“She’s just coming in,” said the officer. “She ought to land her passengers at the pier in about ten minutes.”
“Then it’s time to go down to meet her,” said Charlie. “Come on, girls, and you too, Holmes. You’ll be needed down there. And I guess you’ll find it worth your while to come, too.”
Holmes, protesting, had no alternative, and in sullen silence he was one of the little group that now made its way toward the pier. She was just being tied up as they arrived, and Silas Weeks, his face full of malign triumph at the sight of Bessie and Zara, was the first to step ashore.
“Got yer, have I?” he said. He turned to a lanky, angular man who was at his side. “There y’are, constable,” he said. “There’s yer parties–them two girls there! Arrest them, will yer?”
“Not here, I won’t,” said the constable. “You didn’t tell me it was to come off here. This is government land–I ain’t got no authority here.”
“You keep your mouth shut and your eyes and ears open, Weeks,” said Jamieson, before the angry old farmer could say anything. Then he stepped forward to greet a man and woman who had followed Weeks down the gangplank.
“I’m glad you’re here, Mrs. Richards, and you too, Mr. Richards,” he said. “I’m going to be able to keep my promise.”
Holmes was staring at Mrs. Richards and her husband in astonishment.
“You here, Elizabeth?” he exclaimed. “And Henry, too? I didn’t know you were coming!”
“We decided to come quite unexpectedly, Morton,” said the lady, quietly. She was a woman of perhaps forty-two or three, tall and distinguished in her appearance. But, like her husband, her face showed traces of privations and hardship.