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With that Balcom stamped out of the house. In Brent's room, Paul was attempting still to ingratiate himself with Eva, who was growing more distant toward him with every moment. Finally Paul could stand it no longer. He turned on his heel and faced Locke angrily in the hall. "You'll regret this, confound you!" he ground out, as he swung out of the room rapidly in a high state of feeling.
"Can you find Sandy?" was all she could say, as, with imploring eyes, she gazed into honest Brent's astonished face. "I can, at once," said Stuyvesant, who had risen from his chair at the colonel's remark. With quick bend he picked up the little card, placed it face downward on the table by her side, never so much as giving one glance at the portrait, and noiselessly left the room.
In surprise, the sentry nodded towards the speechless group standing in front of Brent's, and to them came the boy lieutenant, panting and in manifest excitement. "I beg pardon, colonel," he began, "our sentry, Number 6, was found a minute ago shot dead down on the Padre Faura. My men said they saw an officer running from the spot, running this way, and this gentleman Mr. Stuyvesant, isn't it?"
The other partners in the management interfered in Brent's behalf; they feared that the proud mountaineer, resenting the contemptuous designation "hill-Billy" might withdraw from the Company, taking his wife with him, and the loss of Valeria from the pageant would be well nigh irreparable, for her ethereal and fragile beauty as Una with her lion had a perennial charm for the public.
Brent to drive him from home, and interfere with his succession to any part of Mr. Brent's property. "Is my step-mother's story true, then?" he asked breathlessly. "She told me I was not the son of Mr. Brent." "Her story was true," said the veiled lady. "Who is my real father, then?" The lady did not immediately reply.
Spencer " "Miss Lenox," she corrected. "Yes Miss Lenox, I beg your pardon. But really in my position I know nothing of Mr. Brent's plans and if I did, I'd not be at liberty to speak of them. I have written him what you wrote me about the check and and that is all." "Mr.
Brent's arrival, you started the next day for Suez; the other, that you were hanging about the grounds, armed to the teeth, and only waiting an opportunity to dare your rival to deadly combat." "How kind one's friends are, to be sure, especially when they are in the country, and have nothing in particular with which to amuse themselves!" "But what have you been doing?
It was all very well to say the motor broke down; but unfortunately Trixton Brent's reputation was not much better than that of his car. Trixton Brent, as might have been expected, was inclined to treat the matter as a joke. "There's nothing very formal about a Quicksands dinner-party," he said. "We'll have a cosey little dinner in town, and call 'em up on the telephone."
Being allowed to do what he chose with this money, he gave it in equal portions to Tommy Kavanagh and Mr. Raynor, who had informed him of the existence of Mr. Brent's will. Mrs. Brent decided not to go back to Planktown. She judged that the story of her wickedness would reach that village and make it disagreeable for her. She opened a small millinery store in Chicago, and is doing fairly well.
Nan Brent's departure from the Sawdust Pile was known to so few in Port Agnew that it was fully ten days before the news became general; even then it excited no more than momentary comment, and a week later when Donald McKaye returned to town, somewhat sooner than he had anticipated, Port Agnew had almost forgotten that Nan Brent had ever lived and loved and sinned in its virtuous midst.
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