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He thought the missionary had difficulties enough of his own without being involved in the trouble that seemed to follow all who had anything to do with Strange's silver lode. It was snowing, but there was no wind and the shack was warm when, on the evening after his return, Thirlwell sat, smoking, by the stove.
"Ah," she said, "I hope it will not be three or four days. Now we are very near, the suspense is keen." Then she smiled. "However, we will go back and get breakfast, because you must set your brain to work." It was next morning when they saw the first of Strange's landmarks; and Thirlwell, taking its bearing with the compass, changed their line of march.
But if he's scared of the dark and loneliness, why doesn't he pull out?" "Human nature's stubborn. A man with a compelling object may be afraid and fight his fears." "I'd like to know what Driscoll's object is. Since the night in his shack, when the fellow was sick, I've wondered why Strange's canoe capsized. Strange was a clever voyageur; so's Black Steve."
The curl of Miss Strange's disdainful lip was a sight to see. "You wrote those words yourself," she coolly observed. "While someone's back was turned, you whipped out your pencil and " "Resorted to a very pardonable subterfuge highly conducive to the public's good. But never mind that. Will you go?" Miss Strange became suddenly demure. "I suppose I must," she grudgingly conceded.
"And isn't it funny, Evie, dear," Miss Jarrott began, just as he was about to take his leave, "that Mr. Strange's name should be " "Yes, I've been thinking about that," Miss Colfax fluted, with that pretty way she had of speaking with little movement of the lips. But he was gone.
Michael Strange," said my companion quietly. "I am Michael Strange." "And I," replied Hartnett, with a suggestion of a smile, "am Raoul Hartnett, from Scotland Yard." I did not see any sign of emotion on Strange's face. He stepped back in silence to allow us to enter. Then closing the big door after us, he led the way along a carpeted hall to a small, ill-lighted room just beyond.
Since the rivers that drained the country flowed northeast to Hudson Bay, it was obvious that there must be an opening in the ridge, but he had been unable to find one. Moreover, as Strange's creek ran south before it turned east, he imagined it was on his side of the heighth of land, but he had seen no stream flowing in either direction.
"The man is a liar. The truth is bound to come out in the end." The white men paid little attention to this, but it stung Strange to reply. "If Mr. Gaviller were able to speak he'd soon decide between us!" At that moment, as if Strange's speech had evoked, him, they heard Giddings in the hall. "Has he spoken?" they asked breathlessly. Colina kept her eyes hidden. Giddings nodded.
"I can't say about that; I did not see the clergyman." "Oh, well! it doesn't matter." Miss Strange's manner was as nonchalant as it was charming. "We will think of him as being very young." And with a merry toss of her head she flitted away. But she sobered very rapidly upon entering her limousine. "Hello!" "Ah, is that you?" "Yes, I want a Marconi sent." "A Marconi?"
Thirlwell had imagined the lode an illusion of Strange's, but his disbelief was giving way. Then he forgot the others and thought about Agatha. In some ways she was like Strange, but she was made of finer and stronger stuff. She had his patience, but her brain was keener, and her resolution was backed by moral force.
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