“Captain Dean,” I said, “his smartness hasn't caught me yet. I'm going to tell you something, but first you must promise not to tell anyone else.”
He promised and I told him of Mr. Keene and the Bay Shore Company. He listened, interrupting with chuckles and exclamations. When I had finished he seized my hand and wrung it.
“By the everlastin'!” he exclaimed, “that was great! I say again, you're all right, Ros Paine. Even I swallered that Development Company, hook, line, and sinker. But YOU saw through it!”
“I tell you this,” I said, “so that you will understand I have no intention of backing water.”
“I know you ain't. Knew it afore and now I know it better. But I can't understand what the Colton game is—and there is a game, sure. That daughter of his, now—she may be in it or she may not. She's pretty and I will give in that she's folksy and sociable with us natives; it's surprisin', considerin' her bringin' up. Nellie and Matildy like her, Nellie especial. They're real chummy, as you might say. Talk and talk, just as easy and common as you and I this minute. I've heard 'em two or three times at my house when they thought I wasn't listenin' and twice out of the three they was talkin' about you.”
“About ME?” I repeated.
“Yes. I don't wonder you're surprised. I was myself. Asked Nellie about it and she just laughed. Said you was the principal object of interest in town just now, which is more or less true. But it makes me suspicious, all the same. Why should a girl like that Colton one talk about a feller like you? You're as fur apart, fur's anything in common is concerned, as molasses is from vinegar. Ain't that so?”
It was so, of course, but he need not have been so brutally frank in telling me. However, I nodded and admitted that he was right.
“Yes,” he said. “A blind horse could see there was no sensible, open and above-board reason for HER bein' interested in YOU. So there's another reason, the way I look at it, and that's why I'd be mighty careful, mighty careful, Ros. Her pa's got a new trick up his sleeve and she's helpin' him play it, that's my notion. So be careful, won't you.”
“I'll be careful,” said I. I knew, as well as I knew my real name—which he did not—that Mabel Colton was not helping her father play any tricks. I had seen enough of her to be certain she was not tricky. And, besides, if she were in sympathy with her parent, why had she given me the hint which put me on the trail of the Development Company? Why had she given me the hint at all? That was the real riddle, and I had not, as yet, hit upon a plausible answer. Those I had hit upon were ridiculous and impossible, and I put them from my mind. But she was not tricky, that I knew.