The chemist turned, surveying her rather sharply. His eyes were penetrating and hostile.
“You’re Miss Sterling, I suppose? I telephoned from the White’s for a room at Mrs. Brady’s lodge. If you’re here to take me across the lake, let’s get started. I’ve had a hard trip and I’m tired.”
In spite of his desire for haste, the chemist made no move to lift his suitcases from the rear of the car. He waited impatiently for the ranger to stow them in the skiff. Jack was provokingly slow.
“Aiming to do a little fishing?” he asked casually.
“I may.”
“Then I’ll give you a permit. This is a timber berth, you know and we have to be careful about fires.”
“Do I look like I’d set one?”
“I didn’t mean that,” Jack returned amiably. “In your case the permit is only a matter of form.”
“Then why issue it? I lived here several months.”
Jack did not respond but wrote out the necessary form and gave it to him. Clyde took it without a word of thanks and climbed into the skiff. Madge looked surprised and then went to the vacant seat beside the oars. She had expected that the chemist would at least offer to row across the lake.