The Spoilers of the Valley Part 36

"No! I have a kind of hunch there is things doing. You hurry along as soon as you can. Keep your eyes open and, if all is quiet, come round to the track door of the middle Warehouse, Brenchfield's. You should be up there by eleven-thirty. I'll be there then, sharp at that time, and will let you in if all is jackaloorie."

"Have you a gun?"

"Sure!" replied Jim, "and one for you. Here!--stick it in your pocket now. It is loaded. Darned handy thing!"

Phil walked part of the way up the back streets with Jim.

It was noisy as usual round Chinatown, with its squeaky fiddle, tom-tom and cocoanut-sh.e.l.l orchestras, intensified by a fire-cracker display on the part of the more aristocratic Chinese in honour of John Royce Pederstone's victory. The remainder of the town, apart from the neighbourhood of the dance-hall, was in absolute quietness.

Phil parted from Jim near the railway tracks and slowly retraced his steps toward the town hall, whose blaze of lights stood out in high contrast with the surrounding darkness.

When Phil got back, the band had just concluded a cheery two-step and the dancers were scattering in all directions for seats round the hall and for the buffet.

Eileen Pederstone caught sight of him as soon as he entered, and signalled him over.

"I thought you had gone home, Mr. Ralston," she remarked, her eyes sparkling with enjoyment and her breath coming fast with the exertion of the dance.

Phil took in her slender, shapely, elfin beauty, and his heart beat a merry riot of pleasure as he sat down by her side.

"I went along the road a bit with Jim," he answered. "He had some business he wished to see to."

"Poor Jim," laughed Eileen, "he takes life so strangely; at times tremendously seriously; at others as if it meant nothing at all. Now he plays the solemn and mysterious, and again he a.s.sumes the role of the irresponsible harlequin. I don't think anyone really understands Jim Langford."

"I don't think anyone does," agreed Phil.

"Are you awfully anxious that we should dance this next waltz?" she asked, suddenly changing the subject.

"Why?" asked Phil, a little crestfallen.

"I should like to have a little stroll in the fresh air, if you don't mind. It is dreadfully warm in here and I have been dancing continuously. Do you mind?"

"Not at all!" said Phil.

He helped her with her cloak. She put her arm through his and they went out into the open air together.

It was eleven o'clock. The street lights went out suddenly, leaving everything in inky blackness.

It was a night with a shudder in it.

Eileen clung tightly to Phil's arm as they strolled leisurely along, leaving the lights of the dance-hall and the noise behind them, and going down the main avenue in the direction that led to the Okanagan Lake.

"Do you know, Mr. Ralston," remarked Eileen suddenly, during a lull in what had been a desultory, flippant, bantering sort of conversation, "I can't explain how it is and I know it is ridiculous on the face of it; but sometimes I have the feeling that I have met you before."

Phil felt a tightening in his jaws, and he was grateful for the darkness.

"Do you ever feel that way about people?"

"Oh, yes,--occasionally,--with some people!" Phil stammered. "I feel that way with Jim Langford all the time."

"But I can't ever have met you before you came to Vernock?"

"No,--oh no! I am quite sure of that," said Phil.

"Haven't you ever been here before?"

"No,--never!" Phil had to say it.

"You've never seen me in Vancouver for instance,--or in Victoria?"

"No,--I can't remember ever having seen you till I came up here. Of course, I was only a short time in Vancouver before coming to Vernock," he hedged.

"Then your home isn't in the West?"

"No,--it is away back in a town in Ontario."

"Mr. Brenchfield is an Ontario man," put in Eileen innocently.

"Is he?" returned Phil, on guard.

"But it is the funniest thing, Mr. Ralston," she reverted, "sometimes it is your voice; while in the hall to-night it seemed to be your eyes that reminded me of someone I had known before. A trick of the mind, I daresay!"

"Just a trick of the mind!" agreed Phil, "unless maybe you believe in the transmigration of souls."

Eileen s.h.i.+vered suddenly.

"Guess we'd better get back," said Phil, "for the air is chilly."

They turned and sauntered toward the town.

"Are you waiting until the end of the dance, Mr. Ralston?"

"No! I promised to meet Jim round about eleven-thirty."

"Jim!" she repeated. "You and Jim seem to be thick as sweethearts."

"Thicker!" responded Phil, "because we never fall out."

"Do sweethearts fall out so often?"

"I fancy so, from what I hear."

"Then you think two men can be greater friends than a man and a woman can?"

"Greater friends,--truer friends,--more sincere friends and faithful,--yes!"

Eileen's hold on Phil's arm loosened.

"What makes you think so?" she asked.