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McEwen had lately shown a strong and petulant wish to preserve his incognito, or what was left of it. He would not have his son's escort. George might come and see him at Vancouver; and that would be time enough to settle up for the winter.
"What ha' you got there?" growled McEwen. Anderson crossed the room. His own face had lost its colour. As he reached his father, he touched a spring, and held out his hand with the case lying open within it. It contained a miniature of a young woman in the midst of a group of children.
They had already examined the body, and they gave clear and unhesitating evidence, identifying the old man as one Alexander McEwen, well known to the police of the silver-mining State as a lawless and dangerous character. He had been twice in jail, and had been the associate of the notorious Bill Symonds in one or two criminal affairs connected with "faked" claims and the like.
The path came within a few yards of the window, and of the little stream that supplied the house with water. Suddenly, McEwen sprang up in bed. The two foremost men paused beside the water, mopped their hot faces, and taking drinking cups out of their pockets stooped down to the stream.
"You knew, of course, that I was a mining engineer?" he said at last, pulling up in his examination. "Well, I heard of you that onst at Dawson City," was the slow reply. "I supposed you were nosin' round like the rest." "Why, I didn't go as a mere prospector! I'd had my training at Montreal." And Anderson resumed his questions. But McEwen presently took no pains to answer them.
As to his own scheme, he dropped all mention of it. Yet Anderson was under no illusion; there it lay sparkling, as it were, at the back of his sly wolfish eyes. "How in blazes could you take me down?" muttered McEwen "Thought you was took up with these English swells." "I'm not taken up with anything that would prevent my looking after you," said Anderson rising. "You let Mrs.
McEwen was recommending a hot water-bottle and gruel in case of a chill, when Hadria wended her way homeward to brave her mother's wrath. "I cannot make you realize that you are an ignorant girl who knows nothing of the world, and that it is necessary you should accept my experience, and condescend to be guided by my wishes.
Alexander McEwen, the leading liar among our local press agents." He added quickly: "You didn't come around this afternoon, so I suppose there's nothing stirring. How's business over at the Globe?" "Immense," said Alec. "Sold out three times last week." "Do you hear anything," Jimmy asked, "about the road company, what they're doing?" "Rotten," said Alec. "But that don't worry Goldsmith and Block.
The thing that I would have tried to look down through to in him, if I had looked him in the eye, would have been something like this: "Are you or are you not, Davy McEwen, standing out day after day against your class because you can see less than your class sees, because you are a mere me-man?
"What, for the mine?" Anderson laughed. "Oh, we'll go into that again at Vancouver." McEwen made no reply, and Anderson left him. Anderson woke before seven. The long evening had passed into the dawn with scarcely any darkness, and the sun was now high. He sprang up, and dressed hastily.
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