“I ain’t sayin’ it didn’t,” she whined. “But by mistake it was put in Anna’s father’s box by the carrier; an’ havin’ sickness in the family, Anna only brought it up on Monday mornin’. I took it from her, sir, and went right up to the room where Mr. Paul was talkin’ to Mr. Alan—an’ laid it on the table.”
“Mr. Alan!” Trenholm strove to keep his voice lowered. “Was he here then?”
“Yes, sir. Mr. Paul sent for him,” she looked up craftily. “He stayed ’round most of the day until ’bout time the doctor was to come, and then he cleared out.” She raised herself on tiptoe and whispered as he bent down to hear her better. “Corbin wa’n’t here then. He’d kill me if he knew I was keepin’ anythin’ from him. But Mr. Alan,” her voice held unexpected, unmistakable pathos, “years back, he beat Corbin for mishandlin’ me, and I ain’t never forgot how good he was.”
“Hush!” Trenholm took out his handkerchief and handed it to her. “Dry your eyes, Martha; and say nothing about Mr. Alan or this letter”—returning it to his pocket. “Remember I trust you.”
Martha drew a long, long breath. Trenholm was treating her like a human being. Gratitude, mingled with a return of self-respect, caused her to raise his hand to her lips, then, in frantic bashfulness, she slipped back into the dining room, upsetting Anna in her hurried entrance.
Trenholm paused in deep thought, then, going through the side door, joined the three deputies who were anxiously awaiting him. His concise directions were listened to with the respect which Trenholm inspired among those who worked with and for him.
“You understand,” he said finally, and the men nodded as they stood grouped about him. “Riley, go to the telegraph office and await the answers to the messages I have sent and bring them to me. Do not permit them to telephone any message to me; there is too much danger of ‘listening in.’ Now, be off,” and Trenholm again entered Abbott’s Lodge, but by the front door.
Trenholm’s entrance went unnoticed by Doctor Roberts and Alan Mason, who were chatting with Miriam, while Alexander Nash stood moodily contemplating the blazing logs on the hearth at the further end of the living room, deaf alike to his companions and Anna’s announcement that dinner was served.
With old-fashioned courtesy, Roberts offered his arm to Miriam, then paused abruptly as footsteps on the staircase caused him to glance upward.
“God bless my soul!” he ejaculated in complete surprise.