Every Man for Himself | Page 7

glad to have you begin by telling me who was in
that launch? Why all the excitement? Where do you want to go now?"
"You are inquisitive enough to be a detective. Are you?"
"In that case would I need to ask where we were going?" countered
Kendrick. "I believe you said this had been the best haul yet. Whose
house was it this time?"
She remained silent. When she spoke again Kendrick fancied a nervous
note in her voice.
"Will you please explain how you happened to be waiting for me at that
particular spot?"
"Bless your heart, madam, I wasn't waiting for you! I happen to live
nearby and was getting ready to step ashore when you grabbed my
canoe and ordered me to keep quiet. I did so. Here we are."
"Your discretion was commendable," she approved. "It certainly is
most extraordinary. I don't see where on earth--I guess my escort has
taken French leave." She tried to laugh carelessly, but she could not

hide the fact that she was greatly disturbed. "Will you paddle me across
to the city?"
"And leave poor Joe out in the cold gray fog? Don't you think it would
be better to turn back and give a holler or two?"
"Never mind him. He has gone home already very likely. I will pay you
one dollar to paddle me over. Is that satisfactory?"
"It all depends. Supposing I refuse?"
"Then I would have to ask you to step into the water and swim to shore
while I do my own paddling and keep down expenses."
"Presupposing, of course, that you own the canoe."
"It is too bad it is so dark," she retorted impatiently, "or you would
know that a revolver is pointed straight at you this very moment."
Kendrick laughed in pure enjoyment of the situation.
"My dear young lady,"--he had decided that she was young and he
wondered if she were pretty--"you force me to the conclusion that
either you are bluffing outrageously or you are a desperate character!
Please don't be frightened. I'm neither Steve Brodie, the Bridge Jumper,
nor the famous Jack Dalton, and in this age of safety razors Bluebeards
are extra muros. This isn't the opening spasm of some
blood-and-thunder novel, you know. We're right here on Toronto Bay
where one can get into trouble for not showing a light after dark. Will
you oblige me by unhooking the lamp at the bow there and passing it
back to me so that I can light up. I promise then to start earning that
dollar without further delay."
He heard her fumbling with it. There was a splash in the water, a little
cry of well feigned dismay.
"Oh, how careless of me! It--slipped out of my hand."
Phil grinned cheerfully as he began to dip his paddle, interest

quickened. It was a neat sidestepping of his inconsiderate attempt to
scrutinize her. She had taken the first trick.
"You do yourself an injustice, madam. Are you usually so careful when
you are careless?"
"You have not told me your name yet," she reminded him, apparently
more at ease now that she knew he intended to paddle her across the
bay.
"My name? It's an Indian name--Watha--Hy. A. Watha, at your service,
and I am very fond of canoeing. What's yours?"
"You need hardly ask that, Mr. Hiawatha, when you knew my sister,
Minnie, so well," she laughed. "I am Mary Ha-ha!"
"You don't say!" chuckled Kendrick in appreciation. "The original little
Merry Ha-Ha, eh?--Little Laughing-Gas!"
"If you are Hiawatha, why are you using a paddle?" she pursued. "I
always understood from the Poet that all you had to do was to guide
your canoe with your thoughts."
"Not when they're travelling in a circle. But this looks more like 'Blind
Man's Buff' than 'Ring-Around-A-Rosy,' don't you think? Or are you
trying to play 'Tag' with me? Well, you're 'It' anyway," he said,
dropping all hint of banter in his tone. "I'd advise you to meet a few
straight questions with straight answers. First, who is this Joe person
you were expecting to do the canoeing for you?"
"My husband."
"And the people in the launch?"
"How should I know who they were? By what right do you ask me
that?" she demanded.
"The circumstances are somewhat unusual, madam, you must admit,"
Kendrick reminded her sharply. "Do you wish me to play safe by

handing you over to the police?"
"Police? My Good Gracious me! What crime have I committed?"
"That would be a matter for official enquiry. It may be that you and
your husband are in the habit of wandering about the Island in a thick
fog at two o'clock in the morning--picking daisies for the sick kiddies
over at the Children's Home, I presume--but, to be perfectly