“Who killed him? And why?” He shrugged his great shoulders. “That’s the thing I’m going to find out. Where’s the skipper and crew of that ship? They quit her in fair weather. Why? Who changed her name? Why? Why kill your brother? For his wad? Sure. Not for any bank credit. Where’s his partner, that boy, Len Stern? He’s not showed up.”
Claire was listening to his every word with close attention. Such was her intensity that her lips moved as though she were repeating to herself the things he said. The instant he ceased speaking, sharp and passionately came her challenge.
“You’ve more than that to tell, Ivor!” she cried. “Tell it me. You must. Oh, you don’t know all this means to me. You don’t know the ugly thing you’ve raised up in me. Ivor—Ivor—! I think I could kill the man who murdered our Jim with my own two hands. He was my brother. He hadn’t a thought but for us. There’s not a thing in all the world I wouldn’t do to—to hand those folks who murdered him the justice they need. It just frightens me the way I feel. Tell me.”
“There isn’t a thing more to tell now, Claire. There surely isn’t. I don’t know a thing yet but what I’ve told you. But I mean to know.”
“And then you’ll come to me—and tell me?”
McLagan shook his head.
“Ther’ll be no need.” The man sat forward in his chair, and reaching out one hand it closed over the slim hand of the girl, which, in her urgent emotion, had been laid upon her work-table. His whole manner had softened from his threat against those he was seeking. And, listening to him, the girl grew calm under the influence of his gentle tone of supreme confidence. “Say, Claire, I’ve asked for the right to fix things for you. I’ve asked, and you’ve always refused. Well, I’m asking nothing now. I’m just telling you. Jim was your brother. Well, I’m just taking to myself the right to get after the folks who’ve killed him. You can’t stop me. No one can. And when I’ve located ’em, when I’ve got ’em where I need ’em, they’ll be dealt with, sure as God, in the fashion they deserve. It’s my right which you can’t deny me. Jim was a friend of mine and I love his sister better than life. No,” he went on, in the same gentle tone, as the girl released her hand from his. “I’m making no break. I’m not asking a thing. I’m just telling you the straight fact, and assuring you of the thing my mind’s fixed on. Maybe I’ve made you angry. I can’t help it. I don’t want to. There’s not a thing farther from my mind. I want you to get the fact I’m claiming a right the world, and you, can’t deny me. Now I want you to try and forget all about it.”
“How can I forget it all?”
The girl shook her head. The trouble in her eyes was almost painful. But through it all there was something gazing out upon this big plain creature which anybody but he must have interpreted without a second thought.
“To you Jim has been dead nearly a year,” McLagan said. “It’s just as it was. Only the circumstances are different—now.”