CHAPTER SIX
When Blakeman opened the steel grille for his master at an early hour the day following, the thought uppermost in his mind was the change in Thayor's appearance. He saw at a glance that the wilderness had put a firmness into his step and a heartiness in his voice, as well as a healthy colour in his cheeks, such as he had not seen in him for years. He would gladly have sacrificed his month's salary to have been with him, and more than once during his absence had he gone to his room, finding a certain consolation even in looking for rust spots on his favourite gun.
With the casting off of his heavy travelling coat and hat, Thayor's first words were of his daughter.
"And how is Miss Margaret?" he asked, as Blakeman followed him upstairs with his gun and great-coat.
Dr. Sperry's villainous verdict still rankled in the butler's mind, and at first he had half decided to tell Thayor all he had overheard in the teakwood room. Then the pain it would give his master restrained him.
"Miss Margaret is quite well, sir," he returned in the unctious, calm voice he assumed in service.
"Ah, that's good. She's asleep, I suppose, at this hour."
"I presume so, sir, as she was out rather late last night. I beg pardon, sir, but might I ask if you have had good luck?"
"Well, I managed to kill a fine buck, Blakeman," returned his master, as he continued up the stairs.
"Did you, indeed, sir!" exclaimed Blakeman, his face lighting up.
"Well, I'm happy to hear it, sir—I am, indeed. A full blue-coat, sir,
I dare say."