Harold Bindloss - The Protector

“So ye have come at last,” he said. “I had you shown in here, because this room is mine, and I can smoke when I like. The rest of the house is Mrs. Nairn’s, and it seems that her friends do not appreciate the smell of my cigars. I’m not sure that I can blame them.”

Mrs. Nairn smiled placidly. “Alec,” she explained, “leaves them lying everywhere, and I do not like the stubs on the stairs. But sit ye down and he will give ye one.”

Vane felt at home with both of them. He had met people of their kind before, and, allowing for certain idiosyncrasies, considered them the salt of the Dominion. Nairn had done good service to his adopted country, developing her new industries, with some profit to himself, for he was of Scottish extraction; but while close at a bargain he could be generous afterwards. When his guests were seated he laid two cigar boxes on the table.

“Those,” he said, pointing to one of them, “are mine. I think ye had better try the others; they’re for visitors.”

Vane, who had already noticed the aroma of the cigar that was smouldering on a tray, decided that he was right, and dipped his hand into the second box, which he passed to Carroll.

“Now,” said Nairn, “we can talk comfortably, and Clara will listen. Afterwards it’s possible she will favour me with her opinion.”

Mrs. Nairn smiled at them encouragingly, and her husband proceeded: “One or two of my colleagues were no pleased at ye for putting off the meeting.”

“The sloop was small, and it was blowing rather hard,” Vane explained.

“Maybe,” said Nairn. “For all that, the tone of your message was not altogether conciliatory. It informed us that ye would arrange for the postponed meeting at your earliest convenience. Ye didna mention ours.”

“I pointed that out to him, and he said it didn’t matter,” Carroll broke in, laughing.

Nairn spread out his hands in expostulation, but there was dry appreciation in his eyes. “Young blood must have its way.” Then he paused. “Ye will not have said anything to Horsfield yet about the smelter?”

“No. So far, I’m not sure it would pay us to put up the plant, and the other man’s terms were lower.”

“Maybe,” Nairn answered, and he made the word very expressive. “Ye have had the handling of the thing; but henceforward it will be necessary to get the sanction of the board. However, ye will meet Horsfield to-night. We expect him and his sister.”

Vane thought he had been favoured with a hint, but he also fancied that his host was not inimical and was merely reserving his judgment. The latter changed the subject.

“So ye’re going to England for a holiday,” he remarked. “Ye’ll have friends who’ll be glad to see ye?”

“I’ve one sister and no other near relatives, but I expect to spend some time with folks you know. The Chisholms are old family friends and, as you will remember, it was through them I first approached you.” Then obeying one of the impulses which occasionally swayed him he turned to Mrs. Nairn. “I’m grateful to them for sending me the letter of introduction to your husband. He didn’t treat me as the others did when I first went round this city with a few mineral specimens.”

He had expected nothing when he spoke, but there was a responsive look in the lady’s face which hinted that he had made a friend; and as a matter of fact, he owed a good deal to his host.

“So ye are meaning to stay with Chisholm,” Nairn exclaimed. “We had Evelyn here two years ago and Clara said something about her coming out again.”

“I never heard of that, but it’s nine years since I saw Evelyn.”

“Then there’s a surprise in store for ye,” said Nairn. “I believe they’ve a bonny place, and there’s no doubt Chisholm will make ye welcome.”

The slight pause was expressive. It implied that Nairn, who had a somewhat biting humour, could furnish a reason for Chisholm’s hospitality if he desired, and Vane was confirmed in this supposition when he saw the warning look which his hostess cast at her husband.

“It’s likely that we’ll have Evelyn again in the fall,” she broke in. “It’s a very small world, Mr. Vane.”

“It’s a far cry from Vancouver to England,” said Vane. “How did you come to know Chisholm?”

Nairn answered him. “Our acquaintance began with business, and he’s a kind of connection of Colquhoun’s.”

Colquhoun was a man of some importance, who held a Crown appointment, and Vane felt inclined to wonder why Chisholm had not sent him a letter to him. Afterwards he guessed at the reason, which was not flattering to himself or his host. The latter and he chatted awhile on business topics, until there was a sound of voices below, and going down in company with Mrs. Nairn they found two or three new arrivals in the entrance hall. More came in, and when they sat down to supper, Vane was given a place beside a lady whom he had already met.

Jessie Horsfield was about his own age; tall and slight of figure, with regular features, a rather colourless face, and eyes of a cold, light blue. There was, however, something which Vane considered striking in her appearance, and he was gratified by her graciousness to him. Her brother sat almost opposite to them, a tall, spare man, with an expressionless countenance, except for the aggressive hardness in his eyes. Vane had noticed this look in them, and it had roused his dislike; but he had not observed it in those of Miss Horsfield, though it was present now and then. Nor did he realise that while she chatted, she was unobtrusively studying him; She had not favoured him with much notice when she was in his company on a previous occasion; he had been a man of no importance then.

“I suppose you are glad you have finished your work in the bush,” she remarked presently. “It must be nice to get back to civilisation.”

“Yes,” Vane assented; “it’s remarkably nice after living for nine years in the wilderness.”

A fresh dish was laid before him, and his companion smiled. “You didn’t get things of this kind among the pines.”

“No,” said Vane. “In fact, cookery is one of the chopper’s trials. You come back dead tired, and often very wet, to your lonely tent, and then there’s a fire to make and supper to get before you can rest. It happens now and then that you’re too played out to trouble, and go to sleep instead.”

“Dreadful,” said the girl, sympathetically. “But you have been in Vancouver before.”

“Except on the last occasion, I stayed down near the water-front. We were not provided with luxurious quarters or suppers of this kind then.”

Jessie nodded. “It’s romantic, and though you must be glad it’s over, there must be some satisfaction in feeling that you owe the change to your own efforts. Doesn’t it give you a feeling that in some degree you’re master of your fate? I fancy I should like that.”

It was subtle flattery, and there were reasons why it appealed to the man. He had wandered about the province in search of employment, besides being beaten down at many a small bargain by more fortunately situated men. Now, however, he had resolved that there should be a difference: instead of begging favours, he would dictate terms.

“I should have imagined it,” he said, in answer to her last remark, and he was right, for Jessie Horsfield was a clever woman, who loved power and influence. Then she abruptly changed the subject.

“It was you who located the Clermont mine, wasn’t it?” she asked. “I read something about it in the papers; I think they said it was copper.”

This vagueness was misleading, because her brother had given her a good deal of information about the mine.

“Yes,” said Vane, who was willing to take up any subject she suggested; “it’s copper, but there’s some silver combined with it. Of course, the value of any ore depends upon two things – the percentage of the metal, and the cost of extracting it.”