Harold Bindloss - Alton of Somasco

“If she doesn’t hear you,” said Seaforth, “she must be very deaf.”

“Now,” said Alton regretfully, “I never thought of that. Sit right down, Charley, and take your boots off.”

“I am going to the well first,” said Seaforth, who retired grinning, and Miss Deringham laughed softly as she heard the cautious movements of a big barefooted man floundering about clumsily with a brush or mop.

When she came down to breakfast, however, she was a little astonished. The room was swept, and garnished with cedar sprays, while though it smelled of some crude soap the aromatic sweetness of balsam was present too, and there were signs of taste in its decoration and the disposition of the splendid fruit upon the table. Alton had not plucked it all, and the golden apples and velvety peaches lay with their soft tinting enhanced amidst the leaves. When he came in, bright of eye and apparently glowing from a plunge in the river, she glanced at him with quiet amusement.

“You have been improving the place wonderfully,” she said.

“You are pleased with it?” said the rancher, and the girl noticed the contentment in his eyes when she smiled approvingly.

“I think,” she said, “it is very pretty.”

Deringham spent several weeks at Somasco without arriving at any understanding with its owner. This, however, did not cause him any great concern, because he had at his doctor’s recommendation decided on a somewhat lengthy absence from England, and found himself regaining health and vigour with every day he passed in the pleasant valley. He was also desirous of gaining time, because he had left negotiations for the formation of a company to take over an enterprise he was interested in in train, and, while these could proceed as well without him, a favourable termination would, by relieving him from immediate financial anxiety, enable him if it seemed advisable to adopt a firmer tone in any discussion respecting Carnaby. Alton had in the meanwhile quietly avoided the subject.

Affairs were in this position when he sat one evening with his daughter on the verandah, glancing now and then down the valley. It was very still and peaceful, and trails of white mist crept about the pines, while, though the paling light still lingered high up upon the snow, a crescent moon was growing into visibility against the steely blueness behind the eastern shoulder of a hill. Deringham, however, was listening for the thud of hoofs, and wondering if the mounted man sent down to the settlement would bring any letters for him. His daughter sat close by him, dreamily watching the darkness roll higher about the pines. She had not as yet grown tired of Somasco, and found its owner an interesting study. He was of a type that was new to her, and the girl of a somewhat inquiring disposition.

Presently she turned to her father. “How long shall we stay here?” she said.

“I don’t know,” said Deringham. “It depends upon the Canadian, and in the meanwhile I am picking up a good deal of useful information about the mineral resources of this country. Alton of Somasco seems to be a somewhat intelligent man.”

“Yes,” said the girl thoughtfully. “It is a little difficult to dislike him.”

“I,” said her father, smiling, “do not know that there is any great necessity, or notice signs of a marked endeavour on your part to do so.”

The girl glanced at him inquiringly. “You mean?” said she.

“Nothing,” said Deringham. “Only the Canadian is also a man. Well, we shall be going on to Vancouver presently.”

The girl laughed a little. “That is incontrovertible,” she said. “Why not go on now?”

“There are reasons,” said Deringham somewhat gravely. “For one thing I hope to be in a position shortly to make terms with him.”

“But Carnaby is his,” said the girl.

“Yes,” said Deringham, “unless he gives it up.”

His daughter appeared thoughtful. “I scarcely think he will!”

Deringham laughed a little. “It might be possible to find means of inducing him.”

Alice Deringham shook her head. “From what I have seen of Mr. Alton, I fancy it would be difficult.”

“Well,” said Deringham dryly, “we shall see.”

He had scarcely spoken when a soft drumming sound came out of the stillness. It grew steadily louder, was lost in the roar of the river, and rose more distinct again, while the girl, who realized that a man was riding up the valley, wondered with unusual curiosity what news he would bring. She also grew impatient, for that staccato drumming seemed to jar upon the harmonies of the evening, and she walked to the balustrade when the sound swelled into a thudding beat of hoofs. The man was crossing the oatfield at a gallop now. Then the sound rose muffled out of the gloom of the orchard the trail ran through, and she felt curiously expectant when once more the rider swung out into the shadowy clearing. She afterwards remembered the vague apprehension with which she watched and listened, for it seemed to her that some intangible peril was drawing nearer with the galloping horse. A minute or two later Seaforth came into the verandah with a packet of letters in his hand.

“There are several for you, sir,” he said, handing Deringham some of them, and passed into the house shouting, “Harry.”

Deringham glanced through his budget, and his face changed a little, while his daughter noticed the set of his lips and the clustering wrinkles about his eyes. There was a telegraphic message, but he put it aside and opened a bulky envelope whose stamp he recognized. Then the missive he took out rustled a little in his hand as he read:

“I’m afraid negotiations are not progressing well. Mortimer, as you will see by enclosed copies of correspondence, demands a revaluation which would not be advisable before he will underwrite any of the capital.”

Deringham laid down the letter, and his daughter turned suddenly at his exclamation. “The fools should have bought him off!” he said.

Then he took up the telegraphic message and read, “Scheme impracticable. Cannot compromise with Mortimer. Harper and the Syndicate against us. Details following.”

Deringham said nothing, but sat staring before him with a face that seemed to have grown suddenly grey and haggard, until his daughter spoke to him.

“Have you had bad news, father?” she said.

The man, who had been sitting so that the light which shone out from the room behind them fell upon him, moved. “I have,” he said. “This message informs me that at least ten thousand pounds have been virtually taken out of my pocket. As it happened, I wanted the money somewhat badly.”

He rose, and entering the house met Alton coming out of it. The Canadian brushed past him with a letter in his hand, and Deringham turned a moment and looked after him. The financier’s face was not pleasant just then, and there was a curious glitter in his eyes, while Seaforth, who was following his comrade, stared at him as he passed, and came up with Alton on the verandah.

“What has gone wrong with Deringham?” he said.

“I don’t know,” said Alton lightly. “Do you think anything has?”

“That,” said Seaforth, “is what I am asking you. He looked condemnably ugly just now. One could have fancied that he contemplated killing somebody.”

Alton laughed. “Got a little business trip up, I expect,” he said, and moved forward as he spoke. “Here’s word from Mrs. Jimmy. She wants to know when I’m going to begin. Women are very persistent, Miss Deringham, but this one has some reason.”