Читать книгу Scott Burton in the Blue Ridge - Edward G. Cheyney - Страница 9

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Mr. Roberts went back to his office soon after Hopwood’s visit, and was evidently glad of the opportunity to get away. He had spoken derisively of those who thought that Hopwood was a spirit, but he had looked behind him nervously till he was well away from the house.

Scott scarcely noticed that he had gone. He sat with his chin dropped dejectedly on his chest, and stared across the table with unseeing eyes. If what Hopwood had said was true, his troubles there would be greatly increased even if his plans were not completely ruined. It seemed as though some evil genius had brought him to this place, and if he had he certainly must be laughing at the pickle his victim was in.

Scott was so disappointed that he felt almost ready to cry. With considerable difficulty, and the help of old man Sanders and the station agent, he had succeeded in posting himself fairly well on the ins and outs of this feud. After carefully considering the possibility of an alliance with one side or the other he had come to the conclusion that the only safe thing to do was to remain absolutely neutral. He felt confident that if he could keep away from any entangling alliance with either side, he could successfully carry on his work in spite of the feud and might even be able to get these old enemies to patch up their differences. He had still considered that a possibility even though every one said that the feud would never be dropped as long as old Jarred Morgan lived.

And now his superior officer had taken sides with the Waits and spoiled everything.

Scott determined to find Hopwood, learn where Mr. Reynolds was, and know the worst as soon as possible. One of them was right and the other wrong. They must at least get together and agree on a common policy.

So Scott started out in search of Hopwood. He felt sure that he could tell him where to find Mr. Reynolds. The iron hat was nowhere in sight, but Scott felt that he could not be very far away. Surely he would not have come to make such a statement as that and then disappear without waiting to give any explanation of it. Possibly he had gone to one of the stores.

He had started down the village street to investigate when he noticed a motionless figure sitting back of a pile of cordwood a little way back from the street. He instantly recognized Hopwood. Was he hiding from him and would he run away? Scott approached him rather cautiously, but Hopwood watched him calmly and showed no sign of retreating. He rather appeared to be waiting for him.

“Thanks for the warning you gave me,” Scott said as soon as he was near enough to him.

“I thought that you would be looking for me,” Hopwood replied with his usual disregard of preliminaries.

“What made you think that I would find you in this out-of-the-way place?” Scott laughed. “Why didn’t you stay at the hotel? I would have been glad to have had a visit from you.”

“The more people see me with you the less I’ll hear,” Hopwood answered cunningly.

Scott started at the flash of wisdom from a half-wit. “I guess you are right,” he replied earnestly. “Do you think we are safe here?”

“Oh, yes,” Hopwood replied confidently. “No one can see us here except from that one place, and no one else will go along that street for half an hour.”

Scott did not waste any time trying to find out how Hopwood knew that. There was something else that he was anxious to know. “Then maybe you can tell me, Hopwood, what makes you think Mr. Reynolds has joined the Waits?”

“He’s been up at the Waits’ nearly all day, and has just about promised them that you will give them the logging contract.”

“How do you know he did?” Scott asked incredulously. “You were with me part of the morning, and went up the other mountain when you left me,” he protested.

Hopwood only smiled.

“Where is he now?” Scott continued. He could not believe that Hopwood knew what he was talking about. Maybe he was mistaken. He hoped so.

“He is on his way down the mountain with Foster Wait,” Hopwood replied promptly. “He’ll be down here at the store in less than half an hour,” he added, as though he had noticed the doubt in Scott’s face.

“Then I guess I’ll wait here till he comes,” Scott said. “I don’t want to be seen now traipsing around the country with Foster Wait.

“He’ll have some job to make me give a logging contract to either of those gangs,” Scott muttered defiantly. Then, after a minute’s silence, “Do you think that either the Morgans or the Waits could carry out a logging contract if they did get it, Hopwood? Have they the money to do it?”

But there was no answer. Hopwood had disappeared again in his usual silent and mysterious fashion. Scott knew better now than to waste his time looking for him. He fell to brooding over this phase of the problem, and when he looked at his watch it was already ten minutes after the time which Hopwood had predicted for Mr. Reynolds’ arrival. Scott jumped to his feet and hurried out into the open. He was delighted to see Mr. Reynolds coming up the street alone and walked down to meet him.

Mr. Reynolds was a rather effeminate-looking man, over neatly dressed in the very latest cut of riding suit. He affected a rather bored manner. He waved an indolent greeting to Scott.

“Hello, there, Burton! I sure am glad to see you. I thought I was going to have to eat another meal in this beastly hole. Now I can probably finish up with you in time to catch the afternoon train.”

Scott wished that he had caught the train the day before but he did not dare to say so. Instead he said, “Think how long I shall have to eat here. Better stay awhile. Misery loves company, you know.”

“Well, I hope you get all the company you want, but it sure will not be mine if I can help it.”

“By the way,” Scott asked suddenly, “where did you get that cigarette?”

“Pardon me,” Mr. Reynolds exclaimed, as he fumbled apologetically in his pocket for the package, “but I was under the impression that you never smoked.”

“I don’t,” Scott replied. “I was only wondering where you bought them.”

“Oh, here at the store. They carry them, but they are a pretty bum brand.”

“Which store?” Scott insisted.

“The one on the left there. Hadn’t noticed there were two. What’s the big idea? You rooting for one of them?”

Scott knew that it would be useless to argue with this man. He evidently had no conception of the situation in the village and Scott did not think it worth while to try to explain. “No,” he replied, “I was just wondering which one I ought to deal with,” which was true enough.

“Well, if everything they sell is as rotten as their cigarettes you’d better try the other one. But come on up to the hotel so that I can go over things with you in time to catch that train. I think that I have things lined up here for you in pretty good shape.”

“How is that?” Scott asked. In spite of the harm this man had done him he could not help smiling at his unbounded conceit.

“Oh, I had a long talk with Foster Wait this afternoon, and fixed it up with him so that the Waits will take over the logging contract. There is a big family of them and the labor problem will be settled. No use in scouring the country the way those other fellows did when it can be handled so easily locally.”

“Didn’t sign them up, did you?” Scott asked the question as carelessly as he could, but he really waited breathlessly for the answer.

“No,” Mr. Reynolds answered pompously, “I could not very well go into all those details because I did not have the necessary forms with me. I only smoothed the way for you a little. Now that I have talked to them it will be no trick at all for you to get them to sign up and arrange all the details.”

“And,” Scott thought, “the details would have to include the hiring of an undertaker to sweep up the remains.” But to Mr. Reynolds he said nothing. The more he let this man talk the more certain he would be of getting rid of him on the afternoon train, and that was Scott’s one ambition now—to get rid of this man at the earliest possible moment.

They walked on up to the hotel and when they came out two hours later Scott was more than ever anxious to see him go. If this man had had anything to do with the business when the two previous supervisors had been run out of the country he could understand perfectly well how it happened. Scott had listened attentively and talked hardly at all.

As they approached the stores Scott saw a good-sized delegation assembled on the porch of each. The Waits looked smilingly elated. The Morgans glared angrily from across the way.

“Come on up and I’ll introduce you to these people now if I have the time.”

Scott was determined to avoid this but he did now know how to do it. If he refused, Mr. Reynolds would undoubtedly start an argument which the spectators could not help but understand. Fortunately the train was on time, something which rarely happened, and it whistled just in the nick of time.

As the train pulled out of the station, Scott watched it with a feeling of profound relief, but at the same time he half wished that he was on it. He was rid of Mr. Reynolds, but would he ever be able to get out of the mess into which this man had drawn him?