“Yes, sir. He asked me questions and gave me a ten dollar bill. I feel like a Judas.”
“Remember what he is and you will not feel so. You can give the money back later, if you like.”
The more puzzling part of this matter to Mr. Tudor was to make no mistake about having the government officers and men on hand at the right time. With careful scouts out on land and sea to guard against surprise when the schooner actually arrived, Mr. Ives and Bill would be thoroughly informed about any suspicious movements. But an innocent looking hunting and fishing party had just arrived at a camp a few miles away, and a few miles down the coast a small passenger vessel had put in, apparently for repairs. A regular coast guard steamer had passed as well and had duly been reported to Bill and Mr. Ives, who were feeling none too easy about this next cargo of aliens to be smuggled in. But thousands of dollars were already in their pockets and they expected to make as much again.
Patriotism? Bill had been smuggled in himself years before, and Mr. Ives often told his wife that he owed nothing to Uncle Sam or the flag. He was a brilliant scoundrel, thoroughly selfish and of the type that enjoys intrigue and power. The Count had been embittered by the results of the world war and was glad to do what he could against the country and its laws. Some of the alien immigrants themselves were to be pitied, though they were lending themselves to this scheme. Many of them were caught in some unhappy circumstances at home and cared nothing for governments, only for a refuge.
Others were of the dangerous class of communists that were willing to pay and pay heavily for the chance to spread their doctrines in a country that wanted none of them. Then there were the ignorant ones, of “low degree,” who believed almost anything that they were told of the chances in America. They were to be largely Bill’s prey, robbed of their savings and forced to work for him if he chose. That was the “fine opportunity” waiting for them in America!
The new man with Mr. Tudor carried the messages now, at night, for it was no longer best to telegraph from the nearest town. After the sending of the manuscript, the two men now spent long hours in fishing or in tramping about after the manner of tourists. They took notes in prominent places, to carry out the idea of their profession, and, indeed, both of them were correspondents for certain papers. Mr. Tudor told Beth that his “best seller” could more easily be a detective story than anything else.
Dalton was admitted to councils now, but he was more anxious to get on with the house than to do any detective work. The chief benefit to him was the knowledge that someone else was watching Bill and Mr. Ives. His family was safe without his being on guard any longer. Like magic, Leslie said, the house went up and it was decided to finish it within and without for cold weather. They would at least have what Sarita called a “proper home” and if they wanted to stay through part of the cold weather they could.
At night watch was kept in the Eyrie, as they had planned, for now it was but a short time till the schooner was due. On the twenty-sixth the Ives yacht came into the bay and men were sent for to fix some part of the machinery. Mr. Ives, “cross as two sticks,” according to Peggy, appeared at his home and had long consultations with the Count. At other times he could be heard pacing up and down in his office. “He has something on hand that worries him terribly, Peggy,” Mrs. Ives told her daughter, “and just at the time of the house party, too! He says that perhaps the yacht will not be ready in time to go for them, but that if it isn’t he will get them here some other way.”
Peggy did not confide this to the other girls. She had stopped talking about the matter. It was not fun any more. They missed her at the Eyrie, for while Jack came as usual, still interested in the house and Dalton, and still wanting to confide in Leslie the matters of the Steeple Rocks mystery, now a mystery no longer, Peggy tried to seem interested in her clothes and the plans for the house party. Would it come off? Would Mr. Tudor tell? He didn’t talk as if he would right away. What ought she to do about telling her mother?
Peggy’s mind was somewhat in confusion. The servants were quiet, inclined to watch Peggy, she imagined. It would have been hard to find opportunity for the secret talk with her mother which she rather longed for sometimes. She and Jack did not attempt to discuss the matter and Mr. Ives asked Jack to drop his “carpenter work” at the Eyrie. Once, while they were playing tennis, Jack muttered to Peggy, “No use, can’t do a thing now, Peggy. We’ll just wait.”