“But Mr. Eckes—when am I to meet him?”
“J.C.X.?” Acey Smith pronounced it short and in a cautious whisper.
“Yes.”
“That would be out of the question.”
“But I understood I was to meet him here.”
“You have misinterpreted the letter, Miss Stone. Nowhere does it refer to such a meeting.”
The girl bit her nether lip. Her eyes flashed dangerously. “If that’s the answer,” she said coldly, “we may as well end this farce at once. I will return to Calgary to-morrow.”
Genuine alarm came into Acey Smith’s face. “But, Miss Stone,” he cried, “you don’t know how much it is in your own interests that you stay—how greatly you would jeopardise matters by leaving!”
“That is just it—I don’t know! I feel I have a right to know if I am to be asked to remain.”
There could be no mistaking the determination in her voice and manner. Plainly she was poignantly disappointed. The superintendent gazed fixedly into space for a silent period. “Give me time,” he requested. “Give me time to find out what I may tell you. Will you do that?”