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Updated: May 31, 2025
I heard them talking through the ventilator when I was bolting my door." "A visitor to Doctor van Heerden, and he mentioned Mr. Scobbs of Red Horse Valley," he said half to himself. "You didn't see the man?" "No." "You just heard him. No names were mentioned?" "None," she said. "Is it a frightfully important matter?" "It is rather," he replied.
"Yes, yes ... Scobbs' Hotel, Red Horse Valley ... know the place well ... good night, dear old thing...." A door banged, an uncertain footstep died away in the well of the stairs below, and she was left to recover from her amazement. Oliva Cresswell did not feel at all sleepy, so she discovered, by the time she was ready for bed.
She yawned as she rose and realized that her previous night's sleep had been fitful. She wondered as she began to undress if she would dream of Scobbs or no, she didn't want to dream of big-headed men with white faces, and the thought awoke a doubt in her mind. Had she bolted the door of the flat?
For Jonas Scobbs was the proprietor of Scobbs' Hotel in Falling Star City; of the Bellevue in Snakefence, of the Palace Hotel in Portage. After awhile it began to lose its novelty and she accepted the discovery of unsuspected properties of Mr. Scobbs as inevitable. She filled in the last ruled sheet and blotted it, gathered the sheets together and fastened them with a clip.
She would have dearly loved to supplement her information about Mr. Scobbs, proprietor of many hotels, and to have mystified him with her knowledge of Western Canada, but she refrained. Instead, she took up the conversation where he had tried to break it off. "Do you know Mr. Kitson?" "Kitson? Oh yes, you mean the lawyer man," he replied reluctantly.
But may I suggest to you that there are other ways of winning a girl than by giving her nettle-rash!" They laughed together. "All right," he said, swinging up his hat, "proceed with the good work and seek out the various domiciles of Mr. Scobbs." Then she remembered. "Do you know ?" He was at the door when she spoke and he stopped and turned. "The name of Mr. Scobbs gives me a cold shiver."
"She found the name occurring in Canadian guide-books and was struck by its quaintness." "Scobbs," said the lawyer slowly. "I seem to know that name." "You had better know it if I am going to introduce you as Scobbs himself," laughed Beale. "Shall I be in the way?" asked the superintendent. "No, please stay," said Beale. "I would like you to see this lady.
Why should he want to know that Jonas Scobbs was the proprietor of Scobbs' Hotel and General Emporium in the town of Red Horse Valley, Alberta, and what significance attached to the fact that he had an automobile for hire or that he ran a coach every Wednesday to Regina? Then she fell to speculating upon the identity and appearance of this man who bore this weird name of Scobbs.
"They are such queer names," she said; "there is one called Scobbs of Red Horse Valley Scobbs!" He had laughed. "Strangely enough, I know Mr. Scobbs, who is quite a personage in that part of the world. He owns a chain of hotels in Western Canada. You mustn't leave him out." Even had she wished to, or even had the name been overlooked once, she could not have escaped it.
"I will tell her that you are interested in the work she is doing. I might introduce you as Mr. Scobbs," he smiled. "Who is Scobbs?" "He is a proprietor of a series of hotels in Western Canada, and is, I should imagine, a most praiseworthy and inoffensive captain of minor industry, but Miss Cresswell is rather interested in him," he laughed.
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