“Human nature is human nature,” he vouchsafed. “Money is power. There are a dozen truisms that I might utter very aptly at this present juncture, but I refrain. It so happens, however, that, in the event of your failing to discover the hiding-place of the gold so artfully concealed by the late lamented, this same Margaret West will fall heiress to exactly one-half of that gold. Therefore, inevitably, she is your enemy. Such is the law of our civilization, in which gold plays the vital part.”
Saxe was frowning. He turned to David, with open impatience.
“Did you ever hear the like of that nonsense?” he demanded.
David smoked thoughtfully, and paused for a few seconds before he answered. Then, he smiled his usual kindly smile, as he spoke decisively:
“Of course, it does seem a bit preposterous, first off,” he admitted. “But, you see, the common facts of experience lend color to Roy’s argument. Miss West is a charming girl, and doesn’t seem a bit the sordid, avaricious type, and yet—well, you never can tell. Women are kittle cattle, and there’s a pot of money concerned. I’m thinking she wouldn’t be quite plain human, if she didn’t want you to fail. Of course she does—she must—yes, Roy is right enough, Miss West is your natural enemy.”
Saxe was silenced, and, in a manner of speaking, convinced as well. He was forced to admit the plausibility of the reasoning of his friends, although his feeling was still bitterly opposed to any admission that their contention was just in this particular instance. It occurred to him that, were the case reversed, he would undoubtedly desire the seeker’s discomfiture with all his heart, would, in fine, regard the seeker as his natural enemy—just as Roy had designated Margaret West to be his natural enemy. Nevertheless, something within him forbade that he should esteem this girl as one hostile to himself. The color in Saxe’s cheeks deepened a little. Of a sudden, it was borne in on his consciousness that there existed a most cogent reason why he could not regard Margaret West as an enemy. It was because he so earnestly desired her as a friend. In that instant of illumination, he realized that never before in his life had he longed for the friendship of woman as now he yearned for that of Margaret West. A strange confusion fell on him. He did not quite understand the emotion that welled in his spirit; it was something new to his experience, something subtle, bafflingly elusive—and very, very sweet.
Saxe was recalled to the business of the moment by the pained voice of Roy:
“Digging the drain cost six dollars and ninety-eight cents.”
“Sounds like a department store,” was David’s amused comment. “I learn that, on the sixteenth of last January, nine cents was expended in the purchase of the succulent onion.”
Roy groaned with dismal heartiness.