“And things aren’t very cheerful where I live, either,” he said. “Miss Hester has been crying, and that Dabney Mills has been hanging around the place. He brings no good with him, whatever he comes for.”
Beatrice was not inclined to take the amateur detective very seriously; but, she was concerned indeed to hear that Hester was still unhappy. She was desirous of riding over to see her, but her unpractised skill as a housewife made it difficult for her to find a spare moment. Most of the next day passed without her having time for visiting, but when evening came she was ordered by Aunt Anna to go out for a little, since she had toiled in the house all day. As there was not time enough for a ride, she strolled down the path under the pines and stood at the bars of the gate, watching the slow tide of shadows creep up the hillsides opposite. For so long a time did she stand there that when two figures came down the hill from the direction of John Herrick’s house it was too dark to see who they were, and they were only to be recognized by their voices. The loudness of their speech indicated that neither Olaf nor Dabney Mills was in a friendly mood.
“We give you warning,” Olaf was saying, “that you are not to come on John Herrick’s place again. You are to ask no more questions of anybody. You are to put that note-book in your pocket and shut your mouth and get out. If you show yourself here again, you will get something that will make what you took from the bear seem like a love-pat.”
“You warn me? Who are you, giving orders?” Dabney Mills thrust his face forward sharply and spoke almost into the other’s. “Who are you? That’s what I’m asking?”
Olaf hesitated, then swung about without replying and strode off up the hill.
“Imposter!” cried Dabney after him. “Liar!” He caught sight suddenly of Beatrice beside the gate and changed his manner quickly.
“Good evening,” he said pleasantly, “might I ask——”
He had glanced upward toward Olaf, disappearing in the dusk, so that Beatrice guessed the question concerned him, and interrupted.
“There is no use in your asking me anything,” she said. “We are all very tired of your questions, and think you have no right to ask them.”
“Oh, I don’t want to inquire about him,” returned Dabney, indicating Olaf with a jerk of his thumb. “I know who he is all right—Christina’s boy that went off to sea, and that has such a warm welcome waiting for him in Ely. I found out who he was the day the bear knocked me out. I came to and saw him hanging over that precipice and I knew, all in a minute, that only a sailor could have the head to do such a thing. I had my suspicions before, and I only needed that to make me sure.”