Scattergood Baines Part 63

"Was there anything special you wanted to ask?"

"Only if there was a will--or other paper." There was a curious hesitation in Farley Curtis's voice as he spoke the last two words. "I'm glad, of course, there's not.... Thank you. Think I'll stay in town till the thing is settled up. Probably see you often. Pleased to have met you." He included Sarah in the bow with which he took his leave.

For a few days Farley Curtis lived at the Coldriver House, then moved to Grandmother Penny's, where Sarah Pound boarded. Secretly Bob Allen was furious, without apparent cause. He had no reason to draw conclusions, for boarding houses were scarce in Coldriver. What Sarah thought of the event was not so easily discovered.

Bob would naturally have discussed immediately the significance of Farley Curtis's arrival in Coldriver, with Scattergood, for everybody in Coldriver went to Scattergood with whatever important occurrence that befell, but Scattergood was absent on a political mission. When he returned Bob lost no time in laying the matter before him.

"Um!... Calculated he'd turn up. Natural.... Acted kind of anxious, eh?

What was it he said about a will--or somethin'?"

Bob repeated Curtis's conversation minutely.

"Um!... That young man didn't suspect--he _knew_," said Scattergood, reaching automatically for his shoes. "What he wanted to know was--has it been found?... Um!... Not a will. Somethin'. Somethin' he's afraid of bein' found.... Hain't the kind of feller I'd like to see spendin' old Solon's money.... Guess you and me'll go through them papers ag'in."

So with minute care Bob and Scattergood examined the doc.u.ments and memoranda and receipts and accounts of Solon Beatty, but no will, no minute reference to Farley Curtis, was discovered. They went again to Solon's house to question Mary and to rummage there with the hope of falling upon some such hiding place as the queer old man might have chosen as the safe depository of his will. Mary Beatty was not helpful; middle-aged, with wasted youth behind her; she was even resentful that her meticulous housekeeping should be disturbed.

Scattergood and Bob sat down in the parlor, discouraged. It was evident there was no will. Solon had neglected to attend to that matter until it was too late.... Scattergood wiggled his feet uneasily and stared at the motto over the door.

"Solon didn't run much to religion," he observed.

"No," said Mary Beatty.

"Um!... Have a Bible, maybe? One of them big ones?"

"Up in his room, Mr. Baines. It always laid on the table there--unopened."

"Opened it yourself lately, Mary? Been readin' the Scriptures out of that p'tic'lar book?"

"No."

"Um!... Got a kind of a hankerin' to read a verse or two," said Scattergood. "Come on, Bob. You 'n' me'll peruse Solon's Bible some."

The huge Bible with its Dore ill.u.s.trations lay on the marble-topped table in old Solon's bedroom. Scattergood opened it--found it stiff with lack of use, its pages clinging together as if their gilt edging had never been broken.... Bob leaned over Scattergood while the old man rapidly thumbed the pages.... He brought to light a pressed flower, and shrugged his shoulders. What moment of softness in the life of a hard old man did this flower commemorate?... A letter whose ink was faded to illegibility! Even Solon Beatty had once known the rose-leaf scent of romance.

"Nothing there," said Bob.

"The reason folks seldom find things," said Scattergood, "is that they say 'Nothin' there' before they've half looked.... They might be any quant.i.ty of things in this Bible that we hain't overhauled yet." The old man stood a moment frowning down at the book. "Births and deaths," he said to himself. "Births and deaths--and marryin's...." Rapidly he turned to the illumined pages on which were set down the family records of the Beattys. "Um!... Jest sich a place as he'd pick out.... What you make of this, Bob?"

Scattergood loosened a sheet of paper which had been lightly glued to the page. "Hain't got my specs, Bob."

The young lawyer read it, re-read it aloud. "I, Farley Curtis, one of the two legal heirs of Solon Beatty, of Coldriver Towns.h.i.+p, do hereby acknowledge the receipt of ten thousand dollars, the same to be considered an advance of my share of the said Solon Beatty's estate.

For, and in consideration of the said ten thousand dollars I hereby waive all claims to any further partic.i.p.ation in the said estate, and agree that I will not, whether the said Solon Beatty dies testate or intestate, make any claim against the said estate, nor upon Mary Beatty, who, by this advance to me, becomes sole heir to the said estate.'"

Bob drew a long breath. Scattergood stared owlishly at Mary Beatty.

"Now, what d'you think of that, eh? Shouldn't be s'prised if that was the i-dentical paper that was weighin' on the mind of young Mr. Curtis.

Shouldn't be a mite s'prised if 'twas."

"What is it, Mr. Baines?" asked Mary Beatty. "A will?"

"Wa-al, offhand I'd say it was consid'able better 'n a will. Ya-as....

Wills kin be busted, but this here docyment--I calc'late it would take mighty powerful hammerin' to knock it apart."

"And, Mary," said Bob, "if I were you I shouldn't mention the finding of it."

"Not to a soul," said Scattergood. "We'll take it mighty soft and spry and shet it up in Bob's safe.... Anybody know the combination to it besides you, Bob?"

"n.o.body but you, Mr. Baines."

"Oh, me!... To be sure, me."

"And Miss Pound." "Um!... Sairy, eh? Course.... Sairy."

Within twenty-four hours everybody in Coldriver knew a paper of great significance had been discovered affecting the heirs to Solon Beatty's estate, and that the paper was locked in Bob Allen's safe. Bob had not talked; Scattergood certainly had been silent, and Mary Beatty solemnly averred that no word had pa.s.sed her lips. Yet the fact was there for all to contemplate.... Farley Curtis devoted an entire day to the contemplation of it in his room at Grandmother Penny's.... That evening he invited Sarah Pound to drive with him. She found him a delightful and entertaining companion.

Sunday was still two days away when Bob looked up from his desk to say to Sarah: "This Beatty matter has kept us so busy there hasn't been any time for pleasure. You must be tired out, Miss Pound. Wouldn't you like to start early Sunday and drive over to White Pine for dinner--and come back after the sun goes down? It's a beautiful drive."

"I'm sorry," said Sarah, flus.h.i.+ng with a feeling that was akin to guilt, "but I am engaged Sunday."

Bob turned again to his work, cast into sudden gloom, and wondering jealously what was Sarah's engagement. Sarah, not altogether easy in her mind, nor wholly pleased with herself, endeavored to justify herself for being so lightly off with the old and on with the new.... She compared Bob to Farley Curtis, and found the comparison not in Bob's favor. Not that this was exactly a justification, but it was a salve. Sarah was in the shopping period of her life--shopping for a husband, so to speak.

She was ent.i.tled to the best she could get ... and Bob did not seem to be the best. Farley was sprightly, interesting, with the manners of a more effete world than Coldriver; Bob was awkward, ofttimes silent, lacking polish. Farley was solicitous in small matters that Bob failed utterly to perceive; Farley was always skilled in minute points of decorum, whose very existence was unknown to Bob. In short, Farley was altogether fascinating, while Bob, at best, was commonplace. Yet, not in her objective mind, but deep in her centers of intuition, she was conscious of a hesitancy, conscious of something that urged her toward Bob and warned her against Farley Curtis.

On Sunday Bob saw Sarah drive away with Curtis--and spent a black day of jealousy and heartburning. During the succeeding two weeks he spent many black days and sleepless nights, for Curtis monopolized Sarah's leisure, and Sarah seemed to have thrown discretion to the winds and clothed herself against fear of Coldriver's gossip, for she seemed to give her company almost eagerly to the stranger.... And Coldriver talked.

Bob spoke bitterly of the matter to Scattergood.

"Um!..." grunted Scattergood, "don't seem to recall any statute forbiddin' any young feller to git him any gal he kin. Eh?"

"No. But this Curtis--there's something wrong there. He isn't intending to play fair.... I--He's got some kind of a purpose, Mr. Baines."

"Think so, eh? What kind of a purpose?" Scattergood had his own ideas on this subject, but did not disclose them. It was in his mind that Curtis cultivated Sarah because of Sarah's propinquity of a certain paper which the man had reason to believe was in Bob Allen's safe.

Bob's face was set and stern, granite as the hills among which he had been born and which had become a part of his nature. "If he doesn't play fair ... if he should--hurt her ... I'd take him apart, Mr. Baines."

"Calc'late you would," said Scattergood, tranquilly, "but there's a law in sich case, made and pervided, callin' that kind of amus.e.m.e.nt murder ..."

It was not Scattergood's custom to publish his emotions; nevertheless he was worried. He appreciated the state of mind which had brought Sarah to Coldriver--the spirit of restless, resentful youth, demanding the world for its plaything. He knew Sarah's high temper, her eagerness for adventure.... He knew that thousands of girls before her had been fascinated by well-told tales of the life to be lived out in the world of cities, of wealth, of artificial gayeties ... the lure of travel, of excitement.... And Scattergood did not covet the duty of carrying a woeful story to old Nahum Pound, the gentle schoolmaster.

His uneasiness was not decreased by a bit of unpremeditated eavesdropping that fell in his way the next evening.... Farley Curtis was talking, Sarah Pound was listening--eagerly.

"You can't understand what living is," the man was saying, "How could you? You haven't lived. Here in this backwater you will never live....

You move around in a fog of monotony. Every day the same. But out there.... Everything! Everything you want and can imagine is there for the taking. A beautiful woman can take what she wants--that's what it's all for--for her to help herself to. Life and excitement and pleasure--and love ... they are all out there waiting."

Sarah sighed.

"Did you ever try to imagine Paris, London, Madrid, Rome?" he went on.

"You can't do it.... But you can see them. I--I would take you if you would let me ... if things fall out right. I'm poor ...but with this Beatty money I could take you anywhere. It would give us everything we want.... Half of that money belongs to me rightfully, doesn't it?"

"I suppose so."