They went on, and when after supper Mrs. Farnam grumbled at being left without a man in the house, Farnam took out an automatic pistol and explained how it was used.
"I don't know why I bought the thing, unless it was to satisfy Mabel," he said to Agatha. "It's curious, but while she could handle mutinous pupils and bluff the managers, she quakes if a door rattles on a windy night. One's rather safer in our homestead than a Montreal hotel; but Mabel has lived in the cities and the Wild West tradition dies hard. As a matter of fact, there never was a Wild West in Canada." He opened the pistol. "You put the cartridge shells in like this—"
"You can show Agatha how it works; I won't touch the thing," Mrs. Farnam declared. "She's something of a sport, but I'm a womanly woman, except when I teach school."
Farnam laughed. "On the whole, it might be better to leave the cartridges out. If somebody did break in, all you need do would be to pretend you were asleep. Everybody in the neighborhood knows where my office is and an intelligent burglar begins at the safe. There's no money in mine now."
After a little good-humored banter, Agatha took the pistol and Farnam went to his office at the other end of the house. Next day he started for Montreal, and at night Mrs. Farnam made Agatha come with her while she examined the fastenings of the doors and windows. The house was low and the roof of the veranda in front reached nearly to the second floor. Nothing disturbing happened, and on the next night Agatha sat up after Mrs. Farnam had gone to bed, reading the letters Strange had written her from the North.
There were not many, and some were marked by a careless style that obscured the meaning. This puzzled Agatha, who remembered that her father had generally talked with lucid clearness. Still they helped her to picture the life he had led in the wilds, and she read them often, trying to follow on a map his wanderings in search of the lode. They told her more about the country than the books she read, and she had read a number, because the subject had a fascination. All she could learn would be of use when she came to carry out her plans.
When she tied up the letters and looked at the clock it was later than she thought. The room felt cold and she shivered, but sat still for a few moments, musing. The house was quiet and she imagined Mrs. Farnam was asleep; but it was snowing, for she heard the flakes beat upon the window. Looking round the comfortable room, she thought of the men who braved the rigors of winter in the frozen wilds. Thirlwell, for example, was bearing such cold as was never felt in South Ontario.
She started, for there was a noise overhead, as if a door had been gently opened, but next moment pulled herself together. Mabel had not gone to sleep as she had thought, and picking up an electric torch, she put out the lamp. When she was half way up the stairs she heard somebody moving about, but it was not like Mabel's step. The movements seemed cautious, and there was something awkward about them. Agatha, who wore felt-soled slippers, stopped and listened, while her heart beat fast. She heard nothing now, but felt alarmed, and wondered what she ought to do. A call would probably bring an answer that would banish her fears; but suppose it was not Mabel she had heard? There was, however, another way of finding out, and with something of an effort she went upstairs.
Mrs. Farnam's room was on the landing, and Agatha turned the handle cautiously. The door would not open, and it was obvious that Mabel had locked herself in. Then the latch slipped back with a jar that sounded horribly loud, and she waited, trembling and trying to keep calm. Since Mabel had not heard the noise, it was plain that she was asleep and somebody else was in the house. Still Mabel, if awakened, would not be of much help, and remembering that the pistol was in her room, Agatha went down the passage.
The passage was very cold, a curtain swayed in an icy draught, and she found the door of her room open. Stopping for a moment, she thought there was somebody inside. This, however, might be a trick of her imagination, and although she wanted to steal away, she knew that if she did so she would lose her self-respect and the confidence she would need for her journey to the North. She must brave real dangers in the wilds and live among rude men. Besides, the pistol was on a table near the door.