The Long Portage Part 23

"I think you're hardly fair to her," he said.

"It's possible," Millicent replied carelessly. "Does it matter?"

"Well," he broke out with some warmth, "the girl hasn't such an easy time among you; and one can only respect her for the way she stands by her brother."

"Have you anything to say in his favor?"

"It would be pretty difficult," admitted Lisle. "But you can't blame his sister for that."

"I don't think I've shown any desire to do so," she retorted.

Lisle knit his brows.

"You people are rather curious in your ideas. Now, here's a lonely girl who's pluckily trying to look after that senseless lad, and not a one of you can spare her a word of sympathy, because she doesn't run on the same stereotyped lines as you do. Can you help only the people who will conform?"

Millicent let this pa.s.s, and after an indifferent word or two she turned away. Before she reached home, however, she met Nasmyth.

"Why don't you keep Mr. Lisle out of those Marples' hands?" she asked him.

"In the first place, I'm not sure that I could do so; in the second, I don't see why I should try," Nasmyth replied. "On the whole, considering that he's a Western miner, I don't think he's running a serious risk.

Perhaps I might hint that Bella Crestwick's hardly likely to consider him as big enough game."

"Don't be coa.r.s.e!" Millicent paused. "But he spoke hotly in her defense."

"After all," responded Nasmyth, "I shouldn't wonder if she deserves it; but it has no significance. You see, he's a rather chivalrous person."

Millicent flashed a quick glance at him, but his face was expressionless.

"What did he say?" he asked.

"I don't remember exactly: he hinted that we were narrow-minded and uncharitable."

Nasmyth laughed.

"I almost think there's some truth in it. I've seen you a little severe on those outside the fold."

"A man's charity is apt to be influenced by a pretty face," Millicent retorted.

"I'll admit it," replied Nasmyth dryly. "But I can't undertake to determine how far that fact has any bearing on this particular instance."

Millicent talked about something else, but she was annoyed with herself when the question Nasmyth had raised once more obtruded itself on her attention during the evening.

On Wednesday Lisle walked over to Marple's house, because he had promised to go, though he would much rather have spent an hour or two with Nasmyth and Millicent in the latter's drawing-room. He had no opportunity for any private speech with Bella, but she flung him a grateful glance as he came in. He waited patiently and followed her brother here and there, but he could not secure a word with him alone.

Some time had pa.s.sed when, escaping from a group engaged in what struck him as particularly stupid badinage, he sauntered toward the billiard-room, struggling with a feeling of irritation. He was generally good-humored and tolerant rather than hypercritical, but the somewhat senseless hilarity of Marple's guests was beginning to jar on him. A burst of laughter which he thought had been provoked by one of Bella's sallies followed him down the corridor, but when he quietly opened the door the billiard-room was empty except for a group of three in one corner. He stopped just inside the threshold, glancing at them, and it was evident that they had not heard his approach.

Wreaths of cigar smoke drifted about the room; the light of the shaded lamps fell upon the men seated on a lounge, and their expressions and att.i.tudes were significant. Gladwyne leaned back languidly graceful; Batley, a burlier figure, was talking, his eyes fixed on Crestwick; and the lad sat upright, looking eager. Batley appeared to be discussing the principles of operating on the stock exchange.

"It's obvious," he said, "that there's very little to be made by waiting until any particular stock becomes a popular favorite--the premium equalizes the profit and sometimes does away with it. The essential thing is to take hold at the beginning, when the shares are more or less in disfavor and can be picked up cheap."

Lisle stood still--he was in the shadow--watching the lad, who now showed signs of uncertainty.

"I dropped a good deal of money the last time I tried it," he protested.

"The trouble is that if you come in when the company's starting, you can't form an accurate idea of how it ought to go."

"Exactly," replied Batley. "You can rarely be quite sure. What you need is sound judgment, the sense to recognize a good thing when you see it, pluck, and the sporting instinct--you must be ready to back your opinion and take a risk. It's only the necessity for that kind of thing which makes it a fine game."

He broke off, looking up, and as Lisle strolled forward with a glance at Crestwick, he saw Batley's genial expression change. It was evident that the idea of being credited with the qualities mentioned appealed to the lad, and Lisle realized that Batley was wis.h.i.+ng him far away. He had, however, no intention of withdrawing, and taking out a cigar he chose a cue and awkwardly proceeded to practise a shot.

"This," he said nonchalantly, "is an amus.e.m.e.nt I never had time to learn, and I really came along for a quiet smoke. Don't let me disturb you."

He saw Crestwick's look and understood what was in the lad's mind. It was incomprehensible to the latter that a man should boldly confess his ignorance of a game of high repute. Batley, however, seeing that the intruder intended to remain, returned to the attack, and though he spoke in a lower voice Lisle caught part of his remarks and decided that he was cleverly playing upon Crestwick's raw belief in himself. This roused the Canadian to indignation, though it was directed against Gladwyne rather than his companion. Batley, he thought, was to some extent an adventurer, one engaged in a hazardous business at which he could not always win, and he had some desirable qualities--good-humor, liberality, coolness and daring. The well-bred gentleman who served as his decoy, however, possessed none of these redeeming characteristics. His part was merely despicable; there was only meanness beneath his polished exterior.

"It certainly looks promising," Lisle heard Crestwick say; "you have pretty well convinced me that it can't go wrong."

"I can't see any serious risk," declared Batley. "That, in the case of mining stock, is as far as I'd care to go. On the other hand, there's every prospect of a surprising change in the value of the shares as soon as the results of the first reduction of ore come out. I can only add that I'm a holder and I got you the offer of the shares as a favor from a friend who's behind the scenes. Don't take them unless you feel inclined."

This was a slip, as Lisle recognized. It is not in human nature to dispose of a commodity that will shortly increase in value. Crestwick, however, obviously failed to notice this; Lisle thought the idea of getting on to the inside track appealed to his vanity.

"It's a curious name they've given the mine," commented the lad, repeating it. "What does it mean?"

Lisle started, for he recognized the name, and it offered him a lead.

Strolling toward the group, he leaned against the table.

"I can tell you that," he said. "It's an Indian word for a river gorge. I went up it not long ago."

"Then," exclaimed Crestwick, "I suppose you know the mine?"

Lisle glanced at the others. Their eyes were fixed upon him, Batley's steadily, Gladwyne's with a hint of uneasiness. It was, he felt, a remarkable piece of good fortune that had given him control of the situation.

"Yes," he answered carelessly, "I know the mine."

"I'm thinking of taking shares in it," Crestwick informed him.

"Well," said Lisle, "that wouldn't be wise."

Gladwyne leaned farther back in his seat, as if to disa.s.sociate himself from the discussion, which was what the Canadian had expected from him; but Batley, who was of more resolute fiber, showed fight. His appearance became aggressive, his face hardened, and there was a snap in his eyes.

"You have made a serious allegation in a rather startling way, Mr. Lisle.

As I've an interest in the company in question, I must ask you to explain."

"Then I'd advise you to get rid of your interest as soon as possible; that is, so long as you don't sell out to Crestwick, who's a friend of mine."

Batley's face began to redden, and Lisle, looking around at the sound of a footstep, saw Marple standing a pace or two away. He was a fussy, bustling man, and he raised his hand in expostulation.

"Was that last called for, or quite the thing, Lisle?" he asked.

Batley turned to Gladwyne, as if for support, and the latter a.s.sumed his finest air.