Etzooah was in the kitchen of the house. He received her with his customary witless grin, and edged in front of the door to the inner room as if to keep her out. Loseis caught her breath in astonishment, and her eyes fairly blazed on the man.
“Stand aside, dog of a redskin!” she cried. “This is my father’s house, and Gault is only a guest here at my pleasure!”
To the terrified Indian it seemed as if the little figure had grown a foot. He slunk aside, and Loseis went into her father’s room, closing the door after her.
Upon her first glance at the desk it was apparent to her that Gault had stolen a march on her; though she did not immediately understand the significance of what he had done. The desk was a handsome piece after the Colonial style made by Blackburn himself. It had four drawers below, and a flap which lifted down to form the writing table. The drawers and the flap alike were fastened shut by strips of papers, caught down by clots of sealing wax. Going closer Loseis saw that the wax had been impressed with Gault’s ring.
Loseis smiled bitterly. Her first impulse was to tear open these flimsy seals; but she held her hand. No; the damage was already done; if anything had been abstracted, how was she to know? Better to keep Gault in ignorance of the fact that she had been there. She did not believe that Etzooah would tell him, unless it occurred to Gault to question him. A Slavi never volunteers any information to a white man. The upshot was that Loseis turned around, and went home.
The invitation to supper was repeated later. When Gault came over it was a changed Loseis who greeted him. Her uncertainty was gone. Danger stimulated her; all her faculties were sharpened. She had put on one of her prettiest dresses; her dark eyes sparkled with topaz lights; and she gave Gault smile for smile. The trader was charmed. She is coming ’round, he thought; I knew she would.
Moale saw deeper. His inscrutable eyes followed Loseis with a new respect. Moale served his master very faithfully, but he was like the Slavis in one respect; he never volunteered any information.
Supper was quite a jolly occasion. Loseis listened attentively to Gault’s stories; and was prompt with her applause. The trader visibly expanded; and Moale’s expression as he watched him became even more sardonic than usual. During the course of the meal, Loseis said with an innocent air:
“Mr. Gault, all my father’s papers are in that desk in your room. Will you go over everything with me to-morrow, and explain it.”
He wagged a protesting hand in her direction. “No, no, no,” he said; “nothing must be touched until the lawyer comes.”