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Wasaki Farms Group

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Aiden Murphy
Aiden Murphy

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I asked as many questions as I dared, but learned little; and as soonas dusk had begun to fall I started off in the nondescript vehiclewhich had returned for me. The driver spent most of the twenty minutesit took him to reach the farm in explaining that it wasn't really afarm except in name. Nothing was left of it but the house and two orthree acres of orchard; all the rest had been sold off in lots by theowner before he let it to the Paullings. What "city folks" admired init was beyond the knowledge of my companion, but when we arrived at thegate and saw the far-off house gleaming white behind a thick screen ofancient apple trees, I realised the attractions of the place,especially for such tenants as I believed the Paullings to be. Thefarm-house, with its wide clapboarding, its neat green shutters, andits almost classic "colonial" porch hung with roses, had the air ofbeing on terms of long familiar friendship with the old-fashionedgarden and the great trees which almost hid it from its neighbours andthe road. Its front windows, closed and shuttered now, would look outwhen open over sloping lawns and flowerbeds to distant blue glints ofthe sea; and altogether Bayview Farm seemed an ideal retreat forpersons who could be sufficient to themselves and each other.

This seeming injustice roused Maida's sympathy. She met Granvilleoccasionally at his mother's house, without Roger's knowledge. It wasthe child's first adventure, and appealed to her love of romance. Thenatural consequences followed. Granville proposed. She asked toremain his friend. Then to give her "friend" a glorious surprise, sheworked to interest a great financier, a friend of the Odell family, inGranville's undersea light.

Something queer was the matter. I was conscious that Teano was askingalarmed questions, and that Nickey was staring. I was thankful that wehad got to New York before the attack overwhelmed me, for I must leavethe letter at the Priscilla Alden. As the motor slowed down in frontof the hotel I remember pushing Teano aside and stumbling out of thecar, the letter in my hand. I wasn't even aware of dropping theenvelope addressed to Miss Gibson. Only Nickey, peering from thedepths of the car, saw the fall, and would have darted to retrieve it,had not a man grabbed the letter as it touched the pavement. Teano wasoccupied with me, and so it seems was Maurice Morosini, who had beenwandering up and down before the hotel, in the hope that Nella mightcome out. He sprang to help Paul, and there was no one for Nickey totell, in his queer way, by gestures and rough sketches on a slate, whathad happened. Afterward the detective did learn in this fashion thatthe man who picked up the letter was a chauffeur from a car followingus, which had stopped when we stopped. But then it was too late forthe knowledge to be useful.

Morosini's first hint of trouble came with the grating of the key inthe lock. He dared not try the door at the moment, for he could hearthe voice of the manager. What could he do if Nella were unable toopen the door? If there were a ledge or cornice running under thewindow, he might attempt to creep along it and find a way of descent bya fire escape. He had switched on a light, and had seen the window,covered with a dark blind, when a faint rattle of paper attracted hiseyes to the door. A white envelope was being slipped underneath.Morosini seized it, and read in Nella's handwriting, "I'll try to get apass-key and let you out, but can't tell how or when. Turn off theelectricity. It can be seen through the transom."

The train arrived on time at the little mountain station built forclients of the famous Inn. As it was still early in the season (it isonly for Christmas that crowds begin going up), I wasn't surprised tofind myself alone on the platform. The mountain train (into which I'dchanged long ago from the train starting from New York) went no furtherthat night. Snow-covered shoulders and peaks glistened dimly inhalf-veiled starlight, and I was glad to hear the jingle of bells. Abig sledge, capable of carrying several passengers and a little lightluggage, was in waiting with a fine team of impatient dogs: but thedriver who touched his fur cap with a mittened hand was not thehonest-faced country man who had met the released prisoner at Sing Sing.

There was no other train that day; but Teano, believing that my lifemight be at stake, drew some of his savings out of the bank and paidfor a special. It reached its destination not ten minutes after the9.15, but had to stop at a distance, owing to the presence of thelatter on the track. By that time both train and station weredeserted, but Garth quickly discovered the fresh traces of his dogs andsledge in the snow. He and Teano, armed with an electric torch,started on the trail. Reaching the cross road, Garth pointed to thetracks which led away instead of towards the hotel. In the dull redlight of the lantern above, the two men looked into each other's eyes;and snow, falling anew, was like pink-edged feathers in the crimsonglow. If evil deeds were doing, this new snowfall would help thedoers, for soon their footsteps would be blotted out of sight, and allhope of tracing them might be lost for ever.

I knew it would be useless to ask the fellow whether the room had beenoccupied since the departure of the caravan which first brought thewhite camel. He would lie if it suited him to lie: and if there wereanything to find out, I must find it out for myself. Never in my life,however, had I felt so strong an impression as I felt now that Maida'swish, Maida's prayers, had brought me to this place. I was certainthat she had at last suspected treachery in the woman she hadworshipped: that she had prayed I might follow and search for her: thatshe had made friends with the white camel in order to add a souvenir ofherself to his neck-adornment: that she had some reason to hope hemight be left behind at this desert borg when she continued herjourney: that she had been in this room (where I seemed distinctly tofeel her presence) and that something had happened there which thelandlord either knew or suspected. Anyhow, the white camel knew, and Isaid to myself that I would give all I had in the world if the animal'shalf-crazyed intelligence could communicate its knowledge to me.

The girl was delighted with the idea. Her curiosity was aroused to seethe work of a foreigner, which would sell for much money, and she waspleased with the prospect of having that money for herself. She gaveMaida materials, and the invalid sat up in bed to begin her task. Witha pencil she traced a queer little border which might have representedbreaking hearts or flashes of lightning. Inside this border she formedthe word "Help" with her name "Maida" underneath, in elaborate oldEnglish letters impossible for Hateb to read with her scant knowledgeof English. Despite her weakness, Maida worked with feverish haste,and finished the whole piece of embroidery, in blue and gold andreddish purple, before evening. She pronounced herself too ill torise, but promised to make an effort next day. It was in her mind todelay the visit to her unknown "hostess," and meanwhile to send out amessage, like a carrier pigeon. But there was the strong will of theHead Sister to reckon with. The latter gently, yet firmly insistedthat, now dear Maida's delirium had passed, it would do her good totake up life again where she had left it off. The Egyptian woman theyhad made this long journey to meet was impatient. She was unable tocome to Maida. Maida must go to her. Besides, it would bediscouraging to Roger Odell and John Hasle to arrive and find theirdear one pale and ill. She must make the effort for their sakes if notfor her own.


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