered the house.</p>
<p>She heard him go quickly into the music-room,
shutting the door behind him. For
a moment, she rested motionless, irresolute,
her face troubled. Then, with a gesture of
annoyance, she turned away, and went
toward the waiting launch.</p>
<p>The north-bound train arrived hardly a
minute behind its schedule. May, waiting<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</SPAN></span>
eagerly on the station platform, scrutinized
the few passengers as they clambered down
from the day-coaches. Then, her attention
was caught by the activities of a colored
porter at the vestibule steps of the Pullman.
Beside him, on the cinder path, were three
valises of heavy leather, somewhat battered,
but of undeniable dignity. As the man
adjusted the portable step beside the track,
two women appeared above him on the platform
of the car. May had no doubt as to
their identity. She noted the simple elegance
of Mrs. West’s traveling suit, the
modish air of the daughter’s. She observed,
too, the radiant loveliness of the girl’s face.
A subtle premonition of sorrow obsessed her,
as she stared half-resentfully at the beauty
of Margaret West, elusively revealed from
within a mesh of gray veil. She fought
against the mood, and went forward to greet
the strangers.</p>
<p>The manner of the two travelers was so
cordial that the secretary quickly forgot her
presentiment. Mrs. West proved to be a
handsome, though rather delicate, woman,
of perhaps fifty years—in voice and manner,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</SPAN></span>
and in nature as well, a true gentlewoman
of a type now somewhat out of fashion. As
May had already learned from her late
employer, this lady had, throughout her life,
enjoyed ample means, though not great
wealth. The daughter, Margaret, resembled
the mother, but in her slender form was the
grace of youth.</p>
<p>“There’s no doubt that it’s still a real wilderness
hereabouts,” Margaret declared,
after the first greetings had been exchanged.
“I thought it might have changed, since our
visit ten years ago.”</p>
<p>“And it’s still all wilderness for the way
we have yet to go in the motor-boat,” May
answered, smiling. “Here is Jake—Mr.
Dustin, you know. He’ll carry your valises
to the landing.” She indicated the embarrassed
boatman, who was hovering doubtfully
near. With attention thus thrust upon
him, he grinned sheepishly, then turned to
the luggage.</p>
<p>“Chris will help him,” Mrs. West said.</p>
<p>May looked in the direction of the
speaker’s nod, and started in astonishment.
In her absorption with the two women, she<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</SPAN></span>
had observed neither the coming nor the
presence of this man. Now, she regarded
him curiously. Evidently, from his appearance,
as well as from Mrs. West’s words, he
was a servant, and May guessed that he
must be as well an old and highly esteemed
family retainer, since he thus made one of the
party on this trip. He was a short man,
rather absurdly fat, though not in the least
heavy of movement, or wheezy of breath. But
he had a general roundness, of a sort almost
infantile, incongruous with perfect baldness.
His tiny black eyes twinkled benignantly. A
somewhat suggestive redness of the skin
made the caricature effect of a Bacchic
Cupid. For the rest, he was neatly dressed
in black, and he smiled genially on May, and
touched his hat decorously, at the reference
to himself, with a respectful, “Yes, Miss.”
Then, he stooped alertly to the luggage,
seized a bag in either hand, and waited
expectantly for the more sluggish Jake to
point the way.</p>
<p>May had wholly forgotten her first
impression long before the cottage landing
was reached. She found Mrs. West kindly<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</SPAN></span>
and interested, while Margaret displayed a
democratic friendliness that was inexpressibly
grateful to the lonely girl. But, at the
last, all her apprehensions came crowding
back. It was at the moment when they
emerged from the boat-house, and started
toward the cottage.</p>
<p>“Why, who is that?” Mrs. West asked,
with a note of curiosity in her voice.</p>
<p>May looked up, to see Hartley Masters,
as he stepped briskly out from the front door
of the house. At sight of the party on the
shore, he halted abruptly, in seeming confusion;
then, after an instant of indecision, he
swung sharply to the right, into a path that
ran along the lake to the south.</p>
<p>“Oh, it’s Mr. Masters,” May answered, a
bit falteringly. “He’s an engineer at work
near here—he calls—sometimes.”</p>
<p>Some stress in the speaker’s voice caught
the attention of Margaret. She regarded the
troubled face of the secretary intently for
a moment; then, she stared speculatively
after the tall figure of the engineer, as it
passed swiftly into the concealment of the
forest.</p>
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