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0. Google
1^ £ 3^74,
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ovCioo^lc
THE SHADOW RIDERS
i
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The
SHADOW RIDERS
R
ISABEL PATERS.ON
NEW YORE: JOHN LANE COMPANY
I0NIION: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEV HEAD
TORONTO: .-. .-. S. B. GUNDY
.•. .-. .-. :. MCMXVII .•. .•. .-. .-.
ovGooglc
/<£ 3'^7fo
Knt Impnoion, Ptbntuy, I9i4
Snxmd Improiuoii, June, igifi
lUid ImpTMnon. Jaaouy, 1917
0. Google
^cre is an old proverb which says that one
can catch more Sies with honey than with
vinegar. It is doubtless a true saying; I only
wonder what one does with the flies after
bavins caught them.
1^ AuiHOS
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THE SHADOW RIDERS
0. Google
0. Google
THE SHADOW RIDERS
CHAPTER I
THREE short warning blasli of a locomotive
whistle floated out of the Eastward darkness
like an echo from the unseen hills ; a pinprick
of light appeared, grew to the size of a candle flame
and then to a great white hot moon. With a clamour
of bells and thunderous iron wheels the Imperial Lim-
ited — the Canadian Transcontinental Express — drew
in, and lay alongside the long wooden platform puff-
ing vaingloriously and glaring ahead at a switchman
who crossed a black waste of cinders netted with shin-
ing rails to throw the semaphore, swinging his red
lantern.
The Ptdlman windows were mostly dark ; throt^
travellers had already gone to their berths. The small
crowd of people who had been waitii^ in disgusted
patience moved forward with a sigh of relief, questing
among the disembarking passengers, each for his own.
Whittemore, emerging leisurely from the smoker
and avoiding a hurrying baggage truck still leisurely,
saw no one he knew. He dismissed the porter who
followed him with suitcase and greatcoat, dropped both
by a lamp pillar, and lit a cigarette to consider. He
had expected to be met, and decided to wait for five
minutes grace before going on his unattended way.
The pale harsh light revealed him as a man near
forty, yet not middle-aged in the stodgy, prosy sense
the term has come to connote. Neither his clothes
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10 THE SHADOW RIDERS
nor his manner indicated that he had been travelling
for four da3rs. His dark tweeds, soft hat and Eng-
lish boots were all of a careless correctness which is
the perfection of sartorial art ; but Nature more than
his tailor had given him his indubitable decorative
quality. His slight, sinewy figure was topped by a head
of clf^sic contour, with grey hair that merdfully did
not curl. His profile might have graced the bright
disc of an old coin. The sole impress of a too for-
tunate youth was discoverable in some quality of his
manner which made plain that he was no longer in-
terested in himself. Life had been too kind to him
in every material way; he was politely perplexed with
a profusion so great, and ambition lay dead of satiety.
In keeping was the unexpectant survey he gave his
surroundings, a look which unfailingly betrays one
past the meridian of life, when change and adventure
are no longer synonymous. Yet he had the eyes and
mouth of a man of great powers of enjoyment ; hazel
eyes, with occasional gold l^hts in them, and lips
both close and mobile. But his hair was more than
grey, it was almost white.
"Sorry we've kept you waiting ; awfully sorry . . ."
Walter Burrage, coming on the scene suddenly throi^^
the swing doors of the ticket office, seemed to have
emerged, still gasping, from some flood tide of af-
fairs. His round, ruddy face was the more comical
for being of a gloomy favour, and he had the general
air of disheveSnent of a fat man in a hurry. A
younger man, whom Whittemore did not know, accom-
panied Burrage. "I telephoned half an hour ago,"
the recreant one continued, "and they said your train
wouldn't be in till twelve; 'phoned again just five min-
utes ago, and it was in."
"Yes, we made up time this side of Regina," said
Whittemore, in a husky, uninflected voice that was
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THE SHADOW RIDERS ii
^et not devoid of character. "I can hardly lay Pve
been waiting; what is five minutes when one is already
thirty-six hours late?"
"That's right Well, say, I brought Jack here with
n»— Mr. Whittemore, Mr. Addison " They shook
hands. "We were down at Folsom's committee rooms,"
Burrage resumed, picking up Whittemore's luggage.
"Check them in here," the owner suggested. "Ill
have them sent for from the hotel." But Burra^
clung to his booty tenaciously, meanwhile fnloting the
other two through the station and starting full stride
across the dim cinder paths of the railway gardens
before he again essayed his explanation. His man-
ner implied that a too loi^ absence might be fraught
with incalculable disaster to some project too vast for
explicit statement.
"How are you, anyway 7* he began, in a perfunctoiy
tone that would not have deceived an ^omaniac. "You
look fine — fine. I was about to say, I couldn't get a
room for yoo at the hotel. The town's full; you
should have wired earlier. Besides, I was out in the
country campaigning till this morning. But Addison
wants to put you up. He has rooms down in the
Carhart Block. His roommate "
"But that is an imposition," Whittemore b^an.
Addison waved the protest aside. "Glad if you'll
honour me," be said heartily. He was somewhat ve-
hement in manner, with dark, intent eyes and a touch
of the South in his look. "The room's there, empty;
and I doabt if you'U find another in town," he add«L
"Between the spring rush of landseekers, and the elec-
tion. . . ."
"I am afraid I had forgotten about the election,"
Whittemore acknowledged. Only the most sensitive
perception could have caught his inward laughter.
In Montreal, where bis journey had b^un, this bye-
ovCiooglc
la THE SHADOW RIDERS
election for the return of a western provindal legis-
lator was not even a ripple on the surface of the public
mind; here it was a most frothy whirlpool. He un-
derstood Bur rage's preoccupation. "I suppose the
returns are not in y^? I used to know Folsom quite
well. Has he any chance?"
They were turning onto Stephen Avenue already,
where a crowd hlocked the pavement beneath a huge
white bulletin hoard whose changing trends, an-
nouncing the varying political temperature of the dis-
trict, Burrage paused to read before answering.
"Folsom's safe enough, I guess," he said at last,
wiping his brow with a gesture of relief.
It was earliest spring, but the night was capriciously
warm, with occasional puffs of a chinoolc wind. There
was a smell of dust in the air. There is always a
smell of dust in the air; it is the characteristic scent
of Alberta.
"Perhaps you'd like to come round and see the fin-
ish, after we've dropped your dunnage?" Burrage con-
tinued. They were edging around the packed section
of the street, and from force of habit still gazing at
the big white square overhead. Whittemore, with-
drawing his attention to reply, heard Burrage still
speaking, but to Addison, with a strange guarded air.
"Where is Garth, anyway?"
"Banff," said Addison shortly. "If he takes my ad-
vice, he won't come back."
"Who ?' asked Whittemore involuntarily, and imme-
diately felt excessively tactless. But they repUed
eagerly, almost guiltily.
"Garth — Harry Garth — my bunkie. He's out of
town," they chorused.
"I'm not putting you out?"
"Not a bit ; not a bit. Delighted — ^honoured," Addi-
son reassured him. Whittemore protested no more,
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THE SHAJX)W RIDERS 13
and Burrage lapsed into an elucidation of some fresh
cabbala of the bulletin board. Bat when a few min-
utes later they turned away decisively, Jack Addison
had deserted them. Burrage, gazing back, muttered
something under his breath.
"A skirt, of course," he said disgustedly. In the
glarii^ l^t they could not fail to see the_ delin-
quent, talking to a tall girl in a blue sei^ suit, a few
paces distant. The girl's head was turned ; only the
pale curve of her cheek and a smooth sweep of black
hair were visible below her broad hat. Addison's hot,
dark-browed gaze was fixed under the depths of the
dashing hat and he was talking eagerly. The girl
stepped back lightly half a pace, as if in hesitation;
even her shoulders were eloquent of undecided mis-
chief.
"Jackl" Burrage called, adding another smothered
"damn" when he got no answer. He went back;
Whittemore saw Addison take something from his
pocket— a key — and hand it to Burrage, turning j^in
to arrest the lady, now poised for flight. ,
"Hell come pretty soon — maybe," said Burrage, re-
joining Whittemore. "Apologies ; says it's highly im-
portant I wonder where he met Lesley Johns? I
didn't think she was that kind — wonder if she knows.
. . . None of my business. Excuse me; yes, this
way. It's just down the street here. Jack said to
make you comfortable, and I can show you everythii^
about his dump."
Addison's rooms wire in a business building. They
climbed an tmlighted stairway, on rubber treads that
gave no sound ; and a door on the third floor yielded
to Burrage's touch while he fumbled with the key.
Whittemore saw the lighted rectangle of another door
beyond a short entrance hall ; then he heard Burrage
draw a quick short breath through his teeth like a
ovCiooglc
14 THE SHADOW RIDERS
man who recdves an unexpected blow. He moved
until he was looking over Burrage's shoulder. There
he too stopped and felt the lu^ath go out of him,
while his eyes riveted th«nselves on a wide mirror
over a chiffonier that obliquely faced the intervening
door. The Medusa's head a>uld scarcely have been
more potent.
Yet it was only a man and a woman they saw tn
the mirror, against the inevitable red and brown back-
ground of a man's tasteless, comfortable apartment.
Indeed, these were hardly more than boy and girl.
They stood not a pace apart, eye to eye, seeing only
each other, as rapt in hatred as they might have been
in love. He was not very tall, but he overtopped her.
It was his only advantage; for in appearance he was
like a thousand of his kind. One sees them in groups
— the fairly r^ular, negative features, the forehead
slofung to the edge of the brushed back hair, the
mouth soft and selfish, the chin narrow — a. "dandt^
man," in drawingrocm slang.
But there were not two in the world like her. She
was slight, with the delicate, strong figure of the
Dancing Maenad ; a creature of fine, vital, vivid colour-
ing. Eyes like a smoky sapphire, cheeks the live
clear crimson of a poppy, lips redder still ; all intensi-
fied as if an inner fire burned through them; and
she leaned forward, her hands locked behind her.
It was the young man's vmce drowned the creak of
die opening door and some word that Burn^ gulped
down — "Garth" — which Whittemore heard and did
not hear.
"But, Eileen, for Heaven's sake, listen. ... Be sensi-
ble — you know I can't. . . . You always knew. It
would finish me, spoil all my chances. . . ." So much
from him, before she seemed to snatch his unfinished
plea and tear it to scornful rags. Shaken with fury,
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 15
dioked with a very passion of despair, her words
strode Whittemore's ears and stayed with him Uke
arrows quivering in his brain, to be withdrairn and
oomprehended later.
"You can't — what?" They could see her burning
mouth fonn the words, in ihe coW mirror, her eyes
narrowed to two glittering lines, and her disordered
hair, of the coIout of old copper, seemed to flutter like
flame. She held their gaze pfunfully, dominated the
scene. . . . Yet it was evident she had lost. The fair,
pleasant, futile face of the young man had already
paled and set into the obstinacy of his weakness. Her
voice broke on a word ; she paused, and spoke again.
"Did you think / wanted you to — marry me — now?
Because my father does — I despise youl" Now she
was horribly quiot, and it hurt one's nerves. She
should have shrieked . . . with that look.
With singular fatuity, tiie man put his hand on her
shoulder, a cajoling gesture, characteristic even to
one who had never seen him before. She stiffened and
swayed back; her hands were clasped behind her.
"Then what can I do?" he said. "Let me take you
home now; to-morrow we'll talk it over "
"Oh, to-morrow t" The word struck some deep
vtbratii^ note from her fair throat, that rang and
lingered in the air strangely, so that there seemed to
rush into view a procession of endless to-morrows,
too terrible to contemplate, impossible to live through.
"There won't be any to-morrow," she cried, "not for
as!" And she iiung ofi his clasp and whipped her
hands from behind her.
Yet not quickly enough; a woman's muscles will
hardly match a man's in dedsion, for lack of train-
ing. He clipped her in his arms like a lover ; there
was no time to think of irony then, even had he pos-
sessed the hard mind necessary for tiiat; for she had
ovGooglc
i6 THE SHADOW RIDERS
the revolver, that she had been concealing in her skirt,-
at his very breast It was his face she hated at that
moment, and would have aimed for, else she had cer-
tainly killed htm. She would have spoiled it for an-
other woman's kisses, no doubt of that But he had
her fast, strained to him in an embrace of hatred, her
own face upturned, thirsty for death. A beautiful
face, even in that ugly moment. Then he forced the
gun from her resisting fingers. Her mouth quivered ;
with a baffled expression she drooped and hung over
his Arm, crimson, suffocating with shame.
Whittemore, for all his poised experience, felt his
own heart contract and was suddenly aware that he
was gripping Burrage's ann so hard his hand was
cramped.
"God ]" said Burrage, in a harsh whisper.
"Come away!" muttered Whittemore imperatively,
and drew him back through the door. It slammed vio-
lently, escaping from his nerveless grasp. He fancied
he heard a brief sharp cry from within in answer.
In the street they looked at each other with that
feeling of shame one knows who has seen another's
soul too intimately. Burrage wiped his moist brow
once more.
"Ought to go back," he said hoarsely. "Shell kill
him — or something "
"Not now," said Whittemore. He too was unable
to speak lucidly. His mind had tamed back nearly
twenty years, and he felt like a man in a nightmare,
who knows he sleeps and yet cannot awaken.
"Who "
The soft, stirring sound of feminine garments, that
curiously a^tating, fluttered sunsk of a woman in
flight, smothered his voice in his throat Out of the
entrance they had hardly quitted a girl darted past
them. For a few paces she ran, l^tly but a little
ovGoo^lc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 17
unsteadily, her figure giv'mg the impression of bein^
buffeted by heady gusts. She did not turn to observe
them, but Whittemore felt the swift sidelong glance
that swept and passed them by, and under her flying
veil cau^t sight of a strand of her rich hair. Her
running pace slowed to a rapid walk just b^rond, but
she went straight ahead.
The two men again stood staring until she was out
of eyeshot, lost among other pedestrians beyond Cen-
ter Street
"If it's a fair question " Wliittemore began once
more.
"Fair enough," said Bur rage. "That — that was
Ejleen Conway. Prettiest girl in Alberta, I guess.
Lord, what's the matter with girls these days?" He
paused, as if overcome by an insoluble problem.
"Sometimes, no doubt, they are quite human," said
Whittemore abstractedly. Burrage looked startled.
"Eileen is," he said. "It's a damned shame. Her
parents are nice people, but the good strict old-
fashioned kind, hardshell religion, all that. Ever notice
that if you try to tie any one down they go twice as
far when they do cut loose ? I remember it just broke
their hearts when Eileen began going to dances; I
know one time I took her to a dance at the Barracks
mjrself, and she told me she had sneaked out of the
window and borrowed her gown from Esther Pur-
ringtcm. . . . You see, it was all like that; she had
to 6ght to get a little harmless fun, and it probably
looked all alike to her, outside of the window yoif
know." Burn^ did not recognise himself as a phUos*
opher, but Whittemore thot^ht he did very well. He
could reconstruct the whole life of a wilful, high-
spirited, beautiful creature from just that fragment.
Her parents' standards she found unbearably rigid,
and ^e was not yet old enough to make her own.
ovCiooglc
i8 THE SHADOW RIDERS
"Say, there's no need for this to go any further,"
added Burragc, "though I suppose every one will
know; they always do."
"Ah, well, don't tell me sxef more," said Whitte-
more.
"Oh, you've seen it all, really. Maybe you know her
father — ^Judge Conway? Plenty of principle, very
little money." He seemed to be getting hopelessly
involved in details.
"And the man?" Whittemore did wonder, a little,
what kind of man it might be; Eileen was so lovely
to look on.
"That was him, of course; Harry Garth. Been liv-
ing with Addison. They're breaking up now ; he told
Jack about this, and it's not quite Jack's way. But
then Jack knew Eileen came up there. Fellow hates
to interfere, though. And half the girls in town have
been up there on the sly," he jerked his head backward,
"they think it's kind of devilish and all that. Harry's
engaged to a girl back East ; can't afford to break it
off. He's getting his start in business here in one of
her father's concerns. Maybe he's in love with her
anyway ; she looks like a sweet girl. Well — last week
Judge Conway found it all out. I think he played the
fool, but he was pretty much upset, and I suppose he
did think a lot of Eileen. . , . He came to Harry, told
him he'd got to — marry her. That was when Harry
told Jack, and Jack told him to do it--or get to hell
out of here. Harry went to Banff, to think it over. I
wonder how Eileen got him to come back?"
Whittemore could easily imagine. "Found out
what?" he asked, harking back a moment.
Burrage told him, in unequivocal words. Whitte-
more turned his head away ; in the dimness his com-
panion could not see his drawn face, but heard some
speech of "a cad."
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 19
"No doubt," said Burrage, and yet his tone was
doabtfuL He could hardly help seeing things from a
man's standpoint Whittemore — once — had had the
other viewpoint branded into his soul. He merely
made a little gesture that said : "Go on."
"You see, Harry wasn't the only . . ."
"Do )fou think so?" said Whittemore. His tone
made Burrage unaccountably uncomfortable.
"Well, hang it, of course I dcm't know. . . . Harry
said so himself. He is a pup. I wonder if he said
the same thing to Eileen?"
"What will ha[q>en to her?" said Whittemore, but
rather as if he were talking to himself.
"What does happen to 'em?" said Burrage. "Say,
excuse me, old man, I never meant to keep you out
here all night You'd better come and bunk with me."
Perceiving his words had no immediate effect, he
touched Whittemore on the arm. The other lifted
his head with a start
"I beg your pardon? Oh, yes, just as you say."
Burrage had a very dismal sense of failure as a
host; he wanted to retrieve the occasion somehow.
"My car is over at the committee rooms. It will take
us out to my place in less than ten minutes. Will
you stop in and see Folsom first ? You're on the odier
side though, ain't you?"
"Theoretically," Whittemore reassured him, "but I
am not exactly a rabid partisan. Yes, let's go and
congratulate Folsom." He too wanted a saving anti-
climax for the evening; almost anything to overlay
tliat vivid and painful scene so fresh in his mind.
And while he did not care^greatly whether he saw
Folsom or not, still he was a little interested in him,
as he was in most things.
There are a few people in the world who, while
admitting the dictum that all the world's a stage, yet
ovCioo^lc
20 THE SHADOW RIDERS
find themselves with more o{ a taste for looktng on
than for strutting the boards in person. Ross Whitte-
more counted himself as of that categOTy. He had
even cultivated the attitude to some extent, for reasons
of his own ; and in that direction Fate had chosen to
be liis handmaid. For that he might not have quar-
relled with Fate, since it afforded him a box for the
great drama; but he would have stipulated for high
comedy. He had had his own tr^edy. Now when
he exerted himself he preferred merely to help set
the scene or give a cue, with an impersonal cynicism
that was seldom less than kind. In a theatre of ideas
— whu^ the world is not and never will be while
emotion is the driving force of intellect — ^he was all
thit could be asked as an audience. Cultivated, nicely
appreciative, ready to applaud gracefully when he
might, a concealed yawn was the worst he would
permit himself in disapproval. But for once even
the perfect audience had failed of his occasion. He
only wanted to forget
They turned briskly up the street together, past the
still lingerii^ crowd once more, and elbowed through
to a door which admitted them into a cloud of cigar
smoke and the presence of a couple of rat-eyed youths
in shirt sleeves, who sat at a table and scrutinised
all comers with an air of strange sagacity. The door
opened constantly, to admit other c^rs, with human
attachments. Burrage led throi^ to an inner room,
where the centre of the commotion remained calm,
portentously calm.
This was the G)nservative candidate, Edward Fol-
som. Tall and narrow, with a figure designed by an
all-wise Providence for the exigencies of a statesman's
frock coat, he had a clever, repellent face, round and
bearing some resemblance to an alert pug, which as-
sorted oddly vith his high-domed head. Needless
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS ai
to add, he was invariably photographed with a finger
pressed to his brow.
Folsom and Whittemore had attended the same col-
Uge. It was remarkable how logically each had de-
veloped from the promise of his youth. They had
never been intimates, but neither had they ever quite
lost sight of each other. Folsom reo^nised Whitte-
more with surprised cordiality.
"Ross Whittemore I In the name of wonder, where
did you spring from ? Have you been here helfMi^ the
other side? You're too late."
"Elected, are you?" asked Whittemore good-nat-
uredly. "Well, what will you do up there in Edmon-
ton with your three fellow sufferers? I suppose
you think that where the Macgr^or sits is the head
of the table?"
"This is merely the first wave of the flood," retorted
Folsom, in the orotund tones wherewith an orator
sometimes finds himself too permanently saddled.
"Wait till the next general election — no, the returns
aren't all in yet, but I believe it's reasonably certain.
What are you doing here? Going back into active
politics? I haven't heard a hint of it"
Whittemore shook his head. Once, more than ten
years before, he had been considered a rising star
politically, though in his inmost heart he knew he
had played the game only for diversion. He had been
a Liberal, owning that he could never have resisted
trie word itself. It was there that Fate, always curi-
ously consistent in her dealings with him, had gently
put him aside, just in time to save him from yielding
to the inherent fascination of the arena. A weakness
of the throat, which could not be permanently cured,
had incapacitated him from speechmaking. And a
politician who could not talk, Whittemore had him-
self said, would be more than an anomaly — he would
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32 THE SHADOW RIDERS
be a miracle. One might be deaf and blind, but not
dumb. So he had stepped back gracefully, with no
perceptible heartburnings.
"Rest easy," Whittemore said, his husky, toneless
voice faintly mocking, "your new laurels are safe
from me. And they sit very well. No, I came West
on business, and to broaden my mind, and because I
have a nephew of sorts somewhere here in your No-
Man's Land "
A group of excited men surged in noisily, clamour-
ing of "a sure thing" and "a landslide," and began an
indiscriminate shaking of hands. Folsom rose to the
occasion; indeed, he swelled to it.
Whittemore would have felt free to smile, but that
there was not even the grimace of irony left in him.
He had failed of his object, got no diversion. Too
much of this would bore htm hopelessly, and he con-
sidered that at least he might be able to sleep. He
needed sleep. Burrage caught his eye presently.
"Want to go? I'm about all in myself."
"In that case, yes," said Whittemore. "It is too
late now to rout out Chan; besides, I've locked up
his address in my luggage. If we had got in earlier,
I might have gone over to the Liberal headquarters,
but they won't be welcoming visitors now, I dare-
say."
"That's right," agreed Burrage. "Crape on the
door. Well, let's beat it" They went out
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CHAPTER n
IT was afternoon of the following day before
Whittemore finally found himself at the address
his nephew's letter had given. He had been un-
able to escape his business associates during the morn-
ing; thqr had seized him and imprisoned him in a
motor car immediately after breakfast and kept him
till luncheon, a very mediocre luncheon at the Round
Up Club. In the interval he had been taken up on all
the high hills in the neighbourhood and shown the
town, and had also exhaustively investigated the power
plant, owned by the Belle Claire Company, which was
in part himself.
Whittemore had seen the town once before, though
not the power plant. TTjere had been no power phmt
then. TTiat was fifteen years earlier, and Whittemore
had stopped over an idle day on his way to the Orient.
The town is on the direct line of Europe's travel to
the East by the Western route. He had first seen it
as little more than a cowcamp modified by the coming
of a railway. He might have forgotten the very
name of it but for having somewhat later taken over
those Belle Claire shares for the financial relief of
an old friend. Later his interests had ramified and
extended themselves, still at long distance. He had
enough of a seeing eye to gamble on the Canadian
West, if only for the sheer bigness of it. He could
draw a parallel, without prompting, f rcnn the lesson
across the boundary written by the last half century.
Several times since he had meant to come back for
a locdE, the more because a number of men he had
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34 THE SHADOW RIDERS
known in his youth, men mth far less to begin on
than he, had come out to Alberta and risen to suffi-
cient prominence to send an echo back East. Fol-
som, for instance — and Geers, whose retirement had
brought on the election, whom Folsom succeeded,
who was a brother of a girl Whittemore had once
admired, and grandson of an old friend of his father's,
a grey old fox of a politician from Montreal. So he
felt a curious familiarity with the place as he walked
down Fourth Avenue West, past the oldest residence
section of tiny grey houses hiding behind tangled
grey scrubby trees — this, at such season, was a. world
of grey and dun — and, half a dozen blocks beyond,
discovered the number of the house he sought. Only
the number would have identified it; there were six
houses exactly alike, square two-story boxes with tiny
upper balconies and naked-looking porches below, all
painted a depressing yellow. It looked exceedingly
dreadful to Whittemore, but Chan had written that
he was entirely comfortable. Chan was his nephew —
Channing Herrick.
It was Whittemore and the doctor combined who
had sent Chan out here. He was convalescing very
slowly from typhoid-pneumonia, and had come West,
in an I-don't-care mood and the charge of a tr^ned
nurse, a month before. The nurse had gone back
East already, and Chan would have been glad to go
with her, though by no means for the sake of her
beautiful eyes. She was forty, and knew it. Whitte-
more had chosen her himself, at a time when Chan
was in no condition to object. Chan had got pneu-
monia from playing hockey with too much enthusiasm.
Every hockey player gets it sooner or later. The ty-
phoid had sidled in coyly without any especial
invitation. When it became reasonably certain that
the boy would survive — Ross thought of him as a
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 35
boy, though he was twenty-«ight— the doctor said
that if he were to do more than survive he should
spend a year or two in a high, dry altitude. Davos,
or Colorado. Or Banff, suggested Whittemore; he
knew Banff was high anyway. The other places
sounded so far away. But Banff was too cold in
winter ; Quebec would be no worse. It was then that
Whittemore suggested this alternative; he was often
obliged to think of the place in the course of busi-
ness. Some one had told him the winters were pe-
culiarly mild and salubrious. He was quite ready to
believe it as he walked through the February sun-
shine down the dusty streets. The distant mountains
were whitecapped against the far blue rim of sky, but
here was not even a lingering spring drift. Yet his
train had been blocked by snow in Manitoba for over
a day. At the hotel they told him casually there
had been a foot of snow on the ground four days be-
fore; he merely asked for a whiskbrocm and smiled
politely.
On the whole, he felt relieved and satisfied. He
bad had a secret second thought about sending Chan
here, he owned to himself. Chan was the only son
of Whittemore's only sister, and an orphan since his
teens. He admired his uncle extravagantly, and that
akme disquieted the older man, recognising in him-
self a temperament ill-suited as a model for such a
naturally energetic youth. Whittemore suspected Chan
of intelligence, discounting certainty because of kin-
ship and kindliness. And he knew the imperative
need of an outlet for combined energy and intelligence.
So he had fallen back on Horace Greeley and exerted
the authority of affection. If there was anything in
Chan, he thought the contract with a raw and visibly
growing country would bring it out. It was time
that supposititious intelligence had a chance. After
ovGooglc
26 THE SHADOW RIDERS
all, Chan had spent stx years and over thirty thousand
dollars since leaving college, and had absolutely noth-
ing to show for it except his rickety lungs.
He had a long face to show for it this tnomii^.
That his uncle was in town he did not know. Whitte-
more, opening the door quietly, having asked the land-
lady to let him go upstairs &lone, found him in a
dressinggown and a state of extreme boredom, sur-
rounded by newspapers and gazing out of the open
window with a lacklustre eye.
"Ross !" The young man sprai^ up, provit^ him-
self the taller of the two, and reached a bony but
vigorous hand for his uncle's grasp. He had al-
ways called Whittemore by his first name. "I didn't
expect you till next week."
"I expected myself yesterday," said Whittemore.
"Sit down, you living skeleton. How are you treat-
ing yourself?"
"Family skeleton, you mean, don't you?" said
Chan, grinning. He was thin, and had the pallor of
convalescence, but the healthy red of his firm, gen-
erous mouth marked these signs of illness as only
temporary. He had a very genuine smile, quick grey
eyes whose under colour was green instead of blue, a
shock of rough brown hair, and was accounted good-
looking, in a purely masculine way, despite his irr^u-
lar features. Full face, he had a boyish expression,
but en proHle one suspected that with age the bridge
of his handsome nose would assert its Roman sympa-
thies; there was latent strength, even aggressiveness,
in that nose. As her artist admirers said of Ellen
Terry, Chan had "beautiful bones," as marked by
the clean careful modelling of the eye socket and
brow ; wherefore he showed the effect of a long, severe
sickness less than most. "Well, I seem to be alive,"
he assured his imcle.
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 27
"You are marvellously ia^roved — in xppanhct,"
said Whittemore.
"HeHo," renurked Chan cheerfully. "That sounds
Kke the c^»ening gun. Honest, I haven't done any-
thing."
"No, I suppose not." Whittemore wanted to say
his say at the very beginning, that he might observe,
during the remainder of his visit, how his suggestions
were taking root "The point is, are you thinking of
doing anything? Chan, I've not been easy in my mind
about you. I feel as if I hadn't paid my debt to you;
as either a preceptor or an exemplar of youth I con-
sider myself a failure." His seriousness could not be
misapprehended ; Chan sobered instantly.
"I'm not mudi good, am I?" he admitted. "But
don't slam yourself for it."
"I must, in justice. Youth is the imitative period.
And I have a horror of interfefence. I feel rather
like a hypocrite at this moment," he said thoughtfully,
"or rattier, I feel as if I must appear like one. I
saw your doctor this morning, on my way down."
"Kd you ? I'm practically all right again."
"So he says, but you ought to stay here at least
another year. I really came to ask you if you'd
give that year to me."
"Ill give you ten," said Chan. "Do you mean to
say there's anything I can do for you?"
"Yes. I want you to go into the Belle Claire of-
fices later, when you are really fit, and gain a first-
hand knowledge of it for me. Then there are sev-
eral other business propositions I am considering — ^I
have to go to Edmonton about them before I leave —
and I shall need some one to stay on the ground. In
short, I want you for my unofficial representative out
here. But I want you to consider your own interests
too, always act for yourself first I would never have
ovCiooglc
38 THE SHADOW RIDERS
asked you to exile yourself out here to do this for
me if circunutances hadn't brought it about But as
it — shall you mind?"
"Mind? It will save my reason. The fact is, when
the doctor told me a day or two ago I couldn't go
back for a year without risking my life, I just about
decided to throw it in the jackpot Of all the un-
imaginable iumping-o£E places "
"I thought it was rather lively last nig^t," s»d his
uncle thoughtfully. "But you weren't out, of course.
I see you've been taking observations through the
press. Have you got acquainted at all with condi-
tions here? I suppose not. Yet I thmk you might
find it interesting."
"Politics, you mean? It looks rather stale to me.
Sounds ahnost Dickensy — ^'hole and comer Buffery,'
you remember — that sort of argument is about their
level, if one goes by this." He kicked aside the pile
of newspapers.
"They are rather infantile," said Whittemore.
"That's why it's interesting — the things they don't
realise. They're puddling about the shores of an
oceao with teaspoons. But I suppose nations are
always built that way. A good many magnificent
chances have been missed in Canada for sheer lack of
the man. So — we're Colonials. Sort of a naticxial
stdntrb. Fifty years ago now But after all, the
deal is not yet finished ; we have a long future before
us. Do you fancy politics? I never heard you give
an expression on that point."
"I like a fight," said Chan.
"That's where most of 'cm b^n and end," said
his uncle cynically. "But it doesn't become a faineant
like me to sneer at an honest fighter. By the way, are
you fit to go out at all ? I have an appointment this
afternoon with Geers — ^the Liberal member who just
ovCioo^lc
THE SHADOW RIDERS s»9
resigned. Should you care to cotne? Or have you
sMnethiiig else on hand ?"
"Of course I can «)me. Thanks, awfully." While
they talked, Chan had been keeping a casual eye to
the window; 1^ a sUj^t change in his expression,
Wliittemore perceived that at last the youth saw what
he had watched for. He moved quietly to his nephew's
elbow.
They were gazing down into the r^on of badk-
jrards, six of them also exactly alike. In the nearest
a girl had suddenly appeared. Something about her
tall straight figure struck Wtuttemore as vaguely fa-
miliar; or perhaps it was the unconscious pride ex-
pressed in the turn of her head. She wore a lai^
blue apron and carried a wicker clothes basket, which
she set down while she re-strung a short clothesline.
Her dark hair was uncovered, and drawn back from
her clear oval face.
"Ah, I see," said Whittemore gently. "You have
an agreeable view from here." Chan started violently
and even blushed.
"Oh, chop it, Ross. The fact is, I was interested
because — because of something interesting that hap-
pened last night I haven't had much to do but look
out of the window, you know."
"She looks like an interesting young lady," said
Whittemore encouragii^Iy.
"I didn't say it was she that was interestiz^,"
growled Chan. "Fact is, I don't know her. But I was
looking out of this other window last ni^t," he
pointed to a window which, by reason of an angle in
tiie side-wall, looked to the street, "and I did see some-
thing queer."
Wliitteraore passed his hand over his eyes, remem-
bering last night also.
"Yes," he said, this time with no note of persiflage.
ovGooglc
30 THE SHADOW RIDERS
"I suppose — a good many thii^s — ^happened last night
But tell me."
"It was quite late," resumed Chan. "Must have
been just after midni^t A fool parade had waked
me up, and I was sitting in the dark smc^ing. A
cab stopped in front of the house, the next house, I
mean, and that girl got out Some man got out too,
and they talked a minute or so and finally she shook
him, kept him on the outside of the gate. She was
laughing at him, I think. He went away again in
the cab, and she pretended to go into the house, but
as soon as the cab was out of sight she came out again
and sat on the porch steps. The moon was up, you
remember, and it was rather a splendid night I'd
have gone and sat out there with her, for half a
cent But she didn't offer me one; didn't know I
was watching. I suppose I had no business to, but
Lord, it was almost an excitement to me, after the
way I've been living here. So we both just sat
around — and then I heard some one coming up the
street; those board sidewalks, you know. I thought
I'd guessed it then. ... I tried to make myself go
away from the window, but I didn't And — it was a
woman came. She was walking fast, looked as if she
meant to go right by. She saw Miss Johns just as
she got opposite "
"Miss Johns?" said his uncle. So he had seen
her. . . . She was pinnii^ up clothes by now, mys-
terious white garments ; her uplifted arms threw her
into a strong and graceful pose. Both men still
watched her.
"Oh, I heard her name quite a while ago, from n^
landlady. As I was saying, the other woman saw
her, sitting there in the moonlight and she gave a
little shriek and just wilted. Fainted. Now what do
you make of that? Maybe she was only startled. So
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 31
was Miss Johns, but I admired her commonsense. She
dashed out and picked up the other one in her arms.
Quite a load, I should think. . . . I've carried a girl
myself, and it's not such a lark as it sounds. . . .
Carried her right into the house. I saw the lights go
up in the sittingroom — I guess it's the sittingroom.
You couldn't have pried me away from the window
then. I watched for about half an hour, and they
both came out ag»n. Miss Johns didn't seem to want
the other one to go, but she would. Went off at that
quick walk again. Miss Johns went in, and the lights
were turned off. Now what do you make of that?"
"I don't know," said Whittemore. Yet he felt as if
he must be stupid, as if he should have known. "Could
you see what die other woman looked like?"
"No. I should say she was youi^, that's all. But
that's why I was rubbering just now. Oh, hang
it " He retreated from the window in confusion.
Miss Johns had looked up suddenly, intercepting his
earnest gaze and returning it with steady eyes. She
appeared to be amused.
"I should say," remarked Whittemore, "that the
yout^ lady is learning your habits. Ah, she's going
in — by the way, is she a maid over there?"
"No, she's not," said Chan, appearing almost irri-
tated. "She does something or other in the Recorder
office — circulation department. . . ."
Something in his uncle's eye, rather quizzical than
minatory, caused him to break off in utter and unex-
pected confusion.
"You must have been reading 'Who's Who,' " said
the older man, and went on mercifully. "By the way,
I have to meet Geers in an hour, and I have to send
some tel^rams first If you like, well call for you
here with a car in about that time. And meantime,
don't consider your decision is made in the matter of
ovCiooglc
3a THE SHADOW RIDERS
staying here. Take time. As long as you like. Walt
till you're really on deck again. I should be sorry
to crowd you into anything distasteful."
"Nothing you'd like me to do would be distaste-'
f ul," said Chan, with almost painful earnestness. "I've
often wished I could do something for you, Ross.
You've been so decent — darned sight more of a friend
than a relative — I owe you a good deal "
Whittemore was genuinely surprised and wanned.
He had not the faintest idea what Chan thotight he
owed him — the boy had spent his own money on his
protracted and rather inconsequent education, and
had not yet needed to come to him for any help, not
even to be extricated from the usual "scrapes" of the
callow age. Whittemore would have been almost
staggered had he known that it was because of Chan's
admiration for his uncle's breeding and conduct of
life there had been no such scrapes. His uncle was
his unconscious ideal of a gentleman. It was a sur-
vival of the days of his very small boyhood, when
he had expended his hero worship on the debonair
young man who was never too busy or preoccupied
with the grave concerns of age to hear his confidences
and solve his problems. It never occurred to him
later to consider ungraciously that his uncle had no
need to be busy at any time. The fixed star kept its
place. In the light of it, Chan had tried to be neither
a cad nor a rowdy. But this was the nearest he had
ever come to expres^ng the feeling.
"Delirious," said Whittemore, with great gravity.
"So sad — a relapse at this stage. I wonder, ought I
to trust you with a razor ? And yet, the need is tir-
gent."
"Oh, get out. I've been raising whiskers to kill time.
It's the only interest I've bad in life— barring the
window."
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 33
He applied himself to a search of his dressing case
for the needed articles, and Whittemore departed.
It was without ulterior motives that Herrick went
to the window again. He merely desired a good light
for the delicate operation in view, and it was not
until his lean cheeks were properly shaven and he
had finished rubbing the powder on and o£F that he
looked out again. A breeze had come up and played
with the curtains. It also toyed brazenly with the
articles Miss Johns had exposed to view in the neigh-
bouring back yard. The line swung back and forth
merrily, and one of the poles which supported it de-
veloped a rakish list to port With idle concern, Chan
watdied it s^^ging and jerking until the thought pene-
trated to his mind that yet a little morq and those
snowy banners would be trailing in the dust. And
a very nice girl would have several hours' work to
do over again. . . . From force of habit in tending
his health, Chan hurled himself into an overcoat (un-
doubtedly he needed it more than he did a collar),
and charged downstairs to the rescue. He might have
called Mrs. Thompson, his landlady, but Chan always
acted first and thought afterward in an emergency.
There was no more than the rudiments of a fence
between the yards. Chan caught the pole at its
last drunken lurch. And then he was quite at a loss
what to do with it I It needed re-setting and tamping
down. All he could do was to hold it. He did bold
it, like the standard bearer of a forlorn hope, and
kmked about wildly for rescue. To brace against the
freshening wind he was obliged to stand with his
bade to the house, so he did not see Miss Johns until
she was at his elbow ; indeed, he heard her first, and
for the first time.
"Noble youth I" she said. "Oh, I beg your pardon,
I didn't mean to be so idiotic I meant, thanks ever
ovCioogIc
34 THE SHADOW RIDERS
so much. Millions of thanks." Her enunciation was
quick and clear. Her voice was rather high, but
without a sharp note in it, expressing gaiety and cour-
age and a sincere spontaneity. It was evident she could
not resist the humour inherent in any situation, and
she was now more embarrassed than he because she
had yielded to that element of the absurd in her very
first words. It still glimmered in her eyes. They
were the mysterious colour of water in shadow, de-
fined, with the clear sharp line seen in a good Japanese
print, by fine black lashes. And her short upper lip,
which was of the tint and texture of a pale clove
pink, struggled with a smile.
"I only done my duty, ma'am," returned Chan,
restoring her to composure by playing up. "Now
what's the next move?"
She cast a considering eye on the situation. "I
can fix it Hold on just another minute." She deftly
untied the line and walked to the back porch, letting
out the slack end. A hook on a pillar served to fasten
it up again. Chan's post, in both senses, became merely
honorary. He followed her.
"Let me," he said. But she had already knotted it.
"Just as much obliged," she said. "Now I'm
afraid youll catch cold ; and your beautiful red slip-
pers are getting spoiled."
They were very red, of fine morocco, and distinctly
intended for privacy.
"Oh, I'll go," he said discontentedly. No one ever
accused Chan of shyness with women. "Never mind ;
I'm used to ingratitude. Say, lady, don't you want a
handy man to make that pole firm?"
"Well, yes. But we need some one to fix the fence
more; any one can get through it now." Chan's
mouth actually fell open, and Miss Johns, after one
berok effort at gravi^, loosed her laughter over him.
ovCiooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 35
He bad to join her ; he enjoyed a good riposte as well
as any man.
"I beg your pardon," he said at last. "I do really.
I know [ prestuned. And — and so I'd like to presume
again. Do you know that I haven't a soul in the
world to t^ to except my landlady? And my
name is "
"I know your name, Mr. Herrick. And you've got
your uncle to talk to. Did you imagine I wouldn't
know? I have a landlady too. But I really do not
think you were presumptuous — and I do think you'll
catch cold." She did not run away, qtute, but her
swift, graceful gait took her within the house before
he could formulate an answer, or decide for himself
just what she meant . . . about his being presumptu-
ous. He went in to finish dressing, and consider the
matter.
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CHAPTER III
THIS was on a Saturday afternoon, else Lesley
Johns would have been at her desk in the
Recorder oSice, instead of playing the part of
the maid in the nursery Thyme. Not that she felt
at all like any one in any rhyme. A comparison with
Nausicaa herself would not have reconciled Lesley
to what only necessity could enforce. Not even if she
had known exactly who Nausicaa was. Lesley de-
tested domestic tasks, and washed her own apparel
from the most utilitarian of motives.
For once, however, she had been barely conscious
of her occupation. An undercurrent of sorrowful yet
excited retrospection was carrying away her thoughts,
fixing them firmly on the night previous — until she
caught Chan Hernck watching her from his window.
Then a certain annoyance and embarrassment super-
vened, mingled with some shy gratification. All of
this was prompted by the most feminine of motives.
For, though she knew it was absurd to suppose he
would observe such a detail at the distance, she was
painfully aware that her hands were roughened by
the water and the wind. Lesley hated her hands. They
were strong, and not small. Her feet, which were
of the same type, also infuriated her. Lesley was not
vain at all; she was merely sensitive to beauty and
its defects. Not vanity, but experience, had warned
her suddenly that she was under observation. She
had learned to expect that bored countenance with
the cheerful eyes, ambushed behind the white muslin
curtains opposite, following her movements with can-
36
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 37
did interest To deny that she was reciprocally in-
terested would be to deny that she was young, fem-
inine, and human. In fact, she enjoyed drawing Chan's
gaze, and one might put it down to a sense of justice
that she feared he mi^t not extract an equal pleasure
from it. She was very certain that it did not add
to her pleasure to look at her own hands and feet.
Still, he m^ht not be so finicky.
Before Chan's close-cropped brown poll at the win-
dow had diverted her attention, she had been mentally
going over, again and again, the events of the preceding
night, election night. It would be a long time before
she forgot that particular night Her life had been
unduly monotonous for one of such spirit, and for
once the prayer of her heart had been answered ; things
had happened.'
She had stayed late at the office purposely, sitting
in the newsroom and watching the returns come in.
The managing editor was rather a friend of hers.
When the issue was no longer in doubt, and the room
was BO thick with tobacco smoke that Lesley could
hardly see, she went out, meaning to go directly home
after a glimpse of the crowds on the street. And
there, just as she would have turned on her heel to
go. Jack Addison had caught her.
She could not remember where she had met Addison
first Probably in the office. More than once he had
come in on a transparent pretext and hung over her
desk, bringit^ her a flower or bonbons — anythii^ too
small for her to refuse. But what possessed her to
relax her rule of snubbing him this night . . . ?
For she knew all about Jack Addison ; Burrage need
not have wondered. He had a wife, living uptown,
while he inhabited gay bachelor chambers in the Car-
hart Blodc; he had a little girl, too, who stayed with
her mother. Also, he had money. Some decency 00
ovGoo^lc
38 THE SHADOW RIDERS
doubt he also possessed, because he never explained
just why his wife was uptown alone. Of course that
reason might not be to his 9wn credit, but no one
ever saw any tears in Mrs. Addison's eyes for his
absence.
Their domestic affairs formed one of the most
piquant staples of local gossip, though neither of
them ever contributed any items thereto. Across the
border, such a state of affairs would have presaged
divorce, but divorce is not simple in Canada.
However that might be, Lesley had simply chosen
to fot^et. There was something in the air, perhaps
an emanation from the febrile mind of the crowd,
that made her reckless. She wanted some one to
laugh with. And Jack Addison was always gay.
"Do you think it's safe for you here alone?" he
had said to her suddenly over her shoulder, while
she stood looking up at the bulletin board. But h«
did not find her at a loss.
"I think the crowd will protect me," she returned,
eyeing him demurely to point her words.
"Ain't you a " He had the grace to pause.
"A what?" she enquired, thereby givit^ him per-
"A charmit^ vixen/' he finished. "That's right; I
like to see your eyes flash. Did you know you've
got the queerest, prettiest eyes — and I want to talk
to you. That old cat at the next desk to yours is
always listening at the office."
"You are taOcing," she reminded him.
"Will you be nice?" he asked anxiously.
"I am nice," she assured him. "Very nice, don't
you think?" And she preened herself wickedly in
his admiring gaze; so light and straight tn her severe
blue serge suit and the big hat that struck a sharp
feminine note by contrast and drew a line of shadow
ovCiooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 39
just at the et^ of her kissing rooath above the firm,
ivory-white chin.
"I'll tell you what I think if you'll come out for
just fifteea minutes in my car. Will you? It's cmly
around the comer; I've been driving sheep to the
slaughter in it all day — voters to the polls, I mean.
I want you to reward me for it"
"Nobody voted for me," she reminded him, bub-
bling into a laugh.
"I did," he said. "I do now. Miss Johns, do yoa
want to entirely waste a night like this? Please —
pretty please — I'll sit up and b^^ " It was just
then that Burrage called to him, and he resolutely
stopped his ears. For he almost thought she was
coming, and when Burrage interrupted them, he al-
most Uiought she had gone. It certainly was not his
pleading carried the day; he had not time to begin
again when she tilted her chin at him and satd :
"Will you be nice?"
"Honour bright" A man of impulse and emotion
can always sound sincere, because he generally is stU'
cere — at the moment. Lesley was sick of being pru-
dent, of living out copybook maxims about industry
and thrift and proprie^. Fifteen minutes . . .
could she not steal just fifteen minutes from one leaf
of the copybook?
"I'll go," she said.
"Good." He tucked her arm into his and bore her
away with mighty strides. The little motor, a light
but powerful roadster, was hardly a block away; the
engine had not been stopped. Some one had just
stepped out of it They were off with magic ease.
Lesley caught her breath and looked at her com-
panion.
"Do you know," she said, "I've never been in an
automobile before."
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40 THE SHADOW RIDERS
"Why, you poor child t" He was positively scan-
dalised. "You shall have a ride every night."
"Oh, no." On that point she was quite decided.
"Never again. So this once I'd like you to go as
fast as ever you can. I want to see what it's like."
Also, she wanted him to have something to do. She
was having a fearful joy of her adventure — for he
broke all speed laws instantly in his desire to carry
out her wishes — and she did not want it spoiled. To
a certain extent, Lesley saved her emotions; she al-
ways preferred just enough tcJ a surfeit.
They were at the bridge and climbing the Mts»on
Hill in an incredibly brief time ; he took advantage of
the slowing on the heavy grade to resume his con-
versation.
"Where do you want to go ?"
"Around by the other bridge and back through the
East end of town," she s^d promptly. That would
keep them close to the dty, which seemed to her
desirable.
"Just as you say. I'm going to show you how nice
I can be, and if you tell me to get out and stand on
my head on the hood, I'll do it I ttiought I'd never get
a chance to speak to you."
"Why did you want to speak to me?" she asked
incautiously, simply because no woman on earth can
resist asking that question of at least one man.
"Why?" Now he thought of it, he was rather
stumped himself. It was always like that ; he followed
his impulses without ever slipping to leam whither
they would take him. His enthusiasm about doing
as he pleased was really refreshing. "I don't know —
because I wanted to. Don't you do what you want to?"
he enquired.
"I don't think women can, much," she said. "I know
I can't. Of course I am now." He turned to her,
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 41
his daric, eager, handsome face soddcnlj altgfat.
"Thanks," he said.
"But we can't, just the sanw," she repeated finnljr.
"Dwi't yon know it? Honour bri^t again?"
"Oh," he said, rather harassed. She was making
him think. He preferred to feeL And she could make
him feel — he didn't know exactly what, but reckless
— and decent. Any way she chose; that was it. If
only she'd choose But she wanted him to stop
and think, whether women could do as they pleased
— say, if they pleased as he did
She succeeded in making him think, and of some-
thing he wished to forget. It had left a had taste
in his mouth.
"No, I suppose you can't I've just seen it tried.
Say, diMi't talk about it"
"About what?"
"CMi, you couldn't guess. Just a girl that did
what she wanted to. Something you'll never hear
about"
Now Lesley, althou^ she knew very few people
out«de the immediate drcle of her work and the
house where she lived, did hear about a great many
things. The managing editor had a penchant for
gossiping with her; he knew her discretion. It ex-
ceeded his own. Sometimes she had difficulty in re-
straining his confidences; the nature of them was
not always highly correct Her mind went throi^
a process not unlike joining the links of a chain, at
Addison's allusion. It was because he lived with
Garth, of course, that she got the connection ; a con-
nection with some obscure matter, only vaguely hinted
at, but carrying two names, very definite and dear.
"Maybe I have heard," she said. "She has red hair,
hasn't she J" Immediately, of course, she r^retted it.
She mast be mad, to talk to him so I
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43 THE SHADOW RIDERS
"Good heavens, who told you ?" He almost ran over
the cutbank ed^
"No one told me. I don't know anything," she said
quickly.
"How many people know it?"
"No one knows. . . . Everything comes to a news-
paper office. I'm sorry. Can't you forget I spoke?
I'm awfully sorry. I hate myself." The distress in
her voice touched him. "I am dreadful. And I don't
believe there is anythii^ to know."
"Yes, there is — everything." Apparently the whole
town knew it, so he did not mind, now. He had
never mentioned it to a soul ; Burrage knew because
nominally Garth was in Buirage's employ, and had
betrayed himself when he got leave to go away. And
while Addison didn't want to think about it, by some
curious inversion of mental processes he did want
to talk about it The thing burnt him ; it made him
ashamed, and he wanted to get it off his mind.
"Don't, please," she begged. "I don't want to hear,
I only heard a hint, and from only one person, and I
was the only one heard it. Now, we came out to be
cheerful, didn't we?"
That was enough; he said no more. His amazing
volatility even enabled him to forget it all in five min-
utes, and remember only her. She was the most ex-
hilarating creature he had encountered in weary
months. There was a morning freshness about her.
Though he forced her to play the ancient game, she
put a new flavour into it. His shoulder touched hers
as they sat, but she managed to keep him at a meta-
phorical arm's length. In the bottom of her heart
she wished herself well out of it, but she knew better
than to say so. And at least he still kept the letter
of the contract, and also the route she had specified.
She drew a quick breath of relief after (hty had
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 43
crossed die lower bridge and were again within the
far boands of town, the old town that antedated the
railroad and had gathered about the Mounted Police
barracks.
"I ought to be at home," she said. "I am so tired,
and sle^f, and I have to work to-morrow."
"Can't we go up over Crescent Hill?" he coaxed.
But she was firm ; only for one nerve-rackii^ moment
she did not know but he would once more do what
he wanted. His hands seemed visibly undecided on the
wheel; and it was really that indecision, leading him
to jam a lever unthinkingly, that stalled them. They
were certainly stalled; the motor stopped dead. He
got out and tinkered about, and it did no good.
"And I'm so tired," she repeated pathetically,
"III get you home," he reassured her. "Wait a
nunute." The sound of wheels approached then ; he
scrutinised the vehicle through the uncertain moon-
light, and finally hailed it. "Got a passenger. Cap?"
It was one of the town's venerable cabs, of which
there were three. The driver pulled up, chuckling.
"Naw," he said. "Want a lift?"
"Oh, we do," cried Lesley, and positively ran for it.
Addison opened the door for her, and spoke to the
driver: "Drive to "
"To ' — Fourth Avenue," cried I-esley insistently,
^ving her own address. The driver nodded, and Addi-
son ste;^^ in after her. It was not entirely dark
within; a ray of moonlight fell across their faces.
She watched him, through her eyelashes, her face very
composed.
"May I smoke?" he asked abruptly, and struck a
match. The light of it was reflected from his dark
eyes, making little points of flame in them ; his hands
shook a trifle, and he said something under his breatfi.
Lesley knew there was nothing to fear, but she wanted,
ovCiooglc
44 THE SHADOW RIDERS
desperately, to be able to look back on this and smile;
to keep it just gay, with no more than enough daring
for a spice. She was only a girl And life had been
rather ungenerous to her.
"Will you come again?" he asked, leaning toward
her. There was something, her honesty whispered,
that attracted her in him, a genuine magnetism. She
felt it, as if it were an aura about him.
"I don't know." She did know; she would not
But Lesley was bom clever in some ways. "Of course,
if it had been any one but yoti. ... I can trust yotu
You've been nice. Thank you." They were getting
nearer her house all the time, was the undercurrent of
her thought.
It was true that she had some power «ver him. He
leaned back, looked out of the window, and said some-
thing commonplace. Then, in ten minutes or so, the
driver drew up; they had reached their destination.
Addison helped her out. She felt the warmth of his
clasp through her gloves. He followed her to the
gate, and she slipped through and latched it against
him, laughing a little because the suspense was ended.
"You didn't say when you'd come again," he re-
minded her.
"Because I can't — ever. Good-bye."
■ "Lesley," he cried. *Tfou little cheat! No, don't
go!"
"Your promise," she reminded him. "Mrs. Cran-
ston will hear, and it's so awfully late. Oh, you did
promise I And I didn't. And I never said you could
call me Lesley," she ended with severity.
"And I never said I wouldn't," he retorted. Then
she coolly reminded him he was keepit^ the cab
waiting.
"I had a lovely tim^" she added sweetly. "Now
good-bye."
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 4$
A man may hardly go and pound on a respectable
householder's door at midnight in pursuit of a lady
who laughs at him, no matter what his feelings. Ad'
disott got into the cab and rolled away. He was near
his own rooms before he remembered that he had
a guest By that time of course he did not have a
guest And what he said to Hariy Garth would need
an unexpurgated edition.
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CHAPTER IV
IT was not until she was sure he was out of eye-
shot that Lesley ventured out ag;am. She had
meant to go straight to bed, but the night was
too exquisite, and while there are many such delight-
ful intervals in the highly variable climate of Alberta,
they are mostly brief. An hour can witness in-
credible changes, from winter to summer or back
again. It is probably the most irritating climate in
the world, though extremely healthy. A stock joke
of the country is that one should never go out without
both an overcoat and a fan.
This night the moon was nearly full, and a great
stillness prevailed. In the thin dry air of that alti-
tude the moonlight is most brilliant and clear, cast-
ing shadows that look like black velvet and making
the whole earth pale where it falls. Lesley liked
night, and the moon; it gave her imagination scope,
and she sometimes crept out very late, when her nar-
row room became too painfully symbolic of her nar-
row life, and escaped from the town to walk up the
river. A little island beyond the power plant, reached
by a bridge over the fliune, she often explored almost
by sense of touch. But to-night she had had enough
of movemenL She only wanted to sit quietly and
dream, and she fell into an unconsciously serene and
statuesque pose, her hands clasped about her knees
and her face upturned. A ghost of a smile clung about
the comers of her mouth.
At sound of the footsteps which had drawn Chan
Herrick's attention, she frowned and was of a mind
46
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 47
to go inside. She was aware that it kwlced odd for
her to be sitting on the steps so very late, like a
prod^fal locked out But perceiving it was a woman
who approached, she sat stiU. And when the solitary
figure, starting violently at sight of her, screamed
faintly and dropped to the sidewalk, Lesley found
herself singularly self-possessed. She saw the start
of surprise and had previously realised the unusual-
ness of herself being there; she felt guilty as of a
social stupidity and ran to the gate as much in con-
trition as alarm. The strange woman's hat had been
disarranged by her fall and her hair escaped; in the
pale lif^t it had ahnost the colour of blood, and her
face was dead white. Lesley slipped an arm under
her shoulders, raised the prostrate form deftly, and
kicking the gate open with her foot, went up the short
walk with stumbling speed. She recognised Eileen
Conway instantly and her mind was in a strange jum-
ble, in which one thought alone was clear, that it
would be unpardonable to let any one else see the
girL Certainly not Mrs. Cranston, in whose house
Leslqr lived. How she would chatter I
Fortunately Lesley had left the door unlatched. She
pushed that open with her shoulder, and found her
way in the dark to the sofa in the sittingroom, where
she dropped Eileen with a gasp of relief. Her arms
ached. She got a glass of water from the kitchen
before it occurred to her to put on the light Eileen
was still unconscious when the light revealed her ; she
lay on the sofa awkwardly, one arm drooping to the
floor, her head thrown back and her pretty throat
curved. Still with the instinct for secrecy, Lesley
held her handkerchief ready to clap over the girl's
mouth, while she drenched her brow and hair. She
had never met Miss Conway, though she had seen
her often.
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48 THE SHADOW RIDERS
But Eileen did not scream, nor make any sound at
all, when her dark blue eyes opened slowly. She
looked at Lesley, in a bewildered way, and dropped
her lids again. Then she put up her hand, as if to
brush away a fancy, and looked agwi.
"I thought you were dead," was her first extraordi-
nary utterance.
"^hy, no, I never was dead in my life," said Les-
ley. Her tongue had a habit of tripping over a situa-
tion and bringing forth strange speech to suit a
strange occasion. They matched eadi other for ab-
surdity. "I mean — I don't know what I mean, of
course. I don't understand."
Eileen was looking about the room, as if for some
familiar object to orient herself by. She saw none.
"Of course not ; what a stupid thing for me to say.
But I saw 3rou on the steps — didn't I see you on the
steps?" she broke off, as if testii^ her own sanity.
"Yes, I was on the steps. Don't move, please. Rest
a minute.*'
"I am quite all right, thank you. You brought me
in ? How good of you. ... I must explain that silly
speech. I saw you out there in the moonlight, and
your face was so white ; you were looking at the sky
and your eyes were half shut . . . and I thought of
a drowned person. ... I'd been over by the river.
The water is so dark. . . ." She was sitting up now,
and she shuddered. "You see ... I was think-
ing . - ."
Lesley felt cold. She reached impulsively and took
Eileen's hands in hers, holding them tight "You poor
girl," she said, her eyes suddenly wet.
"Don't," said Eileen. "Don't make me cry." But
she buried her face on Lesley's shoulder, with a
wrenching sob.
'Tton't cry, then," said Lesley soothingly. "Don't
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 49
do anything you dcm't wish to. Don't say anythii^
you would rather not."
"I am tired. I walked for hows — miles. I wanted
to get away. There's no place to go, is there? I
shall cry if you are kind to me. You ought not to be
kind to me. I don't deserve it." Lesley felt the tean
through her thin blouse.
"Nonsense; you never did anything to me," she
said distractedly. What could one say? She saw
this unhappy creature, looking at the midnight river,
longing for the silent obscurity of it, beaten by its
darkness and mystery and the stark loneliness of death,
walking for hours dogged by her own terrible and
despairing thoughts. It is only youth that can know
despair. Lesley held her close, rocked her to and fro.
'T)on't you mind," she said in a tender voice that
atoned for her meagre words. "Everything will be
all right after a while, I do understand."
"Do you?" said Eileen, lifting her wet face, that
seemed to harden into a mask. "Do you really know?
Does every one know about me?"
"I know your name — I've often seen you. No, I
don't think any one knows. I just guessed — indeed,
I don't know anything, except that you are miserable."
But Eileen's steady eyes a^ed, and got their answer
from Lesley's pitiful gaze.
"You do know," she said in a dull voice. And after
a long silence she added: "I thought I should kill
any one who knew. But I don't believe you're like
most people; it doesn't amuse you. The others will
pretend to be horrified and sorry, but they'll enjoy it
really. ... I remember the way we used to talk. . . .
And they'll all hear it soon. They always do. Only
I don't mind about you. ... I have to go home. I
won't apologise for bothering you ; that would be silly.
Did I have a hat?" She forced herself to a mechanicaJ
ovGooglc
so THE SHADOW RIDERS
courage, and pinned on her hat with steady hands.
But her eyes were sick and her mouth strained.
"m go with you," said Lesley.
"No— please. I promise you, I'll really go home.
Don't trouble; I've already failed . . . altogether. I
couldn't screw myself up to that jMtch twice. Nobody
can, i{ they're sane. And I'm quite sane, if I am a
— fool I" There was some bitterer word than that
on her tongue. Lesley felt Eileen's dark thoi^hts
about her like a cloud; an air of violence still clut^
to her. It was insistent, as if her frustrate deeds stiU
had spiritual form, and Lesley might have seen their
incorporeal shadows by opening the shutters of her
brain. It was a feeling she knew quite well, that of
standing by a curtain which a strong, uncertain wind
blew upon, giving her glimpses of things she could
not touch. But instead of making the tangible pres-
ence of things unreal, it illuminated them. Only she
could not see enough . . . and she feared seeing too
much. Nearer than that she could never define it.
Lesley's mind was of a balance both delicate and
strong; and her judgment of people was unerring.
She knew Eileen Conway now, and would always
know her, as well as if they had been close all their
lives. She disliked letting her go, but knew also that
a protest would be useless. Eileen would go. Some
things simply are so.
Had it not happened before, in lesser measure, Les-
ley would have been astonished how much she knew
of Eileen, and of Eileen's story. All she had heard
was of the vaguest, a word or two from CressweU —
the managing editor — of scandalous surmise, a sen-
tence from Jack Addison in confirmation of that bodi-
less rumour. Eileen had supplied the rest, and Eileen
had said nothing at all.
Lesley followed her to the door. With her hand on
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 51
die knob, Eileen turned suddenly. All her movements
were dramatic, but without vul^r emphasis ; she posed
now in the light streaming from the sittingroom, an
enigma of sad and imreluctant farewell, as if all that
had ha{q>ened were to be shut in behind her here and
she took nothing but memory with her, not even
hope. She was not 50 tall as Lesley, and of a rounded
slenderness, with fine hands and feet and the porce-
lain complexion that goes with her shade of hair. In-
deed, she was all a porcelain beauty, exotic in modem
tailored garb such as the dark suit she wore ; and her
veil, flung back, cast a shadow over her eyes.
"Would you — give me your hand?" she asked, al-
most coldly.
"Oh," said Lesley, wounded, and gave it.
"Don't say anything," said Eileen, her tones sud-
denly muffled. "I won't kiss you; I hate kisses. I
should have liked you if I'd met you before I
wonder if you would have liked me? I forgot; wlH
you tell me your name?"
"Lesley Johns. And I wish you would telephone
me in the morning, at the Recorder office. I know I
ought to go with you." But she knew Eileen wanted
to be alone again, to brace herself against something
she dreaded.
"Yes, I will telephone. I'm sorry I won't ever see
you again. I must hurry. I think my father — will
be — kwkiiig for me." Her face grew set and bitter
again. She went down the walk quickly, and Lesley
left her at the gate.
Lesley walk^ back into the house in a sort of
daze, and looked about with a start to see all the
lights still on. The clock, a cheap little brass thing
with a tawdry brass Cupid above it, was ticking nois-
ily, as if to call attention to the hour. Nearly one
o'clock I And if Mrs. Cranston had been awake and
ovGooglc
52 THE SHADOW RIDERS
listening — heavens, how she would talk, questioning
Lesley inanely in that drawling voice of hers. Lesley
switched off the light hastily and crept upstairs. She
was opening her own door, and thought she had es-
caped, when the drawling voice, thickened with sleep,
intercepted her.
"What time is it, Lesley ?"
"Oh, it's quite late ; I didn't notice," Lesley called
back mendaciously. Both women spoke in that half
tone one uses in the dead hours, liiey might waken
the baby.
"I thought I heard you talking down there," per-
sisted Mrs. Cranston. "I was too sleepy to get up
and see. IHd you bring some one home?"
"No. I fell over the cat, and talked to her for
quite a while," Lesley continued shamelessly. "She
wouldn't go out."
"Oh," said Mrs. Cranston. Silence supervened.
Lesley shut her door. It was one of Mrs. Cranston's
most annoying habits to sleep with her bedroom door
ajar, to miss nothing of any nocturnal activities c»i the
part of others. She thoi^ht Lesley "quite cracked" to
be such a prowler, and complained of interrupted re-
pose when Lesley, on pretence of raiding the pantry
— not always a pretence — would steal downstairs at
unseasonable hours. Nevertheless, she did not close
her door to keep out the sotmds.
Meditating on that exasperating characteristic of
the lady, Lesley slipped down from the mood of ex-
alted and romantic tragedy which the strange com-
ing of Eileen had induced. Her brain was fatigued
with too much activity, and she prepared for bed with
sleepy haste. Yet, though the mood had passed, Lesley
realised that it was not the extraordinary occasion,
the moonlight and the solitude that had induced it,
so much as some quality inherent in Eileen herself.
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 53
She was a romantic creature, whom even the most
sordid story could not strip of her glamour, nor tarnish
in her special character. The mere type of her beauty
— Lesley sighed over that desired gift — exempted her
from the common fate of dinginess, if not from the
common lot of suffering. Whatever she did, she
would be unusual, and would provoke as much wonder
as contempt. And she was yet very young and un-
formed, no more than nineteen, Lesley guessed, quite
rightly. Lesley was twenty-one. This while she did
her hair for the night, standing before the greenish
wavy mirror of her dresser, which forced an odious
comparison on her. The mirror did not do her justice,
nor did her deshabille ; there was a suggestion of the
classic about Lesley, or more exactly, the pseudo-
classic, and in petticoat and stays, of mere couttl and
cotton at that, she was sadly handicapped. She
hastened to put out the light and dismiss her mean
attire from her thoughts, which again followed after
Eileen, But that was too painful. Eileen would be
at home by now, facing her family. ... A shudder
of sympathy went through Lesley; she curled down
and buried her face in the pillow, and her heart was
hot with the sorrow of being a woman. She had to
forget that, or get no sleep, and she had to get some
sleep. There was always her work. The one looming
fact in Lesley's life was work, and had been for over
four years. Ixion's wheel may have been more painful,
for Lesley was an active creature, but it could have
been no more insistently the controlling factor.
There was no inclination left to think of Jack Addi-
son, The episode seemed negligible by comparison,
though perhaps rather common and silly. It dismissed
itself. And so, with her thoughts chasing themselves
in a circle, like a kitten after its own tail, she was
presently whirled into slumber.
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CHAPTER V
IT was natural that Eileen's name should spri:^ to
mind in Lesley Johns' first waking moment next
morning, to haunt her for days thereafter. The
spell was not exorcised even when Eileen kept her
promise and telephoned, perhaps because she said the
least possible — that she had reached home safely. Les-
ley could not refrain from asking: "Are you well?"
"Oh, well enough," replied the bodiless small voice
out of the void, and there was the ennui of despair in
the phrase. "Thank you again. Good-bye." And
that was all- Lesley himg up the receiver and went
back to her desk reluctantly. She wanted to do some-
thing, but it was very clear there was no further ac-
tion in her power. In the bald light of day, with the
prose of business droning about her, Lesley saw Kleen
not less real and appealing, but other facts loomed
equally substantial and suddenly inimical. She could
not take Eileen in her arms and carry her to tofety
metaphorically, as she had done in simple reality. She
wondered and wondered, during the morning at her
typewriter or talking to patrons over the counter, dur-
ing the afternoon while she struggled with sloppy soap-
suds and wet linen ; she wondered just how Eileen had
fared, and how much the truth had spread. It made
her Shrink again to think of the gossips tearing that
pretty thing to horrid fragments and holding them
up to the public gaze. If any one knew what nmwur
was current, of course Cresswell would, but a scrupu-
lous delicacy prevented her seeking information of
him, because in a sense she had Eileen's confidence.
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 55
So, sitting before an open fire in the livingroom on
the Monday night following, she still turned over the
same unprofitable thoughts, even while she tucked her
feet under her skirt and scrutinised her hands with
hostility and disgust. She had powdered her hands,
and polished the nails — but that did not make them
any smaller I "And he can't help remembering bow
red they were," she thought hopelessly.
She was waiting for Chan Herrick. He had bra-
zenly waylaid her on the intervening Sunday. She
had seen no occasion for flight, and because Chan
was not at all stupid with women, it had somehow
arrai^ed itself, without her invitation or his asking,
that he might caJl. His uncle, he explained, had a
board meeting to attend, leaving Chan at loose ends.
But for Eileen's persistent image, Lesley would of
course have been thinking only of her expected guest,
with the faint pleasurable thrill any normal girl feels
when a new man, a possible conquest, swims into her
ken, voluntarily. Of course any young man is a pos-
sible conquest, though Lesley would have mentally
excoriated herself had she overheard her inner self
indulging in such speculations. But Nature laughs
in her sleeve at all of us, and gets her own way whether
we approve of her — and ourselves — or not
So Lesley only gave him half her thoughts now, as
she poked Uie hre and looked at her hands and repro-
bated her feet. When she looked at her own hands
she thought of Eileen's, and when she rose and anx-
iously patted her hair she wondered absently why
it was not a splendid red, and was sad because she felt
the bitter ashes of shame falling on that other charm-
ing head. Chan's ring actually startled her, and she
was breathless when ^e let him in.
"Did you run downstairs!^' he asked her teasingly
as he put his hat and coat and stick on the yeOovr
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56 THE SHADOW RIDERS
oak "hall diair" without which no respectable Amer-
ican household is complete.
"No, I was thinking," she said. "It's quite an un-
accustomed exercise, so I puff and pant over it like
we did over our first writing. Don't you remember
how you used to write with your entire being when
you were at the stage of 'That is a cat'? Or were
you an infant prodigy? Come in; this is only the
hall." The inexorable kindness of the gods permits U9
to latig^ when we are young, though the whole world's
heart is broken.
"I do — and I wasn't" He followed her into the
sittingroom, in which there was not even a last vapour
of tragedy. Tragedy cannot long inhabit the sitting-
rooms of comfortable respectability. It will hardly
survive a green velvet "parlour suite" and a red carpet,
and crayon protraits of immediate ancestors, and a
centre table with a smug calf-bound volume of Tenny-
son enthroned thereon. This room had all of these.
The fireplace mitigated the horror of it, truly, and there
was a brown leather Morris chair and some growing
plants also, so it was habitable. Though Herrick
had known luxury most of his life, being merely a
man he thought this well enough, seeing only the
chair and the fire. Lesley had had few opportunities
of comparison.
"How jolly this looks," he s^d, drawing a chair to
the fire for her. Winter had pounced on them again
overnight, and a sharp North wind shook the window
casings. "I'm much obliged to your clothesline pole.
You don't know what it's like being a strainer in a
strange land, do you. Miss Johns ?"
"I should. I've only been here a year, and I haven't
many friends yet"
"Are you an American — a Yankee, then? I wish
you would tell me about yourself. I have invented
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 57
several histories for yoa, iriiile I watched you out
of my window Did you know I watched you out
of my window? I daresay you'll think me a dtedcy
b^gar, but "
"But you had nothing else to do," Lesley lathed.
*^ou tell me one of tfie histories and Pll adopt h.
I have no history."
"A ha[^ woman ?" be quoted. She had never heard
the epigram ; she lifted her eyebrows and shook her
head.
"No — oh, I don't know. Anyway, I'm not an Amer-
tcan ; I'm an abori^e."
"A what?" This time it was he who did not fol-
low.
"I was bom here. Isn't that what it means ? Not
precisely here, but in this province, in a little sod-
roofed shack near Fort Macleod. That's all my story.
I was bom ; I am here. You tell me yours."
"Perhaps that is why you are different," he mused.
"Not like the Eastern girls, I mean." He pondered
her frankly with his merry grey eyes. Lesley never
flushed ; her white skin, clear and opaque, was always
without a tinge of colour. But she felt hot inwardly.
She thought he was making comparisons with the
girls he must have known. Girls who could be always
dainty, who did not have to work — and act as their
own latmdry maids 1 Actually she did him an in-
justice. He was wondering if she were a Western
type ; an absurdity to expect, of course, in one genera-
tion, but he was still at the age of generalisations.
And he thought he had seen the type before, but
could not place it He had, in foreign art galleries,
in the paintings of an era as remote from Lesley as
die poles. The colouring was different, and he failed
to identify them. Black, brown and ivory, her hair
and eyes and skin, are subtler shades than the pinks
ovGooglc
58 THE SHADOW RTOERS
snd blues and gold Wattcau and Boucher and Frago-
nard loved. But Lesley's straight, delicate, rather long
nose, her narrowed oval face, small dove-carnation
coloured mouth, not curved to a bow but with a slight
mischievous lift to the short upper lip as if a smtle
lurked just behind it, and the shape of her brow,
which became best the low soft roll of hair affected by
La Pompadour — all these might have belonged to one
of the ladies of Louts the Magnificent or his unspeak-
able successor. So too her long graceful limbs, the
low breast and straight round waist.
But she wore a walking dress of shabby black serfe
with a high white lawn collar ; and lacking the voluptu-
ous elegancies which forever surrounded those others,
without powder on her hair nor a graine de beaute to
accentuate that fascinating upper lip, she might have
been only some stray descendant filtered through a
Puritan alliance. Without the accessories and the
glamorous rose and gold she hardly passed for pretty.
Herrick, for instance, thought she was certainly a joUy
girl, and had nice eyes. In that Jack Addison had only
paid her her due. Her eyes were rare, long and havii^
that shadowy depth which is half a trick of Nature's,
gained by dropping the eyelid below the edge of the
iris. One thought them brown under the black lashes,
but they were of two colours, brown and grey alternat-
ing like the sections of a complementary colour disk.
But Herrick could hardly look close enough to per-
ceive that. Besides, he was remarkably interested in
the sod-roofed shack. One read about that sort of
thing, but it never seemed real. He had lived in a
tent, of course. Perhaps a sod-roofed shack would
be more fun. Better, at least, than an igloo.
"Tell me more," he urged. "Why, I never saw a
sod-roofed shack. Is it preserved for posterity ? How
did you like it?'*
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 59
"I don't believe I ever thought much of it at the
time," she said. "No, it isn't preserved ; shingles have
replaced its ancient glories. It did have advantages,
of course ; it was a real roof-garden in summer. Per-
fectly enormous simflowers grew up there. But one
can't have everything; it leiked. One leak always
leaked on the middle of my bed. There's a special
arrangement of Providence about that, I understand,
though it's a trifle amb^ous, isn't it? I remember
so distinctly how my father used to get up if a run-
stonn came in the ni^t, and poke his head in at the
door of the lean-to where we children slept, and say :
'Arise, take up thy bed and walk.' And we did. Did
you ever hear a leak falling into a milkpan at three
a. m., when you were particular^ sleepy? Ah, you
have missed a great deal."
"I begin to suspect I have," he said regretfully. "Do
go on. Does your father still live at Fort Macleod?"
"My father is dead," said Lesley, her clear, abrupt
voice striking a chord of singular pathos. It made
the fact so bald and simple and inescapable.
"I am sorry," said Herrick gently. "So is mine.
■My mother too."
"My mother is alive," ssud Lesley, looking at htm
with her dark eyes wellii^ with sympathy. "But she
isn't very strong. She lives with my brother now;
I have only one."
"I have none. 'I am all the daughters of my father's
house,' also. Ross is all my family, in fact. But
tell me more about the sod-roofed shack and your
non-existent history."
He saw he had touched on a sorrowful subject, and
wished to lead her away from it And he had not
ceased to be interested.
"But how can I, if it's non-existent? And I haven't
unearthed the secret of your birth yet," she parried
0. Google
6o THE SHADOW RTOERS
gaily. "Let's tell us all about ourselves at oace, so
we can be comfortably bored with each other here-
after. B^in, please."
She had it out of him that he had been horn in
Hamilton, had been schooled in Montreal, in Munich
and in Switzerland — it reminded her of Laurie in
"Little Women" to hear of his schooldays at Vevay.
That was due to Whittemore, who had spent a long
time on the Continent following the cessation of his
scarce b^un career and another event whereof Chan
had never heard. Chan had come back to a Canadian
coll^, sauntered back to Germany to sample Heidel-
berg and decided that hairsplitting over the cosmogony
did not suit his temperament, returned to Montreal
and played at banking a Uttle while to please Whitte-
more, dropped that and attached himself to a Ca-
nadian arctic exploring party to shoot a musk ox —
which he missed — and had come home again to suc-
cumb ingloriously to a Quebec winter and go into
exile in the West
"Isn't that a record of uselessness ?" he mused. His
uncle's words still gnawed at his consciousness. "Why,
look at you, a bit of a thing I could break in my hands"
— which was a touch of masculine vainglory hardly
justified of the facts — ^"and I bet you've done about
four hundred times as much real work. Do you like
it — ^what you're doing, I mean? You don't write, do
you?"
"No." She felt her confidence being drawn from
her against her will, for her secret ambitions, already
twice deferred, were precious to her, and she cher-
ished them with a hope that was half fear. "I want
to write. I'm the entire staff of the circulation man-
ager now. And I want to get a year or two of col-
lege before I begin to write. They might let me do
it here, but I'd rather wait." The rest she would not
0. Google
THE SHADOW RIDERS 6l
teD him, and he did not guess she was holding any-
thing back.
It was that when Lesley was sixteen her father, who
had promised she should go to coll^, had died, and
left his small family with a smaller estate, a heavy
burden on his young son and delicaiQ wife. Of the
three, I^esley was the strongest and most capable, aAd'^''
for a year she had shared the manual labour of the
little ranch with Dick, quitting high school in mid-
term. Only because she could bring in more actual
cash had she gone to work in a lawyer's office in Mac^
leod. There she had saved and hc^>ed for two years,
and seen college rising above the horizon — whdi Dick
broke his Ic^, and the expenses of that and of hiring
a man for .the ranch and 'a thousand other unex-
pected items left her where she began. Now, by such
economies as Chan had seen, she dared to hope again.
"I want to be a journalist," she added in a defensive
tone. "Not a.^ really literary person, you know.
I like — things — happenings — yes, and people. And
newspapers. I will not write society news," she fin-
ished ferociously.
"You shan't," he said soothingly. "Youll be a fe-
male Greeley, a Stanley if you like; and I will be
a meek and lowly clerk in a black alpaca coat, with a
pen behind each ear. That is settled."
She surveyed him doubtfully, and was on the point
of telling him such a metamorphosis would be almost
miraculous, when the curtains in the arch beyond
which, like Italy over the Alps, lay the uncharted
r^on of the dming-room, parted softly, and Mrs,
Cranston appeared. She stood with a deprecating foot
advanced, smiling sleepily ; a thin, kitteny woman with
a chlorotic cwnplexion, velvet-brown eyes and a
pointed chin.
"Oh t excuse me," she said. "I didn't know you had
ovGooglc
6a THE SHADOW RIDERS
company, Lesley." The lie was so obvious tha£, even
though she did not know Mrs. Cranston had been lis-
tening behind the curtains for ten minutes, Lesley's
short upper lip disclosed her teeth in an exasperated
smile. Mrs. Cranston's ways always went against
the grain with her; she was too forthright and can-
did to like the other woman's feline stealth, her pas-
sion for petty deceit, her general air of satisfied sly-
ness. To be quite honest, she did not like her landlady
at all in the depths of her heart, but the arrangement
between the two was so mutually convenient they
never openly disagreed. And then Mrs. Cranston did
not dislike Lesley ; she did not dislike any one who did
not get in her way. Lesley was a convenience ; ei^,
she Sked Lesley. Mrs. Cranston did not need to keep
a kidger, Lesley lived with her because Mr. Cranston
was a commercial traveller, and his wife found it
lonely during his frequent absences. Lesley paid a
just simi, and provided her with company. Also,
she never objected to caring for the baby when Mrs.
Cranston wished to spend an evening out Lesl^
could not have got so much comfort and freedom any-
where else at a price within her means, and re-
proached herself for not being really fond of her
landlady hostess. So now she subdued her smile to
mere welcome and performed the needful introduction
as graciously as might be,
"Awfully cold, isn't it?" said Mrs. Cranston, seadng
herself deliberately and stretching her little feet to
the blaze. Lesley hastily drew her own pedal extrem-
ities under her skirt and throttled an unworthy suspi-
cion. Chan agreed that it was very cold.
"I'm so glad we've got acquainted at last," Mrs.
Cranston prattled on. "It's so dull here, especially
for Lesley; and I've often been sorry for you, too,
when I've seen you sitting up at your window like —
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 63
like What did you say he was like, Lesley? I
thought it sounded so funny."
"Mariana in the Moated Grange," said Lesley sulk-
ily. It annoyed her that Chan should know they had
talked him over. But Chan laughed, and she was
forced to join him.
"I suppose I did," he agreed. "Only I should have
been sitting in that quaint old baronial castle up-
town. Some one showed it to me the other day when
I was out with Ross. I thought it was an asylum,
but I am told it belongs to one of your leading
citizens."
"Oh, yes — the Vameys. We don't know them,"
sij^ed Mrs. Cranston. "They are awfully rich. But
I suppose you'll meet them now, through your uncle,
and then you'll forget all about us."
Lesley felt symptoms of imminent suffocation. She
wished benevolently that she could share them with
Mrs. Cranston — in short, that she might choke that
injudicious lady.
"Oh, no I" said Chan cheerfully. "I'm not a bit
proud." He was coaxing Lesley for another smile,
watching her out of the tail of a latching eye. She
would not be coaxed.
"Are you going to stay long?" asked Mrs. Cranston.
"Mrs. Thompson said she didn't know. You ought
to do well out here, though ; and I'm sure you took
ever so much better than you did when you came.
But I suppose you don't need to work."
The naivete of this amused him as much as it an-
noyed Lesley ; even her annoyance amused him. He
only thought Mrs. Cranston rather transparent and
provincial, and that she meant to be agreeable. He
would have felt a boor if he had tried to "draw"
her in her own house. So he yielded up all the in-
formation she desired, and she Ustened with rapt and
ovCiooglc
«4 THE SHADOW RIDERS
flattering attention. But now he had quite definitely
made up his mind to stay, and was going on the mor-
row to the Belle Claire offices to meet the manager,
with his imcle, though it might be some time before
he would actually commence work. On the whole,
he thought he should like living in the "jumping-off
place," and perhaps he had been unconsciously influ-
enced by the geniality of all Whittemore's acquaint-
ances. They had offered to put him up for the Qub,
and invitations had been instantly forthcoming to meet
the ladies of their families. Those he had politely
barged should be deferred to a future date; he did
not fancy posing as an invalid at social gatherings, and
had grown perhaps a little lazy in the matter of such
amenities, as is the barbarous nature of man when
left to his own devices. To step in next door and
talk to a girl who had already intrigued his curiosity
was a different matter to buckling on the armour of
dinner parties and exerting himself on behalf of bat-
talions of girls he had never yet laid eyes on. Be-
sides, he r^ly meant to work hard.
Geers, the retiring member to whom Whittemore
had introduced him, had made a strong impression on
Chan. It was not that there was anything very re-
markable about the man himself; he was merely
an intelligent, hardly brilliant young lawyer, with a
slowness of speech that might have been either
thoughtfulness or diffidence; the very opposite of
Folsom. What Chan could not forget was his age;
Geers was but little over thirty, and had resigned
political life from pressure of business. He told Chan
and Whittemore that he had not yet made enough
money for a competence, and meant to go back into
public life when financial circumstances permitted.
So there he was, very little older than Herrick, but
with a start made on two careers, and the prospect
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THE SHAIJOW RIDERS 65
of coatpaasing both. Truly, this was the country of
young men. Chan chafed under his own record of
idleness, the more because it was not too late. Most
of us resign ourselves very comfortably over a mat-
ter that cannot be mended. In ten years, had he
spent another ten years like the last, Chan would have
been resigned.
But he had been caught at the critical period. His
mind had fallen fallow from forced retrospection dur-
ing the days of his ilkiess. A seed of ambition, of
whatever kind, would sprout in it with astonishii^
vigour. The soil was ready. And, he rejected rather
shamefacedly, if he could not match Geers for parts,
he would write himself down a fool.
Mrs. Cranston naturally never got so far as that
in her catechism. All she learned was that he would
work for the Belle Claire Company, and look about
him for a time, and that he certainly would not n^lect
his new friends for newer. This gave her an oppor-
tunity to look at him coquettishly and expound the
novel theory that men are all alike.
"Aren't tfiey, Lesley?" she appealed.
"I haven't seen them all yet," said Lesley coldly.
"Amy, isn't that the baby crying ?" She rose and went
out Mrs. Cranston said, "No, I will go," but made
no move.
'Xesley*s such a nice girl," said Mrs. Cranston
plaintively. "But you know she has the most jealous
disposition; oh, yes, she's rather queer. Now, I
□ever was jealous in my life ; I say to Mr. Cranston
that I trust him, and I expect him to trust me. I
don't see why a married woman can't have men
friends, do you, Mr. Herrick? Of course, I haven't
any here; ever since we came the baby has taken
up all n^ time — but in Winnip^ — we came here from
Winnipeg — I was always getting flowers and choco- '
ovCiooglc
66 THE SHADOW RIDERS
lates. I tell Lesley her beaux aren't nearly so gen-
erous as mine were."
"You couldn't expect that," said Herrick gravely.
"I am sorry to have to leave your hospitable hearth,
Mrs. Cranston, but Ross may be waiting for me now;
he promised to come in if the board didn't keep him
too late. I wonder if Miss Johns won't say good-night
tome?"
"Oh, you mustn't mind her ; she is so funny," s»d
Mrs. Cranston easily, making no effort to call Lesley
as he hoped she would. "I'm sorry you have to go.
Do come again." And he would not have seen Lesley
at all if he had not purposely lingered in the hall get-
ting hia coat Mrs. Cranston came with him, to be
sure, but a coal fell out of the fireplace and she has-
tened back to save her rug and, just in time, Chan's
finesse was rewarded. Lesley appeared on the upper
landing, with a white bundle in her arms, her face very
gracious. Catching his eye, she laughed silently.
"Good-night," she called softly. "S-sh, don't slam
the door."
"May I come again ?" he hissed, with line dramatic
effect "It wasn't my fault, was it?"
"What wasn't?" Lesley breathed sweetly. "Yes, do
come. 'Bye." She disappeared. Chan called a hasty
good-night to Mrs. Cranston, and escaped.
L.esley was glad he had waited that moment. She
had been enjoying herself thoroughly until Mrs. Cran-
ston came, and now she felt she had been gauche,
perhaps even rude, and altogether he must think her
an idiot, only he evidently did not, so that was all
r^ht She went to her own room immediately to pre-
serve that agreeable impression from a post mortem
by Mrs. Cranston.
0. Google
CHAPTER VI
WHITTEMORE could only stay a week, but
he went away fairly well content He
thought he should probably return before
the coming summer was spent, and perhaps rusticate
at BanflE— in the million-dollar C. P. R. hotel— with
Chan up for the week-ends. And if by that time
Chan had not wearied of his task, Whittemore felt he
might even establish a pied-a-terre in town. After all,
he had no one but Chan, and too he was a little tired
of everything he was used to. His business interests
had long been tending westward; and his visit to Ed-
monton might bear fruit that would need careful gar-
dening. The negotiations he had opened were of the
most tentative nature as yet, but no serious obstacles
seemed imminent. A good deal of money would be
required for what he had in view, more than he could
or cared to raise himself. For that he meant to go to
Montreal.
The scheme also required close secrecy until tt was
matured, though under other circumstances such a
course might seem absurd. He was merely ptannii^
to organise a company and build a street-car line for
the city, a very natural outgrowth of the electric power
plant. But government ownership was in the air of
the West just then. A good many towns had already
taken over their lighting plants ; the province of Al-
berta owned all the telephone lines ; and there was talk
of expropriation of the grain elevators. There would
midoubtedly be opposition to a private corporation
buiMii^ and owning the street-car lines of the prov-
ovGooglc
68 THE SHADOW RIDERS
ince's largest dty, if that opposition were allowed time
to ripen. The city itself could hardly yet afford such
an enterprise ; it was already growing too fast for the
amateur financiers in the Council, so that they found
difficulty in extending their honding privil^es to keep
up with at}soIutely necessary expenditures. But that
would not matter, nor the fact that street cars were
utf;;ently needed for the city's expansion. The public
would object. Quite rightly, no doubt, Whitte-
more admitted, playing Advocatus Diaboli i^inst
his own interests. But there his interests were. They
were back of him, pushing him on. Business was his
chief amusement now that so many other amusements
had palled. He kept no office, and attended to his
own affairs in hts own good time, but he had insensibly
grown b> like the activity that had at Srst been forced
up(»i him.
So if he could build that road he would. Per-
haps it was the idea of building something that ap-
pealed to him. The desire to create is in us all. Some
part of it we satisfy with children, some with the house
wherein we live; an artist has his own peculiar joy;
a farmer acts as God's vic^erent, even. Ross had
none of these outlets ; he lived in a club, he had neither
wife nor child, and he only looked on and admired
the beauty that other men wrought. He had thought
himself content to be a spectator, and laughed now to
find that the dull prose of business had its charm.
He was half minded to put it all aside and go abroad
again, lest he harden into a mere money-making ma-
chine—but then there was Gian. Chan had kept him
in touch with much of life for fifteen years past.
So he left Chan with regret, which was mutual.
Another r^ret, which astonished him by its per-
sistence, concerned Eileen Conway. There was no
caie he would ask of her but Burrage, of course. But
ovGooglc
THE SHAIK)W RIDERS 69
if be bad asked the whole city, he would have learned
no more.
"She's gone," Burragc told him.
"But when— and where 7"
"I don't know. Jimmy Busldric said he saw her
taking the morning train East" The morning train
went at two a. m. "Her brother saw her off. Her
mother says Eileen's gone away to study music I"
There tfie tale ended. There were a million n*-
mours, hut Burr^;e knew they were no more than
rumours. "It is current gossip, then?" Whtttemore
asked him.
"Yes, it's all over town," said Burrage angrily. He
must have liked Eileen; there was Bomething bright
and dangerous about her, Whittemore guessed, that
drew men's eyes and hearts. And Burrage remem-
bered her as a little girl, a headstrong, gay, violent,
fascinating little minx even then. "People smell a
story like that," he added, "like coyotes after a car-
cass. I guess her parents know where she's gone, but
I don't, and even Garth doesn't He ought to be
tarred and feathered." Now that she was suffering
the extreme penalty from society, Burrage had noth-
ii^ left for her but pity. "Her father and mother
aren't wearing mourning, but they might as well be.
My God, what a waste I"
"Wbat's Garth doing?" asked Whittemore,
'T)oing? Nothing that I know of. He told Jack
he was going away soon, though. Said he was going
to be married I"
"I suppose he may 6nd it pleasanter elsewhere.
People can hardly overlook the matter here."
"Well, I don't know. You see, nobody really knows
anything; they guess a lot but that's different, espe-
dally now her folks seem to have decided to make a
bluff. You and I and Jack Addison are the only ones
ovCioo^lc
;o THE SHADOW RIDERS
on the inside. It makes me kind of sick, the whole
thing." He was torn between a desire to cook Garth's
goose for him by seeing that the story reached the
family of his fiancee, and mere masculine laissez aller,
obedience to the code of not telling on another man.
Of course he chose the latter course, and held to it
Bat it galled him. "I mean the women — say, tiiey
really seem to want to make a fuss over Garth. . . .
Some of 'em, anyway," he amended. "I will say Mrs.
Vamey cut him off her list. The others — they're
curious, I guess. Besides, people stand for a hell of
a lot out here. This gets me on the raw, but then I
saw. . . . You know, I can't forget her face that
n^t. If I'd ever done anything to make a woman
hate me like that, I'd be afraid to die."
An original way of putting it, Whittcmore thought.
But it was all strange enough. For instance, the point
that had struck Burrage left him even more perplexed ;
the waste of so much loveliness. Why had a girl like
that been moved to throw herself away on a youth so
palpably commonplace as Harry Garth I But then she
was too young to have any sense of values.
"So people don't really know," he repeated thought-
fully.
"No. But what's the odds ? They don't need any
remarkable intelligence to guess."
"I wonder. . . ." said Whittemore; and went away
still wondering. Spring and simimer both passed too
quidcly to permit of his return.
He forgot to ask Chan if he had met the girl next
door. By such small curiosities Whittemore kept him-
self alive on the surface. He could not guess that
Lesley Johns came nearest to sharing his own specu-
lations on Eileen.
She, too, had heard what he had heard. Rather
wistfully she wished Eileen would send her a word
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 71
from wherever she was, that it might not seem as
though she had joined the Shades. That in a sense
was what Eileen had done; the ghost of her walked
the familiar streets and made her one-time friends
lower their voices and look askance suddenly. Cress-
well told Lesley all the baseless conjectures that sprang
up, and said he did not believe any of them. She had
gone to Europe, gone on the stage, gone to perdition,
the variations ran. The talk lasted more than the
usual nine days ; she was hardly forgotten before the
end of summer. Every community is shaken and har-
rowed by some such ugly rent in the social fabric once
in a way. A crop of small scandals sprang up in the
shadow of the large one. It was, in fact, a very busy
summer, and at the end of it nothing in particular
had been done — quite as usual.
Probably Lesley remembered Eileen more vividly
than most even of those who had known her longest.
■But she did not suppose Eileen remembered her;
Eileen would be going through deep water now, and
small things would be washed out of mind. In like
case, Lesley could imagine she would have no wish
to remind herself of things past by writing to one so
closely connected with them. And if life had you
cornered, it was better not to cry out
Life did not have Lesley cornered ; she was full of
v^ur and purpose. In the autiunn it seemed certain
she would herself be going away, to b^n her cher-
ished "career," or at least the essential preliminaries.
At bottom there was a good deal of similarity in
that summer's campaign for Lesley, Herrick and Whit-
temore. They were all going through a preparatory
period of drudgery. Chan saw the end least clearly,
had a less defined plan, but he felt something evolving
in his mind. The new country was taking hold of him.
He did not know that for a year past he had been
ovGooglc
72 THE SHADOW RIDERS
playing harder than ever merely to stmmlate a flagging
zest in play.
In May he went into the Belle Claire offices. Loi^
before then he had quite definitely pre-empted a comer
by Lesley's hearth, and possibly that did more than he
ever knew to anchor him when he might so easily have
drifted back East, if only for a day or two. Such a
day might have stretched into forever, but he never
took it He let Lesley represent her native province
to him, and found it an agreeable study. It revived
in him the instinct of the natural man for new worlds,
so clearly apparent in every boy but later overlaid and
atrophied by circumstance. A pioneer Chan might
not have been in any event, but he too had the con-
structive instinct, and what a field for it herel He
had the perspective of a fresh eye, and saw what she
did not, for her roving blood also cried for "some-
thing new and strange," and they gazed in opposite
directions.
So he overlooked the tameness and drudgery of his
immediate task, losing it in the novelty of all things
e!se. Before the novelty wore off, he counted con-
fidently on getting far beyond the drudgery and reach-
ing a constructive vantage.
As for Whittemore, he was coin collecting, as he
{Erased it, in the financial marts of the East, and
encountering no special difficulty. His reports from
Edmonton and Ottawa were also quite satisfactory,
so far.
Lesley was happy that summer, the young happiness
that does not examine its sources. She thought it was
only because very soon she was going away. She
had not told any one that, not even Chan. The in-
hibition had not lessened in force ; it seemed as if to
tell would be to give warning to unkind Fate. Th^
talked about everytiiing under the sun except tb*
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 73
future. They talked the fires of winter out and car-
ried discussion out under the summer sky,
Lesley felt herself expanding in her fa-st real com-
panion^p. It was most grateful to her. She knew
so few women that she suffered for friendship. Mak-
ing friends with a man had hitherto partaken of the
nature of walking a tightrope. Nor was she vain
enough to wonder why Chan gave her no such mo-
meats of insecurity. But once she came very close to
stumbling on the truth.
They were riding, coming home after three hours in
the saddle, and paused, by a mutual and unspoken
feeling, just before they raised the crest of the hill
above the river. Beyond was the city ; it sits in the
fork of two rivers that make one, and had not yet, as
it has now, grown up the edges of the cuplike valley
to peer at the skyline.
Chan had been obliged to coax a good deal to get
Lesley to ride with him. The truth was, she had no
habit, and did not want to afford one. When she
found herself ordering a skirt for the purpose, she
felt positively sinful in her self-indulgence. It cost
ten dollars!
Also she had seen Chan ride, and he worried her
into telling him the sub-reason of her first refusal
"I don't ride the way you do," she said, tactfully.
"I ride astride "
"But that's the way I ride," he interrupted gravely.
He was always so solemn in his teasing, it made her
laugh the more. And she sometimes wished she could
slap him, though perhaps not very hard. He seemed
like a boy to her, and she was not experienced enough
to realise it for a dangerous symptom.
"Just for that," she said, "I'll tell you that I think
you bounce. Oh, I know it's the proper park style,
and you had the best masters, and all that. And you
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74 THE SHADOW RIDERS
win think I ride like an Indian, and we shall silently
sneer at each other the whole time. Now do you want
me to go?"
"Next to riding," he assured her, "sneerii^ is my
favourite sport. Come along."
Perhaps she did ride like an Indian, but she was
very g:racefu1 in her own way, long-limbed and sup-
ple, with that slack, indifferent ease of one who has
ridden more for necessity than pleasure. It is a style
that suits the businesslike gait of the small, wiry
bronchos they got from the livery stable. Chan would
have bought himself a good horse from one of the
great ranches near High River, where one can get the
best, but he knew Lesley would not allow him to buy
her one also, and he did not want to make an ill-
matched pair. As it was, they covered the country
very effectively. It gave him a new view of it, with
Lesley as cicerone. What had been to him an abomi-
nation of desolation when he first beheld it from a
Pulbnan window, took on a fresh face with the advent
of spring. The endless stretches of snow-covered
plain, the little desolate farmsteads, had a beauty of
their own in that magic time, the beauty of illimitable
space and air, and that Italian sky of the prairies. He
understood the prairie towns, which at first had struck
him as horrible beyond words for human habitation.
Here was room for a man to do something. Her^
too, he was in sight of the mountains, which are aston-
ishingly clear in fine weather, thou^ sixty miles dis-
tant. When midsummer came it never grew too hot,
though the world turned to a tawny gold under the
sun. By September the gold was a soft brown, but
the sky was no less blue, and the air on a still day
was like a blue val of impalpable mesh.
"But it was much nicer before the people came,"
Lesley insisted. "Yes, really. Look, now, the grass
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 75
is hardly ankle high, tmt when I was small it would
come above my head in the valleys, and hide me
standing. Now it's all grazed down, and there are
disgusting barbed wire fences, and people. Once you
could ride fifty miles from our own front door,
strai^t, without ever seeing a fence or a human being.
It was all our own. And the game, and birds, and
the wild flowers t I think this was the happy huntii^
ground."
"There are wild flowers jret," objected Chan. "Locde
here. Old Faithful is stepping on a rose bush. Don't
they bloom late."
Lesley thought she had never known so short a
summer. It was mid-September. Chan dismounted
and picked a spray of small low-growing wild roses^
pale pink and pure white, of a scent as faint as their
colour.
"Put these on your coat ; they suit you," he said.
*^ou see, not even the disgusting people who have
come and spoiled your Paradise can stop the flowers
blooming. Cheer up You have all my ssonpathy."
"Is that a compliment ?' she asked suspiciously, tak-
ing the flowers and pinning them securely. "I am
never quite sure — you say such things so — so insidi-
ously. Practice, no doubt."
"You should know how much practice I get," he
said, with his most ingenuous air. "Do I know any
girls but you?"
"Not here," she admitted. "Don't you find it hor-
ribly dull? I did, and I never knew anything dif-
ferent But you've always gone about a lot, seen
things. . . . Chan, I believe you're a stiff-necked snob.
You don't think we're worth your while. You won't
take any trouble about us."
"Oh, woman, woman," said Chan. "I can see I've
been boring you, and you wish I'd take myself off.
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76 THE SHADOW RIDERS
Well, I won't. And I take exception to that Ve.'
You don't belong in this gallery. I never said you
did."
"In a minute," she said scofBngly, "you'll be telling
me I'm different." Quite unniiBed, he retorted:
"You are. I said so the first evening I called."
"Would I be different. In Montreal?" she asked
shrewdly. She was swimming under the surface of
their conversation ; her words were litde torpedoes.
He thought she would, and said so. But she re-
mained unsatisfied, feeling, without being able to for-
mulate the main fact, that in Montreal he would
never have got near enough to perceive that difference.
She was the first woman he had ever known who
worked for her living 1
"I didn't mean any harm," he pleaded. "You know
society in a small new town is funny. Such quaint
distinctions and pretensions." Truly enough, he did
not identify her with them. She never made any pre-
tensions. But — neither did he place her with the other
girls he had known as intimately. That was what she
caught, with that diabolically fine-spun sensitiveness
of hers. She was a little confused, but she had got
hold of something.
"But why are they funny?" she challenged him.
"Any funnier, I mean, than anywhere else? Of course
you know the Countess de Cruchecassee and the Duch-
ess of Schlangenbad abroad, and in Montreal I believe
you've even dined with a director of the C. P. R. — it
makes me dizzy to think of it I — ^but that ought to help
you to see just why our leading plumber and the wife
of a real wholesale grocer should be treated with con-
sideration. Do you set yourself above Csesar as an
authority on values? Oh, yes, I've read Thackeray;
he's the consolation of all the unsuccessful and un-
arrived. If they actually bore yoa I forgive you.
ovGooglc
THE SHAIJOW RIDERS 77
But didn't any of your own social Iq^hts ever bore
you?"
"Horribly," he said, with an air of sincere penitence.
"Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. I didn't know what
I was saying; I have been thinking of other things.
I have been following stem ambition rather than but-
terfly pleasure."
"Then why didn't you tell me?" she said aggriev-
edly, fot^tting her own reticence. "What ambi-
tions ?"
"It's dinner time," he reminded her. "If you will
brave the horrors of that what-you-call-it restaurant
— you know, with the mummified palms and armour-
plate dishes — and dine with me, I'll tell you my inmost
thoughts. It's so long since I've taken a lady to din-
ner, I feel I must sacrifice you."
"It will be fun," she agreed. "I have never been
taken to dinner. Think of thatt"
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CHAPTER VII
LESLEY stipulated that she should go home long
enoi^h to freshen her toilette and change her
skirt before they dined. So they struck into a
gallop, and were silent, enjoying the fine day and the
motion and the sensation generally of vigorous life and
youth. Once Lesley looked at Chan, who carried his
hat in his hand and rode with his head bent as if in
deep thought, though his eyes expressed nothing; but
dreamy contentment. She opened her lips to speak,
and then waited until at the bridge they were forced to
slow to a walk.
"I shouldn't have guessed," she said, "that you are
a shadow rider."
"A what?" he asked. When she fell into her own
vernacular he was always interested. "What is a
shadow rider? Sounds rather poetic"
"It isn't," she retorted cruelly. "You watched your
own shadow for a long time back there. If you did
that on the rodeo, and the range-boss saw you — you'd
be looking for a new job. It's the lazy ones, the in-
different ones, do that."
"Again?" said Chan, with an accent of deep pa-
tience. "Lesley, do you want me to call you a shrew?
Just one kind word — just one. I'm black and blue.
My self-esteem is in rags. Please remember that I
was riding for pleasure anyhow."
"Well, there it is," said Lesley, laughing. "Most of
us get most of our pleasure — what a superlative sen-
tence — out of watching our own shadows, one way
or another. There's something fascinating about it,
78
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 7J
I know. I wonder how much of the real things we
miss because of it?"
Chan laughed with her. "You aren't Xantippe,
you're Socrates. Right, very right We forget what
we're riding after, the great objective, to watch our
own shadows. Whoa, January I" They stopped at
Lesley's gate ; she dismounted too quickly for him to
help her, with a flash and jingle of her little silver
spur; and he galloped off, leading her horse, while
she went into the house.
Mrs. Cranston was asleep on the sitdng-room sofa;
her lord and master was out of town and she was not
disturbing herself about dinner. Something cold
would do. The sound of Lesley running upstairs
woke her and she called after her fretfully.
"Can't hear you," Lesley sang out. "Downstairs
again in a minute or two." Her skirt caught on the
spur. Dick had made it for her, out of a half dollar
for a rowel. She sat down on the floor, muttering to
it earnestly, to tug it off.
"But some one called for you," insisted Mrs. Cran-
ston. Lesley thought she said : "Is some one calling
for you ?"
"Yes," she screamed down hurriedly. "Chan is
coming back in ten minutes." Mrs. Cranston sat up,
fluffed out her hair, extracted a chamois skin from
the top of her stocking and rubbed it over her face;
and then sat with a pensive and watchful expression,
listening, and looking meanwhile, sly even when alone,
at a vase of deep red roses that were elbowing Ten-
nyson on the centre table. There was a card with a
pencilled message beside them, in the emptied box.
It was signed with initials only, and Mrs. Cranston
did not know whose.
She had tried a dozen poses, and powdered her nose
three times, before Chan rang. Lesley was not yet
ovGooglc
8o THE SHADOW RIDERS
down. Mrs. Cranston had been afraid she would be.
She slipped to the door, holding out her hand as she
opened it. It was a small hand, but not soft, with
greedy, thin fingers and a dry, hot palm. She wore
four showy, inexpensive rings.
"Thank you for the candy, you extravagant thing,"
she said, drawing him after her to the sofa again.
"Though you shouldn't have — Lesley will be jealous.
Come here ; you're losii^ your tie pin."
The idea of Lesley being jealous struck Chan as
humorous, though it grated on him for some reason
he could not define.
"Will she ? Then we won't tell her." Mrs. Cran-
ston, standing on tiptoe exa^eratedly, pulling and
patting at his white piqu6 stodc, dropped her eyelids
and then looked up again deliberately. Her soft,
shallow eyes invited; Chan was suddenly aware of
her nearness, of the pressure of her fingers on his
coat lapels. . . .
"If you don't want me to," murmured Mrs. Cran-
ston. Chan did not speak, nor move. Fearing silence,
forgettii^ or never realising how much more than
herself she could represent, the vain, sensual, silly
woman hurried on, speaking again to drown her own
words: "What a pretty pin!" She drew it out of
his tie, removing her hands from his coat ; he found
himself drawing a short breath of relief.
"Could I get one like it, I wonder?" she was ask-
ing. It was a gold horseshoe, with a black enamelled
crop twisted about it Chan thought it rather flam-
boyant; somebody had given it to him, he forgot who.
Probably some woman. He had always detested it
He thought so now, at least
"Keep it," he said promptly. "Just give me a
skewer, or something to hold me together. . . . 'Pon
my vrord, I'd like you to have it." She thrust it under
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RmERS 8i
a tall of lace on her blouse, and gave him a steel pin
in return. They heard Lesley's hurried feet on the
stairs and drew apart, eyeing each other; Mrs. Cran-
ston's pouting reddened lips shut mysteriously, the
air was close, and neither of them could find a word
for Lesley as she entered.
"Ready," she said. "Oh, Amy, I should have told
you when I came in ; I'm going out for dinner."
"For dinner? I don't see where you'll get any,"
said Mrs. Cranston. "Don't you want your flowers?
You missed a motor ride ; he brought them himself."
"Who?" said Lesley curtly, vexation sparkling in
her eyes. She took up the card, glanced at it, and
tore it across. "Idiot I" was her brief comment, and
she turned to go.
"I thought they'd wilt if I didn't take them out of
the box," said Mrs. Cranston apokigetically, watchit^
Chan sidewise : "He was so disappointed "
"Really I" And that was all she got out of Lesley.
She guessed rightly that Lesley was annoyed at her
prymg about the card, and wondered virtuously why
she should be so secretive. In Mrs. Cranston's house,
too. . . . Left to herself, she pouted again, looked
once more at the torn card, and then sidled over to
the window and watched from behind the curtain Les-
ley and Chan walking away, apparently deep in talk
and herself forgotten.
But Chan knew she was watching him, . . . For
a long time now he had been conscious of those vel-
vety eyes of hers fixed on him when he thought no
one would notice, ready to droop or turn away just
the moment after he had caught them. . . . They
were full of a surreptitious, personal intelligence.
They were in a way to become a fixed idea with him,
and while at first he went to her house with a free
mind, looking only for Lesley, now, while he did not
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83 THE SHADOW RIDERS
look for Mrs. Cranston, he knew he should find her
there. . . . The dark side that U in all of us, that
is titillated, excited by anything clandestine, asserted
itsdf, fed on her sudden appearances, her lowered
voice, her insistence on confidences shared. That
there were no confidences to share hardly mattered.
"Stolen waters are sweet, and bread eaten in secret is
pleasant," said a poet, looking into his own heart.
Her cobweb net fell away from Herrick as soon as
he was out of sight. He and Lesley, seated opposite
each other in a stuffy restaurant box, inadequately par-
titioned from the vulgar world by flimsy walls of red
burlap, had something less tenuous to discuss.
Mrs. Cranston's aspersion on the culinary resources
of the city had not been ill founded. There was not
then a good hotel ; the two or three restaurants were
all about the equivalent of a cafeteria in quality. No-
body who could avoid it ever tried to find sustenance
in those dreary places. But by a piece of good fortune
this night Lesley and Chan found there was prairie
chicken on the menu; probably it had come cheaper
to the bontface than domestic fowl. And Chan or-
dered champagne, at a price which would have turned
Fifth Avenue pale with envy.
"I never tried it," said Lesley warily, "but I will.
This is an occasion. ... Do you know, I like it I
. . . Oh, well, you may laugh, but my ancestors were
Presbyterians."
"Would you rather have Scotch, then ?" asked Chan.
"I say, I wouldn't drink more than one glass. It's
tricky stuff." He had wanted some himself, or at
least, he wanted something, he scarcely knew what, to
quiet that jumping of his pulses, that expanding rest-
lessness, stirred in him by the vast outdoors, the
crystal air, his restored and now abounding health —
and Amy Cranston's following soft brown eyes an4
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THE SHA150W RIDERS 83
clutching titde hands. But he liked and esteemed Les-
ley far too much to feed her to his personal devil,
even to the extent of allowing her to make herself
ahsurd.
"I shan't," she said serenely. "I am really a very
cautious person — you must never forget those Presby-
terian ancestors." The truth of that was evident;
her poise and good sense quieted him sympathetically.
It was then perhaps for the first time that he insensibly
leaned on her, felt himself braced by her presence.
Not that there was anything flabby about Chan, but
it is no less than truth that the world of men dresses
by the world of women, and falls into a disorganised
mob, socially, without them. A community of old
maids may be a dry and sterile and unlovely assem-
blage, but it preserves all the pmictilios of civilisation,
nay, refines them to the fith degree ; where an isolated
group of men, though it may construct railwa3rs and
bridges, tame floods and remove mountains, sinks to
a condition of savagery in its personal conduct of life.
And Lesley was one of the women men dress by.
"Hiere is nothing very romantic in being a moral tonic.
It was not a very happy circumstance for Lesley, pos-
sibly, that Chan's feelings for her should thus first
resolve themselves, and neither of them ever knew
that any such thing had happened. But there it was,
a sword between them. They talked over it amicably
without ever perceiving it.
"And your ambitions," she reminded him, when the
waiter, with a final flourish of a dirty napkin, had
removed himself. "Don't keep the presses waiting."
"EJi, what? You know, if I get talking I'll probably
never stop, because I can feel enthusiasm creeping
over me. I think I shall go into politics. Oh, later,
a lot later. D'you know Clarence GeCrs, ex-M, P. ? —
What courage, to be a politician with a name lite
ovCiooglc
84 THE SHADOW RIDERS
Qarence — well, I met him here through Ross, and he
thought he was quitting politics. I've seen him a few
times since, and talked to him; he's a pretty good
talker, in a prosy way, and I think we like each other.
And I joined the Liberal Association through him.
He came into some money just lately."
"I remember," said Lesley. "We gave him half a
column of perfectly good glory over it. Well?"
"Well, he only quit politics because he needed money
and had to go back to his practice. Now he's enter-
ing the ring again. He will run for the Provincial
legislature this fall, just to keep his hand in, and then
when the next Dominion election comes, he'll go in for
that. He asked me, or I offered myself, to work for
him. I want to learn the ropes. There's plenty of
room for young men here, Ross likes the idea, too;
Geers wrote him about it, and he told me to go ahead.
Give me ten years, and I may do something. I under-
stand it's the ozone in the air," he smiled deprecatingly,
"but I find I really want to work out here."
"The ozone in the hot air," said Lesley sceptically.
"What do you really want to do ? Want to go to the
Senate?" Her mind, on the practical side, had always
been extraordinarily clear-cut and definite, and she
sometimes marvelled at the powers of self-obfuscation
displayed by the average person,
"Do I want to join the Old Ladies' Home?" said
Chan disgustedly. "No, I'd like to make a record for
myself."
"For yourself?" Lesley could mock charmingly.
"Indeed, you were bom to be a politician."
"What's the matter, little sour note?" he asked.
"Am I detestable ?" She did not want to check his
expansive mood. "I'll tell you, it's a reaction. I hear
so much talk — and talk — and talk — you know, from
our wildcat boomers, and everybody that's getting rich
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 85
quick — and that's everybody but me — the Hundred
Thousand Qub and the Canadian Qub and all the
other self-appointed promoters, and it's all on the same
note. Something for us — for me — right away — pros-
perity — bring people in and get their money — grab it
—quick — boom, boom, BOOM 1" She puffed out her
cheeks and laughed. "And the politicians hear it even
as far as Ottawa and thump it on their little drums,
and then we all join the chorus again. What do we
stand for — as Canadians ? Neither fish nor flesh ; we
pretend to democratic institutions and issue proclama-
tions beginning with statements about a 'Majesty by
the Grace of God.' Have we got an idea, a real,
whole, Canadian idea, to bless ourselves with ? When
you were abroad, did any one know by your nation-
ality whether you were an Eskimo or a Patagonian?"
"Oh, I hope so," said Chan apologetically, but with
a 8%ht twinkle in his eye. "I wonder, what ever
made such a Radical of you ?"
"Ignorance, perhaps," said Lesley cheerfully. "I
am open to enlightenment. No, I think there are real
causes. One is that fifteen years or less ago in this
country, when we were all living in what I've read is
the second stage of human progress, the pastoral stage
— am I right?"
'T believe so. Hunter, herdsman, farmer, and so
on. You've read a good bit, haven't you?"
"No, I haven't. That's probably why I remember
what I did read. I was going to say, we were not
only pastoral, but a pure democracy in our social rela-
tions. Sometimes it makes me believe Henry George
— that is, I might if I knew more about Henry George
— because I think it was the way we held land that
did it. We all had all the land there was, and no one
could have more than one quarter section, at least not
{easily. Just one homestead, you know. We were aU
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86 THE SHADOW RIDERS
rather poor, of course — but we were rather hapi^,
too. Every one had an equal chance. And it does
seem a strong argument for democracy that tliose
who've experienced it demand it."
"Yes, if renouncing it won't bring them prefer-
ment," said Chan thoughtfully. "Any other reasons?"
"The last Birthday list, perhaps," she laughed. "Or
the spectacle of a' subsidised press. Or natural cussed-
ness. I seem to feel that we're growing a land of
crust that will hurt when it has to be peeled off;
like a plaster cast."
"So . , , that is quite true. Of course, we're a
curious after effect of the American Revolution. The
backwash of it spun our little craft around and left it
in the trough of the sea. Without that, our own Re-
bellion might have mounted to a revolution — we should
have blazed a path ourselves. But we got the half
loaf and ceased crying for bread."
"Which Rebellion do you mean?"
"Mackenzie's Rebellion; our histories give it a
paragraph, but they don't mark the page. We had
another, a moral and invisible rebellion when
Lord Lome was put in his place for interfering
with local politics as Governor-General. Aren't you
unreasonable? We have all our liberties, and we be-
long to the greatest Empire the world has ever seen."
"You foi^t," she said, "that I haven't got all my
liberties. And I think we are just a hundred years
behind the times in clinging to a word like Empire.
And I despise half loaves, and the eaters of broken
bread."
"Then," said Chan, "you know your I<^cal con-
clusion ?"
"Certainly," said Lesley.
"You are too late, and too soon," said Chan. "In
the sixties, England did everything but beat us over
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 87
the heftd with an oar to make us get out of the boat —
h looked overloaded and they were trying to heave
ballast But we were impervious to hints, and stayed.
Now it looks as if we could pay our passage, do you
tfiink we ought to get out?"
"Pay it and get out," returned Lesley.
"You and I may both live fif^ years yet," said
Chan. "Time for the tide to turn and re-turn. But
I'd like to do something while I'm waiting."
"Oh, go ahead, do things by all means. And to
come down to cases, what do you propose to do to
help Geers?"
"Committee room work, drafting pamphlets — maybe
a little sttunping. I was on my college debating team.
Come out and hear my maiden speech. It's far enough
off yet for you to prepare your mind in advance."
"I wish I could," said Lesley. "But I shall be far
away by then."
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CHAPTER VIII
GOING away?" Chan felt as if he had a per-
sonal grievance; it seemed unnecessary that
she should go away. He couldn't spare her.
Not yet, anyway; not until he had found something
to take her place, "Where are you going?"
"To Montreal, to McGiII. I shall probably get only
two years there, but it will serve. Then I'm going to
begin to be a journalist. How impolite of you to have
forgotten."
"I didn't forget," he said blankly. "I didn't think
it would be so soon, that's all. Do you know any one
in Montreal ? McGill was my college ; I can write to
people there to be nice to you."
"I don't know a soul," she said gratefully. "I will
take all the letters you can write."
"And when ?"
"Next month." She was rather sorry herself that
he would not be there; by no means that she would
not be here. The world was not so large but that
people met again. "I shall read of your career. Per-
haps some day I'll write of it," she laughed. "When
we are both famous, we'll have dinner here again."
"Never. Some indignant diner will bum it to the
ground first. Well, I'm sorry. Wholl I talk to now?"
"There are millions of girls," she said, but not teas-
ingly. "I'm sorry, too. If I were staying I'd make
you give me a course in Canadian history and politics.
Why did we never talk about them before ? I never
•tjspected you were so well informed."
'I'm not, but I mean to be. Ross has it all at his
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 89
6aga ends, though. He's very thorot^fa — and then
he knows all the good old political warhorses of the
lait generation — those of them that are left You
know his father — my grandfather — helped underwrite
the C. P. R., and knew Sir John A. MacDonald, the
plausible old scamp, our tin hero, and Blake and Mac-
kenzie and Cartwright and all the rest of 'em. I've often
sat around and listened to their reminiscences myself,
a few years ago, when several of them were still alive.
It's the kind of thing that's interesting to a degree if
you know the people concerned in it. And not other-
wise. But I don't know but what I felt you were
right; we haven't any especial significance to the rest
of the world; so I didn't suppose it would be any-
thing but a bore to you."
"I told you I like people and things. That's why
I'm going away,"
"It seems a kind of shame," mused Herrick, twirling
his champagne glass in his fingers. "You were bom
here — and there ought to be some share in all this for
you. Why don't you come back here after college?
This afternoon I think my imagination woke for the
first time ; you phrased it all, but you put it in the past
tense. Now it looks to me just as it did to you fifteen
years ago. So much to work with — so big — so new.
Can't you move up a notch ?"
"Move the country up a notch for me," shrugged
Lesley. "For women, I mean. I was bom disinher-
ited, wasn't I? 'Women, and Indians, and lunatics,'
my chivalrous and just country's laws mention. Do I
get a foot of all this land ? Or a word of what's to
be done with it? I do not. My brother does, not me.
I get my head and my hands, and I'm going to take
them and vanish without even saying thanks."
"Is it the suffrage question annoys you ?" questioned
Chan.
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"Oh, not only that — everything. We're Tcny, to
the bone, in our — our mental attitude, as well as in
most of our common law. Spoils and place and priv-
il^e — for money over men — party over priaciple —
men over women. It suffocates me." She looked
like a runner straining for the race, her curious flecked
eyes almost black by reason of the enlat^ed puinls,
her fine nostrils quivering.
"Well, I'd hardly go so far. There's a fair chance
for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, I should
say. You just commented on the wisdom of the
fathers in dealing with the land here."
"The land will all be gone some day. And there's
always a fair chance for — the lucky ones I Anywhere,
any time. . . . Chan, we've been here for hours,
and i positively must go home and do some sewing.
The trousseau for my career 1"
She put on her shabby gloves ; Chan paid the bill,
and they moved toward the door. Lesley, craning
her neck at a mirror as she passed, did not notice
Addison standing near the cashier's desk, quite evi-
dently waiting for her with a fine young thunderck>ud
on his brow.
"Good evening," he said.
She frowned by instinct, stirred antagonistically by
his mere tone; then smiled unexpectedly. "Thank
you," she said, sotto voce, and was for going by. But
he meant to stop her. She seemed to grow taller, met
his eyes squarely, beat his glance down, and passed
him like an empress.
"That man," said Chan profotmdiy, when they had
reached the street, "doesn't like my necktie, nor the
way I part my hair. I met him once, but I diiok he
fot^ot Am I impertinent in mentionit^^ him? And
does he ever annoy you Y"
"He annoys me with flowers," gurgled Lesley.
ovCioogIc
THE SHA13DW RIDERS 91
*^0U know how annoying flowers are? But I like
him. Dtm't kill him, please."
"Very well," said Chan. "He wore 3 green plush
hat; I'U let him live and suffer. Do you like red
roses especially?"
He sent her some himself the next day, without
thinking much about it, then or after. He could
fancy her dealing very competently with any man who
annoyed her too much. And he had a feeling of being
let into her confidence in this matter, which was not
at all the same feeling Amy Cranston gave him. . , .
He sent Mrs. Cranston violets, and more chocolates, of
which she seemed able to consume incredible quan-
tities for all her thinness.
Lesley had stated the case fairly enough, about Jack
Addison. He was persistent, but merely wishing to
see her could hardly be construed into an offence, and
she never did see him, so his offending took no other
form. How could it ? Sometimes, anyway, he forgot
her apparently for quite weeks at a time, which was
a relief. It probably meant some other woman, for
his brief and ardent affairs were a joke. But then
something would bring Lesley to his mind again, and
he took up the thread with renewed vigour. Now for
two weeks he had been besieging her, even waylaying
her on the street. But he was trained in the con-
ventions, and she could always dispose of him on
the street. He said he had some special reason for
wantii^ to see her now, but he had tried that ruse just
once before, and she was wary. In a day or two more
he would probably be off on some fresh scent, she
thought
And in the very bottom of her heart she did like
him, if only because her human and feminine ego took
its required nourishment from his inconvenient devo-
tion. Every woman wants, and should have, her share
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92 THE SHADOW RIDERS
of masculine adulation; the need of it is merdy a
phase of adolescence, but unsatisfied it leaves a blank
and chilly memory, a dead spot in the soul. To be
undesired is a blight to the emotional life; and the
emotional life is as important in its way as the intel-
lectual side. Lesley had not been altogether undesired,
even before she left home, but familiarity had bred
contempt in her. The approaches of neighbouring
young ranchers, or the clerks and mechanics of Mac-
leod, had left her exceedingly cold. She had got a
shadowy ideal of a man out of books and her own
imagination; and he was not like these. It would
have been easy to have deceived her ; it is always
easier to know the true than to detect the false. But
no plausible villains had appeared, probably because
there are none outside of Laura Jean Libbey's novels.
It was really finish she wanted, unerringly asking for
the one thing her own milieu couldn't supply. There
was not a grain of the snob in her ; she could honestly
lau^ at social distinctions ; she only wanted a match
for her own innate daintiness and delicacy ; she want-
ed ease of manner, and culture. Not an unworthy
aspiration. And she thought, as most proud girls will
think, that she would easily reconcile herself to never
marrying at all if her knight never sought her out, or
did not exist. Chan's friendship gave her courage,
just as Jack Addison's pursuit fed her necessary wom-
an's vanity. Altogether, she was in a fit mood now
to go out and conquer. So for a fortnight she car-
ried her head in the air and prepared for departure.
She had to see Chan less because of that. He found
himself always missing her now, arriving and finding
her not yet home — and Mrs. Cranston to tell him so.
One wedc end she went down to Macleod, to the ranch.
From force of habit he rang the bell next door that-
evening before he retnembered Lesley was not there.
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THE SHADOW RTOERS 93
, . . His restlessness mounted steadily h^jfaer be-
cause of the break in his habits. He missed the men
he had used to know ; old memories rose and crowded
on his mind, ghosts of his careless days, things he had
mshed to foi^et. The melancholy of approaching
winter seized hiia And yet masculine companionship
seemed singularly incomplete, did not make all his
memories.
But he did not think of Lesley tenderly, in one sense
of the word. She had such a definite place in his
mind it would have required a shock to dislodge her
from it. When he did see her they talked about her
going away, and he told her about Montreal, and won-
dered if Ross could not help her in some way when
she got there. He wrote Ross about it, and got a
cordial letter in reply. Ross did not mean to be in
Montreal the first part of the winter. He was coming
West first, and then would be in New York a good
deal, and might run over to London. Ross had some^
thing to talk over with Chan when he came.
Lesley had no time to think of whether she missed
Chan, or would miss him. She laughed at herself for
being so exultant over things yet unaccomplished, but
sometimes when she rose in the morning she would
fling out her arms as if to embrace the whole world.
Her spirit escaped from the little room to encompass
the world and find it good. Amy Cranston's self*
satisfied slyness, never so apparent, went unnoticed.
Lesley even relented toward Jack Addison. He could
not follow where she was going I
He telephoned, when she reached home after dinii^
with Chan. She knew who it would prove to be, but
did not feel annoyed ; she laughed into the telephone,
thinking of his green plush hat, and Chan's absurdity.
Chan was in the sitting room, and Mrs. Cranston had
come down; they were talking.
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94- THE SHADOW RIDERS
"Hello. . . . Yes, I know who is tatktng," said
Lesley. Addison heard her la1^^hter ; she. had never
spoken to him so softly before. But she could not
know how his heart jumped at the sound. In some
^ays she underestimated Jack Addison,
"I want to see you," he said.
"Sorry, but I'm not receiving to-night"
"You can see that Herrick pup," he flared.
"If you only want to be rude," said Lesley coldly,
"talk to some one who is obliged to listen to you "
"No, no ; I beg your pardon. Lesley, please, don't
be brutal. I tried to be decent to you ; I only wanted
to be your friend. And you're going away "
"How do you know that ?" she cried.
"I was in the next box to you to-night."
"Oh." She thoiight perhaps she ou^t to be of-
fended — and would have been, could she have remem-
bered anything in her conversation with Chan that
should not have been overheard. All human motives
are mixed.
"Yes. I couldn't help hearii^; I was there first"
Perhaps he had been. "Aren't you gott^ to see me
just once before you go? I think I deserve that"
Oh, well, what did it matter?
"I don't think I can," she temporised with the
temptation to use her moment's sovereignty, just for
a moment.
"Oh, yes, you can. Let me come over to-morrow
Mot with Amy Cranston to watch and wonder and
come into the room casually to find out who it was.
Amy did not know yet.
"No. You can't come. . . . Telephone me to-
morrow at the office — no, next Tuesday; I forgot
to-morrow's Sunday, and I shall be busy till then.
If you telephone me before then, I won't see you.
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 95
Good-night." Whatever else he might have said bene-
fited no one, unless a listening Central.
"Why didn't you tell him to come over, and make
four?" asked Mrs. Cranston, as Lesley reappeared
in the sitting-room.
"Because I didn't want to," replied Lesley shortly.
Amy did jar. Lesley began walking about the room,
pacing up and down with her chin in the air in total
disr^;ard of manners. Chan had ceased to be a
guest, to her,
"O, saw ye bonny Lesley?" he began to slt^, in
an agreeable light baritone. "Good-bye, Lesley, you're
gone already."
"Oh, I can't be still," she said apologetically. Now
she had told him, she did feel that she had gone
already. That was how it happened that the quietness
he had drawn from her earlier in the evening, at din-
ner, vanished so soon, and left htm at the mercy of
his own untamed impulses.
They ended the evening with a kind of romp, the
first time they had ever so relaxed; for he rose and
began pacing with her, mocking her step with his
loi^^r stride, and when to save her dignity she turned
on him, he bowed and asked her for a dance, and
made her waltz about the table with him, whistling the
air. Then he had to take Mrs. Cranston, and Lesley
vent into the dining-room and pounded out music of
sorts on the upright ptano, for which there was not
space in the sitting-room. She had her back to them;
and he had Mrs. Cranston in his arms, with her hair
against his cheek, her hand slipped under his arm,
pressing it closer. And Mrs. Cranston was speaking
to him in a warm, muted undertone. . , .
"I only know three bars of that," Lesley called
r^retfully, and ended. "You see, I only had three
lessons. So sorry." She came back. Chan was glad.
ovCiooglc
96 THE SHADOW RIDERS
Or he tboufi^ he was glad. . . . He went htune,
and slept ill.
So a little time passed, until the evening he found
Lesley, alone in front of the cold fireplace, weeping
over a crumpled letter.
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CHAPTER IX
MRS. CRANSTON was out Chan knew she
would be out Her husband was in town,
and they had gone to a moving picture
theatre. . . . She had told Chan herself, carefully,
in advance. And he waited until he saw them leaving,
which was not exactly what Mrs. Cranston had in
mind. Then he walked in without ringing, meaning
to play some foolish game of surprise on Lesley, out
of an overflow of spirits, of that continued restless-
ness. So he found her.
"Oh," she said, jumping to her feet, with a little
gasping sob. Even weeping had not reddened her
white skin ; only her eyes looked heavy and very dark,
swimming with tears. Sorrow is not unbecoming to
a young girl.
"For God's sake," he said, astonished — one never
thought of Lesley and tears — ^"what's the matter, my
dear girl?"
"I — I'm not going to collie," she said. "There,
you see how selfish I am, to think of tfiat first My
mother " She choked ^^in.
"She's not dead F" He felt almost as if a personal
loss impended.
"No, no. But she's sick; you know she's never been
strong. She has rheumatic fever, and her heart isn't
good. And winter's coming on, and it will be too
cold for her. She must go to California, or some-
where." She looked about vaguely.
"Yes, of course. But she'll get better, I'm sure."
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98 THE SHADOW RIDERS
In his experience, sending peo[Je to California was
simple enot^.
"Of course she will." There was more defiance
than confidence in the assertion. "The doctor says
so. Itll be lones4Hne for her, though." She wept
i^in.
"Lesley, you mustn't worry." He took her soppii^f
handkerchief from her and gave her his own. It was
not the first time he had seen a woman cry. But it
touched him no less for that. "Don't ; your mother
will be all right. If the doctor said so "
"I know." But she kept her face hidden, and her
shoulders shook. "I'm a selfish pig. I — I — — "
"Selfish? I don't see that." He really did not un-
derstand.
"Because I can't go to college now." She lifted
her face and looked at him, as if expecting to see him
disgusted. "You sec, I am a pig. I'm so — disap-
pointed — it's the third — time "
"You'll have to go with her, of course."
"I can't do that either," she cried in exasperation
and renewed grief. "We can't afford it I just —
can't — do anything — but stay here "
"Poor kiddie r He simply had not thought of that.
He put his arm about her shoulder and drew her to
the sofa. "It's tough. But it may not be so bad;
we may think of something "
"No, there isn't any chance. When I can save
enough again it will be too late." Stony despair sat
on her features ; then two great tears balanced on her
thick lashes a moment before they fell. "Oh, I do
care about my mother, Chan, I dot I don't grudge
her anything ; it's for her, too. She isn't strong ; and
I wanted her to see me succeed — I wanted "
"Lesley, dear I" He dried her eyes and held her
close, with no emotion but the most generous sytof
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THE SHAiDOW RIDERS 99
patlty. He was r^ecting that he bad a little money
yet of his own, but it was no time to speak of material
help. Lesley was proud ; he must be tactful and coax
her around gradually. She should have her college,
and her career — if he had to manufacture a relative
of hers and then mercilessly slay him for the sake of
a Ic^cy, still in imf^nation. Let him think it over.
... A little time. . . . He smoothed her hair
with his strong, deft hand. . . . "Poor child, don't
cry any more just now ; don't, dear." She was quieter,
in his arms, hiding her face against his coat, with his
handkerchief. His touch on her hair gave her the
feeling of a cat being stroked. The nape of her neck
was delicious, so creamy white at the edge of her dark
hair. And then when she lifted her face again, blink-
ing her wet lashes, trying to smile, he kissed her. . . .
Because he was sorry for her, and because she was
at the flowering age of girlhood, which invites kisses
as naturally as a flower invites one to smell its fra-
grance. He kissed her because she was a girl — ^not be-
cause she was a woman who drew him above all others.
There are true kisses of consolation.
A faint tremor touched her ; she looked at hlra with
parted lips, as if she would speak. But she was silent,
and hid her face again. There was a singing in her
ears that was like a spring torrent; she thought he
must hear her heart beating. He smoothed her hair
again, and let her rest. . . .
"Better now, dear?" he asked softly.
He had not heard. ... '
"Better now," her voice came back, very muffled
and small. Then she drew away from him gently and
decisively.
He let her go.
With a violent inward effort she controlled herself.
She felt light, ^ddy, lacking the Arm support of his
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100 THE SHADOW RIDERS
shoulder. And there was an emptiness in her bosom.
Lesley had never deceived herself intentionally. She
did not now. She knew. . . . And she knew he did
not know. . . . Without seeming to look at him, she
saw nothing else; in the minutest detail, the crisp,
upcurling crest of his close^ut brown hair, the nar-
row edge of white below it, where his hat brim was
wont to keep off the sun, his pugnacious jaw, with its
clean line from chin to ear, his merry, anxious, dark
grey eyes, the whites of them so dear one looked
again to meet his gaze with unconscious pleasure,
even his clothes, a grey tweed suit, that still had the
smell of peatsmoke, tan shoes, a narrow green tie,
were all dear to her. Her cheek still felt the roug^i-
ness of his coat, and she smelled the heather and
smoke. Her senses rebelled against her will, and
though she retained command, for a sweet and terri-
ble moment she couM feel her inner self bend and
sway toward him like a reed in the wind. It cost her
e sharp, sickening pang to rise, and move away from
him a step. . . . For a long, long time afterward she
could feel that pain again when she remembered, for
it seemed as if she had then lost something out of
her life that would never come again with quite the
same power, the same promise of completeness and
del^ht
All he saw was that her mouth set bard for a
moment, the short pink upper lip losing its latching
tih; and her hands, so lax and helpless in her lap,
shut determinedly. She had grit, he knew ; she was
not going to cry any more, thoi^h the shuddering of
her bosom, subdued at last with a long breath, gave
him another impulse to take her in his arms and quiet
her. It was not a woman he had held, but a friend.
He was capable of that, and had risen to it. Poor
Lesley ! There was hateful irony in the fact that his
ovCiooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS lOX
senses had never been more quiescent in his life, be-
cause he had been thinking only of her.
"Won't you sit down j^in?" he begged her, for
lack of some other word of sympathy.
"Oh, I . . ," It was difficult yet to 6nd words
stifiiciently meaningless. "No— don't mind me, please.
m be — all right — now." She listened to herself in a
detached way at first, then a quick revulsion came over
her, a feeling of safety because of what she had not
said nor done. Her mind grew very clear and calm.
"How silly I've been," she said. "Do forgive me; I
felt quite Scriptural, and just had to weep on some
one's neck. I've raised several blisters on your nice
clean collar, but then I'm sure you have millions of
collars. . . ,"
"All at your disposal," he said. She was not de-
ceiving him, but he liked her for trying. Yet he did
not want her to think he thought it amusing. "You do
know I'm sorry, don't you, Lesley? You know I'd
like to help you ?" He took her hands, and she felt
comforted, and still strong; he armoured her against
herself. Since he could not feel, it was immensely
good of htm not to see either. She leaned back, hold-
ing by his hands, and laughing, as if they were playing
"Ring around a rosy."
"Yes, I do know. Thank you. I'll talk about it
pretty soon, and get it all off my mind, but now—
Listen, I think the baby's cryingl"
A little tentative wail, the waking cry of a child,
came to them.
"ni go and get her," said Lesley, glad of the
diversion, for with two things she did not want to
talk about for the moment, the topics of conversation
seemed singularly limited. She came downstairs again
immediately, with the child in her arms. She never
looked better than this, her tall, round figure poised
ovCiooglc
102 THE SHADOW RIDERS
to cany the soft burden, her head bent over it Mrs.
Cranston's baby, a little girl named Eve, was not yet
a year oM ; she had not learned to walk, but she had
the most engaging manners, and her silky eyelashes
alone would have given her a claim to be considered a
pretty child. She ogled Chan in a manner so femi-
nine that they must both laugh, and then produced
two dimples, showing as many tiny pearly teeth, and
gurgled at him. She knew him by sight ; and royalty
itself is not more gracious in the act of recogniticm
than infancy.
"She does know you," said Lesley. "Little rogue —
no, mnstn't suck her darling thumb. If you please,
Chan, she wants your watch fob. She does not want
to go to you ; it's your money she loves ; I'll show you."
They sat on the sofa side by side, and Eve lunged at
the watch fob with one hand and clung to Lesley with
the other.
"She's a bit like her mother," said Chan, and had
the grace to colour faintly, though he knew Lesley
could not know what he meant.
"Do you think so ?" Lesley had a real affection for
Eve, and refused to see the resemblance, though it
existed, an innocent resemblance. If Mrs, Cranston
had known it, she might have adorned herself with
her child's charm. But thou^ she really was fond of
the baby, and did not neglect it, she wanted some time
free of the thought of maternity.
"Eve hasn't any troubles, has she?" Lesley smiled.
1 wonder if shell spoil people's collars some time,
and make her funny nose red crying for the moon ?"
It seemed a little as if it had been the moon she
cried for, already, to Lesley ; the matter grew remote,
and altogether of less consequence. Perhaps because
Chan was sitting beside her. She did not have to
leave him, at least Would he ever. . . . With a
ovCiooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS IQ3
mental jerie, she dosed the shutters again oa specula-
tion.
"Oh, I suppose so, we all do," said Chan com-
fortably.
"Did yoa, ever?"
He thought a moment. "No, I haven't yet"
"But you will some day," said Lesley, her eyes
dosed. Knowledge lay in ^at darkened chamber of
her brain; things of the future. It crowded on ber,
and she repulsed it.
They talked at Ust of her spoiled plans, and of
her one alternative. "But I don't want to think
of it to-night," she pleaded. "I feel as if I must have
a rest ; and I've got my mother to think of first I
must make arrangements right away for ber to go
South."
She had already enquired about rates to various
points. Chan recommended Pasadena. He had been
in California for a winter, and insisted on wiring en-
quiries to hotels and agencies he knew there.
"You've been everywhere, haven't you?" Lesley
said enviously. "Lucky you."
T have had a lot," he said, though he had never
realised it before. Lesley's tears had cleared bis vision.
And be was still determined to help her, though it did
not seem quite time to speak, and he said good-oight
without broaching the question to her.
Lesley, sitting in her room after he had gone, still
holding Eve, rosily asleep again, as if she nursed
her vanished hopes, felt quiescent, in such a calm
as may be found in the heart of a storm. She would
not think, for fear of sunimoning undesired that
strange percipience, and seeing something it was bet-
ter not to know yet. Sufficient unto the day had been
the evil thereof. To wait a little before stripling
any more was all she asked. When Mrs. Cranston
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104 THE SHADOW RIDERS
came home, pouting and yawning over a dull play,
and took Eve perfunctorily to her crib, Lesley went
to bed, closed her eyes on the grateful dark, and
slept as quietly as Eve. She had had a full day,
and it was finished. The double shock had reacted
on itself, and was spent. And there was still
Chan. . . .
There was also Jack Addison. He got short shrift,
and none of Lesley's society. She sent him word she
would be busy, and why. Thereon he remembered,
and when her mother arrived, sent flowers, and a
hodge-podge basket of fruit, for her to take to the
train. It melted Lesley's heart toward him, and she
decided later she would see him long enough to thank
him.
Chan also made himself practically useful by attend-
ing to tickets and reservations and tippii^ railway
porters in advance, and loading Mrs. Johns with Cali-
fornia literature and directions. Mrs. Johns was small
and shy, with the remains of a Scotch burr on her
tongue, gained from her own mother. Her thin face
was tanned, and her hazel eyes seemed faded from
long gazing over wide sunny surfaces. Years of
prairie exile, before many neighbours had come near
the ranch, made her unready of speech, but her na-
tive simplicity and the hospitality the West once en-
forced on its people gave her a kind of graciousness
of manner that kept her from being ever ill at ease.
She never spoke much of her illness ; she had been
so long a mother her own pains did not seem to mat-
ter much.
Chan won her heart. "He's such a nice boy; he
reminds me of Dick," she told Lesley, as they were
preparing for bed, the night she spent at Mrs. Cran-
ston's before taking train. Lesley refrained from
expressing any amusement Dick was a nice bc^;
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 105
they did have that in common, if nothing else^ She
merely hugged her mother, and kissed her soft, faded
cheek. Later she rubbed both cheeks with cold cream,
and did her mother's hair in curl-papers, and lathed
with moist eyes. When she was a child, she had
made a game of such things; her mother did not
tmderstand, but submitted to her ministrations with
me]q>liaible pleasure. But to Lesley, her mother was
a qaeeo, and she a maid of honour. She had got this,
at the age of ten, out of some old romantic novel;
and it had for years after that been her favourite play
drama. She used to pin on an old skirt of her
mother's, take a feather duster for a fan, and walk
in such quaint grandeur as only a child can imagine.
She did not revive that part of the play now, for
this was a play on a play, pretending again what had
never been anything but a child's pretence ; and there
was some feeling of irony in her mind, but not toward
tier mother. She only wondered if her mother had
never had any impossible dreams as a girl ; if her life
had satisfied her. Was it really enough? She did
not ask. Mrs. Johns, after one gently amused glance
at herself in the mirror, shiny with cold cream and
BUimounted by a coronet of curl-papers, waited untU
Lesley had got into her high-necked cotton nightdress,
and then drew her down to her knees.
"Sit here on my lap, little daughter, and let me
rock you," she said.
"Oh, mammy, I'll just squash youl" Lesley pro-
tested. "I'm twice as heavy as you."
"You couldn't be heavy to me," her mother said,
and truly her bosom seemed wide enough, and her
arms enfolded her girl amply.
Perhaps it was enou^I Lesley, sitting lightly,
resting her weight on the arm of the wooden rocker,
warmed in the breast that bad nourished ber, felt
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io6 THE SHADOW RIDERS
drugged into a strange peace. It was as if slie sav
herself asleep, and wondered when she would wake.
The enigma of the elder generation content in the
younger that is not content was unsolved, but she
could not contend with it now.
Nor, for a time after her mother had gone Soutfi,
did she spend herself on any problem. There seemed
nothing left of her to spend. She was not exactly
tired ; she was simply balked. Ambition, gone lame,
rested in the shafts.
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CHAPTER X
IN the period that followed Lesley, because she bad
teraporarily abandoned initiative action, had a
feeling that nobody was doing anything anywhere.
Her world drifted, spun about in the briefest circle
rattier, but made no headway. Yet under the surface
motive powers were gathering, casual things happening
which later m^ht become significant. It might be we
could all control destiny if we knew any more of cause
and effect than that they exist. But one heedless word,
spoken at the critical moment, can loose an Alpine ava-
lanche, quite literally. The seed of an oak, dr<q>ped
from a tomtit's beak, may sprout and in time to[^le a
palace wall. Who shall foresee either event P
Perhaps nothing so momentous occurs in the span of
any purely private life. Yet we are all immensely im-
portant to ourselves.
Qun put off speaking to Lesley about his wish to
help her, because he did not have much left of his own
money, and that little was tied up. It was necessary
to get his hands on it; he hated indefinite promises
and offers. In the meantime he found no difference In
her; was not eveq sure that she cared greatly for what
she was losing. One evening while they talked and
read before the grate — it was suddenly established as
a custom that he bring her books, which they read to-
gether, and discussed afterward — she leaned forward
to poke the fire absently, looking at him the while with
her dark bright glance. He saw her jtunp and her
body tauten.
"It's nothing," she said immediately. "The coal
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lo8 THE SHADOW RIDERS
dropped — it startled nte. What were you saying?"
And she went on, talking in her fluty abrupt expressive
voice, laughing and eager, apparently absorbed in his
description of Westminster, the old grey mother of
Parliaments. They had been reading Morley on Wal-
pole, and she had a way of using Gian for commentary
on such things, making him supply the jnise-en-scene
if he chanced to be familiar with it. Facts seemed
more impressive to her understanding if she could
reconstruct surroundings, even at second hand. Her
hungry mind constantly astonished Chan, who had
known learning as a handmaiden, not a goddess who
was somewhat cold and difficult of access, healey
drank up knowledge like a dry sponge taking up water.
When she stood up to bid him good-n^ht, and faced
him directly, he saw the long red mark of a bum on
her forearm. It had accidentally touched the grate,
because she had not been looking.
Of course, that was the way she took things. . . .
The next day he wired and tried to hasten his liquida-
tion.
They read political memoirs and treatises a good
deal because Qian was drafting some leaflets and arti-
cles on Geers' behalf for the approaching contest A
small political crisis impended in Edmonton over the
treatment the Province had received from the Domin-
ion government in the matter of Crown lands and other
rights. This question was not new ; it dated back ten
years or so, to the time when Alberta had been erected
to the status of a province from the tutelage of a mere
territorialship ; but it had been revived suddenly by
certain large grants and concessions to companies easily
to be known as backed by political favourites from
Ottawa. The Premier of Alberta did not escape scath-
less. He had blood ties with the most "successful"
politician, financially, of recent times, a man who in
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THE SHADOW RIDERS loj
seven or d^lit years had become a tnulti-milUonaire
while — retnaricable coincidence I — he occupied the c^Bce
of Minister of the Interior. All this meant a dissolu-
tion and a new provincial election, undoubtedly, by
the new year. There was just a chance for the puny
OjqKtsition to grow fat on their enemies' misdoii^s.
The history of politics is mainly a series of mistakes
an(! dishonesty turned to profit by an opposite party,
with di^ust serving the people for high motive, and
blind indignation for clear thinking.
Geers and Herrick, in an unofficial half hour, rather
cynically canvassed that aspect of the contest
"I don't think they'll beat us," said Geers thought-
fully. "This isn't enough; we have too much of a
lead now." It was his party was in.
"We are too prosperous," s»d Chan, thinking along
his own lines. "A people as prosperous as we are now
don't mind graft Prosperity's fat; it cushions and
deadens the sensitive nerve centres. Besides, Canada's
inured to graft . . , Wait till there's not enough to
go round, though — oh, quite a few years from now.
It's amazing how conscience gets up and roars in the
lean years, eh I"
"It's got to stop before them," said Geers with sud-
den heat, as if touched on a personal point "We've
got to clean house — and we will, if I have any in-
fluence. But do you suppose the Conservatives
wouldn't do just the same thing? And they would
come into office hungry. They wouldn't get the public
lands back, either. That's only bait for the unthink-
ing; if we can't get them — and I mean to try — while
our own party is in at Ottawa, how could they ? It's
just talk."
"The public lands will never be recaptured," said
Chan laughing, "they are much more irrecoverable than
the thrush's song. Worth more. Why don't you get
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no THE SHADOW RIDERS
tip and say all this oa the hustii^? 111 get to work
on a pamphlet on it to>night. . . ."
Gem for half a second took him seriously; he had
that type of stow moving mind whidi sees everythii^
literally at first glance.
"It would be fatal," he said earnestly, and then,
recovering himself: "No, one can't tell the pubUc
everything. But just the same this flagrant looting has
got to be stopped. It m^ht not be a bad thing for us
to have a stronger Opposition ; it would certainly help
to dean out the party. A free hand is a strong
temptation."
"You may not need to pray to be delivered from
that," said Gian. "But I agree with you ; that Oppo-
sition certainly n^lected its duty. To let your party
get so blamed rotten they hardly dare face the electors I
It was their business to keep you — us, if I may —
straight Couldn't I say that, at least?
"But isn't that the virtue of the parQr system 1" said
Geers, refusing to smile, perhaps a trifle flushed. He
liad some sensitive spots left, and he took his career
seriously. Chan had no career, as yet, to render him
equally vulnerable.
"Checks and balances," Geers continued. "... But
we've got to do better. Even if we can't make a clean
sweep. It's there ; you've got to reckon with it. All
our biggest men have had to concede something to it
How are you going to hold a party tc^^ether?"
"The measure of our g;reat men, in a sentence," said
Chan softly. "And of us — principles wouldn't hold
us together, would they? But untortimately there's
no other party to belong to. The Conservatives are
jtist a vast negative. Their history is equally odorifer-
ous. And one feels so foolish flocking akme."
"That's it," said Geers warmly. "The Conservatives
were worse, when they were in ofllce."
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THE SHADOW RIDERS m
"Oh, why go so far back?" asked Chan, his eyes
twinkling.
"But you can't deny the Liberals have made Canada
what it is," said Ge«rs. "Why, with all our enormous
natural resources, we were losing steadily, until 1896,"
"Of course," said Chan. He did not want to offend
Geers, whom he liked. The man was sincere, within
his limitations he was desperately sincere, and Chan
sometimes had to conceal a smile at his glowing faith
in certain shibboleths and war cries. Chan himself did
not believe that any party had the power of a Joshua,
to make the sun stand still or stop shining, or stop
certain great folk movements such as had gradually
filled the United States and overflowed into Canada,
within the last generation. But he wanted to work,
he wanted to take a full part in the life of his country,
and his mental make-up doomed him to be a Liberal,
an affirmative.
It may have been the atmosphere he had been ab-
sorbing in committee rooms that kept him from feeling
any surprise or idealistic repugnance, when Ross re-
turned and unfolded definitely the object of his visit,
Ross never minced words. Only, if he did not want to
tell a thing, he absolutely did not tell it. In this case,
it was what he had coax for.
Ross returned in October, and was delighted with
the change in Chan. The youth was made over, subtly
hardened. It was an inward adjustment that corre-
sponded with a slight physical alteration. His face had
not r^ained its boyish contour, quite; and the tan
seemed bitten in permanently, no mere summer's coat-
ing on youth's fresh cheek. And he was alert, though
chagrined that Whittemore's purpose had not occurred
to him months before.
"Of course, a street railway. Only Ic^cal develop-
ment of an electric plant," be said disgustedly. They
ovCiooglc
113 THE SHADOW RIDERS
were smoking peacefully in Chan's own room ; Whitte-
more had dodged a dozen invitations, and left the hotel
purposely, that he and Chan mig^ht not be disturbed.
He looked very well himself. To be busy agreed with
him, and he had been busy, and successful All the
money he needed was now pledged, by important men,
men with their hands on all the remote political strings
and with influences that extended and ramified indeii-
nitely. He had secured his outlying defences ; he need
expect nothing now but local opposition. That he did
expect
"Yes, it's k^cal enough," he said. "But logical
things are generally the hardest to pull off. I've had
soundings made, and we can look for difficulties.
They'll want to build it themselves."
"I haven't heard it mooted," objected Chan.
"Because, while it's not too soon for us, it's too soon
for the city. Their borrowing power won't stretch
far enough ; and they'll ask for delay. It's our business
to make delay seem criminal, wasteful. And — I think
I've already spiked their guns as far as getting their
credit legally extended for some time to come is con-
cerned."
"Yes." Chan was obviously listening.
"Well, then, there remains to win over the needed
majority here. The mayor we can carry if we can
secure a majority of the council ; he's standpat anyway,
doesn't care for innovations, public ownership, and all
that. Calls himself a practical man. We've got one
of the newspapers — the Recorder. The owner will
have some stock. There are two men here for you
to woric with — one, rather, and he'll deal with the
other. That one's Burrage, and he and a chap named
Addison" — Chan decided there was only one Addison
— "can wield a lot of influence for us, in a decidedly
undeiiground way. Do you know Addison? Real
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 113
estate. He has just got his hands on aome suhurban
property that a carline would boom. Hell let the
right people into it — Verbum sap."
"How simple," said Chan feelingly. "I thot^ht you
were going to let me do something for you here?"
"I am. You've got to be my eyes and ears, my amt
damnie. We're lunching with Butrage to-morrow.
We shall have to have a company reorganisation. I
expect to be here at least a montfi."
"Going to reoiKanise? Why not a separate com-
pany?"
"I never liked that way of doing things, dividing in-
terests," said Whittemore deddedly. "It gives too
good an opportunity for wrecking the business, playing
one end against the other. We just want a reorganisa-
tion, and a blanket charter. Geers will attend to our
new incorporation papers. We shall have a busy
week."
They did have a busy week, and Chan saw very little
of Lesley. She was out several evenings, though Mrs.
Cranston was not. The rest of the time he found
himself occupied. He and Ross renewed old com-
panionship. For a few years after Chan left college
they had been no more than young men together;
friendship held them as close as blood. Chan wanted
to hear all the trifling news of home — so much of home
as he had had since he was ten. He had not been gone
a year, but distance aided time. His decision to remain
made Montreal and Quebec seem definitely of the past.
However that, they shattered the fable that men do
not gossip, and Chan got an earful. Already some of
the pretty girls he had admired were married, others
engaged; one indeed was dead; some of his men
friends had scattered, others planned a near hegira.
It seemed strange, for he had shared Lesley's late de-
lusion, that while he sbxtd still nothing else could be
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114 THE SHABOW RIDERS
going forward. But Whittemore saw that he had not
stood still.
"Do }rou really like it?" he asked, watching Chan
closely. They had got a few hours to themselves, and
had diosen to go motoring, circling the town as they
returned. Indian Summer enwrapped them, though
snow had fallen a week before, a little flirtatious stonn.
The endless prairie wind had forgotten to blow for an
hour of mid-aftemoon.
"Yes, I think I do," said Chan. "It's ugly enot^:h"
— he looked at the city sprawling in all its dusty naked-
ness before them ; the square boxes of houses, flimsy,
hasty, unapologetic ; the treeless streets; the crassly
utilitarian business section, still showing shops with
false wooden fronts masquerading as two stories when
they were but one, unabashed beside one or two square
grey stone oflice buildings ; the plucked looking square
that courtesy dubbed a park — and the new residential
section, nearest them, all jigsaw horrors and imitation
bungalows climbing the hill they were about to descend.
"Oh, it's a camp," said Chan again thoughtfully. "All
this will go some day, every stick of it" He included
the bungalows and layer-cake dwellings of the newly
rich and great. "I suppose the first generation never
really builds, does it? It only takes possession and
runs up its flag. But the mere growth is rather stimu-
lating. It's alive. And, begging Schopenhauer's par-
don, that's the ultimate good."
"I thought it would get you," said Whittemore.
"Don't let it go to your head." Chan looked at him,
and mounted a warmer tan. Whittemore smiled.
"Nothing personal. But you know most people don't
know the difference between being busy and acoint-
plishing something."
"Touch£," said Chan. "I have been feeling like a
man of a£hirs. Oh, very important! Hope youll
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 115
come around every once in a while and restore my
sense of proportion." They were well within the town
by now. Whittemore waved his hand at a house thqr
passed, a big blind ugly grey-stone pile with large
grounds and glistening greenhouses that looked in-
curably commerdaL Nothing of it fitted the surround-
ings ; it might have been created by an earthquake, a
tidy earthquake.
"Just k>6k at that," said Ross gravely, "and remem-
ber your own phrase about the ultimate good, when
you feel yourself slii^ng. But I shan't be far away.
As a matter of fact, I think 111 buy the Chatfield
ranch."
Chan was surprised and delighted. They talked
about nothing else for a time — not even what Ross
might do with the ranch when he got it. It would be
a good, if stow, investment, however; and Ross knew
that. The earth's surface is large, but not inexhaus-
tible ; not even that part of it which was once a king-
dom with an absentee king — Prince Rupert's Land.
Chan did feel important, and reasonably content
But he could laugh at himself, so all was not lost.
The new company's papers were drawn in record
time — the Belle Qaire Power and Lighting Co. The
old one had been the Belle Claire Lighting and Power
Co. I Geers announced that it might be his last private
task. His partner would take over his business
shortly, and he would plunge into the fray for a seat
in the Assembly. His friends understood that would
be merely to keep his hand in until the next Dominion
election, when he meant to be sent to Ottawa.
Then both Geers and Whittemore went with their
charter to Edmonton to sec it safely throi^h — a mere
precaution — and Chan, with a breathing space, deter-
mined to find Lesley if he had to camp on her doorstep
all night
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ii6 THE SHADOW RIDERS
It was simpler than that, though she was lat« again.
Watching from his window, since he felt decidedly dis-
inclined to wait for her in Mrs. Cranston's sitting-
room, he saw her coming in about eight, walking rather
wearily hut with her head high. He caught her in the
hall, and she answered the bell with her hat in her
hand.
"I*m so glad to see you," she said, and stopped there,
unaq>ectedly, stepping back from him. She had an air
of having forgotten something painful
"May I come in?" he asked humbly.
"Don't be stupid," she said severely, her self-posses-
sion recovered. "Come right in — come into tiie kit-
chen, if you like. I want some bread and cheese or
something. I've only had a ham sandwich this eve-
ning."
"Why this asceticism?" he enquired, following her
through the house to the pantry.
"It isn't asceticism," she said, with an air of pa-
tience, investigating the breadbox. "Thank heaven,
here's a currant bun I It's ambition." -
"The bun?"
"No — it — me, everything, Mahomet couldn't go to
the mountain, she's making a molehill of her own.
You might have displayed some curiosi^, and tele-
phoned."
"I will, if youll tell me where to."
She glared at hun, with a moudiful of bun im-
peding utterance.
"Don't you want to hear?"
"I do, I do. Lesley, I've called three times."
"Have you?" she asked, looking unnecessarily sur-
prised, Chan thought. "Amy didn't tell me Well,
I'm beginning to be a journalist. We seem to be short-
handed just now, and Mr. Cresswell is trying me out.
I stay after business hours, and learn about clipping
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 117
time coi^, and take telephone items about Mrs. Var-
ney's next tea and the postponement of the council
meeting, and — and "
"And?"
"Swear you'll never telL"
"I swear."
'To-day I started a weekly department, or whatever
you call it Cresswell said if I could make him lau^,
maybe I could do the same for the public; and to-
morrow, if you look, you'll find me. 'Mary Jane's
Musings,' that's me. People will think it's syndicate
stuff, and you must never tell them any different, for
I want to say what I feel like. Only I'm afraid I may
have to run a woman's page if I'm any good, and if
I'm not m be fired 1"
"Horrible alternative I But, you know, I'm glad.
Only, wouldn't you rather go "
"I can't," she said briefly, and like another well con-
ducted lady, went on cutting bread and butter.
Chan let his opportunity go by. He would not get
that money for at least another week, •
"What have you been doing?" she asked.
"I'll tell you all about it if you have a week to spare,"
he said. "Bring your food out where we can sit
down — I want to read a leaflet to you."
"Very well," she said, inserting a slice of ham in
a sandwich and leading him back to the living-room,
"But I haven't a week to spare to-night I've got to
"Hello, Chan." Amy Cranston interrupted, coming
from the narrow halt "I didn't hear you people come
in. I was so dull; I'm glad you've come." She sat
down with a definite air of possession that nettled
Lesley insensibly. But it was her own sittingroom,
certainly. Evidently she had taken time to dress, in a
innk taffeta that became her excellently by lamplight,
ovCiooglc
118 THE SHADOW RIDERS
and with only Leslejr's shabby serge to ccHiipete. She
had heavy, coarse black hair, lustrous and manageable,
which seemed to go well with the quantities of rice
powder she loved to use ; they, and her warm, shallow
eyes were all Oriental, but her thinness saved her from
sheer vulgarity. She was common, not vulgar; and
she was pretty. Lesley needed art ; but Amy Cranston
was exactly suited by artifice.
Lesley consumed her sandwich in silence, with a
feeling akin to that evoked by the presence of an
elusive mosquito. It was not so much that she ob-
jected to the presence of a third, as
Well, she wasn't interested in Amy's new buckled
shoes, nor in what Amy had had for lunch, nor in what
Bill had said to Amy when he was courting her — nor
in anything that was Amy's. Amy was a fool I Lesley
knew herself to be growing perceptibly irritable of
late. She felt the strain of guarding her thoughts and
looks toward Chan ; she had not yet fitted her neck to
the yoke of constraint. Their companionable summer
had not prepared her for this. . . . How could he
possibly preserve that absorbed air with Amy ? What
had he been going to tell her? As for what she had -
been about to say herself, what she had got to do, she
had no intention of completing the sentence for Amy's
enlightenment. She rose suddenly.
"Excuse me a few minutes," she said. "I must
wash my hands. Proofs are the dirtiest things in
the world."
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CHAPTER XI
THE staircase was double halfway ; that is, there
was a front and back stair, one from the hall,
the other from the kitchen, meeting «i a tiny
landing halfway up the first floor, with a door between,
and the stair turned back then in the cramped hall to
get to the upper floor. This gave direct passage from
the hall to die kitchen, and yet saved room for the
pantry. Lesley took her hat and coat from the hall
rack, mounted to the landing, and went through to the
kitchen, and so out of the kitchen door. She had an
appointment to keep, at the little bridge over the
powerhouse dam. It was that she had meant to tell
Chan, perhaps out of a latent sense of mischief, to
rouse the possessive and conventional male in him;
but she would not tell Amy. It sounded very like a
tryst, but it was rather payment of an obligation.
The evening was cool, but not cold ; and it was not
yet dark. There is a long twilight in such Northern
latitudes, a lovely crystal twilight when the air seems
to hold in solution the last rays of the departed sun,
Lesley, walking rapidly, should have enjoyed it, but
she was tired, and she had a distinct reminiscent sensa-
tion of having been rubbed the wrong way, like a
cat ; or, perhaps, still feline, the sense of having been
crowded from her own place on the hearthrug. She
had almost forgotten why she was going to the bridge
when she reached it, and Jack Addison's figure re-
solved out of the shadow of the powerhouse.
"You came?" he said, holding out his hand.
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lao THE SHADOW RIDERS
"Do you think so 7" she enquired. "WeD, I never
will again, so make the most of it, Patrick Henry."
Her irritation translated itself into flippancy.
"But why won't you?" he demanded a^rieved^.
"Why can't you speak to me sometimes, or come out
for a ride in my car, or "
"Or jump into the river, or do anything equally
silly," she retorted decisively. "Your car breaks down,
for one thing. No, I won't — I won't — I won't. Now
what was it you wanted to sec me for so specially?"
"I'll tell you when you answer me," he said, his
voice both pleading and angry. "Don't you trust me?"
"Do you mean, am I afraid of you?" she asked with
brutal lucidity, smiling candidly into his eyes. "No,
I am not. In fact, I think you are quite agreeable,
and perfectly honourable, and all that sort of thing —
but the least bit selfish and stupid. You forget this
town is very, very small, and that you're not in a posi-
tion to be a squire of dames without people talking, and
that I haven't got any one to take my part if they do.
Perhaps I wouldn't mind if I really wanted to do this ;
but I don't; I dislike being — underhanded, and gossip
makes me furious. Now when I feel like that, do you
think it's quite fair to take advantage of my one silly
little indiscretion to worry me and put me in a comer
and — and make me say things like this? I didn't wcmt
to hurt your feelings," she ended apologetically, be-
cause his shamed face smote her.
"1 know I'm a brute," he said awkwardly, with a
flush under his olive skin.
"Oh, please, don't let's be tragic," she begged gaily.
"You aren't; you just didn't realise. I'm afraid you
take things awfully seriously; and you know life's just
one big joke."
"I do take things seriously, Lesley," he said, turning
toward her impulsively. "I want to warn you ai that.
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS I3l
rm a kind of a hotheaded fool, I suppose. . . . And
you aren't going away at all, now I"
"I suppose not," she sighed, dismissing a passing
wonder why she should be warned of his seriousness.
"Was that what you wanted to ask me?"
"No; I wanted to ask if you care to make some
money.*'
"Mon^? Why, of course; who doesn't? But I
never did, except by working for it How do you
mean?"
"Give me your word 3TOu'11 not repeat this."
"I never tell anything," she said with mild impa-
tience.
"Well, here's the chance of your lifetime. Look up
there," he waved his hand across the river, to the
he^hts just above them. "D'you know who owns that
land? I do — at least, I control it It's worth fifty
dollars an acre now, but eighteen months from now
it'll be worth that much for a twenty-five foot lot I'm
running a syndicate that's just bought it, and a lot
more on the other side of town. And — this is what
you're to keep to yourself — by spring a street railway
will have commenced to build across the river. Do
you want to put in a little money and get it back ten
times over in a couple of years ? If you do, I'll be
responsible for it"
"So — there is going to be a street car line?" she
mused. Why had no word of it been printed ?
"You've heard of it?" he challenged.
"No, I hadn't How should I?"
"I thought maybe Herrick had told jrou."
"Chan Herrick? Does he know it^'
"He should. His uncle's the one who will build it
And he didn't tell you?"
"Why shouU he? He doesn't tell tne everything,"
"Do you like him?" asked Addison, suddenly com-
ovCiooglc
123 THE SHADOW RIDERS
tng doser U her side, peering into her face in the diio-
ming light She, leaning on the rail, looking tran-
quilly down at the foaming race. "You see a lot of
him."
"He lives next door," Lesley reminded him coolly.
"Of course I see him. I left him at the house to-night,
to come and meet you."
"tHd you?" Addison laid his hand on hers.
"Don't do that," she said placidly. He moved away
again, and still she did not even look at him. Yet she
might have learned something from his face then had
she taken that small trouble.
"Well, will you?" he asked, biting his lip nervbusly.
"Will I ? oh, invest I was thinkit^. I shan't know
for a few days if I can or not It depends on how well
we sell our beef. You know I have to think of my
mother, and I have hardly any money. But if my
brother makes enough to take care of her for the win-
ter, I will give you what I have. I would like to make
some money." Hope flared up. It would be too late
for college, but not for the subsequent venture of her
fortune in the great market places of the East. "It
would mean a lot to me," she said wistfully.
"Would it? You know I'd like to do something for
you," As always, she had moulded him to her mood,
tamed his blood and curbed his reckless spirit. It
was as if she had put her cool strong hands on his hot
face. They were silent; she had not troubled to
answer. Night was coming down, a faint breeze whis-
pered among the dry willows on thejittle island across
the bridge. Not a soul had come near them, for no one
lived on the island nor was there a continuation of
the bridge to the further shore. In summer, some used
it for a pleasance to walk in, but no one walked so
far this night. Lesley had expected that when she
named it for a meeting place. The rush of the water
ovCiooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 133
over the dam sounded like the wings of daricness
swot^ii^ on the waiting earth.
"I must go in," she said at last "And I should like
to go home alone from the gate of the powerhouse
yard ; do you mind ?'
"If you like," he said, discontented but subdued.
There were many other things he had meant to say to
her, but she had defeated them unspoken. His rebel-
lion would come afterward, when he was alone, and
could not reach her. They picked their way amoi^
piles of Imnber, their steps falling deadened on the
sawdust and bark of the enclosure, which was all pun-
gent and fresh with the odour of cut pine. She kept a
little ahead of him, but turned at the gate, as she had
the night of the motor ride.
"How is your mother?" he asked imexpectedly,
merely to detain her for another moment.
"Doing well — and she sent regards to you. I'll tell
her you asked."
"Do. Did she go to Pasadena?"
"Yes — well, it's very close to Pasadena." She gave
him the address. "It's quieter and cheaper out there.
She says she feels well enough to come back already,
but she mustn't till spring. It was good of you to
send those flowers to the train. My mother is awfully
nice, you know," she laughed, "and I'm sorry you
didn't meet her. Now, good-night."
"Lesley " he began desperately, but she drew
her hand from his with a jerk and repeated loudly:
"Good-night"
So that was over. She drew a deep breath of re-
lief as she hastened away without looking back. She
had done just exactly what she had planned to do;
put a wet blanket on him and weighted it down, care-
fully extracte<} all the intriguante flavour from the
drcomstances of their meeting and made it seem
ovCiooglc
124 THE SHADOW RIDERS
cheap and sordid and sneaking. She had made him
feel like a cad, and hoped righteously that it might
do him good. She had labelled the affair definitely as
silly instead of romantic, and pinned him solidly to
the matter of (act.
Why had she wanted to do that? Such a short
time back, one half of her had really ached to go on,
to be silly if necessary, and careless of consequences,
to seize whatever glamour and excitement he prom-
ised. Aside from liking Jack Addison in a casual
way, she had, in fine, wanted to do something she
shouldn't, because she was so deadly tired of doing
everything she should. Eve's daughter was looking
at the apple. It was, anyway, such a little apple, and
only one bite . . .
But it was all changed now; she was changed.
Why?
Under cover of the dark, she began to run, her
heart racing, the bkiod.singing in her veins, a nymph
pursued. But the piping of Pan was only to her
inner ear, an echo of memory. She fled from her own
thoughts, from the recollection of what had caused
this reaction. Chan had kissed her. . . . Other men
—there were no other men now. By and bye she
slowed again to a sedate pace, grappled with herself,
looking at the calm stars, brilliant and white as dia-
monds. The northern stars are not the lights of ro-
mance, they are too far and cool; they are the
mariner's stars, the astronomer's galaxies. She felt
immensely insignificant, gazing at them, too small to
be hurt, or to cry out.
The gate was open, as she must have left it She
went across the short grass of the front yard, around
by the side of the house to the rear door, as she
had come. Passing the living-room window, she won-
dered if Chan had gone away, if he or Amy had
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS i>5
looked for her or missed her, and sbe stooped, m-
Tohmtarily, and peeped under the blind As far as she
had a home for the nonce, this was her home ; ooe may
Dot look into a stranger's window, bat sorely into one's
own . . .
SometinMS it is better not to kxik into one's own, ^
either.
Quite evidently neither Chan nor Amy had missed
her ; they were sitting on the green plush sofa by the
dying fire. . . .
L^ley did not deliberately watch them ; she had not
the slightest wish to. She felt sick, to tell the truth,
horribly, vulgarly sick, and stood straight, with her
hands on her contracted throat If she had desired
to look again, there was still no need, for the pic-
ture burnt under her eyelids ; Amy's lax figure and
cUngii^ arms, and the look in Chan's eyes ; his satis-
fied mouth. And that indescribable air of use, of past
intimacy. . . .
There are three sides to desire, and a Idnd of
geometrical rule of progression governs the novice
in exploring the terra incognita. The first vista yields
wonder, a delicious fear, and has no knowledge of
things earthy. A first kiss is an end in itself. It
is a r^on of pure ether. Love itself cannot breathe
there long, wanting some heavier constituent, some
alloy. But the base of the triangle rests very firmly
on earth itself, and the searcher comes to that wiUi
a soul-toppling shock. Earth is clean or base accord-
ing to its use. Simple animal passion has a clean-
ness of its own in elemental natures, without the
shame of sophistication. But it is a terrible thing for
that romantic vagrant we call our youth to confront,
and some do not survive whole the knowledge of
it They spurn it, or wallow in it, but do not have
sense eaou^ to use it to plant the flowers of life
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126 THE SHADOW RIDERS
in. And on the third side there is an impartial appre-
hension of the whole matter, which makes the ever-
lasting courtship of the perpetually renewed race a
vast and Rabelaisian comedy. It is purely humor-
ous; it is the gross and wholesome jest from which
nine-tenths of our laughter springs. In the end
all three impressions are fused ; and passion and won-
der and mirth are one. Every lover finds in the
beloved the most marvellous, the most exquisitely
amusing, and the most hotly desired object in creation.
All this Lesley might have heard without being
helped at all. She had to see, and she was seeing.
The earth rocked beneath her feet and the stars
went out, and nothing remained but that one hideous
fact. She was left alone in a wide universe with it;
she was dragged into complicity by virtue of what she
had felt for Chan ; Amy Cranston occupied the sanc-
tuary of her soul with her very self, and pawed with
her little, greedy, curious hands over the idol of her
secret shrine.
Just how long she stood by the window she never
knew afterward ; it was probably no more than two
or three minutes. She did not want to go into the
house at all while it held Amy and Chan, but she did
go in because there was no place else to go. The
human soul quite as much as the human body has
kept man from housing like the ants ; it demands a
place of its very own for its moments of highest
happiness and greatest desolation. Lesley suffered
now the pang of the homeless J but her room served
for a makeshift. Once in it, she found to her as-
tonishment that she had taken off her shoes in order
to get upstairs quietly, and this struck her as so
ridicutous she was obliged to smother an incipient
hysteria with a pillow. Then she grew very quiet,
fts one is in a house of the dead. With the instinct
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 127
of misery for adding to its burden, she sat rigidly on
a very uncomfortable straight-backed kitchen chair
and stared at a beef-extract calendar girl on the wall,
who simpered. Later, she hated the light, and turned
it out and lay face downward on the bed, catching
cold f rotn the open window. And then she was aware
that Amy Cranston was calling to her. It seemed a
purposeful insuh. She would not answer. Then
the most powerful of civilised emotions, the desire
to keep up an appearance, not to betray herself, re-
turned to her. She went to the door. Mrs. Craostfm
was in the hall below.
"I have a frightful headache," said Lesley. If
her voice was hoarse, the other two did not notice
it Chan was still in the living-room, but he evidently
heard her, and came out. "I am going to bed," added
Lesley. "Good-night — oh, it's nothing, really 1" She
closed her door on their questions.
Chan looked at Amy quickly. He found nothing in
her face but an almost innocent relief at having the
rest of the evening clear before her. She went back
to the fire, and he followed, but did not sit down.
He thought he was uncomfortable because Lesley was
ill, never having felt it necessary to deny to himself
that he liked Lesley. The guilty suspicion that was
trying to make its way to the light in his mind seemed
preposterous. How much could one upstairs hear of
what went on below? He could not hear his land-
lady at all, unless she shrieked, or upset the furni-
ture. It couldn't be . ; .
It is natural to have a reaction against anything
that causes us discomfort. Just for the moment Amy
Cranston's open lure failed to draw. After all, he
had come to see Lesley, and if she couldn't be si
It was certainly odd of her
"I think I must go," he said.
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128 THE SHADOW RIDERS
"Oh, no I" said Amy, and put up her face askii^ly.
He was so much taller than she that when she put
her arms about his neck she seemed to be dra^ng
him down. The flavour of a clandestine kiss when its
very circumstances enforce it is curious, and not alto-
gether sweet. Chan was not bitten by remorse, not
yet, but the reaction was indubitable. It carried him
home, despite Amy's clinging arms. And he won-
dered how he should see Lesley without nmning into
those arms i^in.
He managed it easily enough, of course, by watching
from a window. She stopped at his hail, her hand on
the gate, the very next evening, and her manner to
him was a triumph of histrionics. He felt like a
sensitised plate, approaching her, but the plate re-
mained blank.
"Are you better?" he asked.
"My headache is gone, and I have a violent cold,"
she croaked. "Is that to be better?" There was no
acting about the cold. Tears make an excellent prepa-
ration for influenza.
"Are you going to be in later?"
"I don't know. And I suppose I ought to retire
with mustard plasters and hot water bottles."
"I have something — rather important, to tell you,"
be said. "Can't I come to-morrow night?"
"If I'm alive, I suppose so," she said, and even
smiled. It was abnost equally pleasant and painful
to have him entreat her. She had a sense of justice,
at all times, but it was quick work to have brought
herself in twenty-four hours to acknowledge that,
after all, he owed her nothing. She had no right
to require of him more than of any other man, and
she did not consider herself a censor of morals for
all the men she knew. She had no standing even in
her own eyes.
0. Google
CHAPTER Xn
AS it happeaed, he did not see her ^ain for a
week. The next mornii^ brought a tel^ram
from Wfaittemore, askii^ him to go to Edmon-
ton for a day or so. He thought it must be impor-
tant business, and went without question. It was not;
the charter had already been put through all essen-
tial preliminaries, favourably reported out of commit-
tee, and was assured. Whittemore had merely been
discovered by the wife of the Premier, who was a
one-time schoolmate of his dead sister. She instantly
took on herself the status of an old friend, asked
him a million polite questions, discovered he pos-
sessed a nephew, and demanded the instant produc-
tion of the nephew to grace a ball she was giving.
It made her feel important to have young men sum-
moned specially from remote comers of the earth
to decorate her ballroom. And, as she remembered it,
Laura Herrick — Laura Whittemore — had been her
very dearest friend. She must have been, since
Whittemore was so rich and so presentable. Society
is run on the Berkeleian theory, that everything exists
only in the imagination. What could be more com-
fortable? Everything in this sense includes every-
thing but money. There is something so grossly ma-
terial about money as to resist the strongest doses
of i^ilosophy.
She was, in any event, a quite agreeable woman,
and Chan did not mind, except that he had not brought
evening wear and had to wire for it He spent a
U9
ovGooglc
130 THE SHADOW RIDERS
very pleasant week mvestigating the social miciDcosm
of the capital city, with Ross as commentator.
Lesley's week was not so pleasant, but it passed.
One got used, she found, to a dull ache in one's heart,
to sickness of life while life did not care if one sick-
ened of it or not She learned the meaning of the
tedium vUa. Even the sight of Amy Cranston did not
exactly hurt It astonished her, rather ; roused a curi-
osity she could not answer. What had Chan found
in that? It was not surprising Amy had married;
she suited her husband's ideals exactly — so far as he
would ever know. But Chan
Later, she thought, she would probably leave Mrs.
Cranston's. The situation was painfu^ and might
grow impossible.
The lack of freedom, which was a simple lack of
means, to go from a place that irked her, roused her
to action with regard to Addison's offer. Fortu-
nately, Dick wrote that their beef had sold well, Les-
ley took all the money she had, only about two hun-
dred dollars, and sent it by messenger to Addison.
The fervour of the hope that accompanied it was
almost a prayer. She had to have something to live
for. Addison wrote back with a matching fervour,
and su^fested talking the matter over with her. She
replied that he was to use full discretion, and that was
all there was to say. She had to write that same in-
junction six times before it appeared to penetrate to
his understanding. It became humorous at last; she
almost shouted over his final letter. But the idea of
seeing Addison nauseated her, in the same manner as
she had sickened over another sight. The events of
that evening had somehow linked themselves together.
Herself and Jack — Chan and Amy — they had been on
the same business. Her understanding leered at her
innocence. It was all ugly, detestable. If she had
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RTOERS 131
not known before, she had been a fool. If she had
She was jealous, of course, and the taste of it got
into everything; poor romance dared not show its
smirched and self-conscious head. A fierce virginity
— a kind of Iron Virgin — possessed her.
So she worked as hard as possible, to keep her
mind o£F it Cresswell encouraged her with enthusi-
asm. He had a very inadequate staff, and LesI^
was useful. And she found in him the only toler-
able companionship within reach. There is a kind
of disillusionment, the disillusion of the spectator who
always watches the play from behind the scenes, com-
mon to newspaper writers, and to hardly any other
class of men. They develop a genial and immensely
tolerant and rather relishing cynicism. It is also true
that the freshly disillusioned always demand more of
the same bitter medicine, so Lesley came to Cresswell.
Cresswell had known a larger sphere of action than
he now adorned — if one could speak of adornment in
connection with Cresswell — he was on the down-
grade, but he had once been at the top. He had
a Mark Twain shock of brindle hair, a loose-jointed
frame to match, mild blue eyes, and a sulphurous vo-
cabulary, for which he used to beg Lesley's pardon
before unloosing it.
She stayed in the office sometimes in the even-
ings, struggling with Mary Jane's contributions to
the world's thought, and being educated journalisti-
cally by Cresswell, who would have fallen in love
with her if he had not been fifty and possessed a
real sense of humour. He told her Mary Jane was
a success already, after one issue — an inconsiderable
lie when added to Cresswell's past account. But he
knew a newspaper's needs, and he knew timely and
popular stuff when he saw it There was salt in
Lesley's writing, just enough. It would be a suc-
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132 THE SHADOW RIDERS
cess, as far as success goes in such limitarions. He
was already thinking of demanding Lesley's full tim»
from the business office, though he did not tell her
so. He would have to wait until some one dropped
off the staff. He did not want to discharge one of
his men ; he liked them all, and it was a long way to
the next camp.
Late in the week they were in the newsroom alone,
when a boy brought in a batch of telegraph flimsy.
Cresswell was his own telegraph editor, as he was
everything else when need arose. Lesley, resting
her head, which felt entirely empty, on her typewriter,
listened to the rustle of the sheets of thin paper and
waited for him to ask her to re-type or paste up some
of it for him. He would. But he only grunted
softly to himself and muttered something she could
not catch,
"I guess that's the joker," he said finally, spealdng
to the world at large.
"What?"
"Nothing, my chee-ild. Only the Belle Claire is
getting a new charter that covers everything from
pitch-and-toss to manslaughter — yeh, they can start a
soda fountain or dig for oil or run a matrimonial bu-
reau if they want to — and I guess I know why the "
Great Mogul told me to let him see all the Edmonton
stuff before it went in."
"Don't talk Choctaw. You annoy me," said Les-
ley, who had no respect whatever for his grey hairs.
She was intensely feminine, and a man was a man. It
should be added that he liked the treatment.
"Well, then," he remarked, "if you must know, and
always remembering that I'll fire you if you repeat my
girlish confidences, we're going to have a street rail-
way, whether we like it or not. I was just wondering
if our esteemed morning contemporary will get on to
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 133
the joker in this private bill, grantti^ a blanket diar-
ter to the Belle Qaire Company?"
"Why is it a joker?" asked Lesley. "Is there uiy
thin^ queer about it? Why not a street railway?"
"As the March hare said, why not? No, there's
nothit^ queer about it yet. I didn't know they were
ready to go ahead, that's all. Best thing they can do,
though, is to rush it. Costs less all around . . ."
"But what is the mystery about it ?"
"Business is very mysterious. So is a City CoundL
Can you think of anything more mysterious than Al-
derman Curtin ? Why is he ?" He liked to tease her,
but she was so insistent that he finally told her as
much as he knew, which, including surmise, was suffi-
ciently extensive. In fact, he knew pretty well all,
only not being one of the inner ring and having no
personal stake in the matter, he only heard things
after their accomplishment. He had not known the
reorganisation charter was on the stocks ; he only knew
there was to be one. He had not known of Addison's
syndicate until it was formed, but he knew who was
in it, and why, Lesley listened with flattering atten-
tion, and ungratefully forgot to give him any confi-
dence in return.
She wondered what was her own responsibility, her
two hundred dollars' worth, in a matter that was evi-
dently going to include bribery. But business ia
mostly like that ; she had seen something of business.
The question was academic with her; conscience was
gnawing elsewhere. She had never read Proudhon,
and when Cresswell unconsciously resolved her diffi-
culty in reconciling current business with any system
of ethics by quoting:
" 'All property is theft,' " she yielded the point of
obscurity, and merely remarked :
"I suppose so." Then she put on her hat and went
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134 THE SHAI)OW RTOERS
home drearily. Chan had sent her a note explaining
his absence, and there was not even the doubtful pleas-
ure of his company to look forward to.
But he returned in due course. And Providence or-
dained that Mrs. Cranston should again go out for
the evening.
Lesley's constraint had worn off ; she had adjusted
herself to atl the unspoken things between them. But
in so doing she had lost something of her sparkling
and natural manner toward him. He thought she
still looked ill ; she was merely tired. There was an
edge on her speech; he put it down to the wearing
effect of disappointment
He was quite rig^t and entirely wrong. He thought
he could remove the disappointment by a few words —
if he could for once choose them carefully enough. He
was woefully mistaken. But he had that money in
hand at last
"You aren't looking well," he began unpropitiously.
Nothing is more maddening to a woman.
"I am perfectly well," she said. "I am always per-
fectly weli."
"Please don't be cross I" He was remarkably meek.
"Oh, heavens! can't I even be cross? Can't I do
one single thing I b^ your pardon. I don't
know what's the matter with me. It must be the
wind, or something. Doesn't it get on your nerves?
Doesn't this whole town get on your nerves? How
can you possibly live here? Let me be cross, Chan."
She drocq>ed into pathos, and was enraged at herself
for doing so. She feared she would whimper
presently.
"I know it's tough on you," he said soothingly.
"And that's what I wanted to speak to you about
About your going away "
"But I'm not going away," she said violently.
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 135
"Yes, you can if you want to," be insisted. "If
youll do me a favour, and let me help you "
"How?" Of course she knew perfectly there was
only one way. But she had never thought of get-
ting anything from Chan; she was surprised. It
could never have been entirely agreeable. Now it
was more, it was impossible. If she could only make
it impossible for him to speak. ... He omld not
misread her hostile glance, but he had to go on.
"I have some money I don't need " he began
awkwardly.
"Then you're luckier than I am," said Lesley, and
her voice broke despite herself. "But that has noth-
ii^ to do with me."
"Lesley I Please let me -"
"Nothing at all," she said stonily. And then, to
her furious dismay, she felt a large tear roll down
her cheek. "Don't talk about it, I tell you," she said
imperiously, and dived for her handkerchief. The
movement sent her into his arms ; he was not inexpert,
and she could not see. Well, she had wept once be-
fore, and habit is easily formed. He thought he knew
what to do. And, as one of the innumerable injustices
of finite affairs, he was as innocent toward her as
the first time. Her courage, her wit, her abominably
hard luck appealed to him on their own merits, not
as bait for anything else. Certainly he was fair to
her; there was that to be said for him. But she
gave him no chance to say it. They were equally
taken by surprise, for he got his kiss, and paid for it.
She slapped him with a promptitude and ferocity
that very literally sta^ered him. The strength he
had noted when she carried Eileen Conway up the
walk had by no means departed from her.
Then they found themselves on their feet, facii^f
eadi other, in a whirl of emotions that left them
ovGooglc
136 THE SHADOW RIDERS
wordless. Chan had been a bit of an amateur ath-
lete, and he wondered in a dazed manner whether
he had heard a bell ring for time or if it was od\y
a natural singing in his head. Mixed with that he
could find a grain of admiration for Lesley; her
rage was truly royal. Her long eyes had a green-
ish flame in them, like the phosphorescence in the
eye of a roused animal; the iris had almost disap-
peared. She was poised like Victory, as if she would
swoop and strike again. Then she rushed past him,
and he heard her flying up the stairs, and still he
stood there, one hand pressed gingerly to his ear.
He was relieved to find he still possessed that ear.
He pivoted slowly on his heel, looking speculatively
at the door where she had disappeared, sorting out his
feelings. It was necessary to know whether he felt
apologetic or furious. He felt both, but the outcome
was that he followed her quietly upstairs. Standing
outside her door, the anger disappeared. She was
crying, with little choky, hiccupping sounds, like a
child that has been lodced in a dark closet. And,
indeed, it was so she felt. She had never harmed
any one, and she had been humiliated to the last
degree her girlish ima^nation could compass. To
get the crumbs from Amy Cranston's table . . .
Without knocking, he opened the door firmly and
marched over to where she lay crumpled upon the
bed. She sat up, her eyes almost dry, her face very
white, her lips parted as if she could not get enou^
air.
"Please go away," she said. "This is my room.
And I am not in the least sorry I "
"Well, I am," he remarked slowly, his sense of
humour penetratit^ to the surface. "But you did
a good job, so you needn't be. I'll go in a minute,
but I want to apologise first I meant well, Leslqr.
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 137
I'm ft^tfuUy sorry." Even with the mark of her
hand flaming; on his cheek, he was sincere and dig-
nified. He had saved himself somehow, in this de-
plorable affair; and he was insisting she should do
the same for herself. A wave of liking, the old
liking that had been scorched by a later flame, surged
up in her. The cold light of reason beat into her
disordered brain, ranging her alongside him, a worse
culprit than he. She had struck him because ... be-
cause she loved him I And he had never asked
her to.
There was no possibility of sentiment left in the
situation, at least She reinforced her pride to break
it the more thorou^Iy; she humbled herself for the
sake of her pride, and held on to nothing but the
truth.
"I — apologise, too," she said, "even if I'm not
sorry I"
In a world of unreason there is nothing so hu*
morous as the truth. They laughed, they had to
laugh. It was perhaps fortunate for Lesley that no
man ever asks- a woman: "Why did you do that?"
That is her question. His is: "Why won't you do
this?" And it was not a time for that particular
query. Moreover, they were both exceedingly thank-
ful to avoid explanations, and like sensible people
they did so. Also, Chan never again referred to his
offer of help. He had had auricular evideoce that
it was not wanted.
0. Google
CHAPTER XIII
THE election was called for December. It might
have been earlier, for public confidence was
badly shaken and the Crown Lands scandal
increased daily, but the Assembly prolonged its sit-
tings to get through a gerrymander bill giving the
thinly settled northern part of the province a highly
disproportionate representation. The North was a
sure strong-hold of Liberalism, by reason of prom-
ises of development through public works, badly
needed, some already under way, others definitely
pledged. With the Opposition clamouring of ex-
travagance and promising economy, the North would
take no chances. Whittemore was glad of the extra
time and the general interest in purely political af-
fairs to get his new charter ratified, which was done.
He incidentally became very much persona grata at
Edmonton. With business out of the way, he wished
the election over, so he might proceed to obtain
a much more vital requisite than the charter, the
city franchise for a car line. As it would not do to
have the negotiations become embroiled in the po-
litical turmoil, that was delayed.
The light was hot; several scandals developed far
beyond what Geers, in his talk with Herrick, had
anticipated. To the surprise of both parties, the
Government seemed, judging by rumour and straw
votes, to be in some actual danger. Some of the
Liberals had possibly foreseen it when urging Geers
to stand; his personal popularity had guaranteed
his election. They did not wish to risk a weaker
138
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THE SHADOW RIDERS I3!>
man, since Folsom had succeeded to Geers' old seat
on a Conservative ticket. They wanted his strength
if only for a y«ar or two ; it was thoroughly under-
stood that he would resign once more and stand for
the Dominion House when a national dissolution oc-
curred. Who would be his understudy in that'
emergency it was not yet worth while to decide, al-
though both parties were decidedly short of good
material for public men. It is a notable fact that
men whom their associates recognise as able are loth
to hold any offices but the highest; they will vote
for a man they would hardly employ in their private
business, and secretly consider their own abilities
too large to be wasted in a merely useful and in-
a>nspicuous l^slative or administrative place. It
is sheer vanity; and they pay the price for it in a
stupid maladministration of local affairs.
"In a few more years," said Geers to Whittemore,
"we could put your nephew in. He's getting into
training faster than any one I ever saw. But this
is the country for young men." Geers had the poli-
tician's penchant for cliches; it made him a trifle
tedious in private conversation. "By the way," he
went on, "you've not mentioned your street-car sys-
tem lately. I am still interested, you know." His part
had been finished when the charter went throt^h,
which was purely legitimate business. Whittemore,
for excellent reasons, did not want him employed in
the civic negotiations.
"I've sidetracked it till the election is over," said
Whittemore truthfully.
"I thought you anticipated opposition," said Geers.
"In fact, I was surprised myself when none o£ the
newspapers slashed it. I thought the Call would,
merely as a matter of general policy. They're all
for public ownership; and still crying for Govem-
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140 THE SHADOW RIDERS
ment grain elevators. I don't believe in it myself;
I think private enterprise is the life of a nation," he
concluded sententiously.
"I don't know how our charter did get by," said
Whittetnore. He had thought of that point before.
If it was luck, he hoped his luck might hold. Work-
ii^ underground, Barrage and Addison had secured
secret promises of support from a group of very
influential aldermen. The owner of the Recorder
guaranteed them the mayor, who owed his election
largely to that newspaper. It seemed too easy. How-
ever, to worry because there was nothing to worry
about seemed the height of the ridiculous. He dis-
missed the idea, and went up to Ban£F to meet an
old friend who was passing through. And he in-
structed Burrage to confer with Chan about anything
that might develop.
Once in Banff, he proceeded to develop an active
case of grippe that had been germinating for sev-
eral days previously. He wired Chan that it was
only a sli^t cold, but that he would stay over
for a week of the sulphur baths. Whereupon, of
course, things happened.
Chan was in the Belle Qaire office that particular
afternoon. He had chosen to take his drudgery seri-
ously, and did not use his uncle's influence to cover
laziness. Besides, he wanted a thorough knowledge
of costs and charges to take over to the street rail-
way office when the time came. He had put some
money — the money Lesley scorned, with some addi-
tion — into Addison's suburban development company,
and hoped that might lift him out of routine work
some day; but chiefly he looked forward to filling
adequately the place he knew Whittemore would in-
sist on his having in the new concern. It was
nqiotistQ, but he meant to deserve ft. There would
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 141
be room for an enterprising' young man, much more
than in the present cut-and-dried routine work.
Answering an urgent summons, Chan hastened up-
town to Addison's rooms. There he found Burrage,
still clinging to the telephone, listening, and for the
most part holding his hand over the receiver so that
he might swear reflectively and without disturbing
whoever was at the other end of the line. Addison
let Chan in, and shot the bolt behind him. They
gave each other one appraising glance, and Chan per-
ceived with surprise a latent hostility in Addison's
eyes. But they shook hands. Burrage looked up and
nodded.
"Just a minute," he said, and then to the telephone :
"AH Tight; yes, I'll be here till it's over." And
again to Herrick : "Can you get hold of Whittemore
quick, damn quick?"
"He's in Banff, I can 'phone or wire. Why?"
"Because some one's stolen a march on us. The
city council is in session now — and it's considering
a bid for a street-car franchise from a Winnipeg man.
I don't know who he is, nor whom he represents,
but 111 find out There isn't another 'phone here,
and I need this one. Go up to the Alberta Hotel
and put in a call for Whittemore. We'll wait here
for yon." Chan could take orders. He went to the
hotd and stood for fifteen stuffy minutes in a tele-
phone booth and then went back in great haste.
"Ross is sick," he announced. "Can't answer a
'phone call. But unless he's dead, he'll want to hear
about this. No, it's only the grippe, I understand.
I think I can just get the afternoon train. Good-
bye 1"
Burrage resumed his lurid soliloquy alone, for
Chan was on his way to the station, and Addiaon
had gone out to scout for news.
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143 THE SHADOW RIDERS
Oddly enough, Chan had not been to Banff before.
It is a lonely place, unless one has personal friends
stopping there ; for there are no amusements, except
riding, eating, and splashing in the tepid and unex-
citing tanks of stilphur spring water. But the moun-
tain scenery is majestic, the eating excellent, and—
there is no place else to go. Alberta flocks there in
its leisure time.
Chan was nervous with apprehension over Ross by
the time he stepped off the train into the station "hxis,
to be driven along the curving road between the pines
to the sanatorium. The town had the soulless look
of a stmimer resort when winter clutches it; all the
hotels but the sanatorium were closed ; and the dark-
green river flowed between banks of solid white.
Here was real winter. It was the thin, electric air
and the tension of the unaccustomed altitude that
wrought on Chan's nerves most ; but he did not realise
that, and felt as if he should presently burst through
the roof of the lius if it did not reach its destination.
But it did presently, and he rushed up to Ross's room
on the heels of the nurse who promised to see if he
might be admitted.
"Hello, Chan I" said his uncle huskily, looking very
distinguished and calm in a black camd's-hatr
burnous and a reclining chair. The air also keyed him
up too much to stay in bed all day, even when he
was ill. They let him have his way because he al-
ways did get his way, in a manner so courteous that
he always seemed to be yielding. "Why didn't you
give the nurse your mess^e? Not but what I'm glad
to see you."
"It was too long and complicated; it would have
bored her," said Chan, smiling at the nurse in ques-
tion. She smiled back, and rustled out discreetly.
"Ah, I seel Well?"
ovGooglc
THE SHAIXJW RTOERS 143
"Somebody," said Chan, "has turned the tables wi
us — spiked our guns." And he told all he knew.
"So that was it! I'm ashamed to confess that I
never thought of that. Will you hand me that glass,
please? Thanks; it's some kind of lubricant for my
throat Pity it won't work on my head. I'm glad
you came," he repeated. "I can't talk over the 'phone
at all ; can't make myself heard," and his voice bore
him out. It was strange how a certain charm, like
the ghost of the tones of his younger days, was
still conveyed in Whittemore's voice. "But you can
do all I might Now I think you'd better get Butrage
on the wire and see if anything new has happened.
Of course the council couldn't grant a charter in one
hearing; but I'd like to know who's back of the appli-
cation. I fancy you may have to stay here some days."
Chan wired for his suitcase, and glued himself pa-
tiently to a telephone receiver. He talked and lis-
tened at intervals most of the afternoon, and half
of the night, and began again in the morning. News
came in driblets ; the backers of the man from Win-
nipeg were given out — Winnipeg capitalists — and Ad-
dison unearthed circumstantial evidence to show that
still other backers, local men and Edmonton cafu-
talists, were lurking in the background. The pre-
vious silence of the Morning Call was rumoured to
have a solid reason. And by noon Whittemore, who
had utilised a feverish night for some hard think-
ing, had decided on immediate action. The council
was meeting again that afternoon, having only ad-
journed sine die the day before after tabling the
application for a charter presented by the Winnipeg
Burrage carried them another application to table.
The surprise of some of the aldermen was genuine.
They were largely the ones who had not been sur-
ovCiooglc
144 THE SHADOW RIDERS
prised by th« first one. Since it had come to a con-
test, Burrage had to oflfer better tenns to the city
— a good deal better than he or any one else had had
in mind. Whittemore, knowing that no immediate or
overt action might be expected, lay back and devoted
himself seriously to recuperating his strength, while
Burrage made soundings among his pledged and half-
pledged friends, Chan remained within hearing dis-
tance of the telephone.
There was matter for headlines in that week's pa-
pers. The news columns screamed, but the editorial
pages were singularly subdued, approaching their con-
clusions by roundabout. It wot^d never do to seem
to have a mind made up in advance. There was
enough comedy in it all to make Lesley laugh when
Cresswell gave her his own opinions on the very
editorials he was writing. Naturally the Recorder
professed by disinterested examination to find most
merit in Whittemore's proposal. The Call had a per-
ceptible leaning to the other side. No word of dvic
ownership yet appeared. Real-estate values in subui^
ban districts were as active and erratic as popcorn
in a pan; the city in general rubbed its palms and
anticipated a boom. In the past a boom had ]nelded
rich pickings, and the reaction had been slight be-
cause population was actually and I^ttimately in-
creasing at an almost incredible ratio. With farm
immigration steadily growing in the vast area of rich
lands which had no other urban centre, the city could
afford to grow.
The Recorder's editorials increased in warmth from
day to day; the Call did no more than would in any
case have been expected of an active opponent, in
more vigorously espousit^ the opposite side. The
Ma3ror preserved an air of portentous and judicial
detachment Chan grew to hate the sight of ft tele-
ovCiooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 145
phone, and Whittemore declared himself cwivalescent
Only Burrage looked more and more anxious, and
ibe gloom deepened on his round, swarthy counte-
nance. Some of his secret strii^ had got tangled ;
be had relied too much on a select few, and Addi-
son's favours had been kept within too close a circle.
He met with obstructions and imcertainty, suspected
his quondam friends of having been suborned, and
altogether was as disgruntled a fat man as the prov-
ince contained. He had never had much faith in
human nature, and that small portion was rapidly
dwindling. It is a mere platitude that those who work
through human weakness are most di^fusted when
human weakness upsets their calculations. Burrage
wronged his townsmen and the worthy councillors
in the main; they were "all honourable men"; no
real bribes had been passed, and a business man
feels himself within his rights when he protects his
own. How it came to be his own does not enter into
the matter. The materially disinterested aldermen
were honestly perplexed; and felt rather bedevilled
into the state of mind which produces "bolters" in
conventions. The interested ones were honestly con-
vinced. But there were a very small minority — how
many was never quite definitely settled — who smelt
spoils, had got none, and felt as honestly defrauded.
In short, these would have to be let in, and the ones
who were in were not over-anxious to share. That
was the gist of Burrage's later communications with
Banff. It became rather too delicate a matter to
shout into a telephone.
Whittemore himself had an interest in Addison's
syndicate. Since it was necessary to heave ballast
to keep his balloon aSoat, he decided that would serve.
He would never miss the money lost; what he was
after was the creative power, the building of that
ovGooglc
146 THE SHADOW RIDERS
car line. So he gave Chan to understand in a deci-
sive conference over a letter from Barrage.
"Give 'em my share," he said. "Write and tell
Burrage to do whatever has to be done; I'll stand
the gaflf."
And in Chan's answering letter went a blank trans-
fer of certain holdings, to be filled in by Burrage as
required.
Generally speaking, it is a mistake to write letters
of any kind whatever. Some Eastern peoples believe
the written word is a fetish of great power, which
must not be destroyed. They are quite ri^t in
their premise; but the conclusion should be exactly
reversed. However, Chan wrote the letter. He was
quite a young man to write a diplomatic communica-
tion. He thought, if a thing was to be made under-
standable, it should be said plainly. But Burrage was
perfectly safe. To keep the matter closer, he was
directed not to consult Geers on this occasion; if any
legal aspect of the transfer were insisted on at once,
get another lawyer. The rest at his discretion.
Burrage's gloom lightened. When, a week or so
later, Whittemore returned to town, with Chan, he
reported perceptible progress. Of course the council
had not yet acted, and might not for many months.
Chan was glad to come from the heights, the pines,
and the mighty snows. Once or twice he had found
himself missing Lesley, even though his ear tingled
when he thought of her. His feelings with T'^;ard
to Amy, and the stage their affair had reached, were
exactly defined by the fact that he did not think of
her at all if he could avoid it.
But, in spite of her, he meant to have a part of
his first evening with Lesley. Perhaps at last be
night be able to talk things over with her — the street
railway business, his prospects, everything.
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THE SHAl>OW RIDERS 147
Re did not redcm on Geers, who enured btm by
untoward accident the very while Ross was register-
ing in the hotel. Geers was anxious and hurried;
he was in short an expected speaker for a meeting of
his own that evening; and he commandeered Chan
as a curtain-raiser.
It was flattering, but it was rather terrifying, too.
Chan had given one or two five-minute talks at small
meetings in the East end of town, curtain-raising ; he
had canvassed with a very good humour, and been
through the sacred rites of tiie conunittee room ; but
this was to be really a speech. Every idea he pos-
sessed on every subject he was acquainted with de-
serted him as he mounted the platform at eight
o'clock! And every man who filed into the theatre
auditorium where the meeting was held seemed to
subtract by his entrance yet a little more from that
void. Chan had tried, in the brief time beforehand,
to inform Lesley of the coming event. She had not
been in the office at the time. Now he was cravenly
glad he had failed. The face of an acquaintance was
an acute misery to his vision. His throat dried. Ross,
who was on the platform beside him, looked at him
with amusement and sympathy.
"Remember," he said sotto voce, "everything de-
pends on you I"
"What ?" said Chan stupidly. The remark seemed
to mean something. He apprehended it after a while.
"Oh, go on and gloat !" he said bitterly, and loosened
his collar with a surreptitious finger. "I suppose
you've got a cabbage in your pocket." The murmur-
ous discord of a crowd settling itself swelled in his
ears, grew to a sound like nearing thunder. Those
intent, serious faces, row on row, fadii^ into the
gloom of the galleries as into remote space, concen-
trated suddenly into mere rows of eyes, millions of
ovCiooglc
148 THE SHADOW RIDERS
eyes boring him throu^, that at moments resolved
into one large, fixed, accusing eye which in all the
universe saw only his sole self. He shrivelled under
it as it were a burning glass. He could not men-
tally dismt^ate the mass into mere men, farmers,
clerks, artisans, kindly folk, easily pleased, easily
deluded, who secretly envied and admired him for
his imposing place beside their moment's idoL . . .
There were a few women also ; and some late ones
were still filing into the boxes, which had been re-
served. He did not know them; he knew none of
the local ladies. He would have liked to watch them
to keep his mind off the larger audience, but they
were all watching him, or Ross, who sat beside him ;
the more personal regard was almost equally discon-
certii^. One of them had a lorgnette ; another a
pair of opera glasses, though she sat within ten feet
of the speakers. Chan was looking at that opera
glass, wondering if she meant to reverse it to get
a perspective, when Ross nudged him sharply aad
he got to his feet, still without a word ready.
"Ladies and — and gentlemen," he b^an unpro[N-
tiously. Ross suppressed a smile at that terrible
hiatus, and Chan felt it; all his nerves had mysteri-
ously got outside his skin. They warned him further
of an almost inaudible stir along the far side aisl^
where a woman came late to a reserved front seat.
He recognised the hat before he could see her face,
for she bent down and spoke as she passed the press
table, and kept her head down as she seated herself,
disposing of her skirts. Then she locked up, her
eyes running questioningly along the solemn row of
occupants of the platform, and pausii^ on him.
He smiled at her; bat the effect was as if he had
smiled at all his audience. Then he b^an to talk —
still to X.esley.
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 149
He cotild not help addressii^ his speech to her; he
had a speech as soon as her eager eyes caught his.
There was something about her personality that was
half a challenge and half a query; she reacted to
mental stimulus, gave back as much as she got
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CHAPTER XIV
AT the end of the twenty minutes allotted to
Gian, Rosa nudged him again. Chan had im*
plored him to do this ; he said time would mean
nothing to him once he got on his feet It wouM
seem as if centuries were passing over him, and lliat
he would never be permitted to stop; and if he tried
to glance at his watch, he would forget what he had
been talking about and his own name.
He stop^d abruptly in the middle of a sentence.
He really had forgotten time, but for the opposite
reason; he was intensely interested, both in his sub-
ject and, like most beginning speakers, in the workings
of his own mind and the sound of hts own voice.
With mouth still open and an eyebrow raised in
enquiry, he turned to Ross. The audience grasped
the bye-play and gasped in delighted surprise at
its own perspicacity. Then Chan turned back and
smiled at them again. A hoarse murmur of lai^hter
ran over the room, like wind over a wheat-held. He
finished the sentence, but no one ever heard it. The
audience was laughing, dapping, stampii^. Chan
smiled once more and sat dowiL
Geers rose. They had come to hear him, and lis-
tened. Chan, who had heard very much the same
speech six times, let it go over his head, and began
to look about again. He felt like a criminal par-
doned. Lesley had clapped loudly. Now she grew
abstracted, and would not look at him again. By
and bye she began to show signs of fatigue. She did
look at last, nodded a good-night, rose, and be^an
edging out. Passii^ the press table again, where
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 151
Cresswell sat— he had reserved her seat for her — she
leaned and listened and laughed softly at something
he said, and vanished again down the side aisle. Chan,
on impulse, rose to his feet, went through the wings,
and so in pursuit. He would not be needed again.
He wanted to hear what Lesley thought of his ef-
fort, being entirely human. Ross, left with his dig-
nity, put his hand over his mouth a moment, though
he was not yawning.
Lesley had nearly reached the comer when Chan
overtook her. She had Dian's gait.
"Wait a minute," he said breathlessly, and caught
her elbow. "There; that's better. Jove! I'm glad
it's over. Was I rotten?"
"No," she said, "you were good — though I shouldn't
say it while you fish so shamelessly. Some day you
ought to be extraordinarily good; it's your man-
ner You make them feel as if you were address-
tt^ each man individually; yes, you coaxed them,
and then you bullied them. I believe an audience likes
it."
"I was talking to you," he said. "Didn't you like
it?"
"Bdng coaxed and bullied? No, I shouldn't, if I
were an audience; but other people do. Reason Is
nowhere . . ."
"Wasn't I reasonable?"
She laughed. "This isn't the first meeting I've
been to. I'm summing up. Can't I refer to any-
thing but you ?"
"Not to-night," he insisted with his peculiar grave
humour. "It's my night to howl Wasn't I reason-
able?"
"Well — as far as politics will permit — I mean a
par^ man. You said only the things you could hon-
estly believe, I'm sure."
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152 THE SHADOW RIDERS
"Of course."
"Is it of course? Don't you su[q>ose all the others
b^an the same way ? I guess I'm turnii^ cynic, but
I can't help thinking over what I see. And you know
how it is — they get so they don't know what sin-
cerity means. They think they can cut themselves in
two, that a man's life and his politics aren't of the
same piece. . . ."
"No man is perfect," said Chan, feeling banal.
"Can't a man believe better than he is able to per-
fonn?"
"I suppose so; we have to. But it doesn't follow
that he can therefore get up and lay down the law
to others on things he can't or won't perform.
Hasn't the success of all teachers of ethics depended
"On themselves squaring practice and theory ?"
"Yes, that's it. I'm thinking of private morals
mostly ; but I don't see why public morals should be
different. Of course we can all be hypocrites, if
that is what they arc driving home."
He gave a deep<hested laugh. "I wish I could
hand Geers over to you. He thinks the trick can be
turned."
"Yes, I know he does. That's why I came away ;
he'd have bored me. I should have been able to think
of only one thing while he talked ; How does he
manage to do it? I've listened to him twice now,
watched him work himself up into a positive rage
denouncing some election crookedness as far away as
Nova Scotia, or a piece of Conservative chicanery
dating back twenty years; while all the time you
m^ht say he had his own little piece of street-car
graft money right in his pocket " She stopped
in dismay. That was the diabolical disadvantage of
having established a hatrit of intellectual candour
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 153
with one who might later become involved in some-
thing to necessitate vast reserves. She and Chan had
actually thought aloud to each other, and she had
diMie it once too often. But still she did not know
hov much that reserve had been needed, for she was
thinking only of Ross Whittemore — "his uncle's the
one who will build it." Since Addison had said that
to her, he had not had an opportunity to say much
more ; and at that time he did not yet know of Chan's
active participation.
"Geers I" said Chan sharply. "Who told you he was
grafting?"
"I'm sorry I can't tell yoti," said Lesley firmly. It
was Cresswell had told her. "I shouldn't have said
it, even if it is true "
"It isn't true," he said slowly.
"Not at all?"
"Not in the least."
"But "
"He acted as counsel for the Belle Claire Company
in a perfectly legitimate and open transaction. He
has been their counsel for years."
"If I was mistaken, I'm sorry."
"Oh, you didn't hurt me. But Geers is honest, even
if he does keep bad company." Chan was beginning
to be aware of the rent in his camlet cloak, and he
was not sure but she had purposely drawn hts eyes
to it. Of course she had not, else she would not have
gone so far. It did not occur to her that by bad com-
pany he meant himself and Ross.
She thought Cresswell must have been misinformed.
He had not; he had merely drawn a fair inference
from his actual knowledge.
"Well," she said doubtfully, "I do withdraw, and
maybe there are only six men in buckram instead of
twelve. But buckram is worn, isn't it?"
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154 THE SHADOW RIDERS
"Oh, yes," he admitted uncomfortably. "Men are
hypocrites. It makes life easier."
"If you oaiy want to live easily," she assented. "I
suppose it's crude and pinfeathery of me, but I feel
contemptuous of that. It's stupid ; men trying to baild
with one hand while they destroy with the other. I
suppose they all be^n almost imperceptibly, too, and
think they can be great men after they get throi^h
being little ones. But— I wanted to talk about your
speech, too, and instead I've made one. And I've
walked home when I started to go to the office; I
must go back I"
"So will I," he said, dismissing regretfully the [m>8-
pert of the fire.
"Well, what was I saying? Oh, I wanted to ask
jrau, were you nervous ? You didn't look it"
"I even forgot to address the chairman," said Chan,
banning to see the humour of his cold chifls in retro-
spect "It was you saved me. It was, really. Nerv-
ous ? By George, I was nearly gibbering. I couldn't
even decide how I ought to dress; that shows you
what my mind was reduced to — worrying about my
clothes I"
"Men," said Lesley, "from all I've noticed, aren't
so very different from women. They're only — more
sol"
But he did not catch that, and she declined to ex-
plain.
"Did you like it — enjoy yourself ?" she pursued.
"Yes. I believe I understand already why poli-
ticians develop such ^^s. I suppose that helps diem
to humbug themselves ; other people believe 'em, why
shouldn't they believe themselves? Talk about pit-
falls — every time a man opens his mouth he digs one
for himself."
"Youll arrive, I think," she said, slowing a little.
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 15S
in 8pite of the cold, as they neared the office. Tliere
was some snow on the ground, and the wind was
keen, not a chinook. She had no furs, and kept her
hands in her pockets, with the poise of a vigorous
lad. The whiteness of her face under her large dark
hat had a warmth from her glowing eyes. There was
no bitterness in her voice tor her own defeated puf^
pose.
"Arrive where the others do," he said. "You think
they're a poor k>t. All the big men are dead, eh ?"
'^ don't know. I do know what you're thinking"
— that was sometimes literally true — "that the dead
ones had the same fauHs. No, they were single-
minded. Walpole firmly believed in spoils, for in-
stance." She wished herself better informed, better
read. "They were candid about having 'no damned
nonsense about merit.' Isn't that a difference?"
"Lesley," he asked soberly, "did any one — an agent,
say— ever sell you anything you didn't want?"
"No," she said, astonished, "not that I can remem-
ber. I've always been too poor, 3rou know."
"I don't believe that was the reason," said Chan
darkly.
"Wasn't it? Just as jrou say."
"As far as I can recall," said Chan, with a touch
of gloom, "I haven't said anything this evenii^.
You've made me feel like a budding Gladstone. I've
always thought of him as representative of all that
business ; word ju^Iing, large talk, and both eyes
peeled for the main chance."
"I'm sorry," said Lesley, because she could not resist
it. "For I assure you I don't think you are — another
Gladstone I" Whereupon she cruelly left him in the
cold, which seemed to reach to his vital marrow
through those innumerable joints in his previously
shining armour of conceit.
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156 THE SHADOW RIDERS
Had he been really conceited, he would never have
felt her thrusts. He went and found Ross, and was
so silent the rest of the evening his uncle became al-
most alarmed over the youth's unnatural modesty.
Lesley, sitting in the office drearily reading ex-
changes in search of timely jokes, was vexed at her-
self. She knew she had been subtly unkind, that
Chan had wanted to crow, to enlist her friendly help
in congratulating himself. She knew more, why he
had not commanded her quick enthusiastic approval
as he would have a little earlier. It had nothing to
do with politics or parties. When one flaw has been
found in an idol, it is easy to discover a dozen others.
She could look at him coolly now, see how young he
was, how masculinely human. During the summer
he had come close to her, confided in her unwittingly.
She had from the very first kept back some things
from him, when she minimised her anxieties and her
ambition, to the last, when she was ready to bite her
tongue out to prevent its telling that she loved him.
Only he had laid aside both sword and shield in the
house of a friend — and the friend was now busily
pricking him with her spindle. It was hateful, femi-
nine, but very necessary.
Because, when she pricked him sharpest, she loved
him most She dwelt on his weaknesses to save her
from a yawning depth of folly, of idealisation, which
appalled her commonsense. She could become maud-
lin over his very eyelashes if she would permit herself I
Perhaps that truth would have comforted Chan, if
he had known it Again, it mi^^t only have alarmed
and astounded him. He did not know it, and had
enough matter for thot^t of Lesley without the
knowledge.
"Contemptuous" was the word she had used. He
should have scorned her as a mere female, in return
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 157
for her contempt; but in the game of scorning, an
almost unbeatable advantage is gained by the one who
scoms first. That is not logical, but it is so. He
squirmed, and constantly came back to the point, that
she had spoken the truth, unless one were a cjmic in
grain and believed in nothing. Chan's mind was both
vigorous and healthy, and he had to believe. He had
that physical gusto which made Browning the optimist
he was. He was guilty before his own gods. Per-
haps Lesley was only a snip of a girl, not very well
educated, knowing nothing of the world. It did not
matter; she had the faculty of being able to think
clearly at first sight, to correlate instantly all the facts
presented to her. It marked her for a journalist in
the lai^r sense ; she must succeed if ever she had her
chance. But that was not what was concerning him ;
he was still pinned to her conclusions. He envied
Ross, who had somehow gone past these things, got
beyond good and evil to necessary and unnecessary,
inexpedient and expedient, pleasant and disagreeable.
Had he known through what bitter waters Ross had
reached his Fortunate Isle, he might not have envied.
Ross constituted part of his difficulty. He had
agreed to work with Ross, and he meant to do it. He
would even be convicted before his other gods for
Ross. He went on consulting with Burragc, working
on the street railway scheme, which progressed under
the surface. And he went on speaking briefly when
required by Geers. It was a strange effect of his
mental disquiet that his speeches had an unmistakable
ring of conviction which won over some waverers.
He was reasoning with himself, and the answer al-
ways came out the same.
0. Google
CHAPTER XV
LESLEY'S problem, finding some new place of
shelter, was settled for her by chance and
Hilda Brewer, whom Jack Addison had un-
deservedly designated as "an old cat." She was
not ; she was a gentle and amiable girl on the verge of
being an old maid, possessing that fairness which time
and spinsterhood fade quickly. She had a great deal
of fine blonde hair, no figure, and a habit of minding
her own business; so that Lesley had sincerely liked
her for a long time without even knowing it. She was
a bookkeeper in the business office of the Recorder.
Near closing time, Hilda was hurrying to finish
and be gone; and Lesley wishing she might put off
the evil mmnent of doing likewise. Like Dante, she
was finding the bread bitter and the stairs steep in
another's house; to sit in the same room with Chan
and Amy together was painful, and to hear them speak
to each other was like having a nerve touched on the
quick. It humiliated her to own to such a thraldom
to a jealousy that had no ri^ts. And all her casually
intimate hours were of the past, for Amy was begin-
ning to covertly press her own rights (such as they
were). If Chan came, she was never absent. Well,
she had in her favour the nine points of possession, of
Chan and the house alike. All Lesley asked was to
withdraw. So she mused, making hay among the ex-
changes and filling her wastebasket if not her head.
"I want to get off early to-day," said Hilda, rous-
ing Lesley by banging down the lid of a desk. "I've
i5«
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 159
two trunks to pack, and forty-eight thu^ that won't
go into a trunk. Moving."
"I wisii I were," said Lesley idly. "Where does
one move to?"
"Why don't you?" asked Misa Brewer eagerly.
"Come with me. I have a huge new room, and I'd
like to share the expenses. I've been starved out of
my old place. . . ."
"I will," Lesley interrupted her. And she went
home to give Mrs. Cranston due notice. Since there
was some place to go, she could not wait another mo-
ment. What lies might be needed to soothe Mrs.
Cranston she left to her own ingenuity and the spur
of the moment. She did not care if they were not
very good lies.
They passed muster, evidently. Amy opened her
^es wide for a moment only, said: "Why, Lesley,
I'm awfully sorry," and was called to the kitchen by
the coffee boiling over. She was really sorry ; Lesley
had never got in her way, and was useful to hook her
gowns for her. Amy was not exactly a vicious wom-
an ; but she was rather rudimentary. The sea urchin
is nothing but a slightly animated stomach, but it
cannot help that.
"Maybe it's the best thmg," pursued Amy at the
dinner table, "because Bill's thinking of taking us
away to Femey before spring. I was going to tell
you that Is your new place nice ? I hope you won't
be lonesome. Have you seen Chan this week?"
"No," said Lesley, and did not return the enquiry.
If she had been Amy she could not have asked that
question, but she was not Amy. She did wonder if
she had wounded Chan by her cool and critical atti-
tude after the meeting, or if he were merely very
busy, as he might well be.
He came and answered for himself shortly. Amy
ovCiooglc
i6o THE SHADOW RIDERS
was upstairs, dressing for some church social or other
small festivity; I-esley heard her set her door ajar,
saw the sudden light stream out on the upper landing,
at Sound of the doorbell, and answered it with her
teeth on edge.
"I'm glad you're in," said Chan. He seemed seri-
ous and tired. "I haven't very long to stay."
"Isn't your uncle so well ?" asked Lesley, with real
concern. "Come in; I'll let you have the best chair,
since you won't stay long I"
"Yes, Ross is all right," He gazed into the fire
abstractedly. "Things are piling up on us a bit, that's
all, now the end's so near."
"I wonder," said Lesley dreamily, "does anything
ever really end?" She was thinking of herself, won-
dering if some day she might look on him indiffer-
ently, pass htm in the street without even a quickened
heartbeat "It would be nice if they would; but it
seems to me that everjrthing goes on and on. We
spend our lives starting things we can't finish, because
we can't finish anything — well, where am I getting to ?"
"To the theory of recurring cycles, I fancy," said
Chan. "Where is Mrs. Cranston?" Now he had not
meant to ask that; his mind was simply jumping about
at random, from fatigue, and distaste of certain mat-
ters which kept crowding to the front. He had come
over with some vague intent of squaring himself in
Lesley's estimation, and did not know how to begin,
nor exactly how to do it if he could begin, nor even
precisely how far she needed to have her opinion
changed.
"In her room," said Lesley, "dressing. I'll go and
call her." Spc^en very graciously, but a greenish
spark lighted in her eyes.
"Good heavens, no," cried Chan. "I just wondered
if I could sit here and be stupid a while. I don't want
ovCiooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS i6i
to be polite and entertaining to-night, and you know
one can only be comfortably rade and neglectful of
one person at a time."
"Very well, pick on me," Lesley agreed. Silence
fell. Something of late was missing in their friend-
ship; the ease had gone out of it. There were gaps,
covered thii^. Even silence was no longer natural
between them in quite the same way. Lesley felt as
if she would be dumb so long as that roof sheltered
her. But it seemed necessary to talk.
"Any fresh news from uptown?" she asked finally.
"I came away early, and the council meeting wasn't
over. And I'm interested, you know." She quite
forgot he did not know ; she had never mentioned her
investment with Addison.
"In the council meeting?" He hesitated, frowning
thoi^htfully, turning the matter over gingerly in his
mind. "Yes, it's over. They didn't do anything—
if — if you mean about the street-car line?"
"Yes. Why don't they do something?" It was all
words with her; something to talk about.
"Are you in a hurry to ride?" asked Chan. "Well,
I suppose they think it may pay them better to do
nothing awhile." She did not see why his tone should
be so savage. He thought she was goading him. And
he was so deadly tired of the whole thing.
"I never saw a street car," mused Lesley.
"Never ? You amazing creature t"
"A Stone Age female," she agreed. "I suppose
that's why so many things in ordinary life are inexpli-
cable to me. Why do people do the things they do?"
"I don't know," said Chan, "That's the only ex-
cuse I have. You do think I'm a rotter, don't you,
Lesley?"
She stared at him, with honestly not the least idea
what he was driving at And before she could say
ovCiooglc
I63 THE SHAtOW RIDERS
80, while he interpreted her silence as assent. Any
rustled in, perfiuijed, powdered, pompadoured, pout-
ing 2 little, drawing on her gloves.
"I didn't know you were coming, Chan," she said,
with soft reproach. "And I have to go out"
"Must you?" said Chan perfunctorily, and helped
her on with her coat
"I might come back early," she whispered, as he
bent over her, while she pretended to arrange the vio-
lets on her corsage. Lesley looked on, out of the
comer of her eyes, missing nothing at all. A great
apathy enfolded her. Futility. . . . Not to have
been able to do what Amy had done. Amy had got
Chan, and she, Lesley, had failed. She did not know
she could have done it; a girl cannot know a great
deal by instinct about some very important matters.
What Amy had got of him she did not know either.
So she could not despise Amy, after all. She was
only relieved to think she could soon run away now,
turn her back on her defeat.
"Your flowers are going to tall, Amy," she said
indilTerently.
"Are they? Oh, you fasten them, Chan," said Amy.
He did, and tore his finger on the pin that held them
— his flowers. Also, his pint Lesley saw it for the
first time since Chan had last worn it.
"Where," she said, before she could put a guard
on her tongue, "did you get that odd pin. Amy?"
"Oh, it's an old thing. Haven't you seen it often?"
"Perhaps I have," said Lesley. She watched Chan
open the door for Amy, say good-night, and return.
She felt vicious. And what she said perplexed him
for half a second, and then stunned him worse than
the box on the ear she had once given him.
"Was that your staff and bracelets, Chan?" That
was what she said.
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 163
"My " He looked at htr questioningly, while
his subconscious mind automatically flashed up from
the for^tten years a mental picture of the school
chapel at Vevey, and himself, a bored and unrepentant
sinner, surreptitiously perusing the more exciting por-
tions of the Old Testament when his bowed head
mutely lied that he was ei^j^ed in prayer. The
sheer drama of the story of Judah and Tamar his dead
son's wife is enough to make it stick in the most irre-
ligious memory.
"My God I" he finished.
There was a violet fallen to the floor, where Amy
had stood. Lesley picked it up. She was b^inning
to loathe violets acutely, and without knowing what
she did she threw it into the Are, and then tried to
rescue it, too late.
"Poor little thing," she said, and began unexpectedly
to lat^h. "No, I'm not Insane. I just remembered
a favourite phrase of my literary lights of a few years
back. Did you ever read The Duchess, or Mrs.
Southworth ?" Chan could not play up quite yet, but
she went on. "Their heroines used to be perpetually
crushing a spray of sandalwood or jasmine or almost
any old thing in their little cold hands, and then all
their lives the scent of whatever it was used to brii^
tears to their eyes. I don't know why I remembered
that just now; it was always cabbages had that asso-
ciation for me. I had to transplant cabbages until my
poor little knees were sore and my back ached, and
ever since then the sight of a cabbage has brought
tears to my eyes. . . . It's cold ^;ain, isn't it? I be-
lieve we'll have more snow. . . . Oh, Chan, don't be
so horrid and make me do all the talking. Cat got
your tongue? Be nice and amuse me." She grew
desperate, felt as if she would never be able to stop
talking nonsense, as if she were pouring her words
ovGooglc
I64 THE SHADOW RIDERS
into a bottomless pit of silence that yawned between
them. Panic possessed her.
"I think I do amuse you," said Chan, and rose and
walked across the room. Now, if only he had hated
her, he might have loved her. Or if she had wept
again — oh, she should have wept again — only the FatC3
knew where the flood might have carried their un-
launched craft. But she was laughing, and laughter
to one tired and perplexed is like rain to a man without
a cloak.
"Why, what have I done ?" she asked brightly.
"You haven't done anythii^. Don't pay any atten-
tion to me. It's a beastly night, isn't it?" He had
come over wanting to tell her about everything, to talk
himself out ; and she had driven him back <mi himself.
The springs of sympathy were dried.
Anyway, he reflected cynically, talking would not
help. He had to go on now. Go on further than he
had ever contemplated, apparently. He had an im-
portant conference with Burrage scheduled for ten
o'clock. His uncle was equally deep in consultation
with Gecrs and the Premier, being on the committee
of ways and means, the purely financial end of the
campaign.
Lesley watched him, struggled with herself for the
right word; her fine perceptions were blunted with
too much and too long stress of emotion. She was in-
fected with his own desire to give up, to get clear.
There was nothing to be said. They had never gone
far enough, touched each other intimately enough, to
explain everything with an embrace. In fact, they
were further off that than ever ; Lesley had controlled
herself and the situation too neatly, kept Chan too
thoroughly in the dark. She had only got dose
enough to strike with the shrewdest effect.
"Rotten night," he repeated aimlessly. "I've got
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 165
to go, L«I«y. Sorry I inflicted myself on you, feeling
like this. Good-night." He was going.
"Chan," she said involuntarily as he reached the
door.
"Yes ?" But there was something too polite in his
attitude of waiting.
"Good-night," she repeated, smiling again. He
went out
"He won't come back !" Her heart seemed to swell
and suffocate he^ ; she did not cry the words aloud,
but they were ringing in her ears. She went upstairs,
her knees trembling, holding to the banisters. The
house seemed to echo with emptiness. It would have
been comforting if Eve had wakened, but the child
was peacefully asleep, and Lesley had no heart to
disturb her. She went to bed, and lay wakeful half
the night, tense, aching for action. If it had been
summer she would have wandered through the dark.
She felt so terribly alive, and caged ; life turned back
Ml itself in her racing veins ; the tragedy of beii^
young possessed and shook her. Everything seemed
to be receding from her eager grasp, and she strained
at invisible bonds. . . .
And it was true that he did not want to come back.
A girl, he thot^ht, could be more brutal than any
other living creature. If a man had done what she
had done he would have thrashed him, let out the
bad blood in material earnest. What, exactly, had she
done? He could not have defined it, but those words
of hers took the breath out of him, like a blow in the
pit of the stomach. . . . Women are so extraordi-
narily conscious ; they do know what they are doing,
and at the very time ; they can put a name to it ; a
man only does it, and then forgets it. It was said of
one type of woman that "she eateth and wipeth her
mouth, and saith I have done no evil;" but it may be
ovCiooglc
ifiS THE SHADOW RIDERS
said of any man that his ri^t hand knows not what
his left hand doeth; and he says nothing at all. It
is the woman who looks at the fact and produces an
opinion on it.
Anjrway, Chan had to see Burrage.
0. Google
CHAPTER XVI
MATTERS had finally reached a formiilable
crisis with the street railway project. It
was a very bad time for such a crisis, for the
election came in a week ; but the rival company was
crowding the pace.
"It's narrowed down to us getting one more man —
that Alderman Curtin," explained Burrage, chewing
a fat cigar with a look of distaste.
"Well, how much does he want?" asked Chan dis-
gustedly. No doubt Ross would stand for it, what-
ever it was.
"If we can meet his terms," Burrage went on, "and
raise our bid about ten per cent, to the city, unexpect-
edly, to-morrow night, we can probably stampede 'em.
He agrees to do some of the stampeding. We've said
we couldn't make the raise, on purpose to get a better
effect. They will only give us a fifteen-year charter
anyway, but we can fix that in the valuation clause;
at the end of fifteen years it won't be hard to see
that the valuation is so high the city can't manage to
take it over. There are more ways of killing a cat
than choking him on butter."
"How much ?" repeated Chan.
"Curttti is all tied up for ready money — wait a
minute. He owns stock in the gas company ; he wants
to sell. There's no market for that kind of gas just
now. You see?"
"Ill tell Ross," igneA Chan. "See him in an hour
or two, when he gets back to the hotel. How many
shares?"
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i68 THE SHADOW lUDERS
"Five thousand — par — dollar shares."
"I need some gas shares," said Chan savagely, and
went over to the hotel to wait for Ross.
He was asleep in a stiff wooden armchair in Ross's
room when his uncle came in, very late. There was
a decanter of Scotch and a siphon and empty glass
beside him on the table ; the light was in his eyes, and
he scowled at it in his sleep. The whole effect was
rakish, and oddly pathetic. Ross lifted his eyebrows,
looked at the decanter and found it nearly full, and
smiled at the younger man, rather tenderly, as he had
been wont to do when Chan as a little chap had been
forgotten and gone to sleep on a rug or some other
unconventional spot. That funny motherless look —
surprising how a grown man could keep it.
"Still a sentimental ass 1" said Ross to himself, and
shook Chan gently.
"Get out — don't bother me," remarked Chan, dissi-
pating sentiment, and then apologising hastily.
"I don't blame you," said Ross. "It's three o'clock.
We had quite a session. How did you come off ?"
"Five thousand to the bad," said Chan succinctly.
"Can you do it? It's a hell of a lot to pay for any
man, I think. Five cents for the lot of us would be a
high bid."
"Price and value," said Ross thoughtfully, "have
practically no connection. Yes, I can do it. ... I
thought it might be more. Another Scotch?" Chan
shook his head.
"Got a headache now. Oh, I only had one. Curi-
ous; I don't believe I ever had a drink alone before
in my life. It doesn't taste the same, do you know?"
"Well, I'll telephone you to-morrow as soon as I
can get a draft cashed — if you advise it," said Ross,
cutting the end of a cigarette absently in the cigar
cutter. "What do you think?"
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 169
•TVhy, I wasn't thinking I It's the only way, isn't
itr
"There are always at least two ways of doii^ a
thing — and one is not to do hi I'd like you to be
perfectly frank."
"In what way? I've done the best I could — of
course I haven't really done anything; Bunage has."
"Do you want to do anything? Would it be your
choice to go through with this, seeing what it neces-
sitates ?"
"Bribery?"
"Exactly. I've fancied you losing your taste for
the job."
"I'm here to do whatever you say," repeated Chan
doggedly.
"If I say — do as you feel like doing? Wouldn'b
you chuck it, as far as your own personal interests are
concerned ?
Chan was silent, runnii^ his fingers throi^h his
unruly hair.
"I think you'd better diuck it," said Ross quietly.
"I didn't anticipate quite this, either."
"You wouldn't give it up on my account?" asked
Chan, feelii^ overwhelmed by responsibility. "Hai^
.it all, I don't care." To put his own squeamishness in
his tmcle's way seemed another kind of cheapness;
he was in a cleft stick.
"It is hardly that If I'd thought sooner I'd have
kept you out, and done my own dirty work. But I
don't want you to feel burdened with gratitude for
nothit^, so I'll tell you that other things have decided
me. We got word to-night that this whole business
is going to be used as campaign material, turned
against us and put in its worst light The Conserva-
tives have put two and two together and got five.
They think they can involve Geers, you understand.
ovCioo^lc
170 THE SHADOW RIDERS
I'm not sure but that Curtin is meant as a trap for us.
Anyway, we retiig at to-morrow's council meeting;
I've simply decided to withdraw. . . . How Bur-
rage will swear I" He chuckled quietly.
"How did you hear of their intentions?"
"Folsom always had a weakness for talkti^; I find
he hasn't changed a bit He thought it was too late
to checkmate them now. ... I met him yesterday
at dinner, you know, and he let me understand he
had something up his sleeve. We laid a few wires,
and got word of what it was. Hell find that, as our
esteemed friend the Onlooker says, he's got noth-
ing up his sleeve but his cuffl They can't show a
thing on Geers, and if we simply announce that we
can't bid up any higher, the council by its own past
decision will be automatically forced to turn us down,
there won't be any sudden conversions of aldermen
to investigate — and there you are. And Geers is pre-
paring an interview on the subject that will put him
past suspicion. As for Folsom, I'm sending him a
check for campaign expenses. The country must be
saved; I feel that strongly — you can imagine how
strongly when I've contributed to both sidesi"
"You make nw feel like a kid," was all Chan could
say.
"Don't make that mistake. The childish part is to
have nothing but games, and that's me. I hope, on
the contrary, that you may attain a man's stature, the
power to be serious about serious things. By the
way, you put some money in with Addison, didn't
you?"
"A little — that doesn't matter."
"Of course you'll get it back some time ; youll only
have to wait longer. But I'll make it up to you
now "
"Oh, that be hanged. I've been spoon-fed aO my
ovCiooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 171
life. If I can't even make money here, what sort of
a dub am I? Look at what does make money I You
know I'd £0t tired of the things money could buy.
Ill make enou^ ; don't worry." He straightened his
shoulders, his eyes thoughtful but his brow clearing.
His brain felt rested and his body healthily tired.
Ross's words had been more of a relief than he could
have imagined; certainly more than he could have
hoped for, since the one thii^ he could not have im-
^ined was Ross withdrawing now.
"And now what are you going to do?" he asked
Ross.
"It's a lai^ bit of country," said Ross. "You'd
better go to bed. No, don't go home; I'll get a room
for you here." He went to the telephone, and talked
to a sleepy clerk.
"Good-night," said Chan. "Much obliged,"
"I think," said Ross, "that you'll do." They did
not shake hands, but each caught the other's impulse
to it.
To say that Burrage swore when the decision was
conununicated to him next day is inadequate. He was
lyrical. Chan, in his fresh relief, laughed until he
had a stitch in his side ; Ross remained imperturbable,
and bought 6urr^;e several drinks. They met Cress-
well, coming from a conference with Geers and the
owner of the Recorder, himself somewhat amazed, and
bought many more drinks. Chan, who still had a
meeting to attend, took cigars until his pockets would
hold no more, and hoped he might meet enough voters
to dispose of them during the afternoon. Cresswell
tore himself away after several false starts, explainit^
that he had an interview to recast. That was at three
in the afternoon.
Cresswell was even more shorthanded than usual
with his staff that week; half his men had to be on
ovCiooglc
173 THE SHADOW RIDERS
political reporting; and his editorial writer had jast
left He commandeered Lesley and implored her to
return to the office in the evening and take telephone
items, and she did. It was ten o'clock before he came
in himself. By that time what had been begun at
three was well finished.
There was only one reporter in the office beside
Lesley, far off, in a dim comer. The telephone had
stopped ringing for a moment The night editor had
been mipressed for a meeting, and Cresswell had been
very ui^rently needed, though not so urgently as if the
Recorder had been a morning paper. Lesley looked
up with relief, and rose.
"Sit down, my child, till I count you," said Cress-
well solemnly, hanging his hat on a copybook.
"I'd like to go and get some supper ; I'm hungry,"
said Lesley.
"Better than being thirsty," returned Cresswell.
"Stick around a minute; I think I need a prop for my
old age."
Lesley looked at him, wrinkled her dainty nose, and
sniffed.
"Quite r-right," said Cresswell. "I am. That,
Miss Johnny, is why I want you. Typewriters are
treacherous things. Can you read this ?" He handed
her a sheaf of copy paper, covered with his own
"heavy irregulars," as he called his handwriting.
"Want me to copy it ?" It was l^ble enough ; he
had written it earlier in the day. She set to work,
while Cresswell began devastating another fair field
of paper, with a large pencil and some difficulty. In
a few minutes she pulled a finished sheet out of the
machine, and turned to him in enquiry.
"Do my eyes deceive me?" she asked.
"Quite likely; I'm sure mine do," returned Cress-
well equably. Not to put too 6ne a point on it, he
ovGoogle
THE SHADOW RIDERS 173
was as dnink as he onild be ; but nature or habit had
^ven him a definite deadline, a limit of solubility.
He could always talk clearly, even if he couldn't get
his thoug^hts to cohere and assemble themselves ; and
he had no rotten spot to uncover, so Lesley was not
in the least embarrassed and knew she need not be.
What had undone Cresswell was not drink, but the
impulse in him that made him yield to drink occa-
sionally, which was also the secret of his excellence
in his calling. It was a craving of change, ah impa-
tience of the thir^ done, and always for him done
with. He wanted every day new; and when it was
not new enough, he moved on.
"But do you mean to tell me," said Lesley, "that
Geers favors public ownership of the street railw3]rs7"
"Not exactly, but he means to tell the public that.
Ruse de guerre. Johnny, how many n's are there in
muninidpal ?"
"Three," said Lesley absently. "No— good heavens
— one. Listen a minute; just what does this mean?"
"It means — ^hello?" He grabbed a telephone. "Yes
. . . yes . . . twelve to six against . . . which ?" He
scribbled a moment "It means, my child . . . Rob-
inson," he yelled at the preoccupied reporter under his
solitary droplight at the far end of the room, "take
this story. You needn't write it, but get the facts;
Winn will bring it himself in a few minutes. AH
right ... It means, little one, that the dty council
has just turned down both offers for a franchise.
Thatzall. Geers is merely prophesying after the event
— neck and neck, rather."
"And there won't be any street cars?"
"Some time, some time. Got that finished?" She
desisted, seeing that he was trying to collect his facul-
ties for another matter, and went on transcribing
Geers' interview, polishing it up a bit wherever Cress-
ovCiooglc
174 THE SHADOW RIDERS
well bad been in too great haste. She handed it to
him silently when it was done.
"Is it awright ?" he asked her.
"I think so."
"Take your word for it Send it down." She
stuck it on the copyhoc^ placing his hat carefoOy in
the wastebasket Then she kioked about stealthily for
ber own, and thought she might escape. A vain hope.
"Now this." He gathered up the scattered sheeto
be had been scribbling. "That will be — To, Martin."
The lull of the preceding half hour was shattered.
Martin, the night editor, was back at his post. The
foreman had been doing his own editing for the even-
ing. More reporters came. Crcsswdl and Martin
departed to the composing room to have a heated dis-
agreement with the foreman. Typewriters clicked;
phonea jingled incessantly; callers drifted in and
Cresswell came back and disposed of them, all but
one. With him he retreated into a close conference
in his own more or less retired comer. It was
Burrage, and he stayed and stayed. Lesley signalled
in vain to catch Cresswell's eye; tact forbade her to
tell him before another man Uiat she could not make
head nor tail of what he had written, except that it
appeared to concern public ownership and street cars.
She held her aching head and waited for Burrage to
depart, and when he did Cresswell went with him.
"Mr. Cresswell," she shrieked desperately after him.
"Back in a minute," he called back.
He was gone an hour. When he did come back,
it was midnight and Lesley had vanished. So had
the copy she had just placed on his hook, taken by the
foreman on a chance visit. She had done her best
with it. Cresswell could rewrite it in the morning
if he liked. There was not a word of his in it, but
it was neatly marked "Edit, lead," and that was enough
ovCiooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 175
for the compositor. As for Cresswell, he had a hazy
idea that he had written an editorial, and was satisfied
for the moment
The destructioa of her financial prospects sent Les-
ley to sleep very heavy-hearted. Nothing pro^>ered
under her hand, she thought ; she was bom for frus-
trated hopes. And she needed money very ui^ntly;
her mother's stay in California was costing more than
she had expect«L But it was fulfilling its purpose;
Mrs. Johns was recovering, though she dared not re-
turn before spring.
Lesley felt that she did not care much what dis-
honesty was involved in the franchise business if only
they had gone ahead. Evidently nothing could be
done straight anyway ; there was an ineradicable kink
in human nature to prevent that. She wondered if
she should ever get her money back at all, or even a
part of it She had not a line of writing to show for
it except a vague note from Addison. In retrospect
this seemed a great stupidity. It loomed as an enor-
mous sum to her now, and measured by the time and
effort it had cost it was. Also by her need of it.
She had got almost used to doing without things her-
self. Preparing to pack, she had surveyed her scanty
wardrobe— three dark plain gowns, one hat, half a
dozen blouses---with a certain humour. But she had
never had any more than that; even the swiss and
blue ribbons of childhood seemed opulent by compari-
son. Once she had had red shoes with tassels. . . .
All this she knew to be quite childish ; but there were
times when the word failed to quell her real longing
for satins and laces, and all the minor daintinesses
which cost so much.
"If I could," was her last solemn thought before
she .slept, "I would buy a whole dozen long white
gloves — I wonder if any are made long enou^i — my
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176 THE SHADOW RIDERS
arms are so vety, very long and I want them to come
ri{^t tip to the shoulder, and be wrinkled And
sable furs. . . ." She thought sable was black, and
would suit with her hair and skin. ... So it would
have; a fine ironic fact.
And these wandering thoughts were in a sense the
result of Chan's conscientious scruples being too plain
to his uncle's alert eye. By any mundane justice he
ought to have been mulcted in one set of sables as a
tax for the luxury of keeping a conscience.
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CHAPTER XVII
THE sables were for^tten with morning, but the
two hundred dollars were not ; and she decided
on the way to the office to ask Addison what
would ultimately happen to her money. She had been
dodgtt^ Addison ever since her mother's departure,
and he had grown sulkily discouraged for a time. It
might be best to let him stay that way, but she must
know something, however indefinite, about her for-
tune. She was sleepy and blue, and a letter from ber
mother on her desk failed to bring the usual joy ; she
hesitated over opening it, feeling so poor when the
thought of her mother always brought a mad desire
for abundance to bestow. She was turning it over
hesitantly, when Cresswell, passing the door of the
business office, looked in and saw her.
"Come over here, Johnny," he said. "We have an
account to settle."
"You can't get blood from a stone," she returned.
"And I am absolutely stony." So she went and sat
by his desk, which overlooked the newsroom but was
a little removed from the others. Cresswell looked
very hale and fresh, as he always did on a morning
after ; his hair was particularly leonine and his tie ends
wild. He laid a smudgy proof before her.
"Do you recc^ise that ?" he asked.
She did ; it was her editorial.
"Certainly I do. Why?"
"I wrote it, didn't I?"
"Of course."
177
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178 THE SHADOW RIDERS
"Johnny, you're a sad liar for one so young," he said
severely. "I did not. So you must have."
"Well, there's the wastebasket," she told him, per-
ceivii^ he was in a good humour, if nothing else.
"And I'll put it over you, you young snip, if you
don't be respectful to us both," he retorted. "Johnny,
you're a find, a treasure, and I've already told the cir-
culation manager that you belong to me exclusively
henceforth. I'm damned if I didn't think I had writ-
ten that until I found my own notes on my desk — and
couldn't read 'em. You're my assistant now, and can
do all the work, and I'll take the credit Will you
do it?"
She felt a natural pride.
"Certainly — I should say so. Do you want me to
do that kind of work ?"
"Some. We'll see."
"Well," she said with genuine diffidence, "if any one
knows I write them, you know they won't pay the
least attention to them. And I don't know very much;
I'm not half educated. I had heard you say most of
what's in that. But I'll do what I can."
He looked at her shrewdly, impressed by her com-
mon sense and modesty.
"Don't you worry," he said kindly. "We'll make a
newspaper woman of you yet ; and since you say so,
no one need know exactly what you do. I'll keep you
busy. Now go and fetch your doll rags over to that
next desk. It's a rotten shame to have you down here
so early this morning ; I'd meant to tell you last night.
You didn't get out of here till midnight, did you? It's
a great life, Johnny, and you're in it now. You're go-
ing to have the privilege of impressing every one but
yourself, of being the only one that knows how little
you know, of working twenty hours a day for a ditch-
digger's w!^s, and of running the country while your
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 179
own affairs go to the devil. Go on and think about
your new importance now, and I'll Bnd you some work
pretty soon."
So she read her mother's letter in a state of bewilder-
ment, through a faintly rosy glow. Praise is pleasant,
however one may steel oneself to stoicism. Yet it
struck her only as a moment's praise, and she did not
realise that her career might be already begun; she had
too long visualised it in a remote setting.
"Dear daughter. ..." And a page or two of
flowers, blue sea and sunshine, which the rosy glow
helped in realising. It was nice to think of her mother
in the midst of roses and beside a simny sea. The
letter went on with affectionate anxiety for Dick, for
herself, even for the animals on the ranch; referred
sl^htingly to vanishing ill-health ; and, on the last page,
striking Lesley's eye above the context, what seemed
a strange coincidence, Addison's name. "It must be
that Mr. Addison, your friend, who sent the fruit to
the train ; I'm sure I don't know any one else of that
name. Such nice people they were, and took me for
an auto ride, and to lunch, and sent me more fruit and
flowers. . . . They have a big ranch near here ; and
said they had been meaning to come and see me for
weeks, but had been so busy." What was it all about?
Addison in California — oh, no, he had written to some
friends of his there, given them Mrs. Johns' name and
address, and made them call on her and cover her with
these kindnesses! That was why he had asked for
her mother's address I She made it out clearly cnoi^h
at last Well, that — that was decent of him, she ex-
claimed vehemently to herself. The thought fulness
and trouble he had been to made her repent in sack-
cloth and ashes of the rudenesses she had heaped on
him. If he wanted to prove his frequent assertions
of a desire to serve her, he could in no other manner
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l8o THE SHADOW RIDERS
have done it so dearly and absolutely. She began a
note to him in great haste, could not phrase it to suit
her, and seized the telephone to call him.
He was not down yet. She called him again later
and he had just gone out. She left her name, and was
told after lunch some one had telephoned her. But it
was near five when he finally answered ; she was just
about ready to go home. Only habit had kept her in
so late ; Cresswell had told her to go much earlier, but
she was communing with Mary Jane.
"Hello — that you, Lesley?" It was no time to re-
buke him for the name. "Did you — did you really
want to talk to me? No, I didn't quite believe iC he
said.
"Yes. I just had a letter from my mother."
"Who — your mother?" Perhaps his tone flattened
slightly. In fact, he had foi^ten his own good ac-
tion; but it had been a kind impulse none the less.
"How is she?"
"Oh, quite well ; and she thanks you, and so do I."
"Oh, nonsense. Lesley. . . ."
"Yes?"
"Was that all? Can't I see you?"
"I don't see how," she began doubtfully. "No, that
isn't all; there is something else I want to ask you
about."
"But I can't talk to you over the 'phone," he said.
"Can't you come over here ? Or mayn't I call at your
house to-night?"
"Over where?"
"To my office. I just got in; I've been busy all
afternoon, but I tried to 'phone you at noon. Can't
you? You know where it is; just around the comer.
Let me call this evening, won't you?"
"No, I just can't; but wait there, I'll come over."
There seemed no reaa<m why not.
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THE SHADOW RIDERS i8l
The stairway, one flight, leading to his office, was
already dark, and from the bottom she saw him in
his doorway, silhouetted in the l^ht, looking for her.
"How d^e do?" she said breathlessly, and gave him
her hand. He took the other also, and drew her in-
side.
Every one had gone from the office but himself;
the had not counted on that, but neither did she notice
it at first. There were two rooms, furnished with less
austerity than an office usually shows. Addison liked
comfort, and was a bit of a dandy in his dress. But
not this night; he wore a khaki uniform, and a service
cap lay on the table, alongside a rifie and detached
bayonet Still he looked very well, the warm olive of
his complexion, darker than his apparel, and his regu-
lar profile, which inclined just enough toward the
Roman type to give him a look of race and enter-
prise, consorting well with the slim athletic figuje
outlined in the tight coat and puttees. She looked at
him with evident surprise.
"Who've you been shooting?" she asked, withdraw-
ing from his detaining clasp.
"I'm a corporal in the Mounted Rifles ; didn't you
know?" he asked. "We just had a business meeting,
winding up the summer's accounts; and looking over
equipment; and we were talking of starting a winter
rifle club. It's just a form, always going in uniform
to a meeting ; keeps up the spirit."
"Oh, the Fourteenth Light Horse," she said, and
giggled. There had been a cartoon in a local weekly
the summer before, a most unkind cut, showing a
sorry-looking nag in an attitude of dejection and
loneliness, captioned: "The other thirteen are in
McKeown's pasture." The Fourteenth, Canadian
Mounted Rifles, had just been organised then. "No,
I didn't know you were a sojer," Lesley went on. She
ovCiooglc
i82 THE SHADOW RIDERS
picked up the gun and bcilanced it expertly ; she could
shoot a bit Something to put off speaking about that
money, which seemed to have grown into a tiresomely
personal affair between them, when it should have
been entirely businesslike.
"You said there was something you wanted to see
me about," he reminded her. He kept at her elbow;
and when she moved he followed ; and his deep brown
eyes were very bright and followed her also.
"Yes, I did. But first — it was so good of you to
send your friends to see my mother. I think she
was lonesome, and — and it was lovely of you," she
. finished awkwardly, edging around the table toward
the inner room, which was bad strategy.
"I told you I wanted to — to " She would not
look at him, but her mind seemed pushing him away,
and as if he could feel it, he stopped speaking attd
stood undecided.
"Yes, I know ; and you did help me. Now I wanted
to ask you — well you know — there won't be any street
cars now?"
"No. Whittemore dished us," He scowled, his
black eyebrows met, and his eyes looked almost dan-
gerous.
"Why?" she asked. A good many people asked
that, first and last, and none of them ever got an
answer.
"Well, I don't know; that's the truth. I wish I
did ; it was like a thunderclap. Burrage says Whitte-
more was afraid of a frame-up; but I don't believe
Ross Whittemore would care for that. Well, it's all
gone," he finished moodily.
"All?" Her heart sank. "All the — the money —
your mon^ ?" He looked up, like a pointer scentit^
game.
"No. I'm not quite such a fool. Some of it's tied
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 183
up for awhile, of ontrse. Bat we can hold it" He
did not say that Whittetnore himself had offered to
tide the syndicate over, if necessary, "No, I'm not
broke. Would you care?"
"Well, if s not nice to be brc^e. I ou^ht to know,**
she sighed, and wished she could bring herself to the
point.
"Do you like money?" He leaned over the table,
not scowling any more, and yet not looking as she was
used to see him.
"Of course," she said, without much r^ard for her
words. "I'd love it; but I never had any — only that
little bit "
"Lesley, do you know I'm pretty rich, as things go
out here?" he said. "Even without what's tied up in
that land, I could realise at least a hundred and ^fty
thousand cash inside of ten days "
"Could you ?" She was interested, just by the sound
of it, and her mobile face showed it "That's pleasant
for you." She was enough accustomed to hear men
talk of money — for in the West men do, not yet hav-
ing acquired a sense of its sacredness and laid a taboo
on the topic — not to think him extraordinary, nor even
vulgar, "But I wanted to ask " she b^an at
last
"You don't need to ask," he said. "You can have
it all — you can have me — ^you've got me " But
instead he had her, across the table, it is true, but both
her hands in his. Her eyes opened wide, her lips
parted ; she felt nothing but a profotmd astonishment
"No, no — don't be so crazy — ^you don't undei^
stand- — "
"YoH don't," he aaid. "I am craxy — mad — about
you. You've run away from me so long Crane
herel"
"I won't — I won't!" she cried, "What do you think
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i8+ THE SHADOW RHJERS
]n3U are doing?" It was unlucky that when she was
furiously angry she was beautiful. Their meeting
eyes almost struck sparks.
"I'm going to make you listen to me," he retorted
hotly. "This once Oh, you sweet thing, I won't
hurt you. I want you ; I'm goii^ to take you away
from here, and teach you to love "
"But I won't — I don't!" she repeated frantically.
"Why, you've got a wife — a family "
"I haven't had a wife for two years," he said.
"What does that matter ? It's you I want We don't
need to live here; we can forget all about this rotten
little damp. . . . No, you can't get away from me,"
and he showed all his even teeth in a triumphant smile.
"Why, I could lift you right over the table; but I
won't. Now I" And he drew her clear, put her
hands behind her, still holding her wrists, so they
stood eye to eye.
"H^s been drinking!" was her first real thought,
more like a flash of light across her bewildered brain
than a consciously formulated idea.
She had the right clue; he had, and it had loosed
in him something she had heretofore always beaten
down, and he himself had leashed at her command.
Strong as she was, for a woman, she realised she
was helpless against his strength. His arms were like
steel ; he had the pantherine build of men of the South.
But, understanding so much, her head suddenly cleared
and she understood him all through, and was not
afraid. He was reckless, beyond calculation ; but not
base. . . .
"Now," he repeated, his voice gentle, the half-voice
of a lover, at the breaking point of feeling, "Lesley
. . . dear . . . couldn't you care — a little? Listen, —
I won't touch you — and I'd shoot myself now, if you'd
kiss me once, first I dream of your mouth ; it looks
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THE SHADOW RTOERS 185
so cool — and I'm burning for you— you can't tmder-
stand " And indeed, he was trembling.
"But," she said softly, "you're twisting my arms."
And she looked at him piteously, quite as if she spoke
the truth.
"Jesu I" He thrust her from him, his face whiten-
ing. Then she had the table between them again. He
wiped his damp brow. "Come back," he said hoarsely.
She shook her head.
"No, I want to go home," It was she trembled now,
for the double strain of acting and holding herself in
check — oh, she was not ice nor marble, and she had
felt his magnetism before; he had touched her — had
tested an her strength. "I must go home," she re-
peated. His face darkened again.
"Some one's waiting for you— oh, I know. That
Herrick; you see him every day, and you put me off
for months. " It's him you care for Isn't it?
Isn't it?"
"What is that to you?" she said, forgetting every-
thing in a blaze of resentment Then she could have
bitten her tongue. "You are absurd ; and you haven't
the least right to say such — such idiotic things."
"But it's true," he hurled at her again, savagely.
"It's not — and I refuse to argue with you — I'm go-
ing "
"No," he repeated, with a kind of frenzied patience,
"you are going to answer me first. You've cheated
me twice" — he was beginning to realise now — ^"you
little devil, you clever little devil — ^but I can make
you care, if you'll give me half a chance "
She fled from him, holding her big eyes on his face,
more intent on keeping her poor little surprised secret
from him than from fear of personal safety. She feh
as if he would shake it out of her if he caught her,
wrest it from her somehow. D^nity vanished in
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186 THE SHADOW RI0ERS
that wild pursuit She upset a chair in bis path, and
he stumbled on it and she wanted to shriek with
laughter, but had not breath enough. He did want to
sh^e her, to make her drop that cool reserve behind
which she hid from him. ... In another age he would
have carried her off on his saddlebow, and kq>t her in
a gilded prison until she smiled on him — or until his
heart softened.
It was the bare truth that he did not know he had
seized the bayonet from the table until she came to
bay, <x>mered, panting, still defiant, the point at her
bosom. And then she caught at the rags of her di-
shevelled pride; she could endure no more of this
tragic comedy turned to a burlesque. With a magnifi-
cent gesture she flui^ her arms wide, a better histrion
than he, and beat him with his own weapons. For
all that, she knew very well he might, just possibly,
kill her. . . . Nothing else. That was the actual dan-
ger, neither more nor less ; it was within his capacity.
"Oh, go on, go on," she cried, at the utmost pitch of
indignant exasperation. "Stab— I don't care — only get
it over with !"
His hand faltered. "Oh, you — ^you " he groaned,
and pitched the bayonet across the room. It crashed
into the glass door of a bookcase. She clasped her
hands on her heaving breast, leaning against the wall
for support. Addison sat down by the table, and hid
his face on his arm. If she would have suffered him
to put his head on her knees, he would have wept He
was racked, tormented, brt^en ; and she had no pity
because she did not know. Very softly, she sli[^>ed
toward the door.
' He heard her. "Wait a minute," he said thickly,
interposing. "I — I swear I never meant to hurt you,
Lesley, But I love you — I want you. I meant it, only
I didn't mean to frighten you. I can get a divorce;
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 187
injr wife will Won't you come away with toe? I
want yoa now. I could make you happy, I know I
could."
"But you couldn't I don't care for you. I — I'm
sorry. Now please let me pass."
"Very well." A slower, smouldering rage took pos-
session of him. She could have melted him to tears
with 8 word, but she would not speak the word. "Go.
I won't 9t(q> you. But " he reached for his cap
and rifle, pidced up the bayonet from amot^ the
broken glass on the floor and fitted it tn place — ^"if you
see Herrick to-night, I swear this, lit kill him." He
stood aside.
She never answered, and went out without any
further parley or farewell She heard him followit^
her ; and for the first time panic took her. She was
afraid for Chan, as she had not been for herself.
On Stephen Avenue she did not dare to nm, though
her heart was in her throat Once she looked back
hastily. Addison still followed her^* He was carry-
ii^ the rifle tmder his loose greatcoat There were
numerous pedestrians abroad, indifferent folk who saw
only a young woman in a hurry, and at a distance a
young man. Snow was beginning to fall ; every one
was hurrying. The street lamps seemed to be sur-
rounded by whirling haloes of white flakes; a white
daricness was descending on the city. At the comer
of First Street a young man, just stepping out of the
hotel entrance, paused to turn up his coat collar;
Lesley almost ran into him. He stepped forward to
halt her.
"Good evening — Lesley " She went str^ght by,
and sheer terror choked her when she tried to answer.
The mere unexpected sight of Chan Herrick divided
her between a desire to scream and to faint Where-
fore she did neither, but fairly broke and ran, with
ovGooglc
i88 THE SHADOW RIDERS
his call in her ears. . He took an undecided step after
her, shrugged his shoulders, and turned bade into
the hotel. She had cut him dead, and it was beyond
him to find a reason ; moreover he had forgotten to get
any cigarettes. Which was, perhaps, fortunate; as
also, that she had so far distanced Addison he did
not recognise Chan.
It was well she lived close to the centre of town,
for her strength was almost gone when she got inside
the house and leaned gainst the door to get breath.
Mrs. Cranston was in the kitchen ; the sittingroom was
dark. Lesley went on upstairs, into her own room,
and without making a light drew up the blind. Kneel-
ing, she peered out, invisible to one in the street
When she got her eyes dear of the moisture of errant
flakes that dung to her lashes, her worst fears were
realised. Addison had followed her all the way ; and he
stood solemnly at attention before the house, some-
what in the shadow of the leafless tree. The light of
the apposite street lamp glinted on the tip of the
bayonet He had dropped all common sense, all fear
of observation, apparently. In fact, his fanded
wrongs had gone to his head. . . .
Lesley prayed, since she dared neither cry nor laugh
— that he would go, that Chan might not come, that
Mrs. Cranston might not be minded to look out of
her own front door. To the end of her life she
thought she watched there two hours. She was
cramped and stiff when she finally rose. , . . He did
go at last. . . . Actually, it was hardly half an hour
he kept his watch. The night air brought counsel,
and with it clearheadedness. Lesley sat on the floor
and gave way to her feelings, and then began to pack.
Chan went to bed that night with a gievance.
Addison could never exactly account for the rest
of the evening, and did not too earnestly try.
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CHAPTER XVIII
ELECTION week rushed busily on to its crisis,
found its verdict, and passed. For all the
noise and clanwur of it, no important changes
were wrought. The Government's majority was les-
sened, but not dangerously so. None but lesser lights
went down to defeat Geers got in — amid much ac-
clamation, congratulation and a torchlight procession.
Folsom also was returned for the second division of
the city, and had a rival procession. There were a num-
ber of barroom fights on the night itself ; and triumph-
ant editorials in the newspapers of both sides the
next day. Every one, in fact, seemed to be happy.
Every one, perhaps, but Chan Herrick. He could
not have named the cause of his discontent, but he
felt a strange sense of disillusion and futility; the
disillusion of seeing an empty theatre after the per-
formance. He put it down to fatigue and the effect of
a late supper and too many cigars. He missed the
stimulus of the fight
And Lesley was a disquieting image in the badc-
ground of his thoughts. He had had no time to find
her and ask the cause of her curious behaviour, or
at least he thought he had no time. And yet he did
not fot^et; and a slight unexplained and unforgotten
is more likely to grow than to diminish in significance.
This was the third time she had struck at him in the
dark of his happy ignorance of any offence. Who
could understand a woman ? He, or any man, m^ht,
if aa enquiry were pressed; but he and most men
prefer to let the cards lie as they fall It may be
1*9
ovGooglc
190 THE SHADOW RIDERS
one secret of man's greater achievement; a tbinf done
is done, and matters unproved are more worthy of
attention. To-morrow is always a new day. Yet
Chan felt a loss, was for the first time aware of the
estrangement that had been growing between him and
Lesley ; and would gladly have had back the thing that
was gone. Wherefore he vindicated his sex and went
in search of yesterday.
And Lesley also was gone.
Mrs. Cranston gave him the fact smilingly, and
could not remember Lesley's new address, nor if there
was a telephone. She promised to find it for him when
he came 3ga.'m. He had a mauvais quart d'heure
with Amy. She had never bored him tilt then; he
thoi^ht her stupidity — in everything but her own arts
— rather naif ; he had not got past the explorii^ stage
of the affair. She had; she was taking possession,
t^btening her green withes, not tentatively, but calmly.
He began his retreat from Moscow that day. It was
his first retreat of the kind, be it said. Admitting
experiences with other women (he was near thirty,
to say which is to say enough), they had not beai
exactly like Amy, This, to repeat, if anything must
be admitted at Eill. The power of convention can so
nearly obliterate stubborn fact that a historian of
human nature is at an immense disadvantage in mak-
ing any "Portrait of a Young Man." For all polite
purposes the Queen of Spain still has no l^s.
"Why, Lesley moved uptown three days ago," said
Amy cheerfully. "I should have thought she'd have
let you know, but I told you she's queer. And then
she's been kind of taken up with that Mr. Addison. He
telephoned every day, sometimes twice." Amy had
got Jack Addison's name at last, overhearing it, but
by great good fortune she knew absolutely no more of
hiin than that
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 191
"It serves you r^ht," she continued playfully,
■^ou've not been here for — a whde — week." She pre-
tended to box his ears, and he choked down an un-
reasonable anger.
"Who did you say? Addison?"
"Yes, the one that's had a crush on her for so long,
you know. But tell me, you naughty boy, what've you
been doing?"
"Oh, a great many things," said Chan vaguely.
"And I have got to go and do some more of them
now. 'Bye — dear."
"Are you coming to-morrow night? I'll be so lone-
some 1"
"To-morrow ? No, Ross wants me."
"Then the next ?" inexorably. It was like a wardress
letting out his chain link by link, but never loosing
her hold on it. Some wave of feelii^, masciiline
shame at sight of his puerile bonds, surged up in him ;
there was a brackish flavour in his throat, and his
face burned darkly.
"I don't know," he said gently. "I will see ; but I
am very, very busy. Amy." He took her hands from
his shoulders and kissed them as a peace offering,
medianically. Her fingernails, cut to a claw-like
point, ofifended his eye. She wore a turquoise ring
on her forefinger and the setting was brassy. He
had never before closely observed the details of her
appearance. — If he had cared for her at all he never
would have noticed. — Her wrists were thick ; her ears
were not dainty. Below the powder line on her neck
the skin was 3alk)w. And her eyes were so empty of
intelligence she might have stood as a symbol of —
what she was to him. He wondered she could not
read his mind, know him for a cad. And if even she
had the right to think him a cad
He simply had to get away, to breathe, and so he
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192 THE SHADOW RIDERS
went. The sitting-room, that had once been inviting
in a homely fashion, looked hideous and cheap. Les-
ley had made its atmosphere. But instead of finding
Lesley, he had got further than ever from her. There
was no possibility of doubt she had always appraised
Amy at her true value. He recalled her sudden flight
upstairs the first night he had called. In her quality
of spectator he was not at all prepared to face her
for a few days after that wrenching adjustment he
had just made, of himself with himself. It is not
human to seek out a witness to one's idiocy. And
while an occasional humiliation may be good for the
soul, to be convicted of a lack of taste therewith is
salt in the wound.
He dined with Ross the next night, staying uptown
purposely that he might go home too late to be caught
by telephone, or signalled from the neighbouring porch.
It occurred to him that he was tired of his lodgings,
and might move shortly. But it was not that they
discussed.
"I suppose things will seem a bit tame for a while,"
said Ross. "And since our street-car project has fal-
len through, I can quite understand you feel disap-
pointed." He had read Chan's moody looks readily
enoi^h,
"No, that's all right," said Chan hastily.
"It has to be," smiled Ross. "But my plans haven't
dianged so greatly as you naturally think. And I
need you quite as much as ever, if you are willing."
Chan brightened. "Don't be an ass," he said af-
fectionately. "Have I got any one else in the world
to do anythii^ for ?"
"You might have soon," meditated Ross. "Thirty
is a good age to marry. But that won't interfere—"
"It certainly won't," agreed Chan crisply.
"There are some very delightful girls here," pursued
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THE SHADOW RIDERS I93
Ross, with the utmost outward seriousness. "You
ought to come out and meet them, not have them waste
their sweetness on a dried misogynist Hke me. I can
arrange , . ."
"No girls — no women, thanks just the same. I'm
through " He paused abruptly.
"Again ?"
"If you would just go to hell," suggested Chan
kindly.
"Give me time," said Ross, chuckling. "That was
a bow at a venture, but I've evidently missed some-
thii^ of late. And, not in the least apropos, I have
often meant to ask you if you met that charming girl
next door?"
"Lesley Johns? Long ago." He looked strangely
relieved, which his uncle by no means missed. "She
is charming. If you hadn't been so everlastingly busy,
I'd have had you meet her."
"I should really like to. There was something about
her reminded me — she looked like an individual. It's
a mistake to be bom a woman, I've often thought.
Those sensitive, independent ones; I'm afraid the
world isn't made for them." He was thinking aloud,
his eyes remote, his handsc»ne, ascetic features tak-
ing on an expression Chan knew well. At such times
Ross looked singularly yotmg, though worn and en-
nuyi — like a. young man whom life has beaten in
some secret manner. His grey hair seemed prema-
ture ; there was no hint of middle-age in his well-knit,
easy frame, nor, curious detail, in his nervous brown
hands.
"No," he said, rousing at length, "on the whole, I
don't thing our boasted chivalry has done much for
women. We've driven a hard bargain for it . , . and
then seldom stuck to our bargain. But I'd like to meet
Miss Johns. And that wasn't what I started to talk
ovCiooglc
194 THE SHADOW RIDERS
about either. Yon know I had raised a lot of money
for the street-car business. It's on my hands now. I
wired to the men who subscribed it, releasing them,
and of course apologising. Some of them have with-
drawn. The others want theirs reinvested. They
believe in this country, and they want me to act as
their financial agent. I will if you'll help me. I
can't be here all the time. You can leave the Belle
Claire if you like; in fact, you will probably have to.
It's no joke disposing of half a million prudently, and
it's up to us to do it as quickly as possible, and then
watch it afterward. I've bought the Chatfield ranch
too, and you might keep an eye on that for me. . . .
I think an ofiBce building here, to cost nearly two
hundred thousand, ought to be a good investment.
What do you think?" They spent the evening talk-
ing money, and Chan was caught again, his threatening
boredom extinct as the dodo.
As ambassador from Ross, he forgot his constraint
about speaking to Lesley, found out her new abods,
and telephoned. And she greeted him with a sooth-
ing warmth; her high sweet voice held a ghost of
laughter in it even over the deadening wire.
"Oh, it's you," she cried. "How are you? yes, I
moved ; yes, I like it quite well here."
"Why didn't you tell me you were going?" he asked.
Why had she not? She remembered instantly how
she had meant to, and Amy's entrance — the pin — all
that had put it out of her mind. He caught the con-
straint of her answer.
"I — I forgot ; I was going to— but I didn't sec you
— anyway, it isn't far," she said.
"No, tiiat's true. Lesley, can you lunch with me
on Sunday— with me and Ross? He wants to meet
yon."
"I'm going home over Sunday, to see Dick," she
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 195
was obliged to answer truthfully. All her arrange-
ments were made.
"Well, then, some other day." He could not name
a day without iirst asking Ross. "I should like to
bring him to call."
"I can't have callers," she said, distressed. If it had
been only Chan — but she had seen Whittemore, and
realised she could not, on first sight, treat him with
any such informality as she might his nephew. It
was not that he would be anything but agreeable, in
any circumstances ; simply he was not a boy, a youi^
man; it would be incongruous, and she would feel
ill at ease. Such straitened Bohemianism as Chan,
with the facility of his age, might find amusing, would
never suit Ross. She wanted to meet him, but not
at such a disadvantage.
"Some other time, then," repeated Chan politely;
but the note of withdrawal was perceptible to her.
After all, she must have meant to snub him. She
had cut him dead on the street; she had moved with-
out saying a word to him; and she did not want
him to call.
But she was unable to say what she felt— "Can't
you understand it wouldn't amuse a man like your
uncle to sit on the edge of a converted bed and
talk polite nothings to a gauche girl?" That was
her exasperated thought She said instead :
"Yes, please, some other time — ^telephone me
again."
And she went upstairs with a desolate feeling and
surveyed her room, her home. It was a lai^ and
pleasant room, and Hilda Brewer's chaperonage
would be enough to r^ularise a call from an old
friend, but Whittemore — "He would sit on the bed,"
she reflected dismally, "and insist on me having the
chair; and Chan would be obliged to perch on a
ovCiooglc
196 THE SHADOW RIDERS
trunk, and Hilda would have no place to rest the
sole of her foot unless she stayed with us also ; and
everybody would want to scream with boredom."
So she sat with her head in her hands, dishevelling
her smooth hair and feeling desolate, until Hilda
came upstairs and handed her a letter.
There was no comfort in the letter; it was the lat-
est of a dozen from Jack Addison. All the others
were already destroyed. She read this with the same
mingled emotions of shrinking fascination and com-
punction and weariness that the others had evoked.
He had written so much because she would not answer
the telephone at the office unless a name were given,
and that name not his ; Hilda had brought the letter
from the office, whence Lesley had come early.
It was painful to have a man put his whole heart
on paper, to be handed in by a careless postman,
as he did. If it bad a touch of sweetness also, she
dared not acknowledge that ; yet she understood him
too well. She might have written such words. . . .
He wrote with unexpected grace and fire. Perhaps
his Spanbh blood had brought him eloquence. She
had not known his mother had been Spanish — Cali-
fomian — until he pleaded it in extenuation. To make
his mother plead for him — after all, he must care.
That letter was the hardest to bum. His regrets,
his repentance, moved her less. They were idle;
all regrets were idle, a luxury she could not afford
herself. And yet it was not his lovii^, but the use-
lessness of it, plucked at some sympathetic chord
in her. If what she had seen was love, it was hardly
worth suffering for. She wanted no more of the
clamorous, greedy, draggled thing. This by fits and
starts; all her plans were scattered, her emotions a
dusty chaos ; and she lived by the day, by the hour.
Sometimes she wondered if Addison were kee|Mng
ovGoogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 197
ber money purposely, as a last resort to wring for-
giveness from her, since he never mentioned it He
did not deserve that The money was invested, with
his own, and he knew it was quite safe and would ulti-
mately bring a profit She did not speak of it her-
self, and he thought no more of it
Then, after he had lapsed into silence, they met by
chance on the street. He gave her a glance of checked
eagerness and patent submission, waiting to see if she
would apeak; and she feh compelled to a greeting
by his silence.
"May I walk with you?" he asked.
"I suppose so, if you won't bother me," she replied
indifferently.
"Do you hate me?"
"No," she said calmly. "I just would rather not
see you any more." He winced; but he was tamed
to her moods once more ; he could, not dare again.
"It's coming to me," he admitted. "I told yoti
I took things seriously, but I was mad — I wasn't
myself "
"Don't let's talk about it."
"I wanted you to know that I'm sorry."
She shru^ed. "Very well. That's all, isn't it?"
"No. If ever I can do anything to prove that
I'm sorry, you may ask it of me; I'll do it I should
feel better if you would, some day. I wanted to say
that You're the only woman I Well, I'm not a
beast"
"No, of course not." But she did not look ai
htm, nor seem to care. He had only tried to mur-
der her.
"Will you, then? If ever I can do anytbii^?"
"Perhaps," she said. The only thing she could
think of asking she could not, because of its asso*
dation; and he did not offer it Besides, her need
ovCiooglc
198 THE SHADOW RIDERS
of money was not so imperative. Cresswell had given
her a sniall advance in salary, which was just enough.
They were at her office; she nodded to him and
left him. And then, with a fine inconsistency, she
watched out of the window how he lingered and
walked away reluctantly. She had lost somethii^.
. . . Some possibility of adventure, some zest of
life. Whatever it was, it was gone, definitely, with
him. She sat a while, rolling her gloves into a ball,
thinking; he had thick, beautiful black hair, and his
eyes expressed vitality and pleasure more than any
one's she had ever seen. And life was very waste-
ful and meaningless.
Chan did not call again. Whittemore had left
town, but Lesley did not know that for some time.
All her temporary agriments had been snatched from
her at once. She had had one golden summer, and
the winter of her discontent, more than the literal
season in length, began.
The picture of Addison as she saw him last, pro-
testant and apologetic and unsatisfied, but departii^;,
remained as a kind of allegoTy.
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CHAPTER XIX
A YEAR after the collapse of his street railway
scheme, Whittemore was in Montreal. He
had to come to Montreal sometimes, to still a
vague Sehnsucht which only the homeless man knows.
Yet he found if he stayed too long the sickness came
back with doubled force; he missed too consciously
what Montreal could no loi^r supply. That was
one reason he had decided practically to live in the
Northwest ; that, and to be near Chan. He had not
altered the decision, thou^ he had not managed to
keep it to the letter. What with one trip to London
via New York, and a California interval for the sake
of his health, he had not been in Alberta more than
six months of the intervening time.
He was in Montreal on business, as well as for the
lingering love he bore the city where he was bom
and which held the dust of his parents and others he
had cared for. Chan was in charge of affairs in the
West, giving excellent satisfaction to both parties.
Chan had almost as much work as he could do, which
is a good thing for a young man, and was learning
judgment in financial matters very fast. There was
now an office, as well as the Chatfield ranch, for him
to look after; and he was considered a decidedly ris-
ing — and eligible — young man. Whittemore had spent
most of the autumn on the ranch with him,
a few ducks and motoring to town every day.
Whittemore had come East in November,
to go back for Christmas, but had failed of that de-
si^, and Christmas was long past As business be-
W
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aoo THE SHADOW RIDERS
came dormant in midwinter, the need was not urgent.
However, he thought to go before spring, if qnly to
escape from his old friends, who were enmeshit^ him
in kindness.
The immediate net was baited with a dinner Lady
Colvin was giving, an "informal" dinner with a score
of guests who would go on to the Westmount Country
Qub for a snowshoe dance. At least, the dance was
arranged by an exclusive snowshoeing club, a circle
within a circle; the Country Gub as a setting by no
means indicated the summer solstice. Montreal loves
the snow, or makes a virtue of necessity and crowns
it with a winter carnival.
Whittemore did not love the snow, nor pretend to.
He would have been glad of an excuse from the din-
ner at the last moment, but politeness was one of his
ruling passions. His throat had been unusually trou-
blesome ever since his attack of grippe in Banff over
a year before, and this night he could hardly speak.
He made an appointment with his doctor for an ex-
amination the next day, before muffling himself to the
cars and taking a closed carriage, all of which pre-
cautions he detested.
Sir George Colvin, who had got his knighthood for
being president of a lai^ banking corporation, sub-
scribing handsomely to party funds and University
foundations, and acting on committees to entertain
peripatetic minor royalties, had a big house on Pine
Avenue. The awning and red carpet prepared one
tactfully for the solid luxury of the English entrance
hall, where a hardwood log burned behind a leather-
cushioned club fender; and the almost more-than-
Oriental splendour of the drawing-room — Victorian
prism chandeliers and Persian rugs and a Holbein
over an Italian marble mantel, but the whole cun-
ningly composed by the best decorating talent money
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS aoi
could employ. There was loot, indeed, trove of the
marauding millionaire of the twentieth century, suc-
cessor to robber barons and pirate vikings of a ruder
age; but a modest magnificence is not necessarily in
bad taste, however acquired.
Lady Colvin, gorgeously dowdy in white lace and
pearls-— a common weakness of large women — gave
(Ross both hands and forgot her ultra-Knglish accent
for something more homespun and Canadian. She
thought Ross romantic in appearance, and sometimes
wished in her heart that Sir Geot^e could show such
a figure.
"Now our party is complete," she s^d. "Look
about and tell me whom you do not know. It is so
awkward introducing people who have met before,
don't you think ?"
"Whom I do not know ?" He surveyed the group
at the far end of the long drawingroom. - "Gertrude,
you remind me that I am growing old. I am afraid
I know none of these pretty young things. There is
a new crop every time I come back — some day I will
not dare come back at all."
"But you do know Mr. Campbell — and Sir John
MarstCHi? Well, you shall know the pretty young
things, too." The bending of bright heads as he was
passed about the group reminded him of a field of
fiowers nodding to a breeze. He made no effort to
remember their several names; it would not matter;
he would never see them again. They had their yoimg
cavaliers to match — whom any one of them would
gladly have exchanged for himself — fresh, agreeable,
immaculate young men with that peculiarly deceptive
air of conventional goodness common to Canadian
masculinity in "Society." They were there because
Lady Colvin had a debutante daughter. Ross was there
because the Honourable James Campbell was a Cabinet
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J02 THE SHADOW RIDERS
Minister and a bouSe gvest of the G>Ivins; Sir John
Marston, another knight of the counting house, for
the same reason. Because Lady Colvin was taking
her young flock on to the dance, and because she knew
her husband and the other three men meant to have
their own talk after dinner, there were no other dow-
agers. With the young people sitting figuratively be-
low the salt, it was almost like two dinner parties side
by side. The older men talked politics to a soft ac-
companiment of girlish laughter and adolescent per-
siflage from the far end of the table. Ross felt "chilly
and grown old." Such nice children, and well man-
nered. ... To the poetic substratimi of his nature
it seemed a hard fate that those fresh young creatures
should grow into — well, into Lady Gilvins. Of course
he liked Gertrude Colvin, but . . . Some things
weren't enough ; that was all. He was wont to say
of his own people in his rarely outspoken moments
that they were "so damned satisfied,^' there was no
doubt that covered Lady Colvin ; and he could see as
the artist discerns the bones beneath the flesh, the
embryo Lady Colvin in every one of those demure
creatures. So he lent an absent ear to his host—
who resembled his own Holbein modernised, and was
a good fellow — until the nearest "bud" plucked up
courage between the roast and the salad to ask after
Chan.
"He's in the West, turned into a complete savage,"
he informed her seriously. "Wears a blanket and
feathers. You'd better fot^t him." She blushed
furiously, and showed him her pretty shoulder for the
rest of the evening.
"The West's the country for a young man," cut in
Sir George briskly. "I tell you, it's progressing.
Business in oiur local branch in your town has just
exactly doubled in eighteen months. And the clears
0. Google
THE SHADOW RTOERS 203
ings for all the banks there stand seventh in the
Dominion."
"There is but ore Progress, and Finance is its
prophet," said Whittemore. "Yes, we must admit that
they are growing."
"Growing away from us," interposed Campbell.
"You had a narrow squeak last election, I believe."
"Not very, but a noticeable reaction," said Whitte-
more. "It would serve you right if you did lose ; yoti
never try to do anything for the West. You've alien-
ated British Columbia completely by playing up to
Downing Street on the Japanese question ; you Shy-
locked Alberta on her public lands ; and you bleed them
all white with your tariff for the sake of the Eastern
manufacturer. The tariff doesn't help the West, and
you don't try to help them to a market abroad. If
they kick you all out some day and trade the devil
they do know for the devil they don't know, you need
^ not be surprised. It's over ten years since the Liberal
Government got in on the strength of promises of tar-
iff reduction, and except for British Preference on
things we mostly don't want anyway, not an iota of
that promise has been kept."
"Our manufacturers can't afford to compete with
the factories of the United States yet," said Marston.
"Got to support home industries first."
"Our manufacturers haven't the enterprise to make
as good articles," retorted Whittemore, his gently
deferential manner and almost inaudible voice rob-
bing the remark of its brutality. "You can get the
same raw material if you let down the bars; and as
for labour cost, if it is any higher here, why should our
young people of Ontario and Quebec go across to
work in the New England factories at the shameful
wages they get there ? And they do. We need com-
petition ; competition in brains."
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304 THE SHADOW RIDERS
'But," said Campbell, "before the Liberal Govern-
ment came in our young people were going twice as
fast. We couldn't even hold our own in population,"
"Nothing to do with politics ; natural result of the
enormous expansion, railways and the like, of the
United States just after the Civil War. It began to
slacken naturally and the tide turned slowly when the
best of their Western land was taken and we were
driven, by sheer threat of disruption, to build at least
one railway of our own. Our party has been the
gnat on the bull's horn. We'll have to make good
pretty soon ; there's a kind of subconscious discontent
breeding. The people don't know what ails them ex-
actly, but I suspect they are rather stck of hearing
Aristides call himself the Just."
"You grant us nothing," smiled Campbell.
"Yes, I do," said Whittemore thoughtfully. "I
grant us one heaven-bom politician, a natural leader
and diplomat — who never had quite run his race be-
cause of a double handicap of blood and religion. I
grant us almost another Disraeli. But we've need
also of a Bright and a Cobden. Not much to ask," he
smiled.
"I should say he had run his race, and won it," s^d
Campbell. Whittemore only smiled again; this
touched one secret conviction of his he had never
shared with any one. "And, by the way, have you
seen him lately?"*
"The Premier? No, I have not been in Ottawa
lately."
"Well, in substance he agrees with you. This is in
confidence, of course. He thinks it time the tariff
was altered. We are prosperous; we can afford it
now. We need "
"A new battle cry," said Whittemore suavely.
"Well, I'll only say that Washington may be ap-
ovCiooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 205
proach«d shortly, and the question of Redproci^
revived."
"I don't believe in it," said Sir Geor^ suddenly,
with shrewd common sense seizing the trader's view-
point. "Don't believe in involving business in any
agreement that may be terminated by a second party
and leave us flat, with capital tied up and the outlet
closed. It's a sand foundation."
"We've always wanted it, we Canadians," Campbell
said.
"We had it once," Colvin reminded him. "And
our neighbour pulled the chair from under us while
we were at table. Besides, the people don't always
want anything. Change their minds worse than a
woman."
"My dear," Lady Colvin, as became a good wife,
always heard what her husband said, "the whole of
civilisation depends on the ability of women to stay of
one mind all their lives. Nine-tenths of us undertake
at the beginning of our lives to do just one thing —
launch the next generation. We have to do it more
or less in spite of you men, who are always chasing
off to the ends of the earth for new scenery and a
different kind of work — but the human race is still
extant. And our work can't be dropped and taken
up again whenever we feel like it."
"To the steadfast sex," said Whittemore, raising his
glass amid a chorus of laughter. "Do you believe in
Reciprocity?"
"Certainly not with the United States," she said.
"I do not think we ought to enter into any alliance
with a nation of vulgarians; nor do anything to im>
peril our relations with England." Like many Cana-
dian women, she had a kind of naive snobbery which
passed for patriotism ; and then, she was truly grate-
ful The United States could never have made her a
ovGooglc
2o6 THE SHADOW RIDERS
"Lady," nor could it better a knighthood with a bai^
onetcy. "I usually take Geoi^'s view cm public ques<
tions, anyway," she added, smiling.
"Well, I've said, and I repeat," Sir George stated,
with a look of honest pride at his spouse, "I don't
believe in it,"
"Your point is well taken," admitted the Minister.
"Don't give it away to the Opposition. And you?"
turning to Whittemore. Campbell was called the most
noncommittal man in Canada.
"There's a string to it, yes. But anything is better
than our hidebound Toryism. Aren't we building on
a sand foimdation now, with an enormously high
tariff artificially sustaining business, in a country
where the people have the political machinery at hand
to pull the whole thing around our ears in a fit of
exasperation, involving us in a common debacle?
Those gusts of passion shake every people occasion-
ally. Our neighbors are now watching the pillars
tremble with the struggles of their blind Samson.
Can't we ever learn? Ah, my rhetoric is running
away with me. Tell me, though, is the party secretly
committed to this venture?"
"Ask our Disraeli. He was wishing you were pres-
ent, the other day. We were discussing the West.
Is it true that Jonathan Ward is dying?"
"It is some months since I left, and then I had not
seen Ward for other months," said Whittemore. "He
did not look well last summer." The man they spoke
of was Lieutenant-Governor of Alberta — the Honour-
able Jonathan Ward. The office is purely honorary,
a party reward.
"Whom will you put in his place ?" asked Sir Geoi^,
with a meaning look at Campbell. "I knew Ward
when we were both twenty-dollar-a-month bank clerks.
He went West, cut loose from the grind, made money
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS ao7
so fast he couldn't count it, I've heard. Good man ;
I'm sorry if he's goii^." Colviti rather liked refer-
ring to the twenty-dollar-a-month period, implyii^,
with the conscious pride of virtue, that he owed his
Holbein and his house on Pine Avenue to his own stu-
pendous exertions. In reality, an incredibly aged
grandparent had died at a convenient m(»nent and
left him a more than comfortable nucleus of his for-
tune.
"A lai^ question," murmured Whittemore with
veiled irony, "We have many rich men out there,
and a new crop coming on fast."
"They don't shell out," said Campbell blandly.
"Ross does," said Sir George. But Campbell said
no more until after Lady Colvin had gathered her
brood and departed, sweeping out on a wave of
chiffons, after polite scuffles by the young sprigs for
dropped gloves and fans. By prearrangement, the
sprigs departed also, bearing their spoil; the butler
carried out the last of their atmosphere with the lace
and damask cloth. Whittemore, who was not allowed
to smoke, and had already strained his throat by talk-
ing more than his wont, composed himself to listen,
while the other three lit Havanas. He was not think-
ing of Jonathan Ward, nor of anything that was his,
when Campbell returned to the subject
"Whom should you select as Ward's successor?"
he asked, looking even more noncommittal than usual.
Ross had always thought Campbell a bit of a bore,
with his cat-after-the-canary air. He did not trou-
ble to give the question any consideration.
"I couldn't say; never thought of it,"
"You were very generous, as Sir George reminds
us."
"Oh, I was interested."
"Would you care for it?"
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flo8 THE SHADOW RIDERS
"Care for what — flie Lieutenant-Governorship?
IP" A surprised amusement broke over Whitte-
more's face.
"Yes," repeated Campbell, with a detached air.
"In point of fact, the Premier commissioned me to
ask you informally. He felt it would give him pleas-
ure to anticipate any such wish of yours."
"It had not entered my head. I am honoured" — he
could say no less — "but A ribbon for my button-
bole, no. I have no one to be gratified by the bauble.
A man takes those things because it pleases his fam-
ily, I suppose." Sir George nodded modestly.
"Then you won't?"
"No, with many thanks. But — I will still shell
out."
"You were always a lucky devil," said Sir George,
"and you were always just that damned cool about
it. The rest of us have to hustle for what we get,
and be thankful when we get tt. If you had done
that, you might have been Premier."
"You still over-estimate me," said Whittemore. "*!
am not sure that I believe there are any might-have-
beens; we are all just exactly what we might have
been, and certainly nothing less, though a few of us
seem more." The dinner was too far advanced for
that remark to be quite digested. Whittemore meant
it ; he knew he could never have been a true leader,
lacking alike patience in dealing with fools and the
force to drive them. Too fatally had it been proven
to him once that he did lack force, that irresistible
energy in a crisis which makes defeat negligible.
He listened to the others again with half a mind,
looking at the dark ruby of his glass of port, buried
in his own thoughts, though politely attentive on the
surface. He knew his reflections on the vanity of
life were trite, but they swarmed over his mind.
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 309
little prying thoughts that let in an unwelcome light.
Obscurity and shadows in those secret chambers
suited him better ; and he did not need to be reminded
that he had no one to whom he might carry a
"bauble." He tried to imagine how it would seem
if there were such a one. Oh, yes, he would have
taken the post — if she had cared for it. And she
would have cared, almost childishly; she had been
a warmly human woman; largely it had been that
quick, naif responsiveness that had . . .
Sir George could not let Whittemore's refusal stand
without comment, and worried it on all sides. He
had been privy to the idea before the Minister
broached it to Whittemore, and was enormously sur-
prised. All he got was a more determined negative,
and Whittemore, slightly wearied, returned to his
hotel earlier than he might have done.
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CHAPTER XX
DR. EDWARDS, Whittemore's physician, also
a friend of long standing, had with friendly
insistence besought Ross to come for his ver-
dict to St. Jerome's Hospital. It was the doctor's
pet institution, and indeed his monument, for smce
its inception he had been the moving spirit in- it.
Lately he had achieved a new wing for it, and other
wonders, which he declared Ross must see. Prob-
ably wanted a subscription, Ross thought kindly, and
saw to it that his cheque-book was in his pocket. Dr.
Edwards was known for his benevolent extortions
on behalf of his work. He had had no time to make
a fortune for himself, wherefore he felt licensed
to levy on all malefactors of great wealth whom
he could charm into range.
The hospital, a stodgy, belated Victorian structure
of red brick with too much buff trimming, was not
beautiful, Ross thought, as he approached it That
red against the blue winter sky, and the white back-
ground of snowy lawn, was rather too much for the
unprepared eye. But time might mellow that un-
compromising front; and considered in its true light,
as a monument, not as a work of art, it was cer^
tainly imposing. More than that, it was.
"Edwards has got something to show," was Ross's
reflection. There was the tangible fruit of a busy
life. His own existence struck Ross as sterile and
empty. An impulse to action ran through his veins,
and was balked for lack of a purpose whereon to
expend itself. He mounted the steps.
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 3ii
He felt an old twinge of distaste for the gaunt or-
der of the entrance hall, and the odour of death
which some morbid streak in his f«ychology detected,
that scent of disinfectant and flowers which so
strangely mingles in the quiet atmosphere of science's
battleground. Ross hated death. He did not fear
it ; he was indifferent to the thot^ht of dying himself ;
but the irrevocableness of it, in the abstract, made
his soul creep.
Dr. Edwards pounced on him then, as he waited
in the doctor's private office.
"Ah, you're herel Sorry I was detained — most
interesting case, though — oh, I'll spare you I How's
the throat ? Ah, bad, bad ; I can hear, don't have to
see it. Shouldn't be out; why didn't you tell me
you shouldn't be out? Want an examination first,
or will you look us over? Our new wing is splen-
did, but we need some radium, and the new X-ray appa-
ratus took all our "
"Just my luck, to come when you need radium,"
said Ross huskily. "How much?"
"Oh, now, now, I didn't mean — — "
"How much, you j^sculapian pirate?"
"Wait till you've thought it over," said Dr. Ed-
wards soothingly, but with an irrepressible gleam
of triumph in his eye. "Wait till we've fixed you
up, shown you what medical science means to hu-
manity. Come, well look over the place; and then
I've got Bocock here for the examination. I can't
keep up with the specialists in every line, but we've
got the best. Bocock can do anything with throats;
he's a marvel." Still expatiating on the wonders
of modem surgery, which left Ross finally with the
impression that, by going about it piecemeal, a really
good surgeon should have no difficulty in substi-
tuting a new human machine entire, leaving no shred
ovtiooglc
atz THE SHADOW RIDERS
of the old organism to cause any disturbance, Ed-
wards piloted him down the interminable wide, white
corridors, past innumerable screened doors and noise-
less nurses who looked neither right nor left Whitte-
more even had a look at the gruesome neatness of
the main operatii^ room, empty for the moment, and
felt obliged to protest he could dispense with the
basement and diet kitchens, before they returned to
meet Dr. Bocock for a verdict in Dr. Edwards' con-
sultii^ room.
A white-capped nurse had come in. She sat at
a roll-top desk, examining and docketing a pile of
charts. She did not turn as they entered, and her
slim, white hands fluttered methodically among the
papers. Whittemore could not see her face, and for-
got about her while Dr. Bocock peered reflectively,
with the aid of a cunning maze of tiny mirrors and
lights, into his suffering larynx.
"Pretty bad; you've been neglecting it," he said
at last. "You ought " He squinted frowningly
at the afflicted region again.
"Operation ?" a^cd Whittemore, when he was per-
mitted to close his mouth. Dr. Bocock looked at
Dr. Edwards, who nodded.
"Yes. I see you've had one before."
"Three," said Whittemore patiently. "Another
won't matter. Go ahead."
"I shall have to give it twenty-four hours' treat-
ment first. Will you enter the hospital for it ?'
"Is it so serious?"
"Oh, nol Only for convenience."
"Then I'd rather not," said Whittemore. The nurse
rose and went out, with a crisp sound of starched
skirts. Whittemore saw her face. . . .
"No, I'd rather " He stopped, boking at the
door where she had disappeared. Some impression
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 213
of brightness had gone with her, a gleam. "Can't I
have it at the hotel ?" he finished.
"You must have a nurse," said Dr. Bocock decid-
edly, "because it will need spraying every fifteen min-
utes for a few hours; and then you won't be able
to speak the first day."
"Very well; bring a nurse. . . . That is, if it's
all ri|^t I've a suite at the Place Viger "
"My dear chap," said Edwards, "nmses go wherever
they're told."
"I see. When shall I expect you?"
They fixed an hour for the next morning. After
Dr. Bocock had swabbed his throat with some un-
pleasant medicament that annoyed almost as much
as it relieved him, Whitteawre lingered purposely.
He waited for a private word with Dr. Edwards,
and got it.
"I'm going to make a strange request of you," he
said, "and I shall have to trust you not to misun-
derstand. I should like to have the nurse who just
went out, to attend me."
"Who? Which one?" Edwards looked blankly
amazed.
"She was at the desk when we came in. She just
went out."
"Nurse Conway? Oh, hai^ it, that's my own
nurse; I can't give you her. She remembers every-
thing I forget T^e another; we've got all kinds
and sizes."
So it was Eileen — and she had not changed her
name.
"Miss Conway — ^ycs."
"Do you know her ?" asked Edwards, with marked
curiosity.
"Not exactly. I know her friends. That's the onty
reason I can offer, but I give jrou my word. . . ."
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314 THE SHADOW RIDERS
"Never mind ; never miad." Dr. Edwards remeni-
bered the radium. Also he knew Ross. "Take her.
She's a Jewel, So you know something of her! . . .
Perhaps you know she's a kind of mystery, a sphinx.
And a machine; perfect nurse on ^t account; no
more feeling than my lancet. How do you account
for it, with that face, that hair?"
"I'm afraid I can't account for it," said Whitte-
more. "And if you wouldn't mind not mentioning
to her . . ."
"Of course not," said Dr. Edwards, with a frank
stare, running his hand through his hair. "Any-
thii^ you say; sure it's all right So you know her I
By Jove I"
"But I don't know her," Whittemore repeated.
Dr. Edwards merely grinned and shook his head.
Whittemore might have added that it was because
he wanted to know her, for he had not forgotten a
word nor a gesture of hers, and had thought of her
oftener than ever he knew. He imagined her scorn-
ful refusal to attend him should she guess. She
would not understand ; would think him merely
cheaply inquisitive. Well, he did not understand him-
self, except that it was an echo of his own question and
Burrage's answer — "What does become of 'em?" —
which was not an answer. To know that she was a
nurse at St. Jerome's was not enough ; what had be-
come of her? Had she lived or died, the girl he had
seen turn on life with such a mad resentment that
she would have silenced that jeering force by sheer
annihilation? Since chance had given him an op-
portunity to observe, he meant to take it. He had
sometimes hoped he might see her again, sooner or
later.
It was for her he waited at the appointed hour
next morning. Dr. Edwards, being notorious for in-
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 215
attention to small matters, almost forgot to bring
her, and once there quite forgot to watch their meet-
ing. But he brought her. She bowed to Whittemore,
and effaced herself while the two doctors hailed their
victim; but Whittemore, though he could not very
well turn and schitinise her, was yet aware, more
by feeling than hearing, of how she softly slipped
out of her furred coat and little trim hat, behind
him at the mantel mirror. And when they set briskly
to work, she was at his elbow, holding the small
bloody sponges, the basin, and shining, curious knives.
While Bocock delicately explored his throat with
the edged steel, Whittemore's mind was so intent
on Eileen that he barely fett the brief, keen pain. A
vestal presiding at a sacrifice, he thought, and with-
drew the phrase immediately, for she moved so he
could see her clearly, and there was no devotion in
her attitude, nothing but a mechanical concentration.
She was a nurse by chance, and a good one by virtue
of some thoroughbred quality in her; that was all.
The lack of expression on a face so mobile and richly
coloured by nature could not but seem deliberate;
he saw why Edwards had called her a sphinx. Some-
thii^ in her had gone to sleep, he concluded, when
the operation was over and she was taking Dr.
Bocock's directions about the spraying, and how
the patient's temperature must be watched. She
kxiked bored, like a child stupefied by the fatigues of
an over-long school-day. Then she spoke.
"Yes, doctor, I understand." She had not schooled
her voice to match her face 1 Whittemore had never
heard it before save under a stress of anguish that
must have altered it. It was a sweet voice, a little
blurred, a mezzo-contralto, he guessed, if she should
sing. Probably she did sing. Whittemore had a keen
ear. "Yes," she repeated patiently, "I will" That
ovGooglc
3i6 THE SHADOW RIDERS
youn^, warm, eager voice, with the imperious upward
inflection — ^that was Eileen!
"Very well," said Dr. Bocock briskly. "Now, Mr.
Whittemore, since we've silenced you, well go. And
don't answer back to the nurse, because you can't."
Laughing heartily, he departed, and Dr. Edwards,
after a final handshake with him.
Eileen had carried the basin away, and he heard her
washii^ up in the bathroom. Then she came back;
Whittemore shifted in his big wing chair to watch
her, though he seemed to be looking out of the win-
dow at the snowy roofs across the street sparkling
in the sun. She put a writing pad at his elbow,
methodically arranged the books and papers on the
table; her eyes rested a moment thoughtfully on a
flat bowl of pansies. It was for her eyes to rest
on that Whittemore had ordered them. They looked
foreign in a hotel sitting-room, with no other sign
of any but a masculine occupant There were books
and papers, a big oak box for cigarettes, a stubby
brier pipe which Ross used only when on huntii^
trips but always carried, a writing portfolio, and a
few photographs. There was design in the photo-
graphs. One of them, a large one, showed himself
and Chan mounted, by the corral at the Chatfield
ranch. It had been taken the summer before. She
did not seem to see it at first, and then paused, poised,
pressing her finger-tips on the table so the nails
whitened, her fixed gaze seeming to absorb the pic-
ture. In that second of silence he fancied he coukl
hear her pulses check and leap. Then she turned
away, opened her small handbag and took out a
book and a handkerchief, and sat down with the de-
liberate grace which is so rare in a woman o£ small
stature. The handkerchief gave out a faint odottr
of roses as she crushed it into her pocket
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 217
"If you want anything," she said, "please write
it. It's just as well you should keep as quiet as
possible." He nodded, and she opened her book.
He thought she had grown thinner, but it might
have been only her close-belted uniform, with the
stra^ht white collar and austere cap. She was very
slight, anyway. She did not look worn nor faded;
a strong morning light beat on her, and showed her
skin flawless against the dark, ruddy hair and the
starched collar.
Of course, she was very young, but there was that
in her brilliance that seemed to defy accidents and
externals. Her uniform was equally incongruous and
becoming ; her fine ankles looked the more dainty above
her flat-heeled shoes. She wore silk stockings ; that,
and the rose-scented handkerchief, struck him as a
discovery of her character.
While she read, the eloquent immobility of her
face remained, and even when she lowered the book
a trifle and, without raising her head, ceased to read,
the word was not unfitting. Yet a change came;
some secret purpose defined itself, a steady deter-
mination. No, she was not asleep after all, only
waiting. There was something she wanted, would
have, if an obstinate and passionate will could bring it
to pass. What was it? She was looking at the photo-
graph again, through her lashes, just as he was watch-
ing her. He turned to r^ard her directly.
She started. "Can I do something for you?"
He scribbled on the pad. "Yes. I want to talk
to you."
"I'm sorry, but you can't," she answered, smiling
for the first time, not at him but at the written
words. Had she known it, that smile was her best
di^uise. In it the woman vanished, and Eileen re-
captured girlhood; mischief welled up in her sea-
ovCiooglc
2i8 THE SHADOW RIDERS
blue eyes, and a littie half-moon depression showed
in her cheek.
"Then," he wrote again, "I want you to talk to
me. I can not bear silence, and that will be next
best to hearing myself talk." He did not want
to alarm her with excessive gallantry. She nod-
ded.
"It is tiresome, I know. But what shall I talk
about?"
"Anything," he scriU>led. "Your book."
"This?" she held it up. He had already seen the
title ; it was Balzac's "Peu de Chagrin," in the original.
"I've only b^ua it, and I go slowly because I'm still
learning French. Do you want me to criticise it?"
He nodded now. "I was wondering if Batzac meant
it for an allegory of life itself. I suppose so ; we've
only so much allotted us, only so many possibilities,
a certain term of years, and if to wish were to ac-
complish, we should use it all up just so, without
thinking. And what we do is only our wishes put
into action. And at the end it's all gone; we hold
nothing in our hands. I think — oh, I don't believe
I can go on talking to myself ; it's 'no' canny.' "
"Then just speak to me sometimes," he wrote
craftily. "Don't bother to keep it up steadily,"
"Youll only have to wait until to-morrow," she
protested, yet yielded. "Now I must spray your
throat." Very deftly she tipped back' his head.
There was vitality in her very fir^r-tips. He felt
in them the reason she had not succumbed, gone
down. What she felt was that his hair was singu-
larly thick and soft to touch, which one does not
expect of grey hair. She wondered just how old
he was, why it was grey, who he was.
Again her eyes strayed to his books, when she re-
turned from sterilising the atomiser. There was the
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RmERS 219
English Review, th« Revue des Deux Mondes, even
the Corriere dello Sera, and volumes of memoirs and
essays, privately bound. It made her share his re-
gret that he could not talk; it was true that she
could sympathise with one enforced to silence. For
more than a lot^ year her mind and soul, awakened
by a shock that had first stunned, had clamoured
within her for knowledge and expression. Superfici-
alities irritated her, and she had not been able to
afford any intimacies. She wanted to understand;
she desired a searchlight on the dark places of the
spirit wherethrou^ she had passed; she could have
screamed questions at the whole world, if she had not
known it would only think her mad. Whittemore
looked clever; yes, even to her mistrustful eye, he
looked kind. She thought she knew the limits o£
kindness — self-interest. But sometimes she withdrew
that generalisation ; for one thing, she remembered
Lesley; and there was an old French-Canadian
woman, who probably had Indian blood in her, who
tiad been kind even to tears, when Eileen most needed
it. Much bitterness had been melted in those tears.
Eileen's mother may have wept — but at a distance 1
Eileen had nothing of her own mother's, but she
had a little, tarnished silver crucifix on a worn rib*
bon, given her by Madame LeSueur. She kept it, not
because it had any religious significance for her, but
because it had been pressed into her clasp in an
hour of such anguish and terror that she had felt
as if she held to life itself but by the grip of
Philomene LeSueur's tiard hands.
It was not of that she was thinking now, for by
fixed purpose she never thought of it at all if she
could help. She remembered Madame LeSueur and
sometimes spent her afternoon off with her, but the
rest she resolutely put behind her. She knew her
ovCiooglc
230 THE SHADOW RIDERS
handicap heavy enoi^h without keepii^ that meni'
ory fresh.
Whittemore ^t little more from her that after-
noon, though she remembered to speak at intervals,
and he used up a good many sheets of the writing
pad to keep her from feeling self-conscious. But
the next day, when he was able to speak, he used
all his skill and charm to draw her out, and felt rea-
sonably rewarded at the end of it. He did not
know if he was surprised to find her smile had not
belied her; she was still no more than a girl by
flashes. There was a hard and bitter rind about
her, but within her spirit was still hot and generous
— ^ut how she had bitted and curbed it !
"Is it impertinent," he enquired, "to ask why you
are a nurse? Is nursing a vocation?"
"It's bfead and butter," she said briefly, and with-
drew into her shell, but added with an elusive flash
of mischief: "Canadian girls always seem to go in
for nursing; lack of originality, I dare say."
"But you don't need French for it," he suf^ested
tentatively,
"A woman needs everything she can get," was
her answer, and added quickly: "It is very useful
in Quebec, of course."
"Yes, I forgot." And he saw that her eyes had
strayed again to the picture of the ranch. "Do you
like that?" he asked.
"Yes. I — have lived in Alberta,"
"Have you? Perhaps you will go back some day.
It has possibilities."
"Perhaps," He saw the brooding purpose gleam
in her eyes again. A wildly fantastic idea leaped
into his brain. It was so grotesquely suitable as a
rounding out of his life, that it inevitably occurred,
to him as an accomplishment on which to expend that
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 221
tiiq)ulse for action which Edwards' achievements had
w^ed in him. It was indeed quite diabolically apropos.
Eileen smiled, the corners of her mouth curling deli-
cately, with an irony so fine it became her beauty. "If
I thought they'd kill a fatted steer for me," she said,
"I might. A calf isn't enough of a temptation. There
are other places to go."
'T>o you want to travel?"
"Oh, I suppose 80." And by way of silencing him,
she sprayed his throat with great thoroughness,
though it lacked five minutes of the allotted time.
"There, that's the last time," she said, "To-morrow
you can do all that is necessary yourself."
He anathematised his own stupidity. This was
something* he should have arranged with Dr. Ed-
wards. He must redeem the mistake as best he could.
"You are not coming to-morrow?"
"No, you will not need me, and Dr. Edwards
does."
"Would it be unprofessional," he asked, with a
deference she could not mistake, "for you to con-
tinue an acquaintance with me? I should like to
see you again. Perhaps all your patients bore you
with that request; I do not mean to be tiresome.
I shall be in Montreal about two weeks longer, and
may be back later!"
She reckoned the matter in her head, as coolly as
if it were an account, possible profit and kiss. It
was to that end she had drilled herself.
"I have one afternoon and evening a week off,"
she said, after an almost imperceptible pause. "I
am just past being a probationer, you know; it is
only by chance that I am on your case, because Dr. Ed-
wards took a fancy to me, and had me in his office,
and he decided that I should attend you. I suppose
you are an old friend of his?" Whittemore assented.
ovCiooglc
222 THE SHADOW RIDERS
"So if you cared — a. week from this evening I shall
be free." She did not feel suspicious of him, on!y
because she thought herself hardened against all
contingencies.
"I believe there is opera on this month," he said.
"Do you care for music?" It was a happy thought,
as he could see at once.
"I should like it very much," she said formally.
"I will get tickets, then," he said. When she was
going, he only bowed, and did not offer to shake
hands.
But the next day he bewildered Dr. Edwards still
more with an additional request, trepannti^ him to
dinner for the especial purpose.
"I want you," he said, "to tell Miss Q>nway casu-
ally that I am a more or less respectable and re-
sponsible person — tell her what you know of me, I
have asked her to the opera, and in justice she ought
to know whether I'm a common burglar or a regular
M. P. Will you? I make a point of it, a favour
to me."
"Why, yes, yes, certainly, if you put it that way.
Ross, you always had good taste; by gad, you still
have! But isn't this a little out of your line?"
"Yes, it is," said Whittemore deliberately. "Put
it down that I'm in my dotage — but don't think any-
tbii^ else."
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CHAPTER XXI
WAITING for Eileen on the appointed evening,
in the small reception-room of the nurses'
home, Whittemore examined his own mo-
tives with almost disttnterested curiosity. It was
long since he had paid any but the most formal cour-
tesies to a woman, except two or three matrons he
had known since childhood, whom he now seldom
saw. People had ceased to speculate jestingly in
his presence why he did not marry ; women had given
him up as invulnerable. Even the young and inno-
cent Dianas, sweet scalp hunters who loved conquest
with the ardour of inexperience, fought shy of him
after one or two encounters. He did not laugh at
thent ; he took them seriously, whereupon they digged
pits for themselves with essays of worldly and learned
conversation, and fell into them in hopeless confu-
sion. The "buds" who were daughters of his old
friends, with whom he had played in the nursery,
looked on him as a supernumerary uncle, and confi-
dently expected flowers and birthday gifts from
abroad. He had lost his place in a stratified world,
as an tmmarried man with a sense of humour does
after forty; he was tagged "unattached."
He did not think of women in the present tense.
In Rousseau's phrase, he did not see women, he re-
membered them. If he played with romantic fancies,
it evoked only a bevy of fair ghosts, with the melan-
choly of old days veiling their gaiety like a cloud;
"dear, dead women . . ."
It was that singular surrender to time and change
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224 THE SHADOW RIDERS
that Chan sometimes wondered over, watching Ross
unawares ; a surrender scarcely demanded as yet even
by those implacable twin powers themselves. Ross
had laid aside the sword of youth, hung it on some
unknown altar.
Nor had he taken it down for Eileen Conway.
But he seemed to see her entering his own passion-
less place, abdicating the sun for the grey fields of
Dis. It is a lonely land, and cold. There was no
one there who called for her. She had not forfeited
the sun, but only a small comer of earth. Let her
pay whatever forfeit she must, of struggle and sor-
row and even penitence; but pay it and Hve, It
was then that again that fantastic thought came to
him. ... If she had nothing she could pay but youth,
could he not lend her the price, and save those
lovely years?
Whereupon he came back to actualities with a
pleasant shock, for Eileen was standing before him
holding out her cloak. She wore a white net gown,
out of date, but still simple and becoming. It was
trainless, and very evidently belonged to the days
before the deluge. Her copper-lighted hair was in
a Greek knot twisted with a green and silver fillet,
and her profile justified it. She was almost too pretty,
he thought, and searched for a saving fault. With
a certain satisfaction he noted while he slipped her
cloak about her that her slim shoulder blades were
not quite perfection. They drooped, giving her a
pathetic air, like a tired little girl who forgets to
stand correctly. And she had a mole on her left
arm. The arm was thin, with delicately pointed el-
bows. Standing immediately by her, and taller by
a head, he perceived these things for the first time,
and also that she was smaller than her light carriage
led one to tiunk.
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THE SHADOW RmERS 225
When she drew the hood of her cloak over her
hair she looked smaller still. The blackness of her
brows was pencilled on ; he liked her for that Eemi*
ninity. They were irregular; the brow above the
half-moon dimpled cheek was the higher. He began
to feel as if he knew her now.
"If you will buckle my carriage boots, please,"
she said. Her touch of imperiousness was goo9.
So were her ankles. But she looked surprised when
they were ushered into a parterre box. The Fan-
shawes had lent it to Ross. With "Butterfly" sched-
uled for the next night, and "Thais" the night be-
fore, they had felt uneqxial to "Tosca." There was
a chance irony in "Tosca." Whittemore settled him-
self in the shadow to watch Eileen, not the stage.
She faced the glare with indifference. Of the curi-
ous eyes that focussed on her she seemed serenely
unconscious. In fact, she was unconscious; to that
also it had been necessary to school herself. She
must never be aware.
Nietzsche did well to fear pity ; it is the most dan-
gerous of sentiments. It is stronger than strength,
and can prevail over wisdom herself. Yet without
it strength is vain and wisdom fruitless. It is the
dew of life. Lacking it, the human heart becomes
an arid waste.
Whittemore may have known that theoretically;
he knew a great deal too much theoretically, and a
little too much by demonstration. He fancied Eileen
was not unlike himself.
The music touched her less than she herself ex-
pected. Once she had loved music childishly; now
she listened critically. In the next box a h^h-nosed,
hard-eyed dowager sniffled audibly for fifteen min-
utes, and strangled an over-wrought sob into her
handkerchief when the stabbing scene was reached.
ovCiooglc
236 THE SHADOW RIDERS
Eileen's e3res were dry. The story seemed artifidaL
She did not care what the heroine suffered. Suf-
fering seemed stupid to her, after all she had been
through. Over-much pain is an opiate. Besides, the
theatre always makes its greatest appeal to the in-
experienced.
"So silly," she murmured. "People, you know.
They — they make such messes, and there isn't ever
any real reason." Yes, she was hard. The curtain
went down, so they could talk.
"Real? Oh, as real as anything — 'you can't get
behind Bishop Berkeley,' as Samuel Butler says," said
Ross.
She knit her brows. "No-o ; well, I tried to read
Berkeley, last wmter. I suppose it was funny ; I went
to the library and asked for a list of great phikiso-
phers; then I took the six that headed the list, and
read them all in a jumble. I remember Berkeley
because he made me feel as if I were trying to bot-
tle a moonbeam; and then I decided he wasn't real
because he proved it himself, so I needn't pay any
attention to him." It was delidously incongruous;
herself in her little white net frock, and the
philosophers.
"Are you so interested in philosophy, then?"
"No," in the same slow, doubtful, detached tone.
"I was lookii^ for something."
"But you didn't find it," he supplied. "I know.
Philosophy is a game, it isn't a remedy. It has noth-
ing to do with life; it is all a vain attempt to put
the ocean into a thimble — the universe into the brain
of man. To confront life armed with philosophy b
like arguing with a ravenous tiger. One has to act ;
phiIos(q>hy is your game of golf after the day's
work."
"Then it isn't any good?"
0. Google
THE SHADOW RIDERS 227
"You want me to commit myself to a philosophy,"
he warned her.
"Oh I" she said, makin|r a moue of unconscious and
comic despair. "There's the orchestra again, just
in time to save me. I wonder why opera houses are
upholstered in red?"
"You shall have one done in green," he said slyly.
But she did not answer, and he withdrew into the
shadow and watched her again. Nothing of the trem-
ulous enquiry of man to woman and woman to man
troubled the air about them. Not even the music
stirred them; it remained on the stage, and they
apart. In the last intermission, she turned to him
^n.
"It's all false, isn't it?" she said. "Music, and
poetry, and drama? Childish — nice, thrilling, but
not life. Artists probably never grow up. If they
listened to the truth, if they didn't keep on believ-
ing at fifty what they believe at ten — they couldn't
do it, could they? I mean — they pick and choose, and
what they don't like they refuse to admit, or if they
admit it they dress it up. I think it's life thafs
long and art that's brief. Art Perhaps it is true,
too, but it doesn't go on — it doesn't work? Does it?"
"The problem of art and realism? Actually I be-
lieve they are incompatible, since you insist on be-
ing exact. The French have tried seriously to write
the truth — the Russians are still trying — and, strictly
speaking, they've failed. A magnificent failure, but
it can not quite be done. And these new artists
who are trying to depict emotions instead of facts
are further off still. They can't give us the same
emotions tangible things and events do, not even as
well as the realists. They can only start us on a
guessing match. We've developed a kind of secondary
set of emotions — ^well, if the real ones could be in-
ovCiooglc
228 THE SHADOW RIDERS
duced by art, any one who cared deeply for literature
or music or painting would die of emotional exhaus-
tion in middle age."
"I think that's what I meant," she said. "I read
'Anna Karenina' the other day"— strong meat for a
child, he thought — ^"and I could almost smell the
freshnnit hay and feel the sun and breeze when I
read the chapter about the mowing, but not quite.
And neither did I get sunburned!"
"How did you like Anna?" he asked.
"She was as stupid as she was clever," said Eileen
absently. "She gave in."
"She was Russian, of course. Wouldn't you give
in?"
"I don't think I should. But of course she had
lived quite a lot."
"Do you think it's good to be alive?" The secret
idea pricked at him.
"Sometimes. It could be."
"Yes, you should feel that," he said.
"Why me?"
"I imagine," he hazarded, "you have all the capac-
ity for living,"
"An aj^tite, and no dinner?"
"Would you take all your opportunities, if they
came?"
"I mean to," very quietly, not to him, but to
herself.
"What do you want ? Love ?"
She drew away, almost as if from a blow.
"No," she said. "By the way, can you tell me
who is in the stage box opposite? Such a pretty
woman."
"I did not ask out of idle curiosity," he continued.
"I can give you everything else. Will you take it ?"
He was not precisely aware of forming a res<du-
ovCiooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 229
Hon before he spoke; rather that ui^ for action
gripped him suddenly again and spoke for him. He
had been damned for inaction once, years before;
if he earned a second damnation, it should be for
something performed. He could do for Hileen what
none could have done for him — give her back her
opportunities. (He could not think that it -was Harry
Garth she mourned for.)
He did not love her, but he pitied her so suddenly
and sharply that there was hardly room for any other
feeling, save one. He did feel ail ironic desire to
strike back at fate itself. Because he had once bowed
to the iron custom of his little world, he meant to mock
it now ; to make a bitter jest of it in secret. He did not
value it a featherweight; and Eileen had nothing more
to lose.
He saw that he had sent her self-control spinning.
She doubted her own senses. What did he mean?
Guessing was too dangerous; she asked.
"I do not understand."
"I am asking if you will marry me."
Her spangled fan fell to the Soor with a tiny clat-
ter; she half rose, and sank back again weakly. The
glittering parterre smote at her eyes and blinded
her. She decided she was mad. Dr. Edwards had
discharged his commission ; she knew all about Whitte-
more'a worldly repute and financial circumstances.
"I don't believe it," she said at last, with a shake
in her throaty voice. She had not lost her quality
of being surprising.
"I know I've done it badly," said Whittemore, pick-
ing up her fan and looking with a detached air at
the fragile, cheap little trinket before he handed it
back to her. She took it mechanically ; she was peer-
ing at him in the gloom of the box. "I meant it,
but I should have given you more time to— to get
ovCiooglc
330 THE SHADOW RIDERS
acquainted with me. I do ineaii it Do not answer
now, if you prefer."
"But— but— why?"
"Apparently you don't appreciate yourself," he said
quickly, before he had time to think of another im-
plication to the words.
"That isn't a reason," she said, putting a hand
to her burning cheek. She was breathing unevenly,
he saw a fluttering of her throat
"You are the only reason I know," he said.
"No, you must tell me." Her voice grew alnwst
harsh; she was going to have something frcHn him
she could understand and hold to. She feared most
making a fool of herself by misinterpreting him,
even though he had been so glaringly explicit; still
she could not believe it "You haven't said you —
you " Love me, she meant. There was a kind
of terror in her attitude; and he understood her
perfectly.
"I will try to explain. I am not so very youi^' —
she made an involuntary gesture of dismissal of the
words. "Not so very young," he repeated deliber-
ately. "I am lonely; I want an intelligent companion,
with charm and beauty, some one who will give me
an excuse for taking part in life, for buying a house,
making plans. . . . An ^ed and self-conscious sen-
timentalist, you see. It isn't much to offer a young
girl."
"Is — is that an you want?" she insisted.
"My dear," he said, "I want exactly what you seem
able to give me. But you are young, and I suppose
I can't offer enough in return. I certainly can't fulfil
a 3roimg girl's natural dreams and hopes; all I can
promise is that I would be ridiculous and try. It
wouldn't be Arcady — it would be— this I" He indi-
cated the box, the entire opera house, makii^ them
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 231
B^ificant of the things of which they are the crown
and apex. "Do you understand?"
"Yes — oh, yes I" she muttered feverishly. She
could not make it seem real.
"Then I can only ask you to think it over, Yoa
shall have all the time you want."
"You had better take time," she said.
"On the whole," he said, "don't you think I have
already taken more time than most?" Certainly, if
she were trying to spare him, there was htmxjiir
in it; she looked such a child, and he never more
a man of the world. She swui^ back to her ac-
quired poise slowly.
"I will marry you," she said, and then was seized
with a belated panic that she had not said it sooner.
So much for her boasted hardening that it could
allow her to hesitate at such a time. She had planned
to spend years of effort to create such an oppor-
tunity as this; and when it fell into her lap without
her even shaking the tree, she must act the fool, and
dally with scruples.
"Thank you," he said, as if she had given him
a dance. A sweet, sudden crash of the orchestra
startled them. Neither had realised that the cur-
tain was up ag^, the opera progressing. It gave
them an excuse for silence. They sat through the
remaining act, each wishing it over ; the music sawed
at Eileen's nerves, her bewildered brain groped after
the strange, quiet, grey-hatred man, sitting so near
but coming no nearer, who had just transformed her
air-castles into almost palpable bricks and mortar.
Whittemore himself felt the strain. He was glad
when they could escape into the cold, dim night,
where the stars and the street-lamps struggled to-
gether for the city's sleeping soul.
In the carriage again, Eileen sat rigidly in her
ovGooglc
332 THE SHADOW RIDERS
comer, so small in her voluminous cloak, waiting
for him to claim his new rights. . . . His pity for
her made him feel a monster; he knew what she
waited for. It was perhaps a morbid sensitiveness
on his part, for the expected would have relaxed
her nerves, and he was not repugnant to her, neither
was her blood frozen with her heart But he only
made some trivial comment on the principal soprano.
"She isn't Tetrazzini, nor Farrar, but she does very
well," he said. "You haven't heard them, perhaps?"
Eileen's monosyllable told him she had not "You
must, if you care for — oh, the most expensive," he
smiled.
"I've always thought I would."
"I'm giad. We — could go to New York for the
end of the Season — perhaps you'd rather go abroad.
You must tell me to-morrow which you prefer, and
how long you want the engagement to be."
"How long should you want?"
"A week?" he hazarded, of purpose, to see if she
shrank. She surprised him again.
"Then, a week."
"Shall I write to jrour parents? Perhaps I can go
to see them?"
"No — ^no. I'll write. They aren't here. I can't
bear— discussion. I've always hated it."
"Just as you say." He did not think her parents
would object, for the best of reasons, nor did he sup-
pose Eileen would be critical of his behaviour on that
point. They were dispensing with a good many of
les convenances. But he meant to force her to tell
a little more of what he already knew, to save future
embarrassment. "Did I ever ask you where your
parents live?"
She struggled for an answer; told him the truth
finally, in spite of the immediate risk. Common sense
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 233
warned her it was the only thing to do, to guard her
own defences ; she must tell no more Itcs than neces-
sary. She was tense with fright until he answered.
"I wonder I didn't meet them," he said. "I was
there all last summer ; I thought your name was fa-
miliar. Of course I was out on the ranch mostly.
Your father is Judge Conway, isn't he? Will you
come with me next time I go back ?"
"Oh, I want to I" She set her teeth vindictively
on the words; she did want to, most of anything in
the world. He had unveiled that secret purpose — to
go back, and not wearing the white sheet and carrying
the candle. It was a pitifully human ambition; he
was glad he had read her aright from the first, so he
could give her her chance.
Eileen could not sleep that night for a blinding head-
ache. Even her jaws ached, from the terrific nervous
repression she had put on herself. She lay awake
listening to the gentle breathing of her roommate,
looking at the future, which was epitomised in that
moment when the glare of the opera house had daz-
zled and frightened her. The head nurse, not a
sentimental person, took her off duty the next morn-
ing at sight of her white face and purple shadowed
eyes, and she went back to bed, and to sleep finally,
and slept twenty-four hours.
A delightful note from Whittemore awaited her,
and a box of flowers. She tried to answer it, carry-
ing it about all day in her bodice, not tenderly, but
with some subconscious fear of losing it. She could
have seen Whittemore in her afternoon hour off for
exercise. He was waiting her commands. Instead
she hurried downtown in a cab to call on Madame
LeSueur. She wanted to tell the old woman her
news, to see the effect of it — an3rthing to make it seem
real. It was a rash act, but she was driven; and
ovCiooglc
334 THE SHADOW RIDERS
never before had she so felt her isolarion. She had
no one, no one in the world but this simple old
French-Canadian habitant woman to tell. The
thought of writing her news to her parents turned
her cold with distaste. Probably they would not be-
lieve it either ; undoubtedly it would remind them of
the past; they would imagine her going to the altar
grateful and penitent. Grateful — she, to any manl
In that moment she loathed even her future husband.
She felt a secret, perverse pleasure in deceiving him.
Another reaction, then — why should she see herself in
the light of deceiving him? What did his life con-
tain, that he would never reveal to her?
To all this fever and turmoil of her heart Madame
LeSueur was like a grateful lavation of cold water.
Madame LeSueur remained quite calm ; she was pour-
ing Eileen a glass of cordial, and brimmed the glass
precisely while the tale was told. Afterward she
picked up a piece of knitting, answering, with a smile
of content illuminating her dark, weatherbeaten face.
"C'est ban," she said. "A woman needs a husban'.
He is not young, no? Out, that is best; a yoimg man
is not a good husban'. A husban' is for wear, a lover
for ornament. Is it that he is ricke, also ? Mais, is
it that he knows "
"No," said Eileen, with a thin, mocking smile.
"Why should I tell him?"
"Ah, pourquoit For what has one a confessor, if
one is to tell one's husban' ? Non, one gets absolution ;
it is enough. A husban' never absolves, jatHoit."
Madame LeSueur had always jinnly ignored the fact
that Eileen was a heretic.
"No, I suppose not," said Eileen. There were two
tiny lines between her brows, which smoothed imper-
ceptibly as she watched Madame's clicking needles
darting in and out of the bright-coloured wools she
ovCiooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 235
was sha^g to a tasseHed tuque. She had been rap-
idly nearing the screaming point on her way down;
she left much refreshed.
The visit helped her somehow to see Whittemore
the next day. She met him for a hurried tea. It was
then she got her final shock of the incredible.
"You said you would be willing to go back to Al-
berta — at least for a visit," he began, offering her a
cigarette in his only lapse into confusion and absent-
mindedness.
"Yes," she said. "No, thanks. I'd like to, but
they'd put us out." This to the cigarette. They were
in a quiet little tea shop, chosen because Eileen had to
come in her tmiform,
"Pardon — how stupid. Eileen" — he managed her
name very naturally, though she had not as yet got
herself to call him anythii^ at all — "Eileen, would you
care to go back to stay a few years? I have many
interests there, and — ^this depends on you — I've been
offered the Lieutenant-Governorship. You know what
that means ; a lot of tedious social red tape and gold
lace of the provincial kind — but rather amusit^, for a
time. Do you want it? Perhaps you hate Edmon-
ton? Of course we could be away at least half the
time, anywhere else you liked."
"Why," she asked, "what has become of the
Wards?"
"Ward is dead."
"Oh, I'm so sorry for Mrs. Ward." She had known
Mrs. Ward quite well, but the words were only an
echo; she did not feel anything at all. How could
she? All those people had been utterly dead to her
for nearly two years. It occurred to her that Mrs.
Ward would bitterly resent pving up her social lead-
ership. Social leadership. . . . Hers, if she wanted
it? And she did want it, not for its own sake, but
ovGooglc
336 THE SHADOW RIDERS
so that she might grind her dainty heel on — the
past. . . .
"It would bore you ?" she asked tentatively, watdi-
ing his expression. But he looked much less bored
than he had a week before.
"Not at all, if you liked it."
"I think — I should like it" She would be like a
swimmer plunging into an icy flood ; it would take all
her courage, would put in pawn all Whittemore was
giving her, himself included; but she had meant it
when she said she would take her opportunities.
"That is settled, then. Now, another point Of
course I ought not to ask you this, but after all it is
your taste to be considered. You will need — I am
ordering — something to put around your neck — oh, no,
not a collar," he smiled. "Pearls ? Sapi^ires P Aqua-
marines ? Diamonds V
"Diamonds!" she said, shutting her teeth with a
click. "They will understand diamonds I"
Whittemore went to Ottawa that night, and came
back the next day, having settled all details of his
acceptance of the post he had ten days before rejected.
He tried to persuade Eileen to leave the hospital at
once, but she would not That was because she did
not yeX believe. No one but Dr. Edwards and the
head nurse knew she was goii^; Dr. Edwards alone
knew she was to be married. She wore the magnifi-
cent sapphire ring Whittemore gave her with the collet
inside, and none of the nurses were intimate enough
with her to offer any chaff or teasing about the flowers
that came daily. Dr. Edwards went about with his
hair in a perpetual uprising of astonishment, scarcely
subdued for an hour while he acted as best man.
Eileen and Ross were married in a parsonage par-
lour; and Eileen could not remember even the min-
ister's name afterward, nor anything but that her hua*
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 237
band — ^her husband for whom she had not yet found
an intunate name in her own mind — ^had kissed her
for the first time. It was a friendly Idss, not formal
nor passionate. But she felt that strange expansion
of the bosom, the overflow of generous blood which
rises at the touch of one who possesses the mysterious
potentialities of physical attraction for oneself.
Then they drove straight to the station, and after
that it was New York, the Hoboken piers, and at last
the Atlantic, like the running of a cinematograph
reel. Only in New York they stopped long enough
to get the significant diamonds. They would have
been Eileen's only wedding present but that Madame
LeSueur sent her the red and white tuque she had
been knitting, with a blessed medal wrapped up in iL
Edwards sent a gift after them, which they got two
months later.
Eileen put on her two gifts, together, and made
a burlesque parade of the double stateroom, and
Whittemore laughed. She was a married woman,
and had a right to wear diamonds; and she had a
husband who seemed to find her extremely entertain-
ing, though he had only Idssed her once. Moreover,
they were on their way to Paris, and thence to the
Riviera, for clothes and a sight of the world at play.
One secret they had in common and yet unshared.
Neither had informed any one in the West of their
marriage. Ross had written to Chan, but with an
injunction to secrecy, omitting as if by carelessness
Eileen's name. He got a congratulatory wire before
sailing, but risked no more. He did not want to give
Eileen's friends a chance to rake old ashes before she
came back and put scandal out of countenance with
her brilliance. Eileen did not want — ^to think.
0. Google
CHAPTER XXII
TWENTY-THREE is a ripe and sorrowful age
for a girl, but if she could only know it, there
is this consolation ; she will never feel so old
again. Lesley was twenty-three the month Eileen
was in Paris. She had had a lonely year, and the
spring got into her blood and tormented her with un-
&nished memories. Sometimes, in the evenings when
she tried to read weighty books to get something to
write about for the next day, she looked at Hilda
Brewer with a feeling of mad revolt, and decided that
if she were doomed to live such a life as Hilda's, she
would certainly kill herself by some violent and splen-
didly dramatic means. This ended in laughter, for
she knew the idea had been merely a semi-humorous
conceit, as when she had worn her mother's gowns
and fancied herself a princess.
Her mother had come home from California won-
derfully better, and had not suffered any relapse yet
But still most of Lesley's modest salary went home,
and Lesley continued to live with Hilda in the hig,
shabby, cheerful room at Mrs. Holt's. Hilda was
always fussing over the room, adding a new chintz
cover to a shirtwaist box or a pink paper ballet skirt
to an electric light. Lesley was not a domestic crea-
ture in that sense. She spent her spare time walkii^,
readii^ or writing ; she was maddeningly healthy, she
bloomed in her white rose way. Mrs. Holt sometimes
got drunk, and babbled about her unhappy married life
and forgot to get any dinner; and the two girls ate
cream puffs and talked of the uncertainties of life.
338
0. Google
THE SHADOW RIDERS 239
Lesley almost envied Mrs. Holt her moments of ob-
livion, though they disgusted her; or she envied Hilda,
who was steadfastly religious without bdng dog-
matic She felt as if they had something, and she,
she had nothing at all. ...
She was invaluable to Cresswell, but it seemed a
trifling matter to her, and sometimes, seeing people
reading with a serious air what she had written, she
was obliged to laugh. No one would have listened to
her saying the same things. The power of print was
very remarkable; black and white magic. Lesley had
not forgotten her ambitions, but she dared not go far
{,rom her mother without a reserve of money, enot^
to bring her back instantly if needed. She might have
got some credit as a local prophet, but her ambitions
dwarfed her achievements so greatly that the mention
of her work filled her with an embarrassment mount-
ing to shame, so that people did not really know any-
thing about what she did, except that they heard
vaguely of a very clever girl on the Recorder. She
might have made more friends by trying, but — oh, she
had no money, and no pretty gowns, and it wasn't
worth while. Some day she would take her share all
in one bite.
The town had come to the end of its boom, the bub-
ble collapsing gently after the demise of the street-
railway project It pottered on its way peacefully.
It was growing, but not excitingly. In fact, another
boom was on its way, and the City Fathers announced
that they were considering a street-railway project of
their own. Lesley hardly believed it. People were
always talking. The amount of talking that could be
done without anything being said filled her with aston-
ishment. Writing, any kind of writing, develops a
habit of unconscious criticism, of looking for the pith
and meaning of words. Any craftsman must leani
ovCiooglc
a40 THE SHADOW RIDERS
his tools, and the uses of them. Lesley's capadty for
boredom increased atanningly.
The coming boom impressed itself on Cresswell ; he
thought something might be said about it in a leader.
Not to call it a boom, certainly not. He told Lesley
to see what she could do. She told him gloomily that
what she would write on the subject of her city
wouldn't be fit to print ; and he laughed and told her
to go out and look and ponder. It appeared to be
the only thing to do. She put on her hat and went
out of ttie office in midaftemoon and spent three hours
on the hills.
Suburbs impressed her as loathsome. The town
was losing its pleasant, placid, unhurried air ; had lost
it. Up on Crescent Hill she found hundreds of little
stakes bearing lettered boards with Jack Addison's
name on them, offering the lots for sale. Stingy little
twenty-five-foot lots, that seemed absolutely idiotic
out there in the middle of nowhere, with vacant, un-
ploughed land stretching to the back of beyond on
every side. She had got free of the suburbs, over the
brow of the bill, and could not see the city. She spent
a pleasant half hour kicking the little boards over one
by one, giggling to herself. Of course they made her
think of Jack Addison ; and with his name came the
wildest, most rebellious ideas. Why hadn't she bolted
with him when he wanted her? He did not want her
any more ; at least, he had given up finally when she
had told him she never wished to see him again.
Sometimes they passed each other on the street, with
a touch of shy amusement on her part; on his, she
did not know what He would look at her, a curious,
abrupt, unreadable look, without smiling, and go on.
He had had at least two affairs since then — ^married
women, the sort of thing every one knows but the
husband. He was a cheerful pagan, who probably
ovCioogIc
THE SHAUOW RIDERS 241
wanted to go to Hell, like Aucassin, with the gay,
brave array of sinners. Could she have kept him i{
she had tried? She thought she could have; and any-
way, he might have been a gate to the world at large.
She would have had to pay something — respectability
— virtue — whatever it is; but what use was it to her?
No one else cared.
In a kind of melancholy intoxication she sat down
on the short grass beside one of the little signboards.
It was April, and the air was delicious, with that ex-
quisite flavour of evanescence only the prairies know.
Probably it would snow the next day; this softness
bred weather, and the mountains had banks of still
grey cloud behind them; but now. . . . There was a
delicate purple windflower, a prairie anemone, hiding
coyly behind the signboard, still holding its collar,
like a moleskin stole, about its neck. Lesley took it
up and kissed it. She pulled tiny, hairlike shoots of
green grass, that pushed up under the dead stalks, and
made a bouquet. On some close^^^zed spots this new
grass made a faint flush of green. A prairie lark
sang and sang, repeating its bright bubbling note un-
weariedly. She thought she would write a leader
about these things instead of about the fools who
came and stuck Httle boards about and puzzled the
prairie lark. The earth was clean, clean. Lesley lay
back and stretched, turned and pillowed her head on
her arm, her side and bosom crushed against the sod.
And then she found she was crying. She had not
cried since . . .
Hastily she sprang up, straightened her hat,
smoothed her crumpled skirt and brushed the dry
grass stalks from her coat And she came down the
hill with a free, splendid stride. She wanted to get
inside the ofiice ^ain, and shut out the spring.
The streets were as dusty as if they had never
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242 THE SHADOW RIDERS
heard of spring. An automobile came down Stephen
Avenue as she reached it from Center Street It was
preceded by a pillar of dust like the children of Israel
in the wilderness, for it was driving; slowly and the
wind was ahead. Lesley's eyes were filled, and she
sputtered and sneezed and reached for her handker-
chief. Then some one called to her; no, not to her,
some one said simply :
"Oh-h-h I" in a drawn-out, breathless manner. It
was the woman in the automobile, who wore a grey
coat and a long grey veil around her head like the
clouds behind the mountains. Lesley stopped at gaze,
and then made half a step forward, and stood still
agfain.
"Stop here," the goddess in the car called quickly
to her chauffeur. "How do you do?" she said directly
to Lesley.
Lesley sneezed again, and burst into laughter. "It's
you I" she managed to remark.
"Yes, it's me," said Eileen. "Come, get in ; I have
often and often wished to see you again."
"Did you? Did you really?" Lesley asked breath-
lessly, getting into the car.
"Yes," said Eileen. "Go on, out of town any-
where," she added to the chauffeur, and turned for a
long look at Lesley. "You look just, just the same,"
she said. "I'm glad ; I thought I might have remem-
bered wrong."
"It's my hat and suit," said Lesley in a matter-of-
fact way. She still wore blue serge, and a broad
black hat, "I get 'em as near alike as possible, year
after year — for hundreds of years now. It seems so
piffling to bother about variety when you can only
have one variety. Why did you want me to be the
same ?"
"I wanted some one to talk to. And I'm going to
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 343
use you; you won't be able to help yourself. I'm go-
ing to use everybody, of course, but that's jrour use.
Probably you won't get anything in return, I haven't
any heart, you know ; not now ; it's just a little dried-
up article like a pea tn a pod. You can hear it rattle
around if you listen. When it rattles too much, or
I'm bored, I'll take it out and show it to you. I
hope you don't mind, for I'm going to do it anyway."
She spoke with the trained lightness of a good comedy
actress, but she looked at Lesley with an intent gaze
her casual tone could not dissemble.
"Yes," Lesley nodded. "Go ahead ; I don't mind."
"Did you know I was here, in town ?" asked Eileen.
"No. Have you been for long?"
"Only two hours. You haven't heard a word, have
jrou?"
"No."
"Then I suppose no one has — if you still hear things.
Do you?"
"Yes," said Lesley. "I'm still on the Recorder.
Please — please go on."
"I suj^se Ross purposely kept it quiet ; I suspect
him of being dramatic. He loves to do things care-
lessly, last-minute effects."
"Who?"
"Ross Whittemore — my husband." Lesley was
aware she looked absolutely imbecile with surprise,
her eyes circular and her jaw dropping, but she could
not control herself for a moment. "Do you know
him?" asked Eileen. "No, my dear, he doesn't know
— what you're thinking of," Lesley started, and
Eileen laughed, a little clear, cool laugh that rai^
like a new coin. "I warned you. Do you know
Rosa?"
"No. I know — I used to know his nephew."
"Chan? I don't Ross has gone to get him for
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244 THE SHADOW RIDERS
dinner; we're surprising him, too. I think Chan is
the only thing on earth Ross really cares for, deep
down, you know. Oh, no, not me, I don't know
what I'm doing in his gallery. Isn't that strange?"
"Yes, it is strange," said Lesley, taking an open, de*
tailed survey of Eileen. She was exquisite, even in
her loose pongee coat and shrouding veil — Paris, both.
In spite of her warm colouring, she had a carven fin-
ish; her eyes were blue jewels; the poudre de ris on
her straight little nose resembled marble dust on a
newly-finished bust; even her eyelashes had a pre-
cision, as if they had been measured and counted to
the exact requirements of beauty, with the same art
she had used in the pencilled curve of her brows.
"That doesn't count," she said, answering the look.
"Think of the women he might have married. They
all fall in love with him; you will yourself. I can
always tell as soon as one begins picking me to i»eces
with her eyes, Lesley — do you mind if I call you
Lesley ?"
"Anything — whistle for me if you like." It was
all so wildly improbable, why bother about what one
said?
"Well, then, Lesley, what are you doing to-night?
Were you going to the Horse Show ? Fancy our luck,
coming just in time for the first night, when we never
even knew there was to be one. Perhaps Ross did,
but he foi^t What gigantic social strides they've
made \"
"Oh, no, I'm going yachting," said Lesley flippantly.
She was arguing with herself ; could Eileen be telling
the truth; was she married to Ross Whittemore?
"No, I never go anywhere. I'll be asking Hilda to
pinch me to see if I'm awake; that wilt be my even-
ing's amusement,"
"No, you won't; youTl corae with us. Won't you?
ovGoogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 245
111 show you my marriage certificate first," she added
sweetly.
"That was nasty of you," said Lesley, in a low
voice. "I had better go back."
"No, I am sorry; I beg your pardon. Youll come
with us to-night?"
"Me? I haven't got a gown."
"Never mind, wear a nonchalant air. The Lieu-
tenant-Governor's box will back it up. I suppose
you know Ross is the new Lieutenant-Governor ?"
"No, I didn't," said Lesley weakly. "I — my head
feels queer," Eileen laughed again.
"It's all true. A splendid climax; I wonder if
Ross knows I have a weakness for melodrama my-
self?"
"Don't you know anything about each other ?" Les-
ley enquired desperately.
"Very little indeed. But think how much time we
have to find out I It makes life almost interestii^;.
Now listen, have you any more work you really must
do to-day ?"
"A lot. I ought to be doing it now."
"Then I'll take you back to ^e ofiice, and when you
get through, come over to the hotel. I'm sure I have
a hat that will make you ready to go anjrwhere. If you
weren't so much taller, I'd fit you out with a gown, but
never mind. You cannot afford to miss this ; it will
be social history. By evening the news will be spread ;
all the dowagers wUl have fainted and been revived,
and there won't be an empty seat. I understand
they've made the old Fair Building into a hippodrome,
haven't they? It will be a grande tableau." Her sap-
phtrine eyes glittered with malice, then she turned
grave. "It may not work," she said. "Will it make
any diflference to you — ^your friends — if it doesn't?"
"Haven't any friends," said Lesley. "At least, only
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246 THE SHADOW RIDERS
scrabworaen and such; not the Horse Show crowd.
As if I should care I"
"Then that's settled." She spoke to the chauffeur,
and he turned back. "The town is a little chai^;ed,
isn't it?" she went on. "I came out on purpose to
see, since Ross was busy. Besides, if any one dis*
covered our arrival, I wanted to be out."
"Saving the climax," said Lesley. She did not want
to talk about the town ; she wished Eileen would go
on and tell her the real meaning of this romantic ex-
travaganza. How? When? Where? Eileen read
her again.
"I was training as a nurse, in Montreal," she said,
without prelude. "I attended Ross; and we were
married in just two weeks. Then we went to Paris,
and Nice, and Monte Carlo, and came back. Ross
agreed to take the Lieutenant-Governorship before we
went, but he asked them not to announce it And —
oh, I have six trunks full of French gowns, and no
memory. Not in the sunshine, anyway. Once I think
I read a sad and stupid story about a girl who— died.
I am her epitaph. That is to say, I lie. Btit never
mind that now. What is Gian like? I never asked
Ross ; you can't find out about any one from the peo-
ple who love them,"
"Chan is " Lesley began to answer before she
had grasped Eileen's last words, and could have said:
"Then I can't tell you either." But her heart came
up in her throat and stuck there, and when she had
quelled its mutiny — for over a year now she had kept
it battened under hatches — she went on courageously.
"Chan is quite nice, really. A little big^r than his
uncle, and not so handsome, but not — not ugly. He's
amiable, and — rather clever; and looks ever so clean.
His hair won't stay brushed. And I think he's run-
ning aroimd with Cissie Martin, but I never see him
ovCiooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 347
any more. He must have been an awful pest as a
small boy. That seems to be all," she summed up
confusedly.
"That's very clever; I can see him now," said
Eileen. "Is this your office? Au revoir ; come over
as soon as you can. I'm going to see my parents
now; they will be surprised, too." Lesley stopped
with her foot on the step, her face again petrified into
an expression of incredulous horror such as she had
felt before she slept on the night Eileen had fallen at
her gate. Eileen could not mistake it, but her look did
not chai^.
"When you have no heart," she said, "those things
don't hurt. It's very convenient. I must go, because
it's also coHvenable. I'm booked all the way through.
Please come over as early as you can." Lesley stood
stupidly watching her, till the car disappeared around
the comer. And again Eileen did not look back. One
expected that of her, that she would never again look
back at anything.
Eileen Imew her parents would not have moved.
They owned their house, on a comparatively old street
falling into shabbiness. It was a plain, square, home-
Hke structure. The brown lawn was neat and smooth,
as always, and the porch swept ; the foot mat was geo-
metrically precise before the door. Eileen had put her
veil down again, but she saw no one at the window.
The blinds were just so. A maid answered her ring.
They had not always kept a maid ; Eileen did not know
that her mother's health had failed greatly of late.
On an inspiration, Eileen gave the maid her card, out
of a morocco and gold case, and sat down in the or-
derly sitting-room, where nothing had been altered
save that the enlarged photograph of herself as a
child, which had hung on the green cartridge wall
paper between the two front windows until it had
ovGooglc
348 THE SHADOW RIDERS
made a dark square spot by its shade, had been re-
moved. A steel engraving hung in its place. There
was a chenille cover on the square library table — ^the
same cover. The same table; the same mahogany
rocker and green rep armchair of her father's; and
the mahogany cabinet, and Empire sofa with tarnished
gilt arms ; a medley of furniture gathered throughout
the frugal, prosperous years. Even the same thread-
bare Wilton carpet, whose roses Eileen had tried to
uproot as a baby, covered the floor. She was making
an unconscious, unemotional inventory of these things
when her mother's soft, slow step roused her.
"Mrs. Whittemore ?" her mother said questioningly.
"Yes, mother," said Eileen, putting up her veil.
"Oh— be careful " She had to spring forward
and catch her, for Mrs. Conway, her plump, wrinkled
face suddenly grey, groped awkwardly for some sup-
port and tripped over the rocker. "Sit down — therfr—
that's quite right," said Eileen, loosing her arm from
about her mother's capacious waist. Mrs. Conway
caught at her hand as she drew it away, by sheer
blind instinct. A mist obscured her vision; and she
felt very, very old.
"Eileen !" she said, and put her other hand to her
heart
"Yes, mother," repeated Eileen soothin|^y. "Ifs
Eileen — at least, I suppose so. Don't get excited;
I'm sure it's bad for you." It was true that Eileen's
heart felt dead ; she spoke in much the same tones she
had been wont to use with suffering patients. "It's
Eileen, but she's married. That was my card."
*Married?" Her mother blushed painfully, and
clutched her daughter's hand tighter. "Who — who is
he?"
"Ross Whittemore, mother ; I'm sure you must have
heard of him. He was here all last summer."
ovCiooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 049
"Not He— he's very rich, isn't he?" Mrs.
Conway was equally worldly and rel^ous. She had
a firm grasp on die foundations of respectability.
And she did love her dan^ter.
"Yes, very rich."
"You didn't write about it?"
Eileen almost wished she might feel softer, but
everything her mother said echoed from some cynical,
empty chamber of her brain. It was not Mrs. Con-
way's fault; she was a simple woman, and grasped
obvious things first
"It was very hurried, and we planned to come in
person. Ross will come to see you to-morrow, and
apologise. I think he meant to see father this after-
noon." That was a mere sop to convention; she had
told Whittemore she would see her parents herself
first. "How is father? I'm sorry I can't wait to see
him."
"But you must stay to dinner." Poor Mrs. Con-
way's arms ached to embrace her daughter, but that
slim, unyielding figure did not offer itself to an em-
brace. Even if she did see only the obvious, she
could see that
"No, I can't ; I promised Ross Fd meet him at the
hotel for dinner, as I wasn't sure of finding you in.
But to-morrow Are you going to the Horse
Show to-night?"
"No, we didn't aim to. Mrs. Martin asked us, but
I — I hardly ever go out; I don't feel equal to it"
Her eyes overflowed, but she did not dry them; she
devoured Eileen with her gaze. "Are you— happy,
Eily?" she asked.
"Quite happy. My husband" — she used the [^rase
purposely — "is — is very good. Now, mother, I must
go. Bye bye." She stooped and kissed her mother,
on the chmk, and was dutched timidly and kissed
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350 THE SHADOW RIDERS
again. While Mrs. Conway still clung, they heard the
sound of the front door opening.
"It's your father I" said Mrs. Conway, in an agi-
tated whisper. "Wait — let me tell him ' " She
hastened out of the room with surprising rapidity,
despite her infirmities, closing the sitting-room door
tightly. Eileen walked to the mirror, calmly arrang-
ing her veil and putting on her gloves. She could
hear the colloquy in the hall ; her mother's voice hur-
ried, the words indistinguishable, and a deep ejacula-
tion from her father:
"WhatI What did you say?"
Then her mother's voice again, broken by a move-
ment which heralded her father's unintentionally noisy
entrance to face his child. So they surveyed each
other a moment, neither hearing the continued flow of
Mrs. Conway's confused exposition of the prodigal
daughter's return.
"How do you do, father," said Eileen, fronting
him with a look that held neither fear nor defiance,
only an instant readiness to go her way, letting him do
likewise. It was he who recalled all the bitter things
there were between them, the corroding words and the
shame that tears had never washed out. Eileen had
got more than her regular features and physical vital-
ity from her father ; she had got her will, her pride,
even her waywardness, which he had wrought out in
more than one wanderjahr before he had married and
struck hands with tradition and law and the puritan
conception of order. But now the years revenged
themselves of one loss with another. His blood had
cooled, his pride bowed under the load he had laid
on it; and his will had questioned itself in the sleep-
less hours his age knows. It was he who behind that
piercing look felt his bowels yearn over his child;
though he could only say, in his strong, resonant voice :
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 251
"Well, my girl, you've come home."
"No, I haven't," she reminded him.
He might have winced inwardly, but his ph3rsica]
presence helped him to carry it off; his upright car-
riage and square shoulders and the dignity of his grey
beard.
"I came back with my husband," Eileen went on,
"and I thought you might want to know. Our home
will be in Edmonton for a while, of course. Ross
would have come to call this afternoon, too, if he had
not been obliged to attend to some other things. Be-
sides, I thought I would ask you first if I should
bring him ?"
"Bring him?" her father repeated — ^his only sign of
faltering. "Why, what else should you do?" If his
heart could have uttered itself, it would have told him
she should cast herself into his arms, strip herself of
her air of maturity and elegance, and restore to him
his dau|^ter. He could have wiped out the dark in-
tervening time. It was she who stood back. It is a
hard thing that parents must live their lives twice
over, the second time following their children step by
step, despite the handicap of having lost the plasticity
and resilience of youth ; unless they will see their chil-
dren grow away from them into strangers and jut^s.
Her parents had drunk of Eileen's cup perforce, but
they had not performed the act of grace with it, placed
tiieir lips where hers had been held. So she was apart,
spiritually and literally.
"Then I will bring him to-morrow. Shall I ?" she
said.
"Of course — ^why not to-night ?"
"They — they're going to the Horse Show," said her
mother quickly.
"Yes, I believe we must," said Eileen. "And I am
sure he is waiting for me now. But to-morrow."
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253 THE SHADOW RIDERS
She kissed her mother again, the same light passing
kiss, and went
Mrs. Conway sank into a chair, the unheeded tears
coursing down her cheeks, the tears of Rachel.
"There, there," said her husband, stifling his own
impulse to drop his dignity and yield to tears also.
"There, there, mother, don't now ; our girl's all right
Her husband's a fine fellow." Thus his unconscious
masculine logic, which is true enough except that it
seems oblivious of its reverse truth. He stroked his
wife's hair awkwardly. "She looked well," he urged.
"She looked lovely," said Eileen's mother, with a
kind of wan enthusiasm, and dried her eyes resignedly.
A little later. Judge Gmway, going to the telephone,
found his wife already in vest^ possessitHi of it.
0. Google
CHAPTER XXm
XT THILE Eileen's automobile vanished in the
\/\/ distance and its own dust, Lesley entered
» " the gloomy, littered, cheerful newsroom
slowly, with 3 look of deep preoccupation. Cresswell
hailed her twice before she answered, though she had
stopped at her desk, immediately beside his. By the
s^ns, she might have known he had something to
impart to her.
"What's the matter, Johnny?" he enquired solicit-
ously, "Seen a ghost?"
"Almost," she admitted, taking off her hat and shak-
ing her head, like a colt worried by flies. "Excuse
me; I didn't hear what you said first."
"Oh, nothing; only who do you think is in our
midst?"
She shook her head again. "Don't ask me; my
brain is pied."
"Our new Lieutenant-Governor — at last And his
wife. And vrho—wko do you think the lady is?"
"I don't need to think. I've just been autoing with
her."
"Pardon me, but I certainly will be damned.
You've spoiled my exclusive story, you — ^you hussy.
I didn't know you knew her. And what in hades do
you make of it?"
"She's the prettiest woman I ever saw," said Les-
ley ambiguously. "Now don't bother me, for I've got
to get through and go to the Show with her."
Cresswell fell back, ostentatiously gasping for air.
Lesley laughed, fixed her eyes firmly on her type-
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354 IHE SHADOW RIDERS
writer, and wrote, without much idea of what she
was putting down. She kept on shaking her head to
Cresswell's interrogations.
"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you another thing," she
said. "I used to know her, and I met her by accident
on the street That's all. Good-bye."
She went out, dodging a rubber eraser thrown at
the last moment by her esteemed chief. Whereon her
chief got down and hunted for the eraser, as it was
the only one he had and he used it for a paper-weight ;
and Lesley hurried to the hotel, forgetting all about
her dinner.
She was shown up immediately, evidently by Ei-
leen's forethoughtful order. The Whittemores had
an improvised suite on the second floor. Eileen was
in her bedroom, in a green crepe negligee, a castaway
in the midst of a sea of feminine apparel which over-
flowed from various open travelling impedimenta,
even unto the sitting-room, beyond which was Ross's
room. Ross was invisible, his door closed. Eileen
had a dinner tray before her and a middle-aged and
quite evidently perplexed French maid under her eye,
unpacking. She rose quickly.'
"Throw that stuff on the floor, Lucie," she said,
indicating a mass of delicate lace and chiffon on a
chair. "There, sit down, Lesley, you dear thing. Put
your hat and coat— oh, heavens, hang 'em on the elec-
tric light Or the doorknob. Have you had dinner ?"
"Why—"
"Of course you haven't. Chicken or ham? And
a little Chablis? I hate eating alone, and Ross and
Chan dined at the club; I hadn't time to go down-
stairs. Lucie, bring me that grey hat with the bronze
quill ; the Virot model. And take down Miss Johns'
hair and dress it while she eats. Dress it to go with
the hat."
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 255
"Mais, madanK " Lude broke into an electrical
explosion of protest in French.
"Never mind that, Lucie ; III do my own. Plentf
of time. You attend to Miss Johns. Yes, and get
that Malines jabot, too, and the long topaz chain,
and — and some tortoise shell hairpins. I know now
why I bought those pins, though they look hideous in
red hair. Vite, Lucie." Lucie vited. Lesley ate her
chicken and salad under a cloud, a cloud of hair over
her eyes, under which she was obliged to insert her
food at what seemed propitious moments. She got
hair into her coffee cup; she laughed and got it into
her mouth. By and bye the cloud lifted ; a few final
deft pats and touches, and she was invited to behold
herself, Lucie knew her business, knew better than
to ptit any frivolous waves into the smooth soft nar-
row roll drawn back from Lesley's clear brow. At
the back another dexterous coil, from nape to crown,
gave the fine outline of her head, emphasised by tor-
toise and silver pins. With an artist's pride, Lucie
adjusted the wide grey hat, with its glint of bronze,
like a benediction.
"Oh, how nice," said Lesley rapturously. And she
submitted to the jabot, which fluffed below her round
chin, and the long string of topaz that brought out the
brown flecks in her eyes, with calm content. The two
hours she spent in the midst of this purely feminine
excitement and luxury was like a perfumed bath.
She gave sage advice as to which gown Eileen should
wear, and they settled on a blue-green chiffon, weight-
ed at the hem with blue paillettes, held over the shoul-
ders with strands of jet. When Eileen added a carved
Spanish comb of silver to her own shining coppery
crown, and at last bent her graceful neck while Lude
clasped a single strand of large diamonds about it,
which caught colour from her gown and shot bhifr^
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356 THE SHAI>OW RIDERS
green rays into the depths of the dresser mirror,
whence ibey reflected again, Lesley was dumb and
dazzled.
"I think that will do," said Eileen. Her cheeks kin-
dled to a wanner rose, but she seemed quite calm
otherwise. Suddenly she swept across the sitting-
room, her chiffons billowing about her silver shod
feet, and rapped on Ross's door. She had heard him
come in a little earlier, though Lesley and Lude had
not.
"G)me out quick," she called. He appeared in-
stantly, minus his coat and waistcoat, having evidently
just finished tying his white titvm tie. Lesl^ had
never before seen him so closely, and she was struck
by the fact that he still had a waistline, retaining the
peculiar firm elasticity of youth in his f^re. His
mouth was young, too, with no hint of that slack-
lipped look which betrays the man of gross appetites
and indulgences as the years pass. His fine, aquiline
face had the indescribable stamp of the ascetic, but
without exaltation; no one would have taken him for
a "religious," and yet it was of that— hermit, priest,
solitary — he inevitably reminded one. In fact it was
the expression of the celibate. He looked at his wife
for a long moment without moving, while yet his ex-
pression gradually altered, as if forgotten emotions
strove to reach the surface. The blood mounted slowly
to his temples.
"You are a wonderful woman, Eilidh," he said at
last, in his low, husky voice.
"Am I ?' She threw back her head, with a rising
of her bosom that made her seem about to float toward
him, her arms held out a little from her sides. He
would have spoken again, but the maid Lucie made
some involuntary noise, drawing his eyes for the first
time. He saw Lesley also.
0. Google
THE SHADOW RIDERS 357
"Yes, and a bad girl," he added lightly. "I did not
know you had a guest; I must apologise."
"It's only Lesley," said Eileen, with that careless-
ness which is somehow a tribute; as if the one spoken
of were inevitable because necessary. "Come here,
Lesley; this is my husband."
"How do you do?" Lesley came forward and held
out her hand, conscious that Whittemore had ap-
praised her before she crossed the threshold.
"At last," he said. "I asked to meet you a long
time ago, but Chan was lazy, or you wouldn't come.
Now I must cover my confusion with a coat" He
disappeared.
"Do you like him?" asked Eileen. "There is some-
thing — something about him — " She might have been
talking to herself.
"You've both got it," said Lesley, and immediately
was not sure what she had meant. Eileen stared,
asked her, and got no satisfaction. Yet they did have
some intangible quality in common, a detachment, an
exotic note . . . there was no word for it, except
that it savoured of finality, of having seen some part
of life definitely ck)sed.
Whittemore came back.
"What was it you called me ?" Eileen asked, incon-
sequently. She was not nervous, but she was restless.
"Was it Ey-ley?"
"Eilidh," said Ross. "There's an inflection in that
it's hard to catch ; Gaelic is a singing language. Some
of my 'forebears' came from the Isles, but I don't re-
member just where; Skye, or the Orkneys. My
grandmother's name was Eilidh ; but there was an-
other, legendary Eilidh who was a kind of witch, a
sea-witch, a Gaelic siren; and your green gown and
silver comb and golden hair made me think of her."
"'Golden hair' is good," said Eileen. "Where is
ovCiooglc
2s8 THE SHADOW RIDERS
Chan ? and where are tiie pumpkin shell and the four
mice?"
"Downstairs, prancing with impatience." He took
her cloak from her maid ; he never failed in such mat-
ters. Eileen wrapped her head in yards of gauze,
covering her face to the eyes ; she had no wish to be
stared at in the lobby. She had met Chan briefly be-
fore dinner, and made no attempt to cement the new
relationship further at the time, but turned Lesley
Over to him. She might be interested still, but she
wanted her husband beside her that evening. Chan
looked at her as she went out ahead of him with
patent admiration.
"Corkingly pretty, my new aunt," he said to Les-
ley. "I don't blame Ross — 'old Sir Richard, caught
at last.' You look nice, yourself, Lesley. Jolly
you're coming with us." He wondered how she had
met Eileen, but somehow did not ask, "Where have
you been for hundreds of years ?"
"Travellii^ in Thibet," she retorted. Where had
ahe been, indeed I Not following Cissie Martin, any-
way.
"How like old times," he said gravely. Lesley burst
into a laugh, like old times indeed, and got into the
motor peaceably. They had a very little distance to
go, but it seemed shorter. It was probably to Lesley's
disadvantage that merely to be with Chan always made
her so unreasoningly satisfied she never at the mo-
ment wanted more, else she might have got more.
Men and women alike respond insensibly to all strong
undercurrents of feeling, and do not resist easily the
unuttered demand of sex. Lesley made no demands
at all. There was something diildlike in her shy
pleasure in his society, which brought out the boy
in him to match.
Afterward Lesley remembered that neither Eileen
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 359
nor Ross spoke at all ; and that she had herself for-
gotten the evening held something in the balance for
Eileen, that all the lightness of the past two hoars
had covered a purpose. It might be only a game, but
Eileen played for stakes. For her husband, even, it
might be. . . .
They were late, or every one else was early. The
big, gaunt-raftered buildii^ was crowded to the top
tier of plank seats. The boxes, next to the railing
halfway around, bloomed with plumes and shoulders,
incongruous against the flimsily garlanded plank par-
titions, above the tanbark, and yet the more taking for
the contrast. There is a flavour in the refinements of
civilisation, the little luxuries of money and millinery,
in such surroundings, which is more piquant, less
enervating, than when every detail of the setting is
complete. It is Burgundy in an earthen mug; cham-
pagne in the open air ; truflles in a monastic refectory.
There is a fine disdain about the white bosoms exposed
amid such rusticity, a determined, inflexible elegance in
the men's inutile starch and broadcloth. If some
wearers are patently new to their accoutrements, that
only adds a truer enjoyment, the naivete of a child
with a first toy. If some of the gowns might pale
before the Diamond Horseshoe, they need not feel out
of countenance here; so much the better. Withal,
Mrs. Dupont had hers from Paris; Mrs. Shane's
aigrette was genuine ; Mrs. Manners' rose point was
a hundred years old.
A distinctly audible stir went round the tiered seats
as the Lieutenant-Governor's party was suddenly ob-
served entering the central box. (Ross had yet to
take the oath of office, but courtesy post-dated his
honours. He was expected in Edmonton for the cere-
mony in a week.) Without lifting her ejrelids, Ei-
leen saw the rows of faces torn toward her party.
ovGooglc
36o THE SHADOW RIDERS
She smiled at her husband, b^ging him to remove
her gauze scarf. Perhaps it was for that effect she
had selected it. Lesley sat down, looking about with
a lively expectation and some apprehension. She got
only the overflow of the investigative glances, and
could gaze back at her ease, or so much ease as her
anxiety for Eileen allowed. Eileen sEpped from her
cloak at last, while Lesley's gaze still ranged the boxes.
She stood for one graceful moment glancing down to
arrange her skirts, and then sank slowly into her chair,
unfurling a large black lace fan. Lesley heard the
swelling murmur, half a sigh, which was Eileen's
tribute; and in some inexplicable manner it told her
what she was waiting to know. Her heart grew light
Eileen had won.
Eileen's face betrayed no consciousness of victory.
It expressed neither tritmiph nor disdain, but a pecu-
liar innocence and unawareness, which innocence itself
cannot achieve. It is a look only possible to a woman
who has suffered, and deliberately forgotten; it can
outface innocence itself because it has no mingling of
curiosity; it is invulnerable — from the outside. The
most acute observer could hardly have guessed if
Eileen was acting. Only sometimes she tentatively
drew in the comer of her ripe mouth as if she would
bite her lip, and ceased again ; or her white-gloved left
band slipped down stealthily and gripped her chair,
the fingers locking and unlocking. She looked at the
horses, at Chan, at her husband, anywhere but at the
rows of boxes. Their partie carree had an air of utter
self-sufficiency.
People rose and resettled themselves, shifting up
and down the great building, visiting from box to box,
always manoeuvring for a nearer view. The mayor
came up to speak to Ross, and was introduced with
emprcssement to Eileen and Lesley. The Premier,
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 361
whose wife was unluckily in Edmonton, came in late,
and went directly to greet them. Then Lesley saw
Mrs. Dupont give a look of calm command to her
husband, and move majestically toward them. Of
course she could not hear what Mrs. Dupont said to
Mrs. Satterlee, which was :
"Well have to do it, my dear ; we won't be able to
resist ourselves. Besides, it would be stupid. And
I'm going to be first. It pays. I hand it to Eileen.
I'll pve a dinner for her next week." Mrs. Dupont
was even clever enough to appreciate the sub-acid fla<
vour of herself according the pas to Eileen, receiving
the black sheep into the fold — Mrs. Dupont, whose
love affairs, to call them by no cruder term, had be-
come a matter of course. She had waited for matri-
mony, that was all.
She was first, by a narrow margin. Mrs. Martin
' crowded on her heek, and Mrs. Martin was impec-
cable as Lucretia. Mrs, Martin pretended to yield to
pressure from little blonde Cissic, who was on pins
and needles at sight of Lesley in full possession of
Chan. With the instinct of a young woman of the
world, she saw very clearly that Chan was firmly
ranged on Eileen's side already. It was both or nei-
ther. Cissie played innocence, in spite of having lis-
tened from ambush to her mother and Mrs. Ames
that afternoon. Cissie was just out. Just back from
an Eastern boarding school the previous autumn.
"But you know the Conways, mother," she urged.
"Why don't you go and speak to her? I wish you'd
let me wear colours. My hair would go with green."
Mrs. Martin prudently waited until she forced Eileen's
eye, bowed, and felt an actual relief at Eileen's. distant
inclination in return. (She had smacked Eileen and
given her cookies, like a second mother, a dozen years
earlier.) Then she went. And Mrs. Manners, who
ovCiooglc
aSa THE SHADOW RIDERS
had always been aristocratically Bohemian. She was
an Eoglishwcnnan, and like her kind thought that any
one she chose to rect^nise was patented thereby, in a
country where any other distinction was idiotic. So-
cial distinctions — fiddlesticks I They didn't exist out-
side of England ; this was a rabble. Choose the most
amusing of the rabbl& Here promised amusement
All of which goes to show only that most of us can
see the beam in our neighbour's eye even without pull-
ing the mote out of our own.
"My dear, you've actually grown," she swd, owning
up statelily and tapping Eileen's snowy shoulder with
her fan. "Pretty child I Why did you never write to
an old woman ? Your mother telephoned me an hour
ago that you were back, and I made a point of being
here to see you. I meant to call to-morrow."
"Do," said Eileen. "We can sit on the trunks and
have tea."
"After we've looked into the trunks," said Mrs.
Manners firmly. "I am intoxicated with your gown.
Paris, or Vienna?"
"Paris," interposed Ross. "I am afraid Paris has
much to forgive me, for snatching Eileen away from
it"
"Oh, was it there ?' asked Mrs. Manners archly.
"Yes," said Ross. "The combination, you
know "
"You met in Paris? How romantic," said Mrs.
Martin. She couldn't think of any other adjective.
"It spoiled a career; Cavallini vows she will never
forgive me for taking her favourite pupil," said Ross.
"She was an old friend of mine, too — but I couldn't
help that."
"Were you studying with Cavallini? Why, so did
1 1" cried Mrs. Manners. "But — no. It was her mother
I was thinking of — going back to the dark ages. Oh,
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 363
yottthi I'm gmng a musicale next w«dc; youll sii^
for us?"
"If we don't have to go North first," said Eileen,
contradicting nothing. She had always before thought
Ross remarkably truthful.
"Eileen I" said Mrs. Ames, squeezing her portly per-
son into the perilously crowded box, "I've nodded
my neck out of joint, trying to bow to you. How
you've dazzled usl"- Mrs. Ames was respectability
incarnate; the wife of a leading bank manager, who
mothered all the fledgling bank clerks in the city, mar-
shalling them at her teas in phalanxes and battalions.
She also chaperoned innumerable girls to the dances.
"Ross was standing on that side," said Eileen. "I
can't see anything for him."
"Very proper, in a bride," cooed Mrs. Ames.
"Eileen, my next At Home is on Friday. Can you
help me receive ?"
"My shoes are too t^t to stand in," said Eileen.
"I'd rather sit in a comer and eat all the cakes. Les-
ley, do you know Mrs. Ames — Mrs. Manners — ^Mrs.
Dupont How d'ye do, Mrs. Vamey?" For Mrs.
Vamey had come also, executing a flank movement
and visiting die next box, to lean over and nod ta
Eileen with just the proper degree of carelessness.
Eileen knew she was violating "form" in presenting
the matrons to Lesley, instead of the reverse. She
did it on purpose. They beamed on Lesley. Mrs.
Martin cut out Chan and carried him away. She
was a good mother.
From a procession it became very nearly a stam-
pede. Eileen had known every one. Then nobody
had known her. Luckily, she had escaped the actual
experience of that, by going away. Now she knew
every one again. She had lived in the city fifteen of
her twenty-one years. Her smile became more and
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264 THE SHADOW RfflERS
more frozen. The taste in her mouth was honey
and ashes mixed. Her manner was iced perfection.
Lesley's spirits gradually sank; she grew nerv-
ous and depressed. She had humanly thot^t sac-
cess must mean happiness, and she could not doubt
the success. She crowded back to the edge of the
box to let Eileen's ^ests have room, and while she
looked at Eileen, with her trouble in her eyes, Whitte-
more leaned over her shoulder and spoke, tmiing his
voice below the chatter of the women.
"It was good of you to come with us," he said.
"I hope we shall see you often. Eileen is deeply
attached to you ; and she needs you. She can't live
on this, you know." His eyes indicated the festal
throng.
"Yes, I — ^thanks," said Lesley confusedly. 'Whitte-
more undoubtedly meant more than he had said, but
precisely, what? The conjecture that came to mind
was obviously untenable, but it persisted. There
could, however, be no mistake about Whittemore's
friendliness. She liked him. Owning that, she re-
membered that Eileen had said all the women fell
in love with him, and she wanted to laugh. Help-
lessly muddled at last, she wanted most to escape.
"Of course I will come," she repeated. "But I've
got to go before I can come, haven't I? I wonder
if I can get out? Please let me, without being no-
ticed." Ross went back and said something to
Eileen, who let Mrs. Ames address herself to her back
hair while she turned to Lesley.
"Of course you must go if you're tired," she said.
"Send the car back for us. I want to see you to-
morrow." The iciness melted out of her eyes a
second, until she turned again. Ross had signalled
to Chan in the interval, and he came instantly. Les-
ley had meant to slip away without seemg him.
ovCioo^lc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 265
through some sudden, craven foreboding, but she was
glad she could not, and refused to argue with her-
self. She shut the lid down abruptly on all her feel-
ings, and kept Chan highly amused all the way home,
which she insisted on walking.
"By Jiminy, you're the only sensible woman in
this town," he said at the last, with a look of per-
plexity. "I'm afraid you make the other girls seem
stupid. I've missed you." Lesley's heart leaped, and
quieted again. He was, too, too obviously just a
friend. She didn't make the other girts seem plain 1
It is better to have yellow hair than to be clever;
this is a truth written in the Great Book of Women,
wherein it is also said that one dimple is worth more
to a woman than seventy years of learning. What
was the use of being clever? Well, for one thing
it is a good buckler over an unruly heart
"So've I missed you," she said, with blackly de-
ceitful frankness. "I haven't a thing to read."
"I will come drivii^ a van loaded with the newest
books," he promised, and then hurried back to the
show building, where he missed Ross by just five
minutes. Cissie got him again, and Esther Purring-
ton grabbed him from Cissie almost by force majeure
— Esther was dark and jolly and women called her
bold — and he went the rounds like a box of bonbons
at a nutinee before he got away.
It seemed too solitary to Eileen to play all alone
at her game of <;ross purposes when Lesley had left.
She told every one indifferently that the journey had
tired her, and went. In the motor she leaned back,
pale under her bright hair, and did not speak. Ross
wrapped her in rugs, though the night was pleas-
ant. Only just before they reached the hotel she
asked abruptly, without opening her eyes :
"Why did you tell them I'd studied with Cavallini?"
ovCioogIc
266 THE SHADOW RIDERS
It was an indirect way of sayii^;: "Why did you tell
them we met in Paris?"
"Oh, I don't know," he said reflectively. "Mrs,
Dupont looks rather like Cavallini ; I fancy that put it
in my head. She's a nice old thing— -Cavallini, I
mean. The first time I went abroad, at eighteen, she
was in her prime; and I spent a month's allowance
on one bouquet and sent it to her with a languishing
note. And she must have guessed the kind of cub
that sent it, for she let me call on her, and laughed
me into common sense, and all the rest of my stay
she was a sort of mother in Israel to me. So we've
been friends ever since. She loves to hear me talk
of her opera days, before she retired and began to
teach." Eileen, watching through her long, curled
eyelashes, was baffled. He had told her nothing, and
had done it as delightfully as he did everythii^. But
he could not very well tell her that he had been back-
ing up an almost forgotten lie of her mother's, of
which Eileen herself might never have heard.
"You had a great triumph," he added inconse-
quently.
"I knew 1 would," she said, "after I had tried
It on you."
"Why, you minx," He said. "Was that why you
called me out — to try it on the dog?"
"Of course," she said coolly, and turned her face
away.
When they reached their apartment he insisted en
ordering a glass of wine for her, chat^d Lucie to
rub her mistress' brow with camphor, and held her
bedroom door open for her to retire. Eileen extended
her hand to him, her face still averted. He kissed it,
and after a fractional hesitation said good-night.
But Eileen would not let her maid rub her head,
nor do anything at all for her. She dismissed Lade,
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 267
and sat with her chin on her hand, her brows drawn
into two straight black lines with the crease between.
After half an hour she rose, went softly into the
sitting-room, looked at Ross's door, and went back
to her own room quickly. Ross heard her. His
hand was on the knob at tfie very moment she turned
away. He heard her steps retreating, and withdrew
it. She wanted something, he thought, but could not
bring himself to intrude. She had her maid, of course.
Later he thought of her as in bed, sleeping. But she
was only lying on the coverlet, gazing at the ceiling,
her arms extended, her iilmy gown unheeded. It was
four o'clock when she finally sat up, tore off her fin-
ery, and got beneath the sheets.
She could not understand her husband. She was
like a debtor whose creditor does not send a bill,
and who for that reason cannot ^put the bill out of
mind. Life wasn't like that; it was "nothing for
nothing, and damned little for sixpence." What,
in Heaven's name, would his bill ultimately be ? What
could a man want — other than the obvious thing he
never claimed?
Her pride smarted, for a reason she would not allow
hersdf to examine. . . .
0. Google
CHAPTER XXIV
LIFE has a way of going by fits and starts, let-
ting months and years pass with an even flow,
only to break unexpectedly into rafuds and
waterfalls over sudden rocks where the voyager
crowds long memories into breathless hours. So un-
eventfully went more than a year wHh Lesley, and
brought her past twenty-four.
It was not a dull year, for she had Eileen now, and
she had Chan back again, not quite so much to her-
self as before because he had new friends, and lived
in summer on the ChatBeld ranch; but on the old
terms. She was satisfied perforce.
She did not always have the Whittemores either.
Naturally they went to Edmonton immediately after
the Horse Show, Ross was inducted to his office and
presented with a sword, a cocked hat and a black
kimono, all with great gravity; and they established
themselves fittingly in their new position. But they
bou^t a cottage in Banff, and yet another in Lesley's
city. A bigger house there would not have suited
Eileen. When the Legislature adjourned, and she
came South for the summer, she announced frankly
that she did not want the bother of any more en-
tertaining. But Lesley spent week-ends with her in
Banff, dined at the town cottage every other day when
assured there would be no other guests; and Eileen
wrote when in Edmonton.
Chan lived in the Whittemores' town cottage when
it was otherwise unoccupied. It was a tiny, quaintly
agly house close to the centre of the city, with prepos-
ovCiooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 269
terous pretentious gables and high, doll-house win-
dows. There was a dining-room and two bedrooms on
an infinitesimal scale, and a surprisingly large drawing-
room, big enough for a fireplace and a piano to dwell
together amicably. Eileen furnished it delightfully
in blue and white chintz, and black oak, with a Dutch
tiled fireplace, Chinese rugs, sage green hangings, and
pots of tulips. She had to put her trunks down in the
cellar, and her maids slept out. Chan went to a hotel,
but he might be said to live at the cottage, neverthe-
less. Mrs. Conway and the Judge came to dinner
once a week r^ularly. They grew greatly attached
to Ross, who treated them with a deference meant to
act as a buffer between them and Eileen.
Chan admired Eileen, he liked her, he almost un-
derstood her, but he had never heard her story. No
one quite dared to whisper it to him; he had his
uncle's trick of putting people at their distance occa-
sionally, and no one was very sure of him. Besides,
he did not talk about women. But he did feet that
there was something — ^well, strange, about his uncle's
menage. It was none of his business, of course. That
is the well-bred person's way of admitting thii^ are
out of joint
It was only his daily intimacy gave him that inklii^.
People spoke, sentimentally or spitefully, of the
Whittemores' happy marriage. Eileen's cold, bright
beauty, Ross's detached devotion, were impenetrable
to the scrutiny of the mob. And it was not an un-
happy marriage, though to both it seemed something
insubstantial and dreamlike. . . . The crux of it was,
it was not a marriage at all. It was a play, put on
by two who feared realities.
Of course no disclaimer of hospitable intent, other
than actually barring the door, could have kept guests
from invading the cottage, after Eileen's success was
ovCiooglc
370 THE SHADOW RIDERS
signed and witnessed. She had an infonnal day once
a week, as a compromise. Lesley forgot at least
once, and blundered into the day. A special mission
brouj^t her.
Everybody came on that unludgr day. Chan was
there when Lesley arrived at four ; so was Ross. The
three were close in talk when Lesley burst in, unan-
nounced, since the door was open, and demanded a
whiskbroom.
"A whiskey ?" said Ross absently, risii^ to go to the
sideboard.
Chan shouted, and Eileen fell back on the chintz-
oovered sofa, waving her hands feebly.
"No, no, please — a whiskbroom, a brush," Lesley
b^^d, laying a restraining hand on his arm.
"My dear child, I beg your pardon. You do seem
to need one; you look as if you'd been dragged at
some one's chariot wheels." A maid came with the
desired article, and Lesley explained while being
brushed.
"It was nearly that," she said. "I was prancii^
along Stephen Avenue admiring the cloud effects, and
I stubbed my toe on the cussed car-tracks. I saw the
workmen there all last week, but somehow I didn't
believe there were any car-tracks. I fell flat, I bowed
and fell like Dagon ; I was so mad I could have bitten
a rail in two if I hadn't been in a. hurry. Eighty-
nine people rushed to pick me up, but I withered them
with a glance and flew on. Eileen, may I go to the
kitchen sink? Look at my hands I"
"The sceptic always stumbles over evidence," said
Ross. "Now give three cheers for municipal owner-
ship." Eileen was leading the way to a washbasin,
but Lesley paused at this.
"You ought to be biting rails in two, instead of
cheering," she said. "I'm sure, if you'd built it, you
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 371
wouldn't have left h lying around just where I'd be
sure to fall over it."
"Do you think me a dog in the manger?" he said
%htly. "If I am, I hope I'm ao enlightened one;
since I couldn't do it myself, I'd rather have the dty
do it than any other individual."
"Oh," Lesley's voice floated out of Eileen's tiny,
lacy nest of a bedroom, where she was already splash-
ing water into a Dresden bowl, "was that why you
people at Edmonton stretched the city's credit so
fast?" Every one had been surprised at the speed
with which the city had organised and commenced
the work on the car line after rejecting the proposals
of Whittemore and the Winnipeg capitalists alike.
"That was why," said Whittemore. "Besides, I
have some money in suburban properties; possibly I
want to get it out"
"But," said Lesley excitedly, appearing at the door
wavit^ a towel — the bedroom opened off the drawing-
room perforce, because there had been no room for
a half— "will the road go where you planned it?
I never did know exactly where you meant it should
go."
"It will have to go nearly the same routes." Les-
ley opened her mouth and closed it again. She had
such a hazy idea of whether her own money had dis-
appeared completely or not that she did not like to
speak of it It must have disappeared; she did not
blame Jack Addison, but there were forfeited options
and things like that which reduced money to thin air.
Probably the street-car line meant nothing to her. She
went back to the bedroom, kicking the door to with
an abstracted air and shutting herself and Eileen in.
There would not have been space for three.
"I want to talk to you a few minutes before I go,"
she said softly to Eileen.
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273 THE SHADOW RIDERS
"Of course," said Eileen. "Is it important ? Shall
I diase the men away?"
"No — I don't know if it's important — you can make
an opportunity, can't you? We can go and look at
your garden." The garden, behind the house, had a
green trellised fence and a gravel walk, if there was
no more than ten feet square of grass.
"Very well ; after tea. And let me do up your hair.
It's my day, you know ; wait till the mob has come
and gone. Oh, now, you don't get out this time;
youll stay and pour, young lady. Give everybody
three lumps, no matter what they ask for, but be
sure you ask them first, to make it really annoying.
Gve Mrs. Dupont four, if she comes; she's get-
ting fatter all the time."
"Brute 1" moaned Lesley, even while she obediently
took up the gold comb and brush. "Oh, what shall
I talk about?" She was debating desperately if she
should tell Eileen now, the thing she had come to tell.
But it might upset her, and — — Some one of the
expected guests might mention it ; that would be hor-
rible. But surely they'd have enough sense not to.
. . , She decided to postpone it. . . .
"They'll do the talking ; never worry," said Eileen.
"Say anything yoti like ; I give you letters of marque
and reprisal. No one will hear you anyway. There,
you look very charming. No, you don't need to wear
your hat, it's a fool custom. Come back and let
Chan tell you something,"
"Chan? What has he got to tell me? What have
you got to tell me?" she demanded, irrupting once
more into the drawing-room.
"It isn't certain," said Chan. "Has Eileen been
putting me on toast ?"
"Chan," said Ross deliberately, "is goit^ to run
for the X}ominion Legislature in the fall iVielding
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 373
to die orgency of bis friends and the wish of the
electorate and his own strong sense of duty, he will
sacrifice "
"Oh, shut upt" said Chan, enforcing his request by
hooking an arm about Ross's neck very neatly from
behmd. Ross tipped his chair backward into Chan's
ribs and rose with dignity.
"This isn't a bearpit," Eileen reminded them se-
verely. "At least, not until the she-bears come-
though they may be here any minute. Tell Lesley,
quick."
"It's true, then?" Lesley asked eagerly.
"Well, they're short of men," said Chan dubiously;
"at least, men who will bear even a cursory inspec-
tion. And Ross put me up to them at an informal
and preliminary caucus yesterday, where he was chief
conspirator. They think I might do for one of the
forlom-hope constituencies, to save a better man — if
Ross makes his contribution big enot^h."
"It was Geers mentioned you," said Ross. "And I've
always subscribed ; it's a hereditary habit ; they know
they'd get it, anyway. It is a forlorn hope they will
offer you; but next time it won't be . ■ ."
"I — I think it's wonderful," said Lesley, stricken
to banality by surprise and admiration. "Really—
really Just fancy! You'll be the youngest mem-
ber, won't you ?"
"The youngest candidate — in my district," Chan
corrected her. But, though he persisted in taking it
as a joke, he was secretly deeply elated and im-
pressed, not by his own importance, but by his op-
portunity. He did not count on being elected, but
he coimted on doing some work that would make
his name stick, so that it would be heard in a future
convention. Deep down he was very much in earnest;
his whole heart was already ei^^ed.
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374 THE SHADOW RIDERS
"You're atiU on our side?" asked Lesley. "For
Reciprocity? The Government's formal announce-
ment just came over the wire before I left the office.
I had some dope already on the galleys, so I got
away."
"Oh, yes. Reciprocity by all means I" laughed Chan.
"I won't rat."
"Don't be surprised when you stub your toe again,"
Ross said lazily, turning his magnetic smile on Les-
ley. "There's the real forlorn hope. But the old
order has always got to change ; let it go down in a
good cause."
"Go down ? Why should it go down f"
"Money's the strongest thing in the modem world,
and the money's all against us," Ross explained.
"Never mind ; put up your best fight " The door-
bell cut his phrase in two; he caught Eileen's eye
commiseratingly, which pointed his words otherwise
than he had intended.
Mrs. Dupont came first again. It was to be a
field day.
"How do, Eileen ? Oh, Miss Johns — isn't it ? Well,
Chan, are you going to pour? Eileen, youll have
to hold an overflow meeting. Every soul at Mrs. Var-
ncfs at home said they were coming on here; that's
why I hurried. I wanted a sandwich ; your maid
makes the best in town." Mrs. Dupont, like a Fu-
turist sunset cloud in a tight lavender mousseline,
which suited her eyes if not her figure, sat down and
fanned herself. It was July, and warm for an Al-
berta July.
"Oh, I forgot Mrs. Vamey's At Home I" said
^een. "Let 'em come; I'll climb up on the mantel,
and they can have the house, and fight for refresh-
ments."
"They will take you for a new piece of bric-4-brac,"
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 275
said Ross, lookiiig at his wife. She wore an unfash-
ionable but picturesque and Parisian Le Brun cos-
tume of cream muU, with yards of the finest lace on
sleeves and bosom. Her hair was braided about her
head and confined in a silver net at the back.
"A priceless article of "bigotry and virtue,' " said
Chan, singularly malapropos. He was lookit^ out of
the window, and added immediately: "There's the
advance guard."
Eileen yawned behind a ringed hand quite un-
consciously. She rose mechanically and took a negli-
gent stand in an alcove by the door. Lesley, obedient
to a look, wedged herself defensively behind a tea
wagon and a low table. Soon after five the room
was filled; by six it was jammed. Chan retreated
at discretion to his uncle's bedroom and found a
pipe for company. Ross stuck to his post like
a soldier and a gentleman. Women squeezed and
pushed; every one talked and no one listened.
Eileen had never had such a crowd. She wished
inwardly they might all choke on her justly pnused
sandwiches. Eileen could not see Lesley over the
heads of the guests, but hoped she was not suf-
fering unduly. As the press thinned slowly after six,
she was aware that Lesley had got some one to listen
to her, in defiance of prophecy. Eileen edged around,
and listened also. Oh, it was Mrs. Ames' grandfather
was on the tapis again — her grandfather the General.
He had been with Wolfe, or something like that —
or perfiaps it was Queenston Heights. Anyway, no
one was ever allowed to be in doubt that Mrs. Ames
had bad a grandfather, and he had been a General.
What had really started the conversation was a ref-
erence to a newcomer who had been at Mrs. Vamey's
tea. Who was she, Mrs. Burdon wanted to know?
Mrs. Dupont, who generally heard everything and
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276 THE SHADOW RIDERS
heard it first, explained; she was an Honourable;
panddau^ter, therefore, to an Earl, but apparently
not excited over that fact, and quite content to settle
down in the Northwest. But nice — oh, she and her
husband both, such nice people. . . . Anyway, that
had let in Mrs. Ames' grandfather ; and somehow that
extracted again the information that Mrs. Martin
had been to Court, and Ossie was to be presented
next year — if they went over. Lady Cumstuck, Mrs.
Martin's cousin. . . . Those things did count — fam-
ily — breeding — look at the difference between foreign
and American men. They were all off, and Lesley
silenced for the moment. Only for the moment, for
Mrs. Ames' grandfather chaiged again, and Lesley
met him full shock. ... It was just at that moment
Eileen got within hearii^. . . . Mrs. Ames had a
diamond-set miniature of the deceased gentleman, in a
locket.
"Nice old duck ; looks a bit apoplectic," Lesley was
saying cheerfully. "Oh, I suppose it's his red coat ;
and then they wore such funny chokers. I remem-
ber my grandfather still wore two waistcoats — but
it may have been to keep him warm. He would get
drunk, and was out all night once, and might have
frozen if he'd had only one. Of course he didn't get
drunk tvery night. Perhaps grandmother drove him
to it; she took morphine. But she was a dear old
thing, just the same. She smoked a clay pipe, and
wore the queerest shoes — pattens, didn't they call
them? I just remember her; she died 'when I was
five. I cried so. Grandfather was sober for a week.
Some more tea, Mrs. Ames — oh, Eileen 1" Lesley
had the grace to look guilty, "Have some iced tea,
Eileen, or some cake, or something; you look awfully
tired."
"Yes, I will," said Eileen. "But do go on. What
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 377
about your other grandparents? Did you have ooly
two?"
"Oh, they were Methodists; practically useless for
conversational purposes," said Lesley airily.
"My grandmother," said Eileen seriously — she and
Lesley had the conversation to themseJves .by now —
"the one I got my hair from, was Insh, of course;
she loved to go barefoot. She carried a kit on her
head — ^you know, a three-cornered receptacle, to keep
her hands free so she could knit while she walked.
But I think she died before I was bom; Aunt Jen-
nie told me about her. Mrs. Dupont, you're a brick
to stay all through. Now we can all have a chair, and
some more cake."
"That's why I stayed," said Mrs. Dupont. "You
had a most successful 'day.' "
"Yes, I'm nearly dead; it was quite like a Turkish
bath during a panic an hour ago. Most successful.
Mamie" — to the home-grown maid — ^"some more iced
tea. Now you must tell me all the gossip ; I've heard
nothing but how-d'ye-do's for a whole afternoon,"
And they did talk, the noble band of survivors, so
it was nearly seven before the last had gone, while
Lesley sat'on pins and needles for fear of some tact-
less and too well-informed lady forestalling her.
None did, and neither did Eileen forget to slip
away to the garden with her at last, while Mamie
and Lucie repaired the ravaged drawing-room, and
Chan and Ross mixed a consolatory drink in the
dining-room.
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CHAPTER XXV
THE garden was the littlest bit of peace one
could im^ne, and Eileen walking in it, her
white gown sweeping the grass, filled Les-
ley's soul with poetry. But there was a snake in the
garden, as in the beginning. Lesley concealed it yet
a while
"You terror," said Eileen, "blasphemii^ all our
poor little gods in my drawing-room. How much of
that about your esteemed grandparents was true?"
"Oh, some of it," said Lesley cautiously. "I know,
I was bad. They weren't your gods, anyway."
"Oh, but they are," said Eileen. "Didn't I eat my
heart out in exile for this?"
"You were just as bad," Lesley defended herself.
"Eileen, are you satisfied?"
"Why shouldn't I be?" asked Eileen idly. "It isn't
every one has her heart's desire. lo triompHe. There
wasn't anything else left for me, was there?"
Lesley pondered. She had always her work, but
Eileen "Yes, it's true enough, your genius is
beauty; c'est ton metier, it that's the phrase I want.
But it all seemed so idiotic, I was just overcome,
tempted of the devil. You understand, to see Mrs.
Ames and her grandfather's miniature as a culmina-
tion of all the toils and privations of the pioneers,
strong men who left the Old World and subdued the
wilderness because they were sick of the iron yoke
of caste. Mrs. McConach this afternoon was almost
in tears of ecstasy because the Duke of Inverarie is
buying an estate scHnewhere hereabouts. Her gnuid-
278
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THE SHADOW RIDERS ayg
father was a crofter, turned out to make more nxHit
for deer on the Duke's grandfather's Scotch estate."
"Oh, certainly; but then the Duke's great-grand-
father's grandfather was simply the most successful
cattle thief on the border. It all comes to the same
thing in the end. Don't go letting the sawdust out
of your dolly that way ; bring her to the party ; be a
child again and smack your lips over the cambric tea
and bread and butter. We're all nice people to-
gether."
"It ought to be the motto imder the beaver," said
Lesley dreamily. " 'Nice people.' Of course I'm just
jealous and spiteful. If I had a few new gowns,
I'd come to all the cambric tea parties — if I was
asked."
"You'd be asked, if you had the gowns," said Eileen
drily. "You would be anyway, if you'd let me- — "
"No. No gowns." Lesley held up an admonitory
finger. "I draw the line just beyond hats."
"So mean of you. Ross calls you Cinderella ; says
you'd be a stunner if you had a chance."
"Does he? I like Ross. Don't you?"
"Don't be so ingenuous, dear. Ross and I are excel-
lent friends. He says he's too old for romance. And
I — I'm too young!" He had never said that since
the night he asked Eileen to marry him ; but neither
had she forgotten.
"Then it's because you want it that way," said
Lesley, who had observed Ross. "It's none of my
business; but he must — he couldn't help "
"Oh, 3 man migjitl You think too much of my
beauty. One other man resisted it, or got sick of it.
Don't bother your sentimental little heart about us,
Lesley; we are very well as we are; it suits us both."
But there was dust in her mouth. Her beauty — it
had mocked her twice.
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aSo THE SHADOW RIDERS
"How can ycm go on feeling like that?" asked Les-
ley. "Win you always?"
"I hope so. Ross says cynidsm is a drug — oh,
how married I'm getting, with my everlasting 'Ross
says.' Anyway, it's really a pleasant drug. One sees
and hears, but doesn't feel."
"You don't seem married," Lesley mused.
Eileen was wrong; she could feel; she felt that
She thought it was her pride was hurt. Why should
she seem married?
"What was it you wanted to tell me?" she asked
abruptly. Lesley stopped, smitten afresh with hor-,
ror, as if Eileen had laid her hand on a door behind
which something evil waited. How could she tell
Eileen? How could she thrust herself in, no mat-
ter how often Eileen had drawn the latch and bidden
her enter.
"It was Do you know Have you
heard " She tried to get it over quickly, as if
she were taking a stiff medicine, and it balked on her
tongue.
"Tell me, quick," said Eileen, smiling. "Every-
thing's happened to me, you know; it won't hurt I'm
drugged."
The garden was very quiet, a small quietness, that
seemed to wait.
"Harry Garth is coming back — with his wife!" saiA
Lesley.
"Is he?" said Eileen at last. She had looked so
when she went to her father's house. It was Lesley
who wanted to run away, who felt the tears in her
lliroat. "That's interesting. Come into the house
and see if there's any chance of dinner."
"I can't stay to dinner," said Lesley shakily.
"Please. Can't I go now?"
"You're queer," said Eileen, staring at her. "Of
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS aSi
couTse, you shall go if you like. Telephone me to-
morrow."
So Lesley went home, and cried, and cried. That
sharp brightness of Eileen's seemed to pierce her
heart. She fought against the cruelty of life with
all the deep instinctive strei^th of her age. There
is a very ache for happiness planted in the breast
of all young creatures. They beat on the gate of
heaven with their prayers for it; they will go down
to the pit of hell in search of it. There must be
happiness — there must— there musti If there be not,
then the universe is a lie. And they are right, even if
the universe must be wrong to prove it They are
life at war with death ; they are love stronger than
the grave.
Eileen shed no tears. She was merry at dinner.
Chan kept wondering why Lesley wouldn't stay, and
went away early because he felt extraordinarily de trop.
Eileen was obviously interested only in her husband
that evening.
After dinner, when Chan had gone, she sang to
Ross all the old, simple, passionate songs she knew.
She had turned off all the lights but the piano lamp,
which made a halo round her head. The doors and
windows were open to the dewy, cool air, which
brought the odour of white clover from a wet lawn
nearby. Her voice was uneven in quality, not suffi-
ciently trained for absolute purity, and she was sing-
ing softly, so its contralto notes were muffled down
to a low sweetness that was almost hoarse. Ross
thought of how the Greeks used to thicken their wine
with honey, for a simile.
Then she sprang up and declared she wanted to
dance, and he played for her, and she did dance,
improvising, while he watched her over his shoulder
and struck innumerable false notes> Her white gown
ovCiooglc
S8a THE SHADOW RIDERS
fluttered in the dusk, and her white arms wove spells
like Vivien's.
"Oh, I'm tired!" she cried at last, flingii^ herself
into a deep chair. "Come here and fan m&— no, wait
a minute, this gown is too tight Unhook me, please ;
I've sent Lucie home." He unfastened the short
bodice, baring her pathetic shoulder blades, and feel-
ing a sudden impulse to kiss them for their faults.
She tipped her face back over her shoulder to watch
him now, and squirmed gently, like a naughty child.
He called himself a fool, while she vanished into her
room, to reappear with incredible quickness in some-
thing golden and fluffy that fell in straight lines from
shoulder to hem.
"Now fan me," she said, sinking back with a sigh.
"No, bring me something to drink first. Some Bur-
gundy ; it's so warm and goi^eous." He obeyed and
she waited, breathless in the dusk.
"But you've brought only one glass I You're to
drink, too. Touch your glass to mine ; I like to hear
them ring — no, I'll kiss the rim. Give it to me."
She stood up to offer it to him. She was so close
the perfume of her mixed in his nostrils with the
faint, stinging scent of the wine. He was pale; he
drank quickly, and watched while she emptied her
glass more deliberately, her head tipped back and her
throat curved and tremulous. She filled his glass
again, and pressed it into his hand. "Don't you like
it?" she said. "I feel so to-night; I feel like doing
something mad and splendid." He could never have
guessed that under it all was terror, a fear of the
world that had been so merciless once. Only Ross
stood between her and a repetition of that cruelty, the
silence and blankness that had been so hard to bear.
If she could only know by what she held him, make
sure of him forever. . . .
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 283
She did know that there is one way to make any
man tell anything.
"Yes, I like it," he said in an undertcme. "You're
fey, Eily; jrou are a witch; you make me feel mad
and splendid, too; you make me feel yoimg."
"Be young," she said pleadingly. "You are young
enough." Something changed in her; she was not
acting any more, nor moved altogether by fear.
"You pretty thing," he said irrelevantly, "I will
be anything you want. But you ought to go to bed;
you're tiring yourself to death."
"I — I " She felt repulsed, and made her last
throw. "I — am tired Will you carry me in V
He picked her up in his arms, very easily and
lightly. But he did not move; only, with a drioked
sound like a sob, he hid his face in the laces at her
breast. "Eily I" he whispered. "Eilyl"
"Yes," she said softly.
"My little wife I"
"Yes," she said again.
He carried her in.
In the middle of the night Eileen had a dream. It
was not clear even while she dreamed it, only she
was ashamed and hurt, and she had abased herself
for something that was her right; she had made
some grievous mistake, and the dust was in her
mouth again. Eileen was of a high-strung, nervous
temperament, like a horse too finely bred, and when
she was a child she had often walked in her sleep.
Ross, who had not slept, was watching her, his eyes
grown accustomed to the silvery dark of the room,
where the moonlight flickered in a square pool on the
ceiling. Perhaps it was the effect of the light, but
she boked mortally weary. He wished be could
carry her in his arms again to rest her.
Suddenly she sat up, dirowing back her loose, heavy
ovCiooglc
384 THE SHADOW RTOERS
batr, and looking at him with the wide eyes of the
somnambulist.
"You made it so hard for mel' she cried reproach-
fully.
"I am sorry, dear," he said quietly. "Go to sleep.
It is all right now."
"Yes," she said, with a long sig^, still staring. "I
had to pay — I couldn't have everything for noth-
ing " He could not catch all she said ; her voice
sank to a tired, incoherent munnur. "Don't under-
stand Ross," she ended, more clearly. "What does
he want? Any man I've got to pay — — Les-
ley says I'm beautiful, but — that— isn't — any —
use. . . ." She sank back heavily. Bung an arm
across her eyes, and slept again profoundly.
"God in heaven I" said Ross to himself. He had a
physical sensation as if some one had closed a hand
on his heart and gripped it tightly for a second. Aloud
he said nothing, but his mind went on fumblingly
picking up her words. "Was that why? She thought
she ought to pay. . . . And she made me take her I"
With a word spoken in sleep she had thrown him
into the depths ; she had made him a man again and
broken him within a night.
He had known himself not insensible to her charm
for a long time ; but habit is a strong defence and he
had forged it carefully, taught himself to look on her
as a friend, a child, anything but a wife. ' She had
broken through the barrier ruthlessly, from a dis-
torted sense of justice; the quick of him was bared
as it had been years before, and everythii^ to suffer
again.
Well, if she had made him a man, he must be one.
He still watched her, for an hour, till the moon
went down and the room was pitch-black, and then he
felt for her hair, kissed it, and went out quietly. la
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 285
that moment he wished with ironic mirth that he had
not stayed awake to look at his delight.
In the morning Eileen never knew that she had
spoken at all. Somnambulists do not, unless they
have been thoroughly awakened ; and even then they
do not know what they have said. She waked grop-
ingly, to find herself alone. She huddled down and
drew the coverlet up over her face, and was stilL
0. Google
CHAPTER XXVT
CHAN was nominated for one of the divisions of
the city — which was divided into two constitu-
encies — much more through a Buke than on his
merits. It was just an instance of the luck of the
banner, to get such an important riding. That is,
if it mig^t be called luck to have as an opponent Ed-
ward Folsom, one of the strongest men the Conserva-
tives had in the province. Another had been slated
for the place, a prosperous citizen bitten late in life
with a taste for public honours. He had asked for
the nomination, got it; and in the very midst of
the convention withdrew his name. A sudden emer-
gency of business necessitated his changing his resi-
dence, and he put business first. The convention
fell back on Chan in sheer desperation, and because
his name came through Geers.
It was a forlorn hope, indeed, a novitiate in the
arena at "best. Folsom's own constituency, the same
he had so lately won from the Liberals on the strei^th
of his own personality, would not be likely to turn
him down now. Not that he had made any shining
record at Ottawa, but he had gained a good deal of
publicity by some well-timed speeches. He had a
ready tongue, and a little of the true fire of the ora-
tor; though on analysis one might have discovered
his speeches to be mostly froth and sounding phrases,
backed up by the skill of practice and sheer lung
power.
Next, perhaps, to being bom under the sign of
Taurus, a public man might rejoice at a nativity in
986
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 387
the house of Pisces, for the red herrii^ is a noble
and useful animal, politically speaking. It has the
power of the Philosopher's Stone in transmutation —
which is mixing metaphors madly, but not more so
than they were mixed in that impossible campaign
which actually happened. Within a week after the
campaign was fairly launched, Reciprocity, the issue
on which it was fought, took on a form which must
have amazed its sponsors, and left them aghast as
was the fisherman in the presence of the Djinn he so
carelessly let out of the bottle. Treason was the
mildest name fastened by the Ginservatives to the
efforts of the party in power to redeem the very
pledge which had first won them place. It was an
effort to disrupt the British Empire; it was a plot
to contract an unholy alliance with the unspeakable
United States, The money, as Ross had so casually
predicted, aligned solidly on the side of things as
they were. Special newspapers were started for the
benefit of the "British bom"; the flag was torn to
tatters in defence of a suddenly sacred tariff; and
Reason and Fact retired to a cave in the mountains for
a spell of meditation. The moral of all this probably
is that sixteen years is too long to wait for a promise
to be kept.
Chan, not having hoped, did not especially despair.
He flung himself with zest into the task of acquaint-
ing his in^obable constituents with his personal ap-
pearance and future intentions. He gained poise and
assurance, if not votes, though indeed he was liked.
He and Geers, who, like Folsom, was reasonably
assured of his seat — for the other city constituency—
i^in worked together when possible, which helped
Chan in a way. At least, it brought him hearers.
However, those seldom lack at a Canadian political
meeting. Th^ still take their politics straight in
ovCiooglc
388 THE SHADOW RIDERS
Canada, without any mollifying admixture of sociology
or class feeling; convictions are inherited like any
other possession; and money is still respectable.
There are no "bosses," because wealth, with simple
and unostentatious dignity, does its own bossing, and
saves the expense of a middleman.
It was Lesley who remained astoimded and unrec-
onciled at the turn of the tide of popular emotion
against her sid& She sat at her typewriter like the
sentinel at the gates of Pompeii, repeating her be-
liefs until she could have recited them backwards.
Crcsswell derived much amusement from her earnest-
ness. But Cresswell did not know that the cause was
not only hers, but Chan's. Lesley would not join
Chan in his sweet reasonableness; she wanted him
to win whether he had any chance or not All her-
ardour was really inspired by that hope. She at-
tended meetings like a revivalist convert ; she studied
dreary and confusing schedules of "articles to be ad-
mitted free" with a gusto that nothing else could
have given; and when Chan had time to come and
talk it over with her, she could not have been more
thrilled had he read Browning and brought her
flowers.
Being so busy, she did not see quite so much of
Eileen, but she had an accumulating sense of strain
in the Whittemore household. Eileen got thinner, and
her gaiety was feverish. Ross had the advantage
of a longer trainii^ in masking his feelings. He
induced Eileen to spend much of the time in Banff —
lie had a remarkable gift of diplomacy, and could
usually get people to do as he wanted without their
even knowing what he did want — but the mountain
air only stimulated her to greater restlessness ; and
she rode and danced and swum to the point of ex-
haustion, where his diplomacy failed, and she kept on
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 289
dandng and riding and swimming. He was perplexed
beyond words, for she avoided him whenever she
a)uld, yet if he went away her relief at his return
was unmistakable. She wanted to be alone, and not
alone; she wanted him near, and out of sight. Things
were very ill with them.
Lesley hoped, or feared, for a time that Eileen
would give her some further confidences, but in vain.
She would, indeed, have been hard put to name any
tangible thing on which she based her disquiet. Per-
haps it was because Ross urged her more than once
that she visit them often. It could not, Lesley de-
cided, be Harry Garth's return, because the Garths
had not yet arrived. They would not come till early
winter, society whispered. . . .
The Garths had just been married, at long last,
and were honeymooning somewhere. Mrs. Garth was
the girl Harry Garth had been engaged to when ■ . .
Lesley still got her news from Cresswell. She heard
that Garth was coming back to take over the man-
agership of the wholesale business built up by Bur-
rage as agent for the manufacturing firm Mrs. Garth's
father controlled in the East. Burrage was going
into business for himself. He and Cresswell were
intimates.
The importance of this diminished with time, and
Eileen's coolness. After all, whaf could Harry Garth
do, present or absent ? He had a damned cheek, Cress-
well remarked, to come back at all ; but with a new
bride to live up to, he would certainly be as glad as
Eileen to forget It wasn't what he might do that was
dangerous; it was the chance of renewed gossip
reaching Whittemore. That would be fatal, in case
there was already a rift within the lute. Or was
it that he had, already, heard something? On think-
ing it over, Lesley decided it was tmlikely any one
ovGooglc
390 THE SHADOW RIDERS
would have the ojurage of such an indiscretkHi.
Aoyhow, Lesley concluded, she could not save the
country and direct Eileen's affairs at the same time;
and with this jibe at herself tried to put it all out
of mind.
As the heat of summer waned, the fervour of the
campaign waxed. July, August, and September
passed, and still the country was han^ng precari-
ously in the balance.
Intrinsically the whole campaign made dull and
hopeless work. Lesley had a headache from read-
ing Rudyard Kipling's remarkable telegram apropos
of the issue of Reciprocity, and was nevertheless read-
ing it doggedly again, trying to make sense of it,
one afternoon late in the autumn, when Cresswell came
out of the inner office and stood looking over her
shoulder with a quizzical air. He had just been in
conference with Duncombe, the owner of the Recorder.
"Will you miss me when I'm gone, Johnny?" he
enquired in lugubrious accents.
"I might, if you'd give me a chance," she retorted
ungraciously. "And, while you're gone, you may
kill off Champ Clark, and one or two professional
pests. And Mr. Cresswell, please, please tell the
foreman I must have final proofs every time. He's
driving me mad."
"Tell him yourself, Johnny; he doesn't have to
listen to mc any more."
"Whatever is the matter with you?" she asked, look-
ing him over suspiciously.
"Not what you think," he said, his br^t blue
eyes twinkling in their setting of concentric wrinkles.
"Will you keep it to yourself for a matter of a
few days if I tell you?"
"I guess so. What is it?"
"We're sold out, my dear, body and boots. Gone
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 291
over to the Conservatives. I had a hunch that Dun-
combe had been offered a good price a while ago,
but he held off. Now he's decided he wants to re-
tire. Oh, well, he's nursed this bally sheet for twenty-
live years, and I don't blame him. Man's got a
right to sell his own paper. It's a clean business
proposition ; he gets clear out. New owner ; dummy,
of course; the party is the real owner. He offered
to include me in the good-will — but my opinions aren't
so active and supple as when I was young, and
I hate eating my words. I'll be on my way in a
week."
"B-but — what's to become of me ?" shridced
Lesley.
"Well, I can't possibly take you along," said Cress-
well soothingly; "people are so censorious. Don't yell
like that, Johnny ; this isn't an extra ; this is confiden-
tial. There, cheer up; you'll be all right. The tail
goes with the hide. I spoke about you; they want
Mary Jane. I believe, in fact, that they'll ask you
to get out a woman's page."
"You pig I" said Lesley disrespectfully. "I don't
believe a word of it." Cresswell dropped his ban-
tering air.
"Seriously, I'm telling you the truth. But it won't
make any difference to you — only, of course, the coun-
try won't be saved !"
"What will you do?" said Lesley, banning to
realise that she would be extremely soriy to lose Cress-
well
"I think I'll go to Chi. The new editor of the
Tribtme there happens to be one of my best friends.
He sent me word a white ago that I could come on
any time I wanted. Think you'd like Chicago 1"
"No, I don't think so," said Lesley unheedingly,
"Why?"
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292 THE SHADOW RIDERS
"Because, if I saw a place for you, I could send
you word "
"Oh, do, dot" Chicago — anywhere — rather than
the loathed and feared Woman's Page. "Will you?
No, you'll forget all about it."
"No, I won't. You've got the stuff; ni remem-
ber. Back to the Big Game. It sounds good. Sorry
I can't ask you to come out and have a drink,
Johnny. I'U be around for a few days, anyway."
So he left her, to digest the news.
It was true. The formal announcement came three
days later. Champ Clark's studiedly injudicious
speech about annexation was used as a peg to hang
the turned coat on. Cresswell made his exit, but
stayed in town for a few days, offering libations in
farewell to his friends. There was a new Pharaoh,
who knew not Joseph, in his place ; he stripped Les-
ley of her editorial dignities and gave her odd jobs
to fill out her spare time. He was a quiet, amiable,
able man, who did not need to be told her value. He
explained that he wanted her to stay, and promised
to map out her work more definitely when the cam-
paign was over.
Of course, there were cheers and jeers from the
other newspapers. Lesley almost wept over her en-
forced defection, when she saw Chan, and she was
inclined to be offended when he told her smilingly that
his prospects could hardly be worsened by the change.
It was not he who had alarmed the Opposition into
securing a new organ; they wouldn't kill a fly with
a sledgehammer. The whole province was one of
the most difficult for the Conservatives to capture,
owing to its lack of manufactories and the nature
of its products. There was also a strong American
element to be considered, who naturally were not
greatly placated by the frequent wantonly insultii^
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RTOERS 293
references to their country — although, with the reti-
cence of the Anglo-Saxon breed when confronted
with another's domestic squabbles, they forbore from
any united demonstration or manifesto.
With this cold comfort, Lesley perforce sat back,
folded her-hands, and waited for judgment.
So it happened that, a little at loose ends, she found
herself on a Friday noon planning to leave the office
early. She thought she might run up to Banff. The
foreman had forgotten to bring her proofs of Mary
Jane's latest wisdom. She wandered into the com-
posing-room, dodging trucks and compositors expertly.
They were just locking the fonns ; no one had even
half a second to spare for her. She looked over the
galleys for her stuff, which came out on Saturday.
There were no proofs of it on the hooks. She found
it, muttered a polite oath over the cussedness of
compositors in not having pulled a proof, and began
the task herself. Lesley had a fondness for the grimy,
busy, composing-room; even the smell of ink was
not distasteful to her ; and the foreman loved to ex-
plain technicalities to her. She could read the tjrpe,
in its queer looking-glass form, abnost as easily as
proof. Her eye had the natural affinity for the
printed word which makes the bom reader.
It was an easy matter to ink the type and run the
roller over it. Unconsciously, she glanced down the
article standing in the next galley, read a sentence
or two, and stopped, smudging the wet proof in
her hand into a ball. She looked about the room
quickly. Every one was feverishly busy, sending
the locked forms down to the presses; Uiey were
already fifteen minutes late. Only one compositor
caught her eye and fiung her a hasty word as he
rushed by with a truck.
"Want something?" he called.
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S9* THE SHADOW RIDERS
"No, thanks, I've got tt," she said hastily. With
trembling fingers she inked the other galley, got a
proof, and left the room slowly, while her feet ached
to run. She hid her proofs in a newspaper, got her
hat, and went on out, to a tea-shop where she some-
times lunched. She felt like a conspirator, or a high-
wayman.
It was not until she was well hidden behind her
newspaper, a pot of tea and some buns, that she read
on and discovered the stolen article was only half
present. Still there was quite enough to give her
the gist of it.
Chan's chickens were coming home to roost very
early. Somehow his letters to Burrage, from Banff,
about Whittemore's hoped-for charter, had fallen into
the hands of the enemy. It meant a double stroke for
them. Oddly enough, Curtin was the man picked
to succeed Geers in his Provincial seat. And here,
in cold black and white, was a case of attempted brib-
ery; one prospective candidate to another prospective
candidate. Even a note from Curtin was among the
lot, so he couldn't plead ignorance of the plan. Bur->
rage's name was carefully elided, but that did not
matter; the story remained fatally intact. Even the
blank transfer was duly noted and made the most and
worst of.
Lesle/s moral sense might Have been outraged
if it had not protested at the very time the deed
was conternplated, and been soothed by its abandon-
ment
She had wiped the slate long since. Now she could
only see Chan defeated and discredited. Not even
a ray of humour penetrated to illuminate her des-
perate feeling of responsibility for his happiness. It
seemed to be her business to save him. It is always
a woman's business to k>ok after the man she loves.
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 295
in her estimatioti. He appears to her as a large and
rather onusually stupid duld that tvOl fall down and
biunp its silly nose unless watched.
She had to save him alone. If it had not meant
delay, she would have sent for him and consulted
with him ; but he had been obliged to go to the ranch
that morning. Even Ross was in Banff. Clearly
she had to hold the bridge herself; and she cast
about wildly in her mind for some last-minute ex-
pedient to avert the disaster. How had they got those
letters? Who had the originals now? Where could
she find out?
Where, but from CresswcU, her perennial source of
news? She flew to the telephone and left ui^ent calls
for him at every hotel in town, even though she was
not sure but that he had already gone to Chicago.
Then she sat down again behind her teapot and waited
an hour.
Not in vain. A waitress summoned her to the
telephone, and lingered casually to listen to the con-
versation.
"Mr. Cresswell, this is me, Johnny, Miss Johns. I
want to see you — right away — this minute — ^I doa't
care ; I simply must see you. Come over — come over
to my house. It's horribly important, I tell you." She
gave him the number.
"Oh, all right, all right I" he yielded good-natur-
edly, the first remark she had allowed him to fin*
ish. It was not far to go; she was ahead of him,
waiting at the door, and took him promptly to the
privacy of her room, r^ardless of what he mi^t
think.
"This where you live?" he asked interestedly.
"Funny to see a girl's room again; they don't give
me that privilege hke they used. Well, what is it?
Going to ask me to fly with you?"
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296 THE SHADOW RIDERS
"Read this," she ordered, heedless of his pleasan-
tries, and handed htm the proof.
He read it "Um-m," he said. "Where did you
get it?"
"I stole it," said Lesley impatiently. "From the
con^sing-room. Where did they get it ? Who was
Ross Whittemore's agent in that business ?"
"They probably got it the way you did," he haz-
arded. "Who was Why, it was Walter Bur-
rage I Now I wonder why he never told me Did
he give them the letters ?"
"That's what I want to know," she said. "I want
you to find out for me quick, before they can pub-
lish it."
He had been gazing thot^tfully at the proof, and
noticed the initials at the top, which indicated the
compositor who set it up. "I see Carman handled
it himself," he said. Carman was the foreman of
the composing-room, a trusted man who had been
in the place for years. "That means they're keep-
ing it quiet ; didn't want it to leak. I guess they want
to use it for a roorbach, and not give time for it to be
refuted or explained away. Why do you want to
know?"
"I want it stof^ed," she said. Her manner might
have been Elizabeth's consigning a refractory cour-
tier to the Tower.
"Oh, you do, do you? Well, you are ambitious, lit-
tle sister. What's the idea? Never knew you had any
interest in Alderman Curtin."
"I want Chan Herrick to be elected," she said, with
hauteur. "The — the Whittemores are my dearest
friends, and — and Find out for me who gave
the Recorder those letters. You can ; you must !"
"I'm all packed up; starting for Chicago in two
hours," he said.
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 297
'Then you can unpack," she retorted "Oh, doo't
you see no one else can manage it for ine?"
"And for the Whittemores," he supplemented.
Tears of exasperation came into her eyes. She stormed
him with entreaties ; she fastened on him all her sup-
ple will, which could twine and cling to its object,
feel its way to any crevice in another's mind for a
vantage, like a stroi^, growii^ ivy.
He pretended to resist merely for the amusement of
being coaxed, and then, as she had known he would,
yielded at last. He bad long had a genuine affection
for Lesley.
"Herrick hasn't got the ghost of a chance, any-
way, you know," he reminded her. "Folsom is so
strong he turned down Frankland's help toKlay.
There was pretty near a free-for-all over it; rather
funny. Did you hear about it ?"
"No; what do you mean? Frankland has been
supporting him."
Frankland was a more than local celebrity, owner
and editor of a small semi-occasional sheet, a news-
paper by courtesy, named the Onlooker. He wrote
all his own copy. He was the wittiest man in Can-
ada, with a bent for stinging satire truly Swiftian,
and that is even rarer than wit. Frankland mi^t
have been famous in either the Old World or the
New if he could have held hts familiar Daemon in
check. But in spite of his private weaknesses he
was a power in politics ; stronger, perhaps, in oppo-
sition than in advocacy. He was Irish-Scotch, and
disliked Americans intensely, which made him an im-
perialist willy-nilly. Lesley knew him slightly, "the
mildest-mannered man that ever cut a throat," or
flayed an enemy with the dagger-edge of ridicule.
She read his paper, when it issued, with pure enjoy-
ment of the man's talent, and a reluctant merriment
ovCiooglc
298 THE SHADOW RIDERS
over the Rabelaisian passages which, like all great
satirists, he seemed unable to reast inserting whether
apropos or not
"Yes, I know he's been supporting Folsom," said
Cresswell; "that's why it made hkn so mad. Well —
Frankland heard yesterday that Folsom's partner had
taken Jim Kane's damage case gainst the Onlooker.
You remember how Frankland panned Kane last year
— about his oil company that never struck oil ? Frank-
land went and looked up Folsom, told him he thought
it was a — pardon me— <lamned unfriendly thing to
do, while the Onlooker was helping elect him. Fo^
som told Frankland superciliously that he could be
elected without his help, and if he couldn't, he'd as
soon lose. Said he hadn't asked for Frankland's sup-
port, and didn't consider it an aid to a public man,
anyway. Wow I Frankland wanted to punch him ;
but we jimiped in and led 'em away. I believe the
real reason Folsom disclaimed him is because of the
church crowd ; you know how strong he is on
Y. M. C. A. speeches and such things — slimy old hypo-
crite. I could tell you some tales about him, if they
were 6t for your young ears. But there it is; if
he can afford to antagonise Frankland, he must have
things in his pocket I think he made a mistake.
I'd as soon get a rattlesnake down on me as Frank-
land. But you should worry; I like young Herrick
myself, but he'll never get in."
"I don't care," said Lesley obstinately. "Even if
he doesn't this time ... I want to know, and I'm
goii^ to stop that article."
"I believe you'll bum down the plant, if every-
thing else fails," said Cresswell, laughing. "For sheer
unscmpulousness, I hand it to a woman."
"Yes, yes ; but do go and find out," said Lesley
anxiously, "just 'phone me who has the letters, and
ovCiooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 299
III tell you if I want you to do anything else. I'll
wait here."
"All right; I'm on my way. Taking orders — from
the cub I taught. . . ." She pushed him out uncere-
moniously. Then she roamed about the house for
hours, like a caged panther, hardly able to sit still
long enoi^h to eat her dinner.
It was ten o'clock before he telephoned and made
his brief report.
"Burrage gave those letters to Jack Addison, at the
time they were written," he said.
"To whomT"
"Addison — Jack Addison. Don't you remember
Jack Addison was running the real-estate end of the
thing? I don't know if he's actually let them out
of his possession yet or not. Want me to ask Bur-
rage to find out ? Hell probably smell a rat ; he doesn't
know the Recorder's planning that story at all."
"No, never mind. That's enough," she said hastily.
"You've been awfully good. Good-bye I" She heard
a faint chuckle come over the wire.
"Oh, all right; I'm a squeezed lemon," he said.
"Good-bye, Johnny! I hope you get what you want;
all you want. I'll back you to do it, if you go after
it. So long I"
She was immediately conscience-stricken for in-
gratitude, but he had hung up and gone, and there
was no time to pursue him with apok^es. She had '
other business on hand.
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CHAPTER XXVII
JACK ADDISON was at home, by some accident ;
Lesley had no trouble finding him by telephone.
She could hear f^nt masculine talk and laugh-
ter in the background of his voice when he answered.
"... Heltol who is it?"
"It's Lesley Johns," she said. There was a silence,
save for the dim voices; the wire hummed in her
ear. "It's me," she repeated.
"Lesley I" he said, in a surprised, inexplicably de-
fensive, puzzled voice. "Where are you? Do you
want me?" She felt the chill of imminent failure
strike through her.
"You made me a promise," she said.
"Yes, I did." Ah, he had not forgotten. "All
right Tell me what to do. I'm glad you called."
There was that much assured ; he was obviously ready
to discharge himself of the old obligation.
"Ill have to see you to tell you. Come — come to
the station. . . ." It was too late to ask him to the
house, and she couldn't think of any place else. The
station was so very public it was private. Any one
might be at the station on their lawful occasions.
They could walk in the railway gardens and talk.
"All right," he said again. "I'll come at once,"
He was there before her, though she hurried. He
was aauntenng up and down, watching for her from
another direction; she had never seen him look so
thoughtful, but he smiled rather quizzically as he
swimg around to greet her. He was very debonur
... she might have loved him . . . might have . . .
300
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 301
They found a seat in the gloom of the evergreen
shrubberies. She felt like a ghost meeting another
ghost she had known in the flesh; so, perh^is,
did he.
"The half of my kingdom," he said at last, after
waitit^ vainly for her to speak.
"I want Chan Herrick's letters," she said abruptly,
with that pretty, breathless lilt to her high voice which
marked suppressed excitement. "His letters about
the street-car franchise. I don't want them published."
He whistled softly, and then said something under
his breath that sounded like, "I'll be damned!" "And
where," he asked, aloud, "did you hear I had 'em?"
"I can't tell you that Will you give them to me ?"
"Are you," he asked, "going to — marry Herrick?"
"No," she said. "I'm going home." And she rose.
"Sit down again," he b^ged. "You win. And I
think you're more than even. Do sit down. You
shall have them." She sank onto the bench again,
growing hot and cold by turns. He began to laugh.
"I suppose I can't, say anything at all, without ttak~
ing you mad 1" he asked.
"Of course. I didn't mean I will tell you how
I first heard; I stole a proof from the composing-
room this afternoon,"
"Then Herrick doesn't know?" he asked. She
Bind up without knowing why.
"No, of course he doesn't. And I want you to
promise you'll never tell — that it was I who got them
from you."
He was overcome at that. "Oesar's ghost I Do
you sui^>ose I would?" he enquired feelb^y. "Do
you think I want to be a joke to every man in Can-
ada? Oh, Lordl" He rocked back and forth, chuc-
kling, until passersby paused and peered at them.
"Women," he said, "are weird; but you — you are
ovCiooglc
303 THE SHADOW RIDERS
wonderfull" She felt niOcy; her dignity mlBed
itself.
"Can I have them now ?" she asked coldly.
"I haven't them with me. Won't to-roorrow do as
wenr
"If you're sure," she said doubtfully. "Can you
stop the story?"
"Sure I can. If they haven't got the letters, and
I teD 'em 111 deny everything — ^it's open and shut
What can they do? They'd never have had sense
enough to photograph the letters. Oh, welt, I don't
mind if it is stopped ; I suppose it was a dir^ trick.
They were coniidentiat letters, even if Whittemore
did leave me to hold the sack." He had not actually
cherished any grudge against Whittemore; nor, in
fact, against Chan.
"Why did you?" she asked, leaving the sentence
even mentally unfinished.
"I wanted to soak Curtin," he explained. Her van-
ity, rebuked, crept away out of sight. Romantically
she had imaged him swearing a vendetta against
Chan for her sake; and she gave herself a passing
flick of scorn for it. "Curtin never did forgive
us for not coming through and buying his worth-
less gas stock. So he tried to get bade at me through
the council ; and he nearly kept the car lines from run-
ning to my property. I meant to hand him a reminder
— in the nedt. You know, I thought it was about that
you wanted to see me. I was going to send yon
word pretty soon myself."
"Word about what?"
"The Crescent Hill lots," he said. "By next spring
111 have most of our money out of it, four times
over . . ."
"Do you mean," she asked, "that I'm to get my
money back?"
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 303
"Why, of course. Did you ever think you
wouldn't?"
"I thought," she stammered, "I thought it was lost
— ^when there weren't to be any cars, I thought it
all went You never said anything . . ."
"I'm sorry you thought so badly of me. I wouldn't
let you lose money, at least." He seemed deter-
minedly amused. "How soon do you want it?"
"Oh— when you get it— any time," she murmured.
"I dcm't care."
"It depends on you. If you want me to pick out
a couple of good lots for you and hold on to 'em till
most of the rest are sold, it will pile up to ten times
what you put in. If you're in a hurry, I can double
it pretty quick, and close you out. It's a question of,
say, two months or eighteen. I was going to write
you about it soon."
"Oh, keep it as long — as kwig as you think best,"
she stammered. "Two years — any time. I — I didn't
think badly of you; I was sure it wasn't your fauH;
I thought you lost money, too, and — and— — "
"And what?" Well, she had thought if she pressed
him he m^ht make it up out of his own pocket, but
she would not tell him that.
"Oh, nothing; I'm getting all wound up. I must
go. Will you — to-morrow — can I have "
"That'll be all right," he assured her. "To-monow
morning."
"Will you bring them to me?" she asked anxiously.
"I'll send them," he assured her.
"No, please bring them," she insisted. "At — at ten
o'clock I'll be at Legard's candy shop." She was
afraid to let them pass into any intermediary hands.
"Very well," he said, with a touch of resignation.
"At ten."
She wanted to thank him, but the embarrassment
I
ovGooglc
304 THE SHADOW RIDERS
which had been growing on her all throu^ the inter-
view tied her tongue. "I must go now," she said,
and again he hesitated before saying he would cer-
tainly see her home.
"You needn't bother," she said.
"But I must; really, I can't let you run about alone
at this hour." He walked beside her, singularly
silent, for he was usually fluent if nothing else ; and
he made no attempt to detain her at the gate.
"Guess III go back and see if those Indians have
left any of my furniture intact," he said in farewell.
"Did I take you away from your guests?"
"Oh, just some of the bunch; they'll never miss
me as long as the supplies hold out Good-night t"
And again, in her room, she suffered that inex-
plicable sense of loss. She was strangely weary,
also, instead of being triumphant; she felt heavy
with the melancholy of a fact accomplished. It is
the dr^s of success, that ennui which ctHnes in
the moment of cessation of effort. " 'Vanity, all is
vanity, saith the preacher,' " she quoted oracularly to
Hilda through the veil of her loosened hair.
"What's the matter now, Lady Macbeth?" asked
Hilda placidly. "Is it your hair you're vain of?"
"My poor hair," said Lesley, laughing and holding
it out to its brief length. It had never been long,
thou^ it was lustrous and soft, of that burnt black
which is sometimes brown. "So mean of you to
sneer at it. I guess I'd better buy a switch, so when
the Prince comes to my window and says, 'Rapunzel,
Rapunzel, let down your hair,' I can hang on to one
end of the switch and let him climb up. Wouldn't
that be romantic ?"
"Any enterprising Prince would bring a hook and
ladder," said Hilda prosaically. "What nice shoul-
ders you've got, Lesley."
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 305
"Umpbl" said Lesley, feeling the nselessness of
shoulders which could not be seen as against hair
which could not be concealed. Just her luck! She
went to bed crossly, and accused Hilda of taking
all the bedclothes. Later she said she was suffo-
cating with heat; and finally went to sleep murmuring
that her pillow was hard.
Before ten o'clock next morning she was in a fever
of anxiety lest Jack Addison should go back on his
word, and when he arrived at the rendezvous five
minutes late she was furious. He seemed not to have
stopped smiling; at least, it was the very same smile
he gave her in greeting as he droiq)ed into the lit-
tle iron chair across the round glass-topped table.
"Here's your pound of flesh," he said softly, spin-
ning a thin packet across to her as if he were deal-
ing cards. She slipped it down into her lap, and
wished she could bolt. A waitress came up and stood
on one foot tentatively, waiting for an order and
yawning.
"What would you like?" asked Addison.
"I don't want anything," said Lesley.
"We've got to pay rent for the table. An ice-
cream soda?" She nodded, and when the mess was
brought, regarded it with fearful loathing while Ad-
dison consumed his. His healthy and undiscrimi-
nating appetite was doubtless typical of him. She
got away at last, somehow, certainly without any
further effort on his part to detain her, and with the
letters crammed into an inner packet of her coat,
where they bulged portentously. Addison she parted
with at the door, and could feel his eyes on her
retreating form. He had an unfair advantage, for
she greatly desired a backward, unseen scrutiny of
him, thoi^h she did not venture it. It seemed as if
she might have surprised in his unguarded face the
ovCioogIc
3o6 THE SHADOW RIDERS
secret of his diange toward ber, and the reason
for her sense of loss. Experience wonid have told
her the two elements she missed; the approval of
affection, however hot and misdirected; and still
more strongly, the sense of power, most intoxicating
of emotions. Very bitterly she envied him for his
escape. She was still thrall; the letters in her pocket
burnt her for a sign. No hopelessness could cure
her silly infatuation for Chan — so, in her moment
of unavailing revolt, she styled it
She hurried home, meaning to bum the letters.
Only the lack of a fire made her reconsider ; and then
the idea struck her as unwise. Perhaps she had not
got them alL She t>c^;an to read them over, and
realised that would not help; she could not possibly
tell if they were all present How, then ? Inspired
to a solution, she seized her suitcase, hurled some
necessities into it, and rushed downtown again, where
she caught the early through train for Banff by vir-
tue of her long legs and a final, undignified burst of
speed. She would give the letters to Eileen to give
to Ross, with strict injunctions of secrecy as to Uieir
immediate source.
The motion of the train calmed her. She loved the
sensation of travelling, and the country, pr»rie gradu-
ally merging into foothills, is lovely in a meagre, aus-
tere way during summer and autumn. The train
puffed along importantly; cross-continent travellers
began to rouse from their torpor at the present
prospect of Banff and a stop-over for stretching. Sev-
eral agreeable-looking men made occasion to pass Les-
ley slowly and give her tentatively friendly looks.
Ordinarily she would have seized and devoured one
for refreshment — the long distances of travel in the
West make for informal sociability As on shipboard
— but she was still smarting and bafHed over Jack
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RffiERS 307
Addison, and kept her eyes out of the window. Why
had he changed so ? Why couldn't she change ? Cress-
well had said he would back her to get what she
wanted, but . . .
High River. . . . Five minutes' stop, two or three
travellers coming aboard. The last one, popping out
from the ticket office in a mif^hty hurry, was rush-
ing past her vantage window before she recognised
him.
"Chant" she shrieked involuntarily. He nearly
missed the train by looking around to see who had
called, but just in time he discovered her, grinned,
and swung up on the steps of her coadi as it moved by
him.
"What lade I" he remarked, stopping by her section.
"May I sit down ? Thanks. Going up to see Eileen ?
Why didn't you send me word?"
"I didn't know I was coming. Why didn't you?"
"For the same excellent reason. I oughtn't to, at
that, with clcctioo only two weeks off — but 111 give
'em absent treatment! I fancy it won't make much
differoice. Are you going to meet the Grand Cham,
too?"
"To meet whom?"
"Our Chief. He's on his way back, you know,
from stumping British Columbia; at least, he spoke
in Vancouver and Victoria. Must be feeling defeat
ahead, I'm afraid, and making his last stand. He
b to stay with Ross overnight, at least; and Ross
wired me to hurry if I wanted to meet him, infor-
mally "
"Do you mean the Premier?" asked Lesley incredu-
lously. "Good heavens, why didn't I stay at home?"
"Why should you ? Start gathering reminiscences,
to write when you are eighty. . . ." He rattled on,
apparently in tiie best of spirits, for another hour.
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3o6 THE SHADOW RIDERS
but at last tliey fell into the silence whidi always
overtakes travellers nearing a stop, and she saw that
he looked thorotighly fatigued and perplexed. That
moved her. What could be troubling him? She
kept a fast hold on the letters in her pocket, wonder-
ing with some subdued mirth what he would say if
she should drop them into his hand. But she had
no real temptation to do it ; indeed, she had become
dangerously inured to keepii^ things from Chan;
it was small wonder if he had always felt her to be,
in the last analysis, unapproachable, and had stayed
courteously on the further side of the line she drew.
"You don't think," she asked suddenly, out of their
revery, "that you'll win?"
"Scarcely, short of a miracle," he said. "You
know I never expected to. Good thing, probably;
I'm afraid I'd be a pitiful object in the House. Not
but what I'd like to^I'd try I suppose you're no-
ticing my gloom; I'm just tired of tilting at wind-
mills. It makes one doubt democracy."
She revived to her old spirit "I know," she said,
with mischievous sympathy; "there are times when
one knows so much better than any one else." He
laughed unreservedly.
"Oh, yes, I didn't mean it precisely. Only I feet
as if I'd been beating a bladder, or a pan of doi^,
or a sofa pillow, for weeks and weeks. Sentimentality
is the vice of the age. By Jovel to hear the Con-
servatives talk you'd not only think they had a patent
on patriotism, but that every man, woman and child
in the British Isles was our individual grandmother,
and we ought to revere the old lady. Funny, you
know, I used to rather like the idea of a living unity
like the Empire, the thing that grew — before we
really called it an Empire and began to spout . . .
Now I feel the same as I do when a man prates about
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 309
how he loves his wife, or about his own honesty, or
a woman who . . . They're hawking it about, ask-
ing for bids on this priceless patriotism of theirs.
Makes me sick. Of course it got into English poll'
tics first. Chamberlain was a clever man to realise
how b^; a thing could be used for a personal end.
Must have got his idea from religion. . . . And how
the sheep have followed him. Can't we think for
ourselves? 'The British bom* — my eye I They keep
the Hindoos out of British Columbia just the same;
and you don't find these carpet-baggers like Hawke
objecting, as long as they get in themselves. That's
whom they mean by the British bom ; just themselves.
But they're playing with fire. Make this a. political
issue once, and it will crop up again. The end of
kii^ly prerogative in En^nd began when a Royal
party appeared. . . . Oh, well, you'd better throw
the switch, Lesley. I'm falling for this idet Hxe
just like everybody else; and we're there — I mean,
we're here. Give me that suitcase."
It was too late to back out, though Lesley got
stage-fright again as they approached the log cottage
which sat back among the pines a quarter mile from
the station. Eileen nor Ross did not come to meet
them because they did not expect Lesley and thty
did not think it necessary to desert their distinguished
guest for Chan. Chan and Lesley gave their hand
baggage to a porter, and walked. Many summer cot-
tagers, and week-end visitors, were abroad on the for-
est paths. Chan was greeted a number of times,
and one young man, silently insistent on an intro-
duction to Lesley, turned and walked with them.
Warmed by the admiring curiosity of his gaze, Les-
ley, who had passed him on the city streets a thou-
sand times but not met him before for lack of oppor-
ttmi^, felt wistful and cheated. She might have
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3IO THE SHADOW RIDERS
found some anuolation, might not be cHi^iiig so for-
lornly to a frnitless dream, if Fate had been a little
kinder and set her in the gates. In spite of ber oc-
casional shyness, she had the ^fts of friendliness
and tact, and could win liking instantly. The yom^
man, whose name was Charles Dixon, otherwise
"Tod," had ingenuous blue, wide-open eyes, hair the
colour of wheat straw in August, and the frame of
a young Hercules, which draped even his serviceable
tweeds to the powerful grace of line Millet caught
in his labouring peasants. He was very popular, and
had the qualities of that defect.
"How's business ?" he asked Chan. "I hear you're
the hope of the party. Went to hear yon speak the
other night — good stuff. Little bit fed up on the
'British bom,' aren't you ? So'm I. It's a quick change
from our 'no Ei^lish need apply' advertisements."
"Oh, well, I don't want to bring prejudice in,"
said Chan dubiously. "It's so irrelevant, and ex-
traneous; that's what gravels me."
" 'The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la,' "
hummed Tod. "Quite so ; and if they gravel me much
more. 111 By Jiminy, give me six hundred men —
men like myself, eh? — and I'll put Canada on her
own feet. We're getting a little too much advice
about how to be Canadians. 'And Ireland shall be
free, said the Shan van Voght.' Do you know,"
he turned a quizzical eye on the other two, "it could
be done."
"TTiat's what Aaron Burr thought," said Lesley.
"It's what George Washington thou^t," said Tod
cheerfully, "the irreverent old rebel — what? But I
won't argue with you. Miss Johns ; I've heard about
you ; too clever for me. When I get my six hundred,
'men that can shoot and ride,' I'll convince you. I'm
beginning to convince myself. So long; no, I can't
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THE SHADOW RmERS 311
■top, going to the Murdochs' for tea. Staying over?
See you ^ain — if I may."
"I wonder," Chan muttered to himself as they
mounted the porch steps, "if there is any significance
in the fact that he could think that, even as a big
joke? Fifty years more Hello, Eileen 1 you look
like a dryad. Hello, Ross! "
There was another occupant of the dim, redwood-
panelled living-room ; a tall, elegant, white-crested fig-
ure, before whom Chan watted respectfully for a
greeting. Lesley wondered if she ought to bow or
shake hands. Perhaps the Premier of her country
required a courtesy. She shook hands, because the
distinguished guest offered his hand. He had a warm,
strong, magnetic clasp, brilliant black eyes under
drooping, wrinkled lids like "Dizzy's," and the large,
firm mouth of the orator. In five minutes Lesley had
quite forgotten to be shy.
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CHAPTER XXVIII
THEY dined very informally, and to save Lesley
from feeling shabby Eileen wore a simple aft-
ernoon gown, but after dinner the two women
withdrew in English fashion. Eileen had caught Les-
ley's unspoken request for a word alone. They
strolled out on the verandah, where they could still
hear faint snatches of deep-toned talk from within.
Lesley fell gratefully into a hammock; Eileen dis-
posed herself in a grass chair under a Chinese Ian-
tern, with her unfailing instinct for effect. Her cop-
pery hair glowed in the light of the green and amber
globe above it, as one would have sworn she "taught
the candle to bum bright," and that the Chinese lan-
tern was but a reflection. Lesley was so aestheticaUy
gratified she fot^ot the letters until Eileen spoke.
"Have you some more pleasant news?" she asked.
Lesley actually shivered at her tone.
"No, not like that. ... I have something I want
you to give to Ross, if you'll promise not to say
who gave it to you."
"Tell me first," said Eileen doubtfully. "Then if
I don't want to promise, 3rou can give it to him some
other way. I can't imagine . . ."
"It's something you've probably never heard of,"
agreed Lesley, and recited her carefully prepared
tale. It had to be carefully prepared, to get smoothly
past the reason for Jack Addison giving her the ,
letters. Even for Eileen, Lesley didn't care to dig
up that particular bit of ancient history. But Eileen
did not seem to notice any inconsistent^ ; and ap-
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 313
peared willing to accept the fortuitous appearance
of Jack in the story as the disinterested act of a
noble friend.
"The letters are in my coat pocket," Lesley fin-
ished ; "and what I really want is that Chan shouldn't
ever know. I'd feel so silly and meddlesome, and he
might Oh, you can see how stupid it would be,
can't you ?"
"I shall have to tell Ross," said Eileen. "But be
needn't tell Chan. Won't that do? How clever you
are, Lesley — ^you never offend people; you can be
all things to all men, I believe. Oh, you certainly
would have been a marvellous intrigante, in other
circumstances. Madame de Maintenon, say?"
"Not religious enough ; besides, I should have hated
the kii^. I want freedom, not power."
"The two are really the same, unless you have the
temperament of a Thoreau, and can do without the
world," said Eileen, biting her petulant red lip. Ah!
she had meant to forget, but she never forgot, not
for a moment. . . . "Come into my room, and you
can give me the letters; Ross will be coming out
in a minute if we don't." They went in by a side
door; Lesley rid herself of her hard-won trophy,
and watched Eileen drop the packet into a big jewel-
box and lock it with a little gold key. The lavish-
ness of her personal appointments always filled Les-
ley with astonishment too great for envy — those gold-
stoppered bottles of crystal, the gold-backed mirror,
the perfumes and' bijouterie and vellum-bound
bibelots; the closets overflowing with lacy and rib-
bony thinffs. . . . Barring the last, they were almost
all Ross's immediate gifts.
"There, that's settled," said Eileen. "I'll get Ross
alone, to-morrow. . . ." Lesley gave her a quick look.
"You'll have to sleep with me,'* Eileen went on, "and
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314 THE SHADOW RIDERS
Chan will have to take a cot ; or we won't have room
for Sir Lucien. Do you mind ?"
"Oh, not if you don't 1 I've got to go back in
the morning, you know."
"Oh, nonsense 1" said Eileen, and peeped into the
living-room. The men had come from the table, and
Ross was looking out of the window for Eileen. The
distinguished guest was talking to Chan; his suave,
musical voice had some power of carrying conviction
even to one who could not make out the words.
", . . Excellent discipline, to lose your iirst am-
test," he was saying. "You fly high, anyway; I
served twelve years in the provincial assembly be-
fore I got a look at the Dominion House at all."
"Oh, well, it wasn't my fault," protested Chan
wicomfortably. "I know I'm riding on Ross's shoul-
ders; and then, as you say, I'm bound to lose."
"No, I didn't say that," said Sir Lucien kindly.
"All my hopes are the other way; though of course
Folsom is a remarkably good talker."
"Not even a good speaker?" interjected Ross. "You
do praise him with faint damns. I call him a blather-
skite; vulgar but excellent word."
"Very excellent," agreed Sir Lucien gravely. "But
it's often an able type,"
"Yes, able in its own behalf, if not creative — take
Winston Churchill as the apotheosis of it"
"Words are a power, you must remember," s^
Sir Lucien. "Even words without actual ideas, if
they convey an image, or have a ringing sound. I
may speak from experience. There is nothing an
luiconsidered word may not do. What else lost Blaine
the presidency?"
"Yes," said Chan. "Six hundred men "
"Pardon me," said Sir Lucien doubtfully.
"That was a phrase I heard this afterrioon," Chan
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 315
explained. He repeated, with a smile, Tod Dixon's
aimless remarks. Sir Lucien Ibtened, with his hand
concealing his expressive mouth.
"It made an impression on me," said Chan hesi-
tantly, at last "I don't know why ; certainly he was
only joking."
Ross looked at Sir Lucien. "Does it, then, survive,
like a lost river, underground?" he asked cryptically.
"I fancy the spring is dry," said Sir Lucien.
"Did you think so at the first Imperial Conference?"
Ross persisted. Now Sir Lucien smiled.
"Everything I thought there is on the records,"
he said.
"But, you know, it isn't impossible?" said Chan
tentatively.
"Nothing is impossible," said Sir Lucien, "only to
the old, who will not live to see the new. And
I am old. 'The young men see visions,' you remem-
ber; the old men only dream dreams.*'
"It was not a young man who blocked Imperial
Federation," Ross thrust again.
"I only asked for a workable proposition," said
Sir Lucien quietly. "I cannot see one yet — for Im-
perial Federation, I mean. And if it were tried
and did not work, it m^ht bring great difficulties and
evils, whereas now everything goes very smoothly.
Draw a bond too tight and it breads. It was the
others there who dreamed dreams." But he gave
an impression of impenetrable reserves.
"I should say they did," remarked Ross. "To fancy
they could get from the aristocratic classes of Eng-
land what the people of England themselves have
never won I I mean the control of England's fore^
policy. That was very young and sanguine ... or
else it meant a hope that we and Australia might
create an aristocratic class to share without dimin-
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3i6 THE SHADOW RIDERS
ishii^ that privil^e. But aristocrats are jealous;
they need to be. They won't share."
"They will," said Sir Luden, "if it is ^lare or
die."
"We've got 3 couple of peers now," said Chan.
"Just a white chip."
"No one," said Ross, "has ever noted the impor-
tant fact that our peers are both childless. Nothii^
given there that time won't take back. For the rest
Canada has not even attained to a baronetcy. It's
like Sydney Smith's way of coaxing a donkey with a
carrot tied to its headstall." They dissipated gravity
with a general laugh, and Eileen and Lesley, who
had been listening with considerable interest, came
in. Tht talk fell on music, books, and people. Eileen
played and sang; Sir Lucien relaxed and took his ease.
His stopover wag practically incognito; and Ross
had told the few who knew of it that he had been
advised by his physicians to refuse visitors, so no
one came to call. Sir Lucien's entourage had tact-
fully stopped off at Lake Xxniise, where Sir Lucien
himself was supposed to be in temporary retirement.
Lesley felt as if she were lapped in a pleasant
dream. This was life at its best; or at least at its
softest. The flower, perhaps, if not the root nor
the fruit. It was the couch of rose leaves. With
the weariness of the day's work on her, she could
not even imagine use so blunting her enjoyment that
she might detect the crumpled petal and complain.
She wanted most intensely to stay here, where she was
BO comfortable ; she realised subconsciously that there
Is actually no spiritual pain that may not be drugged
by material opiates, and was almost ready to take ^is
quintessence of comfort, bodily and mental, as a suffi-
cient goal. And then the curious back action of the
small, strong Puritan fibre in her made her recall and
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 317
cling to her decision to go bade in the morning. She
still wanted to stay, but . . . She had not won even
to this goal; why cheat herself even for an hour?
She went. Eileen managed to slip off to go to the
station with her, and Lesley made her reiterate her
promise not to let Chan know the part she, Lesley,
was playing as Deus ex Machina.
"Of course I won't tell him," said Eileen. " '83^6,
dear. Oh, here's Chan after all! He'll put you on
the train ; I hate the crowd." And Eileen went back
to find Ross and execute her commission.
Her manner was very cold when she asked him
quietly for a word by Oiemselves. But she was al-
ways cold and constrained now when they were alone
tf^ether, which was seldom. Pride and shame had
cankered in her, Ross thought she hated him be-
cause necessity had driven her to yield to him even
once. He wondered why he did not hate her for the
brand she had put on him ; evidently she had judged
him as one with Simon Mage, who would buy the
gift of the Holy Ghost. A man may have a deep
and obstinate pride in preserving the decencies of
passion, whether spiritual or fleshly. 'Is thy servant
a dog," his heart demanded silently of her, "that he
should do this thing?" Nevertheless, or because of
what was between them, there was nothing she could
have asked him that he could have withheld. And
she did not hate him; his basic premise was wrong.
They did not hate each other at all ; they only felt
each other's presence so keenly, they both remem-
bered so blindingly, that every nerve vibrated beyond
that pitch where pleasure turns to pain.
He came, at her request, to her small cedar-scented
chamber. As he entered, she lifted her head, with
a peculiar shru^ng motion of her shoulders, and
her eyelids lowered and her mouth wried; an expres-
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3i8 THE SHADOW RIDERS
sitm he often noted passing over her like a flash when
she thought herself unobserved. It made him think
of a child tasting something bitter. He knew well
enough it was some ambush of memory brought that
shudder to her — and he wondered each time: which
memory?
She laid the packet of letters in his hand. "I got
these," she explained promptly, "from Lesley. She
wants you to see if they're all there ; if there's some-
thing more to look out for. And you mustn't tell
Oian where you got them ; you mustn't tell him any-
thing; but you may do anything else you like with
the letters. I promised Lesley he shouldn't be told."
Ross looked the letters over with bewildered com-
prehension, and had to be told ^ain how they came
into Eileen's possession.
"You know what they're about?" he asked.
"I didn't read them, but Lesley told me. I think
I understand. Are they all there?" He noted them
carefully.
"Yes," he said. "You say Lesley got these from
Cresswel!, or Addison? It doesn't matter; I under-
stand — the Recorder had them. Lesley has the mak-
ings of a remarkable woman. Why doesn't she vrant
me to tell Chan ?"
Eileen smiled enigmatically. "Because," she said,
"Chan is a great fool." She turned away and picked
up her hand-mirror, yawning delicately into it
"Ohl Yes. Yes, he certainly is," agreed Ross
slowly.
"Men," said Eileen, "are all fools." She had her
back to him fairly by now; he could not see that
she was watching him in the little gold-backed toy
she held. He merely looked resigned and tired.
"Credo," he said. "But we don't always mean
badly, Eily." She did not turn. "Thank you, and
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 319
Lesley," he said, and went out. He could not leave
Sir Lucien alone much longer without rudeness.
Anyway, Chan remained in blissful ignorance.
From force of habit, even though her weapon had
been wrested from her, Lesley followed the fortunes
of the fight as closely as before. She still went to
all the meetings she could compass, and orated fiercely
to Chan and Hilda on the perverse course of af-
fairs. That meant a lot of meetii^, now the cam-
paign was reaching its climax.
The truly climacteric meeting was a joint debate,
between Geers and Folsom, two weeks later. Chan
was also billed to speak, in his first humble status.
The Whittemores went, and Lesley was with them
instead of at the press table again, and sat in a box.
Chan spoke well. The audience, not yet suffocated
with close air and smoke, was noisily appreciative.
Chan was no longer embarrassed, his voice had im-
proved, he even looked much older and more re-
sponsible, and his earnestness was indubitable. Les-
ley felt that his brief exposition was nothing short
of masterly. Any one who wouldn't be convinced by
such a speech was — well, a little lacking. But as
a matter of fact it was really too close reasoned for
the crowd. In spite of his random training, Chan
had retained an executive, correlative mind, a pas-
sion for demonstrable facts, and an impatience of
the emotional appeal in practical matters. Without
charm, he would have been lost; but he did have
charm of a kind, the straightforward, man-to-man
kind. The most critical member of his audience, Ross
Whittemore, was the most satisfied at the close. At
last he was sure that Chan was a three-dimensioned
person, a man, not a weathercock. He had the es-
sential solidity which discounts luck in a public career;
and Whittemore knew already that he would rather
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320 THE SHADOW RIDERS
work than talk. The prospect of talking did not
elate him, even if he did obviously enjoy the quick-
ened mental processes developed in the actual mo-
ment of it. In Jifteen minutes he managed to cover
the whole groimd — the growing chauvinism of Can-
ada, the alarming class solidarity and power of the
country's Bnancial men, the absurdity of that mare's
nest of annexation — annexation, by a nation whose
foreign policy is dictated by the man in the street, who
hardly knows whether Canada is a town or a cock-
tail, and whose interest -^n territorial acquisitions is
absolutely nil and in taxes paramount — and the real,
clear, candid issue, entirely domestic, of a lowering
of the tariff. If they didn't want the tariff lowered,
well and good ; they might go on paying for their
fancy ; if they did, why turn the country into a vast
nursery wailing over a bogey? Very lucid and terse
^-and his hearers liked young Herrick — good-looking,
wasn't he ? the few women whispered — the men said
he didn't put on any side and was certainly a comer
in business and a great little mixer, regularly one
of the boys, but not a booze-fighter, oh, no! — and
his uncle was rotten with money — married the Conway
girl, that red-headed woman there in the box; damn
funny, wasn't it? — did you ever hear
So they clapped very heartily, and gave him a few
hurrahs for good measure, even if he had not just . . .
The fact was they actually missed the fustian and
bombast. They ivanted emotional appeal, steam to get
the load of facts under way.
They were to be satisfied soon. Folsom was next,
and he gave them steam enough, so much they never
noticed he was running in ballast. He had a power-
ful, ringing voice, of a good tone, so that his im-
mensely nervous delivery never sounded staccato ; he
could pile up metaphors as clouds tower on a June
ovGooglc
THE SHATkOW RIDERS 321
day, to darken and dischai^ in a Jovian explosion
of question or statement; there was something irre-
sistible about the way he recited statistics, which he
handled in a manner to recall Modjeska's famous
feat of bringing tears to her auditors' eyes fay de-
claiming the Polish alphabet. And his patriotisn^-
it burned, oh, indeed, it went up in fireworks that
left trails of glory down the lowering skyl One
could see him repelling an imaginary enemy at the
point of a lance — well, no, hardly that, but one could
see a band of gallant youths doing the repellit^, while
Folsom waited with decorations and wreaths well in
the rear.
That was what the audience wanted. They yelled
and stamped and cheered; they glowed and breathed
heavily. It was Folsom they wanted; a man to do
them credit at Ottawa. He had the experience, too.
Like Geers, whose partisans still WMted patiently for
him.
In the meanwhile, Folsom took a final drink of wa-
ter, mopped his tall, glistening brow once more, and
was about to seat himself when some one unob-
trusively slid on to the platform from the wings and
gave him something — a folded paper.
"But what did he really say, after all?" demanded
Lesley, loftily critical. "Told us his grandmother was
a U. E. Loyalist — well, so was mine — my great-
grandmother, I mean "
"If you're going to bring out those versatile pn^^em-
tors of yours, I refuse to enter into a discussion," said
Eileen wamingly.
"Well, she was, just the same," Lesley repeated.
"Doesn't he laiow Queen Anne's dead ? And he told
us the price of oats here and in Chicago. I could
tell him the price of shoes Mr. Whittemore, what
is that he's reading?"
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3aa THE SHADOW RIDERS
"Who's reading? I be; yoar pardon," said Ross,
who had been secretly watching his wife. It had
grown into a habit, an obsession; he couldn't keep
his eyes off her, and she would never, never look
at him. Only when he wasn't looking . . .
"Mr. Folsom," explained Lesley, in a tense whis-
per, leaning forward over the velvet raiting. "He's
got some bad news; something's gone wrong. . . .
Ifs a newspaper. Look at his face I No, he's put
the paper away, but his face . . ."
"I fancy he's done up; been campaigning pretty
strenuously for the last month," said Whittemore.
"He appears to be wearing his usual face."
"Oh," said Lesley, wriggling with impatience, "can't
you seet I tell you there was something — some-
thing It was in a newspaper; I'm going right
out and get me a newspaper and hnd out. That
man's just jvA inside; he wants to kill some one;
I can jeei it" She was getting to her feet, simulta-
neously with Geers on the platform, Folsom was
sitting quietly enough. Whittemore was too polite
to show his real astonishment; he only touched Les-
ley gently on the arm.
"Please do sit down," he murmured. "I will go.
Certainly I will; it's a good excuse for a smoke,"
He disappeared down the aisle. Eileen whispered:
"Now do be quiet, dear, or they'll throw us out. Chan's
wondering if you are having a fit." Lesley sank back,
exchanging a smile with Chan. But she had not heard
a word of Geers' peroration when Whittemore came
very quietly into the box again, ten minutes later.
She lifted her expressive, narrow eyebrows at him,
and he nodded gravely.
"You were right," he said, sotto voce.
"How?" asked Eileen behind her fan.
"Folsom's done for," said Whittemore.
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 323
"Let me see," hissed Lesley, and reached arouod
to draw sl folded newspaper from Ross's pocket. He
made to stop her, and then desisted with some brief
movement of his head that conveyed what a shrug
mi^t have.
"It isn't reading for young bdies," he said — he had
taken his seat in the very I»ck of the box, and they
were all tensely quiet; no one noticed their repressed
excitement unless Chan, who looked across the dead
footlights like an intelligent pointer scenting game,
very evidently bored by his isolated grandeur. — "But
you'll undoubtedly read it, anyway," Whittemore con-
tinued. Of course she would ; she had it half stdmmed
over already.
Most indubitably, Folsom was done fori The
paper was the Onlooker; and without headlines or
blackface type the front page yet screamed that fact
Scandal — the kind of scandal a public man cannot
survive — a baldly ugly story about a woman. ... No
mere hints nor innuendoes, all of a most stark and
damnatory explicitness. . . .
To recount it were merely sordid. Frankland had
revenged the affront Folsom had put on him. As
Cresswell had thought, Folsom had made a terrible
mistake.
Lesley got to the end, and Eileen took the paper
from her casually. Again Whittemore seemed about
to recapture it, but again he let it go.
"Win it lose him the election?" whispered Lesley.
"Bound to," Whittemore nodded. "Poor devil."
Eileen dropped the paper on the floor of the box.
She kwked bored and cold.
"Then — then," Lesley whispered again, "Chan will
get in?"
Whittemore nodded again.
"Chan will get in?" murmured EUeetL "Fancy —
ovGooglc
324 THE SHADOW RIDERS
I didn't think of tbatt" She did not say what she
had been thinking of. "Isn't it libel?" she asked.
"Certainly, but Folsom won't dare prosecute.
There's his wife — and the other woman's husband.
His course will be to say nothing, ignore it But
it's all over for him." The story was skilfully writ-
ten with a confessedly false name given to the woman
involved, while no other detail, place nor date, was
omitted. And Frankland had been careful to state
that the missing name, too, would be given on demand
from Folsom.
"I'd like to get out," Lesley whispered feverishly,
"but I suppose we must stay to the end. Oh,
well I . . ." They all sat silent through the inter-
minable remainder of the evening. Eileen pushed
the paper to the edge of the box with her foot Les-
ley sat with clenched hands. Whittemore looked grim
and sad.
It was over at last. They hurried out, and found
Chan ahead of them. He met them at the door,
cramming another copy of the Onlooker into his pocket
hastily. It struck Lesley as strange that he should
look so horribly depressed, almost angry. Ross could
understand that, and put his hand on Chan's shoul-
der sympathetically.
"I liked your speech, Chan," said Eileen, speaking
6rst Truly she had the social instinct "It was ex-
cellent; and you know how easily bored I am. I
suppose you've heard — the news?"
"Seen it," said Chan curtly. "Excuse me, Eileen,
I feel upset. . . ."
"Why, it means everythii^ to you," said Lesl<y
wonderingly.
"That's just it," said Chaa and excused himself
in order to excuse himself again to some members
of his committee who wanted to seize and perhaps
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 325
congratulate him. Then he came back and cUmbed
hastily into the automobile, emitting a sigh of relief
as the car started. "It's a rotten way to win," he
burst out.
"One sometimes has to accept a game by default,"
said Ross.
"There doesn't seem to be any other way in poli-
tics," growled Chan. "This whole election's going
by default, by a Suke. Just raving prejudice. . . .
Do they think they're voting on Folsom's private life,
the American accent, or tariff reduction?"
"The tale is as old as Troy," said Ross. "No use
bucking a basic fact in human nature. Human na-
ture's your raw material now ; learn to use it You've
got work ahead of you."
"Yes," he said, brightening. "The talking is over
for a while. Of course I can't expect to do any real
work at first, but there must be some chance for a
plain pick-and-shovel man." He always set his teeth
with a kind of dogged enjoyment at the prospect of
some tangible thing to do ; and but for the means he
would certainly have been glowing over his pros-
pective victory. As it was, losing would not have
been half so hard as this fortuitous winning; and
then, he felt for Folsom a touch of "There, but for
the grace of God, go I." Perhaps it is that secret
sense of guilt in common makes for the solidarity
of men as a sex ; they are all outlaws together. Only
women have ever been classifiable into the sheep and
the goats. Give them the saving sense of being sin-
ners in common and they, too, will be comradely.
"Really," said Ross, "hate is the fulcrum Archime-
des was looking for. You can always swing the world
on that. Hate and hunger have made nations out of
tribes, and tamed the desert."
'Tm sorry for Folsom, anyway," said Chan, who
ovCiooglc
326 THE SHADOW RIDERS
could not philosophise just then. He sank into gloom
ag^.
"I'm not; it serves him right," said Lesley, subtly
irritated by Chan's behaviour.
"You women always turn down your thumbs," said
Chan. Lesley yearned to slap him.
Only Whittemore recognised that it wasn't because
she was a woman, nor even through innate cruelty;
but because she at least had no dark places to fear
the light She was an innocent little Pharisee, but
no hypocrite. But he did not say so.
"Oh, go on ; sit on your haunches and howl if you
want to," said Lesley, in a burst of honest rage that
touched oti an explosion of laughter among them and
cleared the air. Was it strange if she wanted to
rejoice ?
Whittemore appreciated that ; he said to her aside,
as he got out of the car : "It would have been a stand-
off, anyway, if you hadn't rescued those letters. They
would have been a backfire against Folsom's blazing
scandal. After all, you've elected him." He did not
give her time to deny it; he and Eileen went into
the cottage and left Chan to take Lesley home,
"Aren't you glad at all, Chan?" she asked mourn-
fully.
He turned to her, his face flashing into the old boy^
ish smile she had hardly seen for a year or more,
for her lugubrious tone, taken from his own, had
touched and tickled the natural man.
"You bet I am," he said. "I really am sorry for
Folsom, but just on my own account I'd like to give
a few war whoops. I'm sorry I was a crab before
you and Eileen — and after the way you've worked,
too.. Please excuse me. By George, Lesley! I wish
you were going to be in Ottawa. I've got to like it
here; 111 lute to leave. But — ^hurrah for success!"
ovGooglc
THE SHAEIOW RIDERS 327
She had helped get him what he wanted I And her
reward ? Oh, he was sorry to leave — the town, CUsie
Martin, perhaps even herself. He "wished" she
would be in Ottawa. . . .
Welt, in the name of wonder, what else had she
worked for? She had done her best to send him
away, and now was ready to whimper at his going.
Amazing — she had never really thoug^ht of that end
to her labours and scheming 1 Now she would lose
him altc^ether. . . .
Why not, she asked herself heavily, as she went to
her room ? Face to face with her position, could she
see any other sensible thing to do? Send him away
— put hun out of her life. Build her life around its
own centre, not around him. Oh, yes, it must be
for the best . . .
She had got it by heart by the time election was
over; and still she repeated it valiantly.
They had been justified in speaking with such cer-
tainty of Chan's return. Folsom went back to pri-
vate life a discredited man ; Reciprocity was a great
deal deader than Queen Anne, since it had never
been alive ; and gallant old Sir Lucien, turned out of
his keep with a few faithful men-at-anns, was a free
lance once more.
And after these considerable happenings, one girl
sat, staring out of her window at the snowy, sleepy
streets and too lonely and dejected to seek com-
pany. Chan had gone East that day, and she had
been to the station, with Eileen and Ross, to see
him off; and had cried afterward in the kindly pri-
vacy of her room. For all she was such a Spartan
pupil of adversity, she cried a long time before aris-
ing to arm her spirit for a quite fresh start Her
spirit was already galled with harness, and decidedly
restive.
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338 THE SHADOW RIDERS
Funny to think Chan was a Member of Parliament
now — an Hononrable — and she bad boxed bis ears
onc«! But that was ages ago, redconing in that at
least a century bad passed since his train pulled out
that morning with him on the rear platform waving
good-bye.
0. Google
CHAPTER XXIX
LESLEY reached for her hat with one hand, and
with the other took a letter from her desk.
She was in a tremendous hurry to be gone from
the office, nevertheless she would not resist opening
the letter for one more look at the slip of greenish
paper it contained. She stood gloating just another
minute.
It shared with an earlier letter, received the week
before, the honour of being in Lesley's estimation the
most important event of the summer. And yet that
was the summer of 1914. . . .
But it was only July when the letters came
Doubtless other things had happened to other peo-
ple. For instance, in some remote, unheard-of vil-
lage with a queer foreign name, two royal person-
ages had come to a violent end. Lesley had read of
that in her morning paper; and had asked for an-
other cup of coffee and remarked that the day prom-
ised fair. Radical that she was, she thought roy-
alty pass£ and even rather tedious. It would have been
grotesque to imagine that those two royal personages
must go down to the Shades accompanied by a vast,
unaccountable multitude of other reluctant and tragi-
cally astounded souls. . . . She may have been too
soon in thinking royalty passe. There is something to
it still; a state procession like that may not be
despised.
It is not a new thing for men to go about their busi-
ness under the shadow of Pclee or Vesuvius, buyii^^
and selling and marrying and getting children, while
339
0. Google
330 THE SHADOW RIDERS
Death stands by with a grin and his bony hand crooked
for the clutch. But then Death always stands so;
it is every man's end, and he must be about his
business.
This was most particularly Leslejr's business. At
last she was ready to put her folly away in lavender
, — not rosemary if she could help it — and take up her
old plan. The letter was from Jack Addison ; it was
very formal and businesslike, but it enclosed a check
for five hundred dollars. First payment on her in-
vestment, he explained. He had turned it twice for
her, and now, by the successful speculator's sixth
sense, was closing her out at the top of the market
It removed her last anxiety about the answer she
had sent to the letter of the week before, which came
from Cresswelt
Cresswell, too, had redeemed his promise. After
a year and a half, when she had really almost for-
gotten him, he had written. In the autumn, the joui^
nalistic time of change, he said he could give her a
place on his paper, if she would take it.
How that would have delighted her once I Mere
pride forbade hesitation; she accepted. But now
she could (eel at ease, no longer fearful about leav-
ing her mother and climbing out of her rut, which
threatened to become dully comfortable and to ei^lf
her definitely.
She went out into the dry, hot afternoon; to tell
Eileen. It was necessary to tell some one. Scorning
the street-cars, she turned her face toward the Whitte-
more cottage, a haven of peace to her forward-looking
fancy. The city sprawled naked before heaven;
bigger, noisier, and even less beantiful than it had
always been. Lesley hurried, regardless of the heat,
wishing to get off the clattering streets, but almost
unconscious of her surroundings. It is a merciful
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 331
thing that accustomed ugliness becomes almost invisi-
ble. She turned into the cut beneath the railway
crossing, after passing the enormous new hotel.
Years before, she had often been obliged to wait fif-
teen minutes at that crossing for an insolent freight
train to move out of the way; or else, as she had
been seen to do, swing up and scramble over the coup-
lings between the cars, careless of danger.
"It has changed. ... I wonder why Jack didn't
bring the cheque himself, so that I could thank him.
. , . He must bate me for making him give me those
letters. . . . Well, it won't matter now ; I'll never see
— any one — after next month. . . . No, I won't write
to Chan. . . . What's the use? 111 tell Eileen not to
tell him. Unless ... he comes back soon. . . . Chi-
cago can't be any uglier than this. Pouf 1" She wiped
the dust out of her eyes, while her brain still shut-
tled back and forward. No, decidedly she would
not write to Chan, not till afterward. For the first
time since he had gone Hast, a letter of his lay un-
answered. She meant it should, as a sign. He must
never take first place again. She was going to need
a free mind now. His mind was free enough, that
scrappy note proclaimed. Perhaps she had hoped
absence might work some magic, but it had not. . . .
As for why she would not tell him — and so would
not write at all until Chicago had swallowed her —
that was a bit of unreasoned superstition. Once be-
fore she bad told him, and been disappointed; and
from what had come of it lingered a strange feel-
ing of disaster. Their one quarrel and year-long later
estrangement ; the erection of some barrier within her-
self upon which her heart had beaten in vain to
reach him. . . .
The cottage was cool indeed, and odorous of
potpourri. Eileen, in a delicate green gown, shone
ovCiooglc
333 THE SHADOW RIDERS
in the chintzy drawing-room like a flower. She kissed
Lesley imwontedly, and pulled oif her hat, and rang
for something iced to drink. What was more, she
appreciated the vast importance of the cheque. Though
she had learned to spend money frantically, merely
as an occupation, she had not lost her sense of
proportion.
"How perfectly splendid," she said. "Ross," she
summoned him throug^h the open door from the back
garden, "would you believe it, Lesley's got five hun-
dred dollars 1 What are you going to do with it? Did
you say Jack Addison made it for you? Have you
got him in your pocket? You produce him so mys-
teriously at just the right time; I never guessed you
knew him so well."
"I — I used to," said I.esley. "I really never see him
now ; it's years since I gave him that money. It was
to gamble on Ross's street-cars."
"I didn't know I was robbing widows and orphans,"
said Ross apologetically.
"This doesn't look like robbery to me," said Les-
ley contentedly, and went on to answer Eileen's ques-
tion as to its ultimate uses.
Ross looked unexpectedly disquieted at her ao-
nouncement, but Eileen seemed dismayed. "Oh, I
think that's detestable!" she cried, " — no, of course,
it's nice for you ; but why should I ever come back
if you're gone?" Lesley knew the Whittemores had
meant to spend the late summer abroad.
"Would you rather not comt back?" asked Ross.
Eileen was calm again.
"Oh, it doesn't matter," she said. "Besides, youll
have to, so that you can finish out your term and be
knighted on the next Birthday."
One felt a shrug in Ross's answer. "I never yearned
to be elevated to equality with a London grocer,"
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 333
he said drily, and hastened to add : "Not unless you
wish it ?"
"To be a grocercss?" she countered. "No, thanks."
With silent intensity he wished that she would want
something. Time had wrought another alteration in
Eileen. Her cold vivacity was disappearing; she
seemed tired and distrait always, yielding everything
with indifference. And that wrung his heart. He
had loved her dainty arrogance and spirit . . . and
he could never forget how like a flame she had been,
on their belated bridal night, which was like the
"little book" of the prophet, honey on the tongue
and gal! to the aftertaste. How could she have coun-
terfeited so well? There was much he had forgot-
ten, in the dead years her fire had consumed, else
he would have known she could not. She had the
gift of passion, which is not every woman's ; and it
was starved in her; small wonder if she grew pale
and listless. But he thought she had even ceased
to hate him. How empty-handed it left him toward
her. H she desired nothing, what could he give her?
This, this was like watching her die. Had it been
all in vain; had he not saved her after all? Would
the hard contact with life through work have been
better for her than this? And was it too late to
rectify such a stupendous mistake?
"I wish — " said Lesley, breaking the thread of his
thoughts off short, "I wish you wouldn't go — abroad."
"Why not ?" asked Eileen, putting down her
frosted glass of iced tea in astonishment
"I don't know — I just wish "
"Really, this must be a conspiracy," said Eileen, look-
ing from Ross to Lesley again. "We aren't gott^;
at least, not yet. Ross says he doesn't like the Euro-
pean situation. I didn't know there was one; but,
anyway, we are only going to Maine. Chan will be
ovGooglc
334 THE SHADOW RIDERS
in Bar Harbor with a party next month, and well
join him there, and go no further if the European
situation insists." Ross had a few foreign corre-
spondents who still remembered him,
"Then Chan isn't coming back this summer?" said
Lesley, with studied calm.
"Probably not; he appears to be quite exhausted
with his labours helping to block Borden's donation
party. You know, the thirty-five million gift to the
English Admiralty. I'm sure he must have favoured
you with his view on it more than once."
"Oh, yes," said Lesley absently, "he wanted to know
if I wished to become a helot, paying tribute for pro-
tection. I assured him that I didn't, even if I'm
not quite sure what a helot is."
"In principle he's right," said Ross, "but in fact
we have to go it blind anyway, and support Eng-
land in any event — but it may be best to seem to
keep a choice, even if we haven't really a word to
say beforehand of any quarrel we nnist inevitably
share. Half measures "
"I have a brilliant plan," Eileen broke in suddenly.
She had not been listening, having heard quite enoi^
of the helots some time since. "Lesley can marry
Jack Addison and stay here, so I can come back
after all. That will be much nicer than Chicago,"
she smiled at Lesley.
"Well, but what am I going to do with his wife?"
demanded Lesley indignantly.
"She's attending to that, dear. She got her in-
terlocutory decree two weeks ago — dear me, didn't
you know she is in California gettii^ a divorce? I
did hope, when you mentioned him, that you could
give me his side of it. Now don't deny everything;
leave me a little hope."
"It's the very first I've heard," protested Lesley. "I
ovCiooglc
THE SHADiOW RIDERS 335
thought you were hinting at polygainy. Don't startle
me lUce that again."
"But men say they are all polygamists at heart;
why be startled? I am sure Jack has polygamous
"Men have always talked a great deal of non-
sense to excuse themselves," said Ross unexpect-
edly. "That's some of it."
"Then they aren't?" asked Lesley meekly.
"Polygamists? Not any more than women. Yon
hear them say that in a sort of aside, as if they meant
to spare women's feelings ; as if you were soft crea-
tures that can't stand the truth. Actually, only women
ever have faced that fact, put up with the natural
man, made the best of him. Men have locked women
up in harems, ostracised them, bow-stringed them,
everything, to keep from facing the same fact by
making women over to suit their theories. To say
that we're all polygamists is a crude and rather mis-
representative statement You hear it from the kind
of people who, Hke Robert Service, are 'never afraid
to call a spade a murderous, hellish plough.' " Lesley
snickered and checked herself to listen. "The trou-
ble is," Ross went on detachedly, "that in all pas-
sionate love there's a hard, insatiable core, that noth-
ing could fully satisfy, so it always bums beneath
the ash of fulfilled desire. No man or woman is quite
absolutely enough for any other woman or man. Neither
would a world of them be. Six husbands or wives
wouldn't be better than one, because, as I say, that
demand is insatiable; it's a little bottomless pit we
all possess. I fancy it is merely Nature's safeguarf
against 'battle, murder and sudden death.' Senti>
mentalists want us to believe in one mate for each
of us, and that may be so in the long run, and we
may find that mate — but here and now, the human
ovCiooglc
336 ■ THE SHADOW RmERS
race wouldn't last two generations if Nature listened
to that nonsense. Think of the chance of finding your
mate among the billions of earth's population!"
"Then you think one person will do as well as
another?" asked Eileen smoothly, while an old, un-
answered question reared its poisonous head in her
bosom. Why had he married her?
"No," said Ross, still more gently.
They sat in a vibrant, electric silence. A hot, hon-
ored scent of clover came in the window, as on a
night two years before. Lesley felt a strong^ intuitive
impulsion to go. But when she rose, Eileen sprai^
up also, with a strange, short catch of her breath,
and seized Lesley's hand.
'You're not going I" she cried. "No — I don't care;
I'll be vexed if you don't stay for dinner. I won't
see you at all soon. Sit down."
"Of course she will stay for dinner — unless you
expect some one at home?" said Ross persuasively.
Lesley looked at him helplessly, feeling herself drawn
one way and another by conflicting wills and instincts,
and sat down.
"ni stay if you want me," she said, "and I don't
expect any one — even if Mrs. Callender did call on
me yesterday. I meant to ask you, Eileen, if you
know what she wanted. I wasn't tn; she left her
card. It must have been a mistake; I don't know
her from Adam. Does she think I'm the society
editor?"
"I sent her," said Eileen, with a quick sparkle of
mischief.
"You sent her? Why? Do you like her so much?"
"She's a nice little ninny," said Eileen coolly, ctm-
juring up to Lesley's mind a picture of the lady in
question — a small, fair woman with a neat figure and
a pretty, n^ative face ; always fashionably and charm-
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 337
Ingly dressed, with great pearls in her ears and a
diamond bracelet showing over her white-gloved
wrist — a newcomer, comparatively, and a social
soupirant. "I sent her to ask you to her house-
warming ball ; youll get a card soon. She came to
get me to help her receive, just when Ross had de-
cided he didn't like the European situation" — there
was always something faintly, yet not unpleasingly,
mocking about Eileen's mention of Ross in his pres-
ence. It was impossible to say if she were coquetting
with him or jeering at him. "I was so at loose ends
I said I would; besides, I'm tired of watching her
struggle. It will be a relief to boost her in. The
worst that can be said of her is that she wears those
pearls even with a Hdit^ habit. . . . But I must have
your moral support ; I refuse to do it alone."
Lesley had not even heard of the ball previously,
and had not the slightest interest in Mrs. Callender.
"But I don't want to go," she protested. "I haven't
got a gown "
"Piffle," said Eileen calmly. "You have five him-
dred dollars. Lucie shall take your measurements,
and I'll write to Jacquin in New York. If the result
doesn't fit, Lucie can alter it. Just shut your eyes
and don't bother me, and you'll make Solomon in all
his glory look like a basque in an Empire season.
No, it won't cost tons of money — it will cost — it will
cost forty dolbrs; I'll put that limit on Jacquin."
Lesley, in her simplicity, had never heard of Jacquin
either, and so accepted this preposterous statement.
She subsided feebly, with a treacherous intention of
leaving for Chicago at the last moment The ball
was not to be until September, when Mrs. Callen-
der's new house would be finished.
"I don't see," she protested weakly, "how youll be
alone ... if I don't go . . ."
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338 THE SHADOW RIDERS
'You know what Carljrle said of London: Time
nulfions, mostly fools.' What coaM be worse tfian
to be alone with two hundred of them? . . . Lesley,
why don't you have a real holiday before Chicago^
and come to Bar Harbor with us?"
"No," said L^ley, with unpremeditatad and un-
alterable decision, "I can't — I just can'L" And she
ttajred by that for the rest of the evening, though
it was the first time she had refused any request of
Eileen's. Yet she never mentioned the one real lea-
fOD, that of a sadden her will had triumphed, after
a tUiigg:le five years' long, over her heart. Her bruised
pride had risen when Eileen told her Chan would
not come back that summer. All in a moment, she
never wanted to see him again. Some inchoate fed-
ing, stirred gradually at first by his negligent and
diminishing letters, crystallised into hard resolve. She
had said she would be free. She uitu free.
0. Google
CHAPTER XXX
THERE was storm in the sky. The air was
thick, and carried little swirls of dust about
the street When the sun disappeared behind
a cloud the wind blew cold, though it was but the
first week in September. Lesley struggled with an
enveloping oppression, which had thickened about her
ever since those terrible August days when the world
went mad. It is not difficult to recall, despite that
man's memory is so brief, how sensitive hearts were
stunned by that stupendous clash of arms; what an
abyss of blackness and terror opened to the imap-
native spirit; how the moral vision was darkened by
the fume of hatred and frenzied lies which ascended
to heaven like the smoke of the pit. Lesley wan-
dered in it as through a nightmare, for days, before
she was able to think again of her own affairs, ab-
sorbing as they had been just previously.
The thought that her personal plans might be de-
ranged by the general catastrophe occurred to her at
last, and stung her into a more endurable and human
irritation. It was simply the last straw. From feel-
ing the weight of the whole world's woe, she came
down to consideration of her own difficulties. There-
with she telegraphed to Cresswell, to ask if his offer
still held.
She was never more astonished in her life than
when he replied that it did.
The telegram had just arrived ; so had a te1e|4tone
message from Eileen Whittcmore, asking her to come
over early for tea. Eileen gave some reason — aomt-
3»
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340 THE SHADOW RIDERS
thing about a new dress. Anyway, it was always a
relief to go to the Whittemores. Ross eased her ach-
ing mind by talking intelligently of conditions abroad,
instead of repeating phrases parroted from the daily
press. She was glad the Whittemores had not gone
away. They had put off leaving for the East until
it was dear their European journey must be defi-
nitely cancelled. Then they had gone to Edmonton
instead, where it appeared Ross had discovered some-
diing to do, organising for the Red Cross, or equip-
ment for the Rough Riders, or something.
With a hopeless sigh, and a queer shake of her
shoulders, like a bird that ruffles its plumage, she put
the telegram absently into a hairpin dish and prepared
for the street Eileen had asked her to hurry. She
hurried, like a leaf blown ahead of the early equinoc-
tial storm.
It almost caught her. The screen door of the cot-
tage banged viciously behind her, and the rain be-
gan spattering softly on the walk. She heard Eileen's
voice before she could see into the interior of the
drawing-room, which was shrouded in a peculiar arti-
ficial darkness due to the storm.
"Here she is," Eileen called. "Now Chan can stop
fussing about you getting wet "
"Chan I" The name struck her oddly. For the first
time since she had known him, he had not been in her
mind for days. "Why, he isn't — here "
"Oh, yes, he is I" Chan answered for himself, tow-
erii^ up all in a moment over Eileen's shoulder,
as Lesley's eyes accustomed themselves to the soft
gloom.
He looked . . . taller ... no, older, more mature,
graver— no, not that at all — how extraordinary I He
looked lilte a stranger, a mere acquamtance rather.
. . . Her heart fluttered and steadied. . . . She bad
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 341
done H; she had got free at last . . . She held out
her hand to him, with a laugh of sheer relief, as one
does laugh after a shock that does not hurt. The
dreaded event had happened ; he had come back . . .
and it did not matter in the least
"How do you do — and why didn't you let us know
you were coming?"
"Mostly because I didn't know," he said. "Besides,
you had stopped writing, and I was on my digni^."
"But why so sudden?" she asked, sinking into a
diair, without even attempting to defend herself from
his char:ge.
"Oh, I don't know," he looked involuntarily at
Ross. "I may find out after I've been here a while.
Why didn't you write ?"
"I'm sorry," she said vaguely. "Look at the
storm " A peal of thunder seemed to shake the
house. "There, I feel better ; don't you, Eileen ? Al-
most anything is a relief— can you think of anything
but the war?" she turned to Chan again.
"Not very much," he confessed, knitting his brows.
He looked much older then.
"One can't," said Ross. "I have a kind of wak-
ing vision of it; I can see a colossal pyramid that
men have been building for years out of fear and
vanity and greed and gullibility. And on the apex
stands one man, chosen of himself as most fitly rep-
resentative to crown it A little man, an ipAated
pygmy — plucking at the stars and calling on God to
be his servant Then God hears him — and overturns
the pyramid, leaving the little man to carry it on
his shouders if he can. Then I feel the earth shake
with the ruin of its fall." His low, toneless voice in
tiie dusk sounded uncanny. It evoked the vision to
them all. He had promised to be a speaker of the
6rst rank before he left public life, and the impress
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343 THE SHADOW RIDERS
of bis brief trainii^ was visible wbeoever be qioke
more than a casual seatence.
"Yes, that's it," said Lesley, after a sDence. 1
couldn't express it. I thought of an earthquake, or
a tidal wave — ^but that wasn't clear. . . . Oh, I msh
I could think of something elsel My nerves are ia
rags." She spoke with a sharp, strained note of ap-
peal, and then, disregarding her own wish: "You're
furnishing a Red Cross unit, aren't you ?"
"Yes," said Ross. "I really haven't anything to
give but money. Too old to volunteer."
"Would you volunteer?" asked Eileen.
He hesitated. . . . "Mi^t be a way out," ran his
thot^hts. "Probably," he said, aloud, nuslildt^ the
too common habit of those exempt, of wanting credit
for good intentions. ■
"Well . . . anyway, you can't," said Eileen, in an
unreadable voice. He wished he could see her face
clearly.
"Jack Addison's been accepted," said Lesley, in an
unconsciously melancholy voice.
"Cheer up, dear, I'm sure hell come back," sdd
Eileen, with patent meaning.
"Oh, shut up!" said Lesley disgustedly. With pain-
ful surprise, Chan saw that she was embarrassed
and startled into the rudeness. "I was just countmg
how many from here," she explained. "He's the only
one I know."
"Jim Kane is going; you know him, dont you?"
"No. He's Mrs. Callender's brother, isn't he?"
"Yes. And by the way, you unnatural female, why
haven't you asked to see your dress? It came this
morning."
"My dress ?"
"For Mrs. Callender'a ball, Don't tell me you for-
got I"
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 343
"Is some (Nie giving a ball 7" asked Chan.
"Cynthia Callander is, next Tuesday. She planned
it for a housewarming; it's to be a farewell instead;
she says she wants Jim to have a cheerful send-off.
I must tell her you're here. She's followii^ a classic
example, isn't she?"
"Well, why not?" asked Ross.
"I don't want to go to the ball," said Lesley in-
consequently. She had forgotten it, in truth.
'T>arling, please don't bother me," said Eileen pa-
tiently. "We're all going out in a blaze of glory, if
the end of the world does crane. Come and look
at your dress." The two women vanished, and throt^
the transom Ross and Chan heard an exclamation of
surprise and del^t.
"Lot of good fellows going," said Chan, with seera-
ii^ irrelevance. "Rotten business, isn't it ? But we've
got to go through with it."
"Yes," said Ross. "Must go through with it. Talk-
ii^ is grotesque, now."
"What was the use of Boding a New World, if
we can't cut loose from all that sickening business
of kings and intrigue and old, stupid hates?" said
Chan. "Dragging it after us like a ball and chain —
I wish I could think straight for an hour. I thought
I'd like to see you. . . .'*
"I don't think I can help you," said Ross. "But
I'm glad you came." They fell into another silence.
"I wonder," said Ross measuredly, "if this is one of
Time's revenges for the South African War, Yes,
the bill is coming in. I fancy God has a sense of
humour, don't you ?"
"Or the devil," said Chan. "... So Jim Kane and
Addison are going ! Did Eileen say that Lesley
I thot^ht Jack had a wife."
"He had, but he hasn't Divorced," explained Ross
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344 THE SHADOW RIDERS
briefly, but with a contemplative scrutiny which Chan
missed. He recalled something else Eileen had said,
long before. "I believe," he added, "that Addison
has been . . . But, in fact, I don't know; and Les-
ley is very capable of attending to her own affairs.
She must have had plenty of men in love with her,
anyway. Very good-looking girl, if you take time
to notice it ; not showy, that's all." Chan was scowl-
ing thoughtfully. He got up and k)oked for a match,
with a needless appearance of perplexity, for the
matches were in plain sight over the mantel.
"Addison's such a chaser," he said irritably.
"He puts his cards cmi the table," said Ross, with
the suspicion of a smile. "By the way, would you
like us to ask the Martins for dinner to-morrow ?"
"The Martins — ^why, I suppose Eileen knows who
she wants What in blazes are you driving at?"
Unfortunately, he got no answer, for Eileen and
Lesley came back; lights and tea were ordered, and
they all fell into a long discussion of the Red Cross
work. That feeling of things unspoken and yet half
understood vanished with the dusk. Nevertheless,
the afternoon left Chan with an added feeling of dis-
satisfaction. He was already struggling with a grave
problem, and he realised with surprise that he had
meant to put it before Lesley and talk it over with
her. And she was — changed. Her silence of the past
few months became pointed by her manner.
Experience had taught him that there was one
thing that could always be counted on to crowd out old
interests. A love affair never failed. He did not
know just where he had learned that. . . .
Jack Addison had been attracted to her once. It
had seemed to him negligible at the time. Well, what
of it? He didn't know; he just felt dog-in-the-
mangerish generally. Lesley was talking to Ross
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 34S
while Chan bit his dgarette-holder and thought aboat
these things. She did not look at him as she bad
used; that br^t understanding ^ance which bad
been wont to answer better than words. . . . Ross
absorbed her completely.
"I am afraid I cannot reassure you ; Chicago is to
me most like the antechamber of hell," Ross was say*
ing. "But you are too young to care."
"I hope it will be the antechamber of New York
for me," Lesley smiled. So did Ross.
"That's what I said," he agreed. "It's "
"Are you going to Chia^o?" Chan cut in, regard-
less of interruptit^ Ross. Lesley turned a startled,
defensive glance on him.
"Yes," she said. "I've had a place offered me on
a newspaper there. Going about the fifteenth."
Overhearing any conversation is a mistake. There
is inherent in it a sense of injury to the eavesdrop-
per, however innocently he may become one. It is
not that listeners never hear good of themselves; it
is merely that to overhear a piece of news commU'
nicated to another touches our self-love by showing
us to ourselves as left out, not the first to be consid-
ered and enlightened. Chan did not know exactly
why he had that sense of sustaining a blow — his mind
only prodded him with: "And she never even told
me I" He was about to say so, when he caught Eileen's
bhie eyes bent on him with gentle malice.
"Till the war is over, at least," said Eileen.
"Eileen I" said Lesley, exasperated, and rose and
marched off in search of her hat She had been about
to go in any event, but the action seemed to Chan
unmistakable in its significance. And — she did not
want him to walk home with her. The storm had
cleared, and Ross and Eileen wanted him for dinner;
that was a good excuse.
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346 THE SHADOW RIDERS
He simply could not mistake it ; she was avoidii^
him purposely. That was the Icmgest time he was
to see her until the night of the dance She had a
subconscious fear of disturbing that priceless sense
of freedom. Everything was settled ; ^e was calmly
eager for her new start, despite the all-pervading de-
pression ; and she would risk nothing.
Psychologists, who claim to know us better than
we know ourselves, tell us that the half of fear is
desire. . . .
She did think of him, with some secret sense of
expectancy, while she dressed, at the cottage, in the
new gown ; why not ? He might arrive any minute ;
he and Ross had been ordered to dine at the club
once more, leaving the field clear for the battle of Uie
chiffons.
"I hope you enjoy it," said Eileen, sitting on the
bed to direct like a general the coifBng of Lesley's
hair. "Poor Mrs. Callender has cried her eyes out
and worked like a Trojan alternately ; and she's done
wonders. Simply tons of fbwers for decorations; I
was up this afternoon — and the sitting-out places are
positively strokes of genius. But it will be a jam;
absolutely everybody will be there. I suppose Jack
Addison is coming 7"
l-esley fell into the trap, '^es," she said absently,
and then looked the more vexed and guilty that she
was really quite innocent She had heard from Ad-
dison, but only about winding up their financial trans-
actions. He had telephoned to say he needed to see
her, only that morning ; and when she said she would
not be in for the evening, he told her he also would
be going to the ball. "Save me a dance," he had said,
with something of his old manner. And that was all;
there was no need for Eileen to keep harping oa
Ilis name. Which she explained to Eileen, quite f niit>
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 347
lessly. Eileen only toM tocie to hurry, for they '
must go early so Eileen could help receive.
If Lesley was more than a little pleased when Lude
had finished and she saw herself cap-i-pie in the loi^
gold-framed mirror in the drawing-room, she had
some cause. Her gown, which had taken her breath
to see, was all of glistening silver tissue, made i la
Josephine, held over the shoulders, Eileen said, "by
the grace of God, a little court-plaster, and a string
of beads." There were sleeves, which came down
over her hands to the thumb, making her long fingers
look surprisingly delicate. But at the top the sleeves
ended at the edge of the bodice, so the exquisite line
of her shoulders and flat back, which dimpled faintly
when she moved, was unbroken. Despite the newer
fashion, the skirt was not wide, but when she walked
it parted over an nndeidress of blade chiffon, a
startling combination, carried out in the strands of
jet that upheld the bodice. The brilliant-set tortoise-
shell combs in her hair carried the glitter to a climax
above her low, smooth brow. The black and white set
off her face like a cameo and brought out the Japa-
nesey deamess of her eyes and brows. It was bizarre
— perhaps; it was beautiful undoubtedly.
She leaned to the mirror with arms outstretched,
touching the gilt frame on either side, her pink upper
lip lifted in a smile of the most disarming childish
delight. "Oh, Eileen," she said wistfully, "I do look
nice, don't I ?" And she read her answer in another
face in the mirror that was not Eileen's nor hers.
Eileen had gone back to finish her own toilette.
"You look — you look wonderfull" said Chan, tak-
ing a deep breath. Manlike, he had never dreamed
of the transformation clothes might make in a woman.
He felt tike a fool; he had never appreciated her,
never. . . . Odd, that in that very moment he re-
ovCiooglc
348 THE SHADOW RIDERS
membered, for the first tune in months, years maybe,
that he had kissed her once. . . . And he had very
candid, even telltale, eyes.
Now, verily, he was a stranger ; for Chan had never
looked at her like that
"T-thank you," she stammered. "I — I must get my
coat " She disappeared in confusion, and when
she came out again Eileen was with her.
It is 3 frightful injustice, to say the least, that
modem male evening dress is only becoming to one
who has almost every advantage of appearance with-
out it And yet there is a distinct artistic value
in the massed blacks and whites it displays, if the
line is good ; and there Chan's thin flanks and broad
shoulders served him weU. His was a different kind
of good looks from Ross's, who had a hint of a less
brusque, more courtly age in his bearing and his im-
pressive, ascetic features — you could imagine him sav-
ing a lace cuff from contact with a gold snuff-box.
Certainly Ross was handsome, and Chan hardly so—
but is that not superfluous when a man is under thirty-
five, successful, and six feet tall?
0. Google
CHAPTER XXXI
THE Duchess of Richmond once gave a ball, at
Brussels. So did Mrs. Callender, a hundred
years later and six thousand miles away. Let
the censorious carp at either; surely it is a good deed
to add to the gaiety of nations when that commodi^ is
at its lowest.
Lights and laughter, flowers and flirting, the quick-
ening beat of frothy, foolish, catchy music, the subtly
stupefying and yetexciting odours of perfumes shaken
out of floating gowns and powder blown off bare
shoulders; and faces, faces, faces, all smiling, all re-
peating the same expressions of stereotyped delight —
"How lovely . . . charming . . . exquisite . . . what
wonderful flowers . . . how nice you look, dear Mrs.
Callender . . . what a sweet gown ... so glad to be
here . . ."and more smiles, more faces, until the giver
of the feast becomes a mere automaton in the midst
of a merry-go-round, knowing her right hand from
her left oaly because it aches from too many greet-
ings. So does a hostess enjoy herself.
Eileen, standing resolutely beside her, less dazzling
but more delicately beautiful than usual in a full short
frock of unrelieved black chiffon, leaned wearily
against the smilax-dniped stair rail by which they
stood to receive, and smiled in sympathetic misery.
"There can't be many more," she murmured, under
cover of the orchestra. "What time is it? Only
eleven! Mrs. Callender, your dance will be talked
about for years."
349
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350 THE SHAI3DW RIDERS
"Do you really think it's gmng off well?" Mrs.
^llender heaved a deep si^ and shifted her wei^t
from one pink-satin foot to the other. "No, I'm sore
there won't be many more, Mrs. Whittemore ; and
I wish you would go and rest, and have a glass of
champagne."
"My dear" — Mrs. Callender revived under the en-
dearment — "I am rooted to the spot ; I kicked off my
slippers an hour ago, and I can't get into them again.
I advise you to do the same, and then we'll sit down
on the floor. I'll stay as long as you do."
"How clever of you 1 But do go and have a sand-
wich — Mrs. Conway, I am trying to coax your dai^-
ter to rest." Mrs. Conway, ample and stately in
grey satin and cut steel beads, hurried up at the
moment She looked singularly distressed and
agitated.
"Do come, Eileen," she urged, though still timidly.
"I — I want you to — Miss Johns wants you " Her
eyes, which would not meet Eileen's, fell on Lesley at
the moment, dancing with Tod Dixon, her silvery
skirt flashing and falling with the movement of her
feet, her shapely dark head plain above the other
women. She was smiling; she had let go of care —
in flne, she was flirting furiously.
"Lesl^ wants me?" Even over the music, Lesley
must have heard ; she drew Tod off the floor and came
to Eileen.
"Are you enjojfing yourself?" asked Eileen. "Yes,
mother— what is it "
"Oh, gorgeously," Lesley's flute notes rang out
"It is too wonderful. . . . Oh, how do you do f" She
gave a very formal bow to Jack Addison, for Eileen's
benefit, and he asked her for a dance. They were
all talking at once; and Mrs. Conway plucked at
Eileen's filmy sleeve.
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THE SHADOW RTOERS 351
"Do come, dear," she repeated in a whisper. "It's
something — I can't tell you here " Eileen, per-
plexed, crushed her slippers on somehow and fol-
lowed her mother. They skirted the dancers, Eileen
answering a greeting at every step. "But what is
it, mother?" she repeated for a third time, and turned
to look back at Lesley. Mrs. Gjnway, with a smoth-
ered, choking sound, caught at her arm to draw her
out of range, but Eileen saw.
It was nothing — nothing she had not expected for
years. Only Harry Garth, with a girl on his arm —
his wife, of course— entering ; the familiar smile on
his face, his sleek, fair hair immaculate; everything
about him tame, correct, commonplace. Eileen stood
gazing, with a pucker between her brows, her pupils
expanding, her mouth curling faintly at the comers,
until her mother touched her again, and then she
shivered and turned away, "Yes, I see," she said.
Her mother drew her into the nearest door, into the
pantry it happened — ^thcy were dancing in the draw-
ing-room and the dining-nx>m, which had been left
in one for the purpose. The pantry was empty. Mrs.
Conway held her daughter's hand convulsively and
her face worked; two tears gathered slowly in her
dim eyes.
"Yes," said Eileen. "Oh, mother, don't, don't cryt
Dear mother, thank you ; it was kind of you ; but you
see it doesn't matter. . . . Mother . . ." She put
her arm about Mrs. Conway's plump, bare shoulders,
and the grey head went down on her breast; her
yont^, smooth breast 'Thank you, mother," she
repeated.
"I just heard they were coming," Mrs. Conway
moaned, as if exculpating herself. "Mrs. Callender
didn't know, of course — she hasn't been here long. I
didn't want you to a ' '
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3Sa THE SHADOW RIDERS
"But I should probably have seen him some other
time," said Eileen. "Mother, it doesn't matter at all :
can't you see? It's all so long ago — and it does not
hurt me now "
"It's cruel," sobbed Mrs. Conway ; "it's cruel — my
little girl — after you suffered so. . . . Eily, you thiiJc
I wasn't kind to you ; you've never forgiven me — but
we didn't know what to do — I — your father If
we could just have killed him " Her gentle
mother I
"Father?" asked Eileen grotesquely.
"No — ^no — that — that beast — oh, oh I" Her shoul-
ders heaved.
"Mother," said Eileen with gentle finnness, "you
must stop — for my sake," Mrs. Conway drew herself
up pathetically. "We mustn't have people talking,"
Hleen continued soothingly.
"I know — but it made me sick to see him — I kate
him so,"
"I'm sorry, mammy, but for my sake " Sud-
denly Eileen's red mouth trembled, and Mrs. Conway
saw the jewel-bright eyes fill with tears. "Oh, mother,
can't we forget?" said Eileen. "I — I am sorry, too."
"Dear heart," said Mrs. Conway, leaving her own
eyes overflowing to sop Eileen's with her soaking
handkerchief, "dear childie, don't you feel bad.
S-sh, some one might come — there — there " Now
her sore heart was eased; she was a mother again,
come into her own; she could comfort her child.
"You see, mammy," said Eileen, "this isn't any place
to cry, is it?" A strain from the newest waltz floated
to them in sweet mockery. "Shall we go back? You
understand, I have got to, just as if it were noth-
ing, . . . Help me, mother, won't you?" Mrs. Ccm-
way's tears ceased ; a sad dignity informed her heavy,
age-weighted figure and round, wrinkled face, whence
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 353
the powder had been washed away in streaks. "Come
this way," Eileen continued : "we can get to Mrs. Cal-
lender's bedroom up the back way, and get some pow-
der. I must go back soon, if only for Lesley . . ."
She drew her mother hastily through the kitchen,
where a couple of sleepy maids had barely time to
stare
She need not have troubled about Lesley; indeed,
she passed very close to that young lady on the upper
landing, without knowing it.
Neither did Lesley. She was occupied in settling
herself inconspicuously behind a great bank of palms,
carefully arranging her gown so that she might not
have to speak first to Jack Addison. Since he had
requested the tete-i-tete, he might fairly begin it. But
she had to look up at last, and meet his smile and
that abrupt, unrevealing glance she had come to
know.
"Well ?" she said. "I thought — you wanted to talk
tome?"
"I wonder what you did think?" he returned.
"Never mind; you certainly won't tell me. Do you
know I'm going away with my regiment, Lesley?"
"Yes," she said, "I hope " She stopped, and
b^an again, confused by some inexplicable shade of -
melancholy that brushed her like a cool wind. "I'm
sorry," she said instead.
"Are you really?" he asked slowly. "I used to think
you were a hard-hearted creature — but How
could you understand ?"
"You didn't give me much chance," she said re-
sentfully, for she felt her gaiety departing, and it
left some sort of an ache. "I— I always wanted to
be friendly — it was you that wouldn't "
He locJced at her, with a kind of doglike appeal,
mixed with humour, in his brown eyes. "I'm afraid,"
ovCiooglc
354 THE SHADOW RIDERS
be said, "that it isn't in ine to be just — friendly widi
a pret^ woman. So, on the whole, I guess it was
better for me to stay away."
"OhJ" she said. "Did you — try to stay away?"
"I certainly did. I bcUeved you meant what yott
said. If I'd thoo^t I had any chance, I wouldn't
have given up — bat you don't suppose I enjoy want-
ing what I can't get? I always try to make the best
of things," he smUed. "And I've nearly cured myself,
you see."
"Yes," she orarmured, "I see. . . . Tell me some-
thing."
"Go ahead; but be warned. Ill probably tell the
trath."
"CouW I do it again?" she ventured. "Get you
backr
"By God, I believe you could, but I'm not going
to let you — unless " He did not miss her slight
involuntary movement of withdrawal. "You seel"
But she had an object, and pursued it. "Why did
you want — me, just me — so much ?" She was asking,
like many another woman, for the secret of attrac-
tion, which Nature alone holds and will not yield.
"How can I tell?" he said. "For every man there
are certain women — one if the first one takes and
holds him — that go to his head, make him drunk with
wanting 'em, send his senses spinning. You got me
like that. Oh, I like women ; I've loved lots of women,
in a way; but nobody'd got me that way since I was
nineteen and in love for the first time. She was
ten years older — and married — she thought it was
funny. I don't know why with her, either ; she wasn't
so devilish pretty, not as pretty as you; and there
are prettier women than you — though you're stunnii^
to-night But I'd have got down and let you walk on
me, Idssed your feet Come away, my dear, this
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 355
isn't good for me. I've got the next dance vnAi Mrs.
Healy. . . ."
"Very well ; I didn't mean to bother you," said Les-
ley, rising. It was a very small comer behind the
pafans; her shoulder brushed his, and the flame she
used to know came into his eyes.
"Lesley," he said, in a level whisper, as a gambler
might name his stalce, "will you kiss me? It isn't
much, after everything — I'd like it to remember when
I'm too old for love, — or if I never come back "
Lai^hter flickered just beneath his voic& She did
not consider, nor pause; he had spoken at the one
right moment Now there was no one else, no shad-
owy third.
She put her arms about his neck, a shimmering dr-
clet in their silver sleeves, and he bent to her like
one who quenches a long thirst. All her blood drew
from her heart to his wann, asking mouth, like a
spring tide; her senses mutinied and left her dizzy
and faint, and she withdrew from his arms by sheer
strength of will. Even so his eyes still possessed
her ; triumph looked out of them, though he was very
white.
"So — I could have I" he said shortly, after a pause.
She understood, and made a gesture of refusal; and
as he had made no move to touch her, he laughed.
"No," she said. "No. That wasn't me — it was — any
woman. There's — something more. That you couldn't
have got"
"It was good enough," he said. He had summed up
his own philosophy; and certainly he had not often
been unhappy with it "Don't you think, after all,
you've missed a lot?"
"Nobody can tell," she said, for indeed she dared
not face the issue then. "No — I can't do it — again I"
She put her hands on his breast and held him off.
ovCiooglc
356 THE SHADOW RIDERS
and he saw at last a real terror in her eyes. "Be-
cause I ask youl" she cried. "I've got to go on, my
own way I"
"But are you sorry?" he umsted.
"No," she said generously, meeting his eyes. He
did not know why, but that conquered him.
"Well — then we'd better— go back." He stooped
for her handkerchief; and when he lifted his face
i^in some change had come to it; he was as she
had always known him. His passion had its lyric
heights, too.
Now he was no more troubling to her than he had
always been. She went past him, and was surprised
when he stopped her once more.
"Wait a minute," he said. "You made me for-
get — that's a bad habit of yours, isn't it? Here is
what I had to see you about." From the pocket
of his white waistcoat he produced a bit of paper.
She saw that it was another cheque. "This is your
balance," he said. "Now we're qttits — aren't we?
Here's the account, too."
Without reading the last she thrust them down into
her bodice, after a dazzled glance at the amount on
the cheque. It had his own name on it, but she never
noticed that, nor knew that he had really taken the
account over himself, desiring to set his house in
order before he left. His word satisfied her.
"Oh, yes I" she said. "I want to thank you for —
all that You couldn't ever know how much it means
to me. But I must go back — no, wait a minute."
Stepping out of their nook, she saw Cissie Martin's
goldy head and white chiffons fluttering down the
stairs ; and across the room, Chan looking about. He
joined Cissie. Lesley walked around the gallery, keep-
ing out of sight, and they came down to the strains
of a dance just beginning, in the general confusion
ovCioogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 357
of searching for mislaid partners. Tod Dixon had the
next dance with her, his third. But she refused to
flirt with him any more, and looked obstinately over
bis shoulder at nothing in particular.
It was Lesley Chan was looking for. He had
got his dance card mixed, and thought he had the
next with her. With masculine brutality and single-
ness of purpose he did not see the demure Cissie
until she was under his very nose. She was petite,
and enhanced it with a fascinating pout, which unfor-
ttmately Chan knew by heart. Earlier in the even-
ing she had pouted at the War, since when he had
fled from her. She made him think of the women
who helped make the French Revolution merely by
&t things they did not tmderstand.
"What have you lost?" she enquired.
"My partner;" he paused politely, his glance stil!
roving. "Have you seen Miss Johns ?"
"Yes," with a little tinkling laugh, "but I won't tell
you where. It would be mean to disturb her."
'T)on't say she's asleep," said Chan at random.
"Asleep I" She choked a giggle into her handker-
chief. "Oh, dear, how funny t Cross your heart, and
I will tell yoti " Chan was attending now. "She's
tip in the gallery saying good-bye to Jack Addison.
Do you suppose," Cissie stood on tiptoe confidentially,
"do you suppose they're engf^ed? Wouldn't it be
mnantic? Jim Kane wanted me to be engaged to
him so he'd have some one to think of in the trenches,
he said ; but I tUdn't care enough for him, and then
Esther Purrii^oti told me he asked her just the same
thii^. So I wouldn't dance with him at all to-
ni|^t "
"Engaged? Why do you think they are ei^aged?"
He was pumping the little featherbrain ; he knew it,
and be did not care.
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3S8 THE SHADOW RIDERS
*Wel), be gave her somethuig, I didn't ice what—
-And r
Gsaie blushed with excellent effect. "Ob, I tfiink
you mi^t guess," she said. "You just ask her; there
she goes now, on the flcwr with Tod Dixon. . . ."
Mercifully, some one claimed Cissie for the dance.
Chan, suddenly out of sorts with the music and br^ht-
nesa and all the mere froth that the many Cissie Mar-
tins in his life had typified, tried to escape and have
a smoke. Confound it, he had not come all the way
from the Atlantic coast to go to a dance. He had
come to think something out Why he could not have
thought it out any nearer the same Atlantic was not
very clear. He had nearly got away when Eileen
jerked htm back with a bedc of her fan.
He could not but observe the utter fatigue in her
purple shadowed eyes, the nervous movements of her
slim, pale hands. She was answering mechanically
Mrs. Callender's urgings of a sandwich or a glass
of punch. "Oh, thanks, but I couldn't ; my head aches
quite stupidly. Chan, have you seen Ross or Lesley?"
"Lesley is dancing," said Chan. "Aren't you go-
ing to?"
"I haven't, but you might ask me." Chan put his
arm about her slim waist and swept her on to the
floor. "I wanted an excuse to get away," she whis-
pered. "I UTce Mrs. Callcnder, in homceopathic doses;
and if I had danced with any one but you, I'd have
had to dance with every one. Half an hour of her, and
I want to scream. Now we're out of sight, let's sit
down. Do you think Lesley is having a good time?"
"A very good time," Chan assured her grimly.
Eileen leaned back suddenly and closed her eyes, to
shut out the sight of Harry Garth. She felt very ill,
and as if something inside her were crumbling to
ovCiooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 359
ashes. For the first time since the dreadful night
when Lesley's sympathy had released her tears, an-
other had got behind her defences. Her mother's un-
spoken apology had penetrated deep. , . . She had
read sonKwhere of mummies brought to the light
after ages of interment, which seemed fresh and per-
fect to a momentary first view, and fell to dust at
a touch. Yes, that was what she felt like. . . . And
she was a coward, too. She had put Ross between
herself and what she had done. It was not that she
had wronged him; she had wronged herself, owned
herself worthless and broken, else why had she traded
on a lie ? False pride ; false coin. . . . Had there been
nothing left of her very self that she must creep into
marriage like a wreck into harbour? Yes, she had
lied tacitly from fear, not because she was her own ;
if it had even been to save Ross's feelings, she could
now have forgiven herself.
Chan worried a loose button of his glove until it
came off, and then spoke, apparently to the button.
"Is Lesley engaged to Jadt Addison ?" he asked.
The intrusion of his voice hurt Eileen, in her secret
and self-centred misery. "Why do you ask that?" she
enquired sharply.
"Because — oh, I just heard some gossip," he an-
swered lamely. The word was unlucky. With a mad
impatience tearing at her heart, an impatience of con-
cealments and evasions and stupidities, Eileen sat up-
right and spoke very dearly, "I don't think they
are engaged, but I am sure he is in love with her.
If he hadn't been, he would never have given her your
letters, and if she had, she wouldn't have asked him
for them. Why don't you ask her?"
"Given her my tetters? What letters?"
"The letters you wrote from Banff, about the street-
car franchise, when you meant to bribe Alderman
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36o THE SHADOW RIDERS
Curtin. The Recorder got them, and was aboat to
publish them just before you were elected. Lesley
made Jack get them back for her, and she gave them
to Ross. She elected you, really. I don't know why
she did that, either; but you see the gossips don't
know everything. So I don't think you need listen
to them any more." Her onslaught was so savage and
so totally unlocked for, Chan was stunned for a mo-
ment before he felt the sting of it.
"That wasn't very sporting, Eileen," was all he said,
in a carefully subdued voice, but with a cold anger
in his green^^y eyes. "Still, I'm obliged to you.
Will you excuse me?" He rose.
"Chan I" He hesitated. "Chan, wait a moment
You are quite right — " the flare went ss it came and
she was numb enough to see clearly once more — ^"but
forget the way I said it. I broke my word to teH
you. Wouldn't you rather know ?"
"Oh — I understand," he said slowty. "Yes, I
would."
"Are you going to say you had it from me? I'm —
fond of Lesley, and she might not forgive me."
"Of course I won't." She held out her hand to him
on the impulse of reconciliation, and he found it
deadly cold. But his brain was too busy on his own
affairs to note the danger signals flown by her ex-
hausted nerves and temper. She was fit for any-
thing, and knew it; and she wondered if she would
get through the evening without disaster. Perhaps it
was disaster enough to have so flagrantly and need'
lessly broken her word to Lesley.
"Can't you find Rosa for mc?" she be^ed. As
usual, when he was not in sight she wanted him.
Chan went off obediently, still astounded and with
a slower anger, like his second wind of n^ be-
ginning.
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 361
Eileen closed her eyes again. She sat in a retired
nook under the stairs, out of view of the main floor;
one saw only her slim black-satin feet and the bouffant
edge of her skirt beyond a Japanese screen which hid
a hi^ window. She felt, rather than heard, an in-
tmder, and lifted her lashes haughtily.
"Eileen," said Harry Garth hastily, and he could
not meet her steady, icy stare, never dreaming that it
was only a cloak for frantic fear, "can I speak to you a
nunute?" Her silence disconcerted him; he stam-
mered, and blurted out: "I know you hate me, and
I was a I treated you badly; but I was in a
tight comer We were too young to have any
sense then; but now we're older, and both married,
and if we've got to meet each other sometimes, why
should we start people gossiping? I'm glad you've
done so well "
The fear vanished; she could have tai^hed in his
face. "Don't call me Eileen again," she said. "What
do you want ?"
"Just to let bygones be bygones," he repeated, with
a touch of that ineffectual sulkincss — ineffectual when
he was himself the suppliant — which she remembered.
"If you should meet my wife "
"I am not likely to meet your wife," said Eileen,
with a composure that surprised herself. "And I do
not see any reason for this conversation."
"But you might meet her," he persisted amazingly.
"Or if you don't, she'll wonder. . . . She did wonder
why you didn't go to Mrs. Johnson's tea that was {^ven
for her. ..." A white lig^t flooded Eileen's brain.
iMuch as she had hated him once, before he became
too negligible for her hatred, she had not thoi^t
him so infinitely contemptible as this. He wanted her
to meet his wife; his wife unsuspiciously desired it
tiao. The same simple, greedy snobbery that had
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3ta THE SHADOW KICERS
made ittm b(dd lo his o^agctiient to die diuiglilcf
of « wealth; father in qrite of honour, sent him
creepto; bade lolicitiiig the favoor of the girl he
had thrown aside, now she was impwtant enoc^b. . . .
"Go away," said Eileen, in a small, dead^ voioe,
rising to her feet Fool — fool — fool — echoed in her
mind, but she hardly knew if it meant herself or him.
Oh, incredible, that she should (nxe have cared for
— thisi
"But "
"I believe you wanted me, Eileen?" Ross's voice
cot between ihan; and Eileen put out her hand in-
stinctively, as if to a sure support
"Oh . . . yes," she said, in a half whisper. "Yes,
I think you m^t take me to snpper." She took his
arm. With a grave, sl^^t inclination of his head,
Ross stood aside for Garth to pass. Flushed with
chagrin, biting his lip. Garth went
"You look tired," Eileen heard Ross's kind voice,
the inflection that she knew so well. "Do you think
you should stay late?"
"No." She could not talk. Her eyes wandered
about mechanically; she felt like an automaton, or as if
she had been dead a long time and but now realised
it The immense stupidity of things was pressing
down on her like a coffin lid. The crystal chandelier,
flooding the waxed floor with light, the competii^
brilliance from silvery sconces on the walls, all twin-
kHng on beads and buckles and combs and bracelets
in women's toilettes, gleaming back again fr(»n the
round Colonial mirrors over the mantel and door,
struck at Eileen's eyes pitilessly, reminding her that
this was what she had faced and accepted that night
at the opera-~this endless glitter, those admiring^
envious glances, no softness, never any peace. . . .
She had her reward.
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 3i^
"Oh, look at that I" A burst of delighted laughter
from some of the dancers, who stopped and crowded
toward the stairs, made her glance upward. On the
upper landing a two-year-old girl baby, deliciously
shapeless in a Teddy-bear sleeping suit, and blinkii^
with solemn joy at the gala scene, was wrigglit^
down from the top step, bent on joining the festivities.
It was young Edith Callender, escaped from the
nursery,
"She will fall!" said Eileen, dropping Ross's ann,
and flying upstairs. So the little thing would have,
but Eileen caught her in the nick of time. But she
was not afraid, not even of the lovely stranger. "Bye-
bye," she cooed airily, and waved her dimpled fist at
her mother, who was swooping— if one may swoop up-
ward — upon her also.
"Oh, naughty, bad girl," said Mrs. Callender se-
verely, offering to take the offender. But Eileen could
see down the hall the quiet nursery, with only its little
tti^t lig^t burning; it offered a moment's refuge
from the crowd.
"Let me carry her in," she said, Mrs. Callender,
secretly and tenderly gratified, led the way, laughii^
in spite of herself, and relating a worse exploit of
the week before, when wee Edith had come down at
tea time, escaping from her nurse in a state of com-
plete nudity and nonchalance, in the face of half a
dozen guests.
"She just loves company," said the mother apolo-
getically. Eileen put her down, leavii^ a wisp of black
chiffon in the baby's grasp. She bit her lip and her
shoulders quivered before she faced the light again ;
and turning, found Ross at her elbow. He had seen,
though she was unaware of it All Eileen wanted was
strength enough to get through supper, and then home;
but it was not strange if he read her otherwise, seeing .
ovCiooglc
364 THE SHADOW RmERS
her stoop again over the rebellious cherub in the white
crib. " 'Night, sweetheart," she said, and got a wet
kiss on her chin. Then Mrs. Callender reappeared
with a nurse, and they all went to supper, followed by
an unrepentant wail from Edith.
Eileen saw Harry Garth at another table, beside
his bride — rather an envious little bride, who looked
at Eileen's diamonds quite wistfully — and saw also
that Harry would not trouble her again. She wished
nothing might ever trouble her again, not even Ross's
kindness. So she got home somehow, immediately
after supper, having arranged with Mrs. Dupont to
take Lesley home. Ordinarily she would have left
that to Chan, but it did oot seem the wisest thing now.
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CHAPTER XXXn
ROSS heard the muffled chuning of a French
clock IP the drawing-room. Three o'clock.
He shifted in hia chair and threw his dead
cigar out of the vindow. He had lit it two hours be-
fore, but there was not half an inch of ash to show
on it. For over an hour he had not moved. Before
that he could hear, by listening painfully, soft small
noises from his wife's room, as of the dropping of a
slipper or putting down a brush or a book. Since
then, silence, so he mi^t have thought her asleep. But
if she slept, why had she left her light burning? From
his own dark window he could see it streaming across
the lawn.
At first he had tried to read ; he did not know what.
But why put off any longer the settlement that must
come? It was necessary to get to a clear understand-
ing with himself. Something must remain for him
to do
He had recognised Harry Garth. Now if he could
kill him. . . . There was no melodrama there; he
wanted to do it, in a peculiarly matter-of-fact way.
Not for any ancient grudge of the possessive male,
any sense of having been cheated of his droit de
seigneur, the husbandly prerogative which old Uw
did not blush to name, though our more reticent and
shame-faced age dare not require it save by indirec-
tion. Perhaps there was a time when he too would
have made the immemorial demand ; but the Sultan
in him had died by violence, with his hot youth. No,
he wanted to kill Uie other man because he could even
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366 THE SHADOW RIDERS
now make Eileen look as she had hioked, when she said
good night. . . .
Better to consider possibilities, of which there were
at least two. He stiU stared at the patch of light on
the lawn.
Suddenly be turn^ as if he could see through the
wall into the daric drawing-room. Somewhere a door
had opened gently. Eileen's door ; she might be walk-
ii^ in her sleep. . . . Her high-heeled Spanish mules
shuffled whisperii^Iy across the space of polished floor
that surrounded the Chinese rug. . . . He could al-
most see her. Then there was a small stumbling crash
and a low plaintive exclamation as of a sick child.
He could not bear it
As he turned the li^t on she winced, turning her
head away, as if she could do no more. She was lean-
ing on the back of a tall oak chair, ^ich had tripped
her in the dark ; cliogii^ as if without that support
she must have fallen. All her hair hung in a heavy
tangle about her shotdders and over her eyes, as if
she had fought and smothered in it; her beauty was
in eclipse, the geranium red of her curved mouth sod-
den and pale, her eyes swollen with weeping and her
cheeks still wet and of a streaked whiteness. A smudge
of dust or fleck of soot had got on her chin and been
rubbed across heedlessly. A filmy dressing gown
trailed out behind her nightrobe, half on, half off, and
she had lost one of the useless, omamentol slippers.
Without a word, Ross stripped off the black burnous
he had on coming home substituted for his evening
coat, and threw it around her. The night was not cold,
but she looked so utterly forlorn, his action was in-
stinctive. Then he picked her up — she did not resist,
and he put her on the wide sofa. Her head fell back,
but he could see, by her eyes following him, that she
had not fainted.
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 367
"There was something you wanted?" he asked
quietly.
"A drink — of water," she said, in the flat voice of
one who has wept to exhaustion. "I got so thirsty
... I fell over a chair; that was all." He brought
water, and held it for her to drink. She felt better. The
smarting memories that had flooded her had grown
to a physical fever. All that the mere shell of her dis-
dainful pride had kept back in the actual presence of
the man she despised, had found her out in retrospect.
The vtn^ary lees of a wine that had once intoxicated
her was pressed to her lips. The horrible, minute
memories. . . . Her flesh and blood was ashamed to
its last nerve and ceU. A spiritual nausea like the
E^ost of its prototype had racked her. Much better
if she had worn her regrets out in patience, instead
of locking them so long apart to grow monstrous and
distorted in the dark. Suppressed emotion takes an
exquisite revenge.
"Thank you," she whispered, and pushed the g1as»
away. He sat by her, gripping her hands. The pres-
sure was grateful to her.
"Can I get you something more?"
"No."
"You don't want to talk, do you ?" Her eyes t^ned
wider. He could feel her exhausted brain grappling
with the present
"You mean — you want to say something? I don't
mind." She felt acquiescent. Get it over with.
"Not mitil you are ready."
"Say it I'd rather you did."
"You aren't happy, Eileen ?" But she only watched
htm. "No," he went on quietly, "that was a stupid
question. I have failed."
"You?" she whispered.
"Yes. I meant to make you happy. I thought I
ovGooglc
368 THE SHADOW RHJERS
could give you freedom, but it hasn't been freedom.
I've only shut you up, kept you from living. Eileen,
do you want to be free?"
"How could I be free?" she asked. "Do you want
me to go away?"
"It's what you want; I want you to have it. Per-
haps — if you were free, you might — find some
one " He hesitated. Her eyes closed momenta-
rily. He released her hands, and walked across the
room and back. "Some one you could care for . . ."
he said.
She straggled up to a sitting posture, put back her
hair, and kroked at him with bUnk eyes. It had
reached her, but he could not guess how.
"No, no. Not some one else," she said. Another
... oh, horrible I More memories. . . .
"But I will go away," she added. "That's what you
mean, isn't it?'
"My God," he said roughly, the golden lights in
his eyes sparkling, his thin handsome face free of its
mask for once, drawn with pain that looked like anger,
"will you stop botherii^ about what I want? What
r^ht have I ? Is there nothing at all that you
want?"
She was silent, but he saw in her gaze that sup-
pressed purpose, timid and unhopeful now, yet alive.
He sat down beside her again, and put his hands over
her eyes. His finger tips remembered much that his
brain cells had forgotten; he had the hands of the
bom lover. 'There is something," he said. "Tell me.
Or take it without telling me. I know I made a mis-
take, to offer such a life to a girl of your age. But
we don't need to go on this way. You can be free if
you want to; you shall be. Or if you don't want that
— if it is only^ — >— Listen, Eileen, would you care to
ad(^ a child? If you know of one . . . you need
ovGooglc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 369
not explain to me at alt . . ." She flung away from
him.
"Is it my fault " she cried, in a voice he scarry
knew, "if we have no children ?"
"What?" he said slowly, not knowing that he spoke,
nor that he put out hb arms for her.
"No— wait — wait " she panted, retreating, panic
stricken. "What did jrou mean?"
"I don't know — nothing at all. Eilyl" He was will-
ing enough to b^ ; he preferred infinitely the part of
the suppliant lover to that of the husband tosistii^
on his rights. But she was steeled against his mere
kindness; and she reftised to credit the message of
his finger tips or the caressing ghostly charm of his
voice, or even the signal of her own blood in answer.
Still she stood back, and her look was enough of a
barrier; he did not need more from any woman.
"Yes, you did — ^you did I Why did you say that
about — adopting. . , . You meant something else.
You know. , . . Don't you know? How long have
jrou known ? Oh, I won't lie any more, and neither
shall you. How long ?"
"I always knew," he said.
"Ahl" Less than ever did she understand now.
"It was stupid of me," he added gently, "but until
I saw you in Mrs. Callender's nursery to-n^ht, I never
thought how you must have longed for your own childi
Why should we not adopt it?"
"She died," Eileen said. Still they stood staring,
as if they would reach each other's souls. "I was
glad, then," she added. "For her own sake. . . . She
was so pretty, too ; only how could I want her to live,
and be unhappy? Now will you tell me why? . . .
If you always knew, didn't it nrake any difference 7"
"Not to me."
"Why not?"
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3;o THE SHADOW RIDERS
"ShaU I teU you?"
"I think I have— a right to that Afterward, 111 go
away, or — anything you like."
"You shall do anything you like," he repeated. "Sit
down . . . dear. Do you know that it is difficult to
tell an old story one has never told? . . . How old
are you, Eileen?" It was singular, but he did not
know exactly. 'Twenty-three? I was twenty-five —
then. That's nineteen years ago. I was in love. First
love. She was twenty. Dark and — slim and sweet,
like you. So much alive. . . . She was married to a
nan twice her age, too. Alwajrs a mistake, I dare say.
He used to be away a great deal; he was a rou^,
hearty, outdoor man — very rich, that was why she
married htm, but, you understand, she was quite a
child, and dazzled ; indeed, she didn't know what mar-
riage was at all. His money was in timber ; he used
to be away on business — I said that, didn't I ? Well
... I had always had everything I wanted — and, you
know, I loved her, too. I suppose first love can't help
beti^ selfish.
"One night she came to me ; she was wild, b^ged
me to take her away. - He was returning home, after
a long trip. We had been in a fool's paradise. She
cried terribly; she couldn't bear ever to see him again,
she said, after everything. ... Of course I said I
would ; I wanted to. We planned how we would go,
the next day, and she went away laughit^.
'"Hie next day I called on my sister Laura, just to
say good-bye; and somehow Laura guessed. She had
seen Rose, only an hour before, and then she had al-
ways suspected. She pinned me down, wouldn't listen
to any denial, and told me I was mad. Why not wait,
let "Rose get a divorce, instead of givii^ up every-
thmg and putting ourselves outside the pale? I don't
know if she hoped delay would wear it out ; perhaps
ovGoogIc
THE SHADOW RIDERS 371
not, she was fond of Rose, too. She said she wanted
to be able to welcome her as a sister. And she made
me sit down and write a sensible letter to Rose. Sen-
sible. . . . Full of prudent plans, you know. Oh, I
did it" Eileen saw his hands clench, and his mouth
twist as if he tasted something bitter. "The next
day," he went on, without any change in his voice, "I
heard that Rose was dead. She had killed herself. I
wanted to do the same, but Laura kept me from it;
Laura brought me the news. But she didn't know
everything; not the, worst I heard that whispered,
weeks later, when I was strong enough to stand more.
They said that Rose hadn't been quite herself . . .
they said women weren't always responsible, you know.
. , . She had been expecting our child — mine. That
was why she wanted to go at once. Only she hadn't
been able to tell me. I understood quite clearly, you
see, when it was too late. Of course, no one else
ever knew. . . . You're the first. Now you know."
He bowed his face in his hands. Eileen, sitting
stiffly upright, gripping the arms of the sofa, had not
moved while he talked.
"You loved her so much?" she asked in a queer dry
voice— dry after so many tears.
"Yes, I did. And I killed her. That was what
it amounted to. Part of myself — most of myself, too."
"More than you ever loved any one else?" said
Eileen.
"More? I suppose I had felt some fancies before I
ever met her; I forget. I was just an ordinary young
man. But do you think that afterward I could have
taken a woman in my arms "
Their eyes met ; a dark, unbecoming wave of color
flooded Eileen's face and throat
"Only you," he said. He was the bom lover; he
knew when it were better not to speak. He gathered
ovCiooglc
373 THE SHADOW RIDERS
her in his arms, dishevelled, spent, forlorn, and kissed
her tangled hair, and pressed her hot eyelids down
with kisses.
"You loved me a little, too," she asked at length,
with a deep, quivering s^, "when you asked me
to marry you?"
If he knew when not to apeak, he knew also when
to lie.
"Yes," he said. "I have been waiting for you to
eare."
"But when I did — when I did " she stammered.
He told her what she had said in her sleep, and she
hid her face.
"It wasn't true," she said courageously. "1 tried
to make mjreelf believe that, but Do you want me
to tell you— that I used to dream of you even
You did make it hard for me "
Mercifully, he stopped her mouth. What had he
expected? he asked himself. To make a nun of her?
At her age, with her ardent spirit and warm bkx>d,
to be held in a kind of bodiless captivity by the power
of a few words which gratitude and a sense of honour
made unbreakable I If honour would not yield, she
must; he had seen her fading. That she had turned
to him, first and last, was more than he deserved. His
savage, gigantic joke on society might have been
more grimly upon himself. Well if he could smile at
it now. How inexpressibly marvellous to hold her
in his arms, feel her wild heart beating against his,
after those barren years. His very denial had kept
his feelings fresh, retained in them the strangeness
and wonder which is the portion of youth. Something
of this he tried to tell her, whisperii^, hushing her
with tender words. She relaxed in his arms.
"Yes," she said, "yes. Say it again — that it doesn't
matter. We can boUi — forget. Youll help me. Say
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THE SHADOW RTOERS 373
— you love me." Her bri|^t head sank against bis
breast ; her voice broke ofi drowsily. She was asleep.
The black robe had fallen away from one bare foot
Carefully, bo that he might not disturb her, he covered
it up. Poor little feet! She breathed deeply and
evenly. Her breath was sweet ; her whole body was
fragrant. He did not dare to kiss her, for fear of
waUng her. He held her until morning, and she
never stirred till she opened her eyes to the daylight
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CHAPTER XXXIII
NOTHING is so unreasoningly sad as the hour
following on pleasure. Lesley, snatched from
her last partner's arms by inexorable Fate in
the portly person of Mrs. Dupont, plunged into this
melancholy only with the opening of her own front
door. In the motor with the Duponts there had still
becD talk and laughter, like a lingering echo. Mrs.
Dupont was brusque and jolly and cheerfully apolo-
getic for leaving so early. It was half past three, a
good hour before the end ; once she would have danced
the sun up. Now she declared she must think of her
beauty sleep; a little late, for her beauty was gone.
But it had been a very splendid ball, and Mrs. Cal-
lender was at last officially "in," and every one oug^t
to be satisfied.
Lesley agreed with Mrs. Dupont about everything;
and there was her own house. She thanked the Du-
ponts sincerely and got out and waved good-bye from
the steps with her latch key. Then she let herself in
and felt her way cautiously up the narrow stairs in
the dark, remembering the two odd steps at the top,
and got into her own room without even a creak of
the door. Hilda screwed up her face at the light with-
out waking. Lesley threw o£F her cloak. The dead
cold air before the dawn crinkled her smooth shoulders
into gooseflesh, but she sat still a while, looking list-
lessly at her pale face in the mirror, noting some new
maturity in the shadowed cheek and the droop of her
piquant mouth. There was no sign of Jack Addison's
farewell kiss upc«i it — a virginal close mouth. Was
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 375
she sorry tiiat all her freshness, all the golden possi-
bilities of her youth, should go for nothing but that
one kiss ? Even now she did not know.
Less poetically, she was a little sorry that she had
not had a chance to say good night to Chan. Three
times she had seen htm start across the floor to her;
she was sure it was for her ; and each time some one
detained him, or another took her out to dance. There
was something tantalising about that. He had only
danced with her once, though he had asked her for
another and missed it
She took off her slippers mournfully, and stoopii^^
knocked a book from the edge of the bed. Hilda was
wont to read in bed. Hilda woke.
"Huh ! Oh — 's you — 'dje have a nice time?" mum-
bled Hilda, rubbing her eyes and preparing to be
very wide awake and interested.
"A lovely time," said Lesley lugubriously, "ni
tell you all about it to-morrow, Hilda. Please unhook
me now; I'm so cold. And tell Mrs. Holt ni kill any
one who wakes me in the morning. I'm not going to
work." She wriggled out of her silvery panoply like
a snake and threw it across a chair, and crept into the
soft bed. How tired she was, all suddenly I The last
dance, that had been playing when she left, sang in
her head ; it had some repeated thrumming chord in
it, like the characteristic note of a guitar — something
Spanish and delicately sensuous and sad. And Chan
was looking for her, but always across the room. . . .
Hilda spoke to her twice, and she did not answer;
she was fathoms deep in sleep.
The next she knew some one was shaking her by the
shoulder, and Mrs. Holt's pleasant, broad-vowelled
Irish voice was repeating:
"Wake up — wake up, ye unnatural girl. There's i
young man to see you, downstairs."
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376 THE SHADOW RIDERS
"Chant" said Lesley, startinff up in bed. She had
dreamed the same dream again.
"He said he was Mr, Herrick," Mrs. Holt replied,
and Lesley was covered with confusion as with a gar-
ment. Why should she sit up screaming Chan's name
like that? She did not think he could have heard,
however. "What time is it?" she asked, and would
hardly believe it was two o'clock. "It must have been
the claret cup," was her guilty thought. In fact, she
had only been more tired than she knew, and quite
unused to late hours. "Tell him 111 be r^t down,"
she said, climbing out and bq^nning to hunt for her
clothes. They seemed to have disajqwared, and Chan
waited well over half an hour before she came into
Mrs. Holt's parlour, still heavy-eyed and hardly alive
to the workaday world.
He was sitting tentatively on a slippery horsehair-
covered sofa, holding his hat and scowling out of tiie
window. He did not look at home, as he had used to
do at Mrs. Cranston's, and some access of shyness at
his altered exterior overcame her, so that she withdrew
the hand she was extending to him and looked at him
doubtfully. Gnderella was back by the hearth again,
wearing her blue serge, and a white blouse she had evi-
dently worn the day before.
"You didn't expect me ?" he asked.
"No, I didn't expect any one — well, how could I?
I was sound asleep," she confessed.
"Did I wake you ? I'm sorry ; I was just going by,
and there was something I wanted to see you ^out
You enjoyed the dance?"
"Yes, of course."
"I thou^t you did," he said moodily. He wanted
to ask her about the letters ; he had come for that ; but
his mind kept reverting to another matter.
"Didn't you want me to ?" asked Lesley. It was s^-
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 377
ntficant how things had changed between them, that
she wondered just what he had come for.
"Why, of course. But I thought you niight be feel-
ir^ badly to-day -"
"About what?"
"Oh, I don't know — that is, I heard — I undei^
"For pity's sake, Chan, say it! I haven't heard nor
understood anything."
"I heard you might be engaged," he said, though it
was the last thing in the world he had meant to say.
He had always thought it detestable, almost caddish, to
force a confidence.
"To whom?"
"To Jack Addison." He was in so far; he could
not draw back.
"Well, I'm not. Who told you that? Why did you
think so?" Her directness was only the eicpression
of a vast confusion.
"Then I beg your pardon."
"But you've got to tell me why you thought so."
The devil was in Chan's tongue; he could not stop
it. How had this idiotic, maddening conversation
started ? He knew that look in Lesley's eye ; she would
not be diverted now. Still he tried his poor best.
"Oh, it was nothing; some one saw you both up in
the gallery, last night. 1 shouldn't have menttooed it,
but I wanted to ask you about him "
"Why shouldn't we have been in the gallery? What
do you mean they saw?"
She woiiid have it; he had been throu^ her crost*
examinations once or twice before. It was despera-
tion as much as some other unnamed motive, a motive
that had knocked for recognition at the threshold of
consciousness for days, that answered her for him.
"Saw him kiss you. Now I beg your pardon again."
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3;8 THE SHADOW RIDERS
"Did you see us ?" Neither did she want nor mean
to say that ; but it gave her a pang to think he might
have seen. Something revived in her at the image; ■
something put aside and shamed, that protested.
"No. Please don't ask me who told me. I don't
want to make you tell me ; I only wanted to say "
"But you did," she retorted, not realisii^ the in-
ferential admission until too late.
"Then it is true?"
"What is true? I'm not ei^aged to him "
"No, but you did let him " Good heavens, they
were quarrelling now I Why could he not get to lus
own business — the letters?
"Well, if I did— I don't care ; I'm not "
"But I thought that must be why *'
"It wasn't. It was because — because I don't
know why. Because he was going away, and he'd
wanted to for years You talk as if you'd never
kissed any one 1 Why should you come here and n^
me about it anyway?" She was almost in tears; she
felt as if they must both have suddenly gone mad.
"Because," said Chan, a great light suddenly break-
ing on him, so that he spoke slowly while he looked
and looked again at the bewildering truth, "I wanted
that kiss myself."
Lesley felt weak, almost stunned. He was looking
at her again as he had ktoked the night before, with
those new eyes that saw the woman where the friend
had been; she felt that she was desirable — and now
she was not arrayed for admiration ; she was only
herself, in her crumpled cheap blouse, and pale in the
glare of noon. There was a flooding warmth about
her heart, and her breath came short. Chan put his
hands in his pockets, with a quick tense motion, and
vtood waiting, biting his lip. He could have faced the
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THE SHADOW RIDERS 379
gnus with more composure — he did, whea the time
came — but he did not show it. .
, "I suppose," she said, half tearfully, "that you think
we ought to sit around with our hands folded until
you get through with your kissing. ... I don't care;
he's going away to fight, and he probably won't come
back at all. . . ." She stopped, wishing she had not
said that, for io the old mysterious way she knew it
was true.
"So am I," said Chan.
"What?"
"Going away. I volunteered by wire yesterday; and
in fact, there was a commission waiting for me. . . ."
"Not you I" she cried, and knew that she had not
changed at all. "Why must you go ?"
"Why not me as well as the others ? I came West
this time to make up my mind. I've decided that it's
too late to think now ; we must fight, I'd like to help
pay the bill; then I may have a right to think. So
I'm going. Now — will you kiss me, too, since I'm
going away and may never come back ?"
"No — no——" she said, though she did not mean
that at alt ; and since she was already in his arms, he
knew that very well.
"You won't ?" he asked, with tender raillery, holding
her away yet a moment so he could see her face.
With a great effort, she drew the fateful curtains
of her secret prescient mind, and though her sou!
quailed with fear that it m^t see too much sorrow,
she dared. Her eyes for a moment were remote.
"But you will come back," she said, "only it will be
so long. . . ." The sentence was never completed, and
neither did he ever remember to ask her about the let-
ters. Akmg with a great many other things, th^ did
not matter particularly.
THE Ein>
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