The Intriguers | Page 4

out; there was a brief
scuffle in the darkness, the door banged, and when the light flashed up
again only Blake and her father were in the room. Afterward her father
told her, with a look of shame on his handsome, dissipated face, that he
had been afraid of something of the kind happening, and she must leave
him. Millicent refused, for, worn as he was by many excesses, his
health was breaking down; and when he fell ill she nursed him until he
died. She had not seen Lieutenant Blake since.
Mrs. Keith's voice broke in upon her recollections. "It's possible we
may see Bertram and the new Mrs. Challoner. She is going out with
him, but they are to travel by the Canadian Pacific route and spend
some time in Japan before proceeding to his Indian station." Referring
to the date of her letter she resumed, "They may have caught the boat
that has just come in; she's one of the railway Empresses, and there's an
Allan liner due to-morrow. We will go to the hotel and try to get a list
of the passengers."
She rose, and they walked slowly back along the avenue.

CHAPTER II
ON THE RIVER BOAT
Dusk was falling on the broad river, and the bold ridge behind the city
stood out sharp and black against a fading gleam in the western sky. A
big, sidewheel steamer, spotlessly white, with tiers of decks that
towered above the sheds and blazed with light, was receiving the last of
her passengers and preparing to cast off from her moorings. Richard
Blake hurried along the wharf and, on reaching the gangplank, stood
aside to let an elderly lady pass. She was followed by her maid and a
girl whose face he could not see. It was a few minutes after the sailing
time, and as the lady stepped on board a rope fell with a splash. There
was a shout of warning as the bows, caught by the current, began to
swing out into the stream, and the end of the gangplank slipped along
the edge of the wharf. It threatened to fall into the river, and the girl

was not yet on board. Blake leaped upon the plank. Seizing her
shoulder, he drove her forward until a seaman, reaching out, drew her
safe on deck. Then the paddles splashed and as the boat forged out into
the stream, the girl turned and thanked Blake. He could not see her
clearly, for an overarching deck cast a shadow on her face.
"Glad to have been of assistance; but I don't think you could have fallen
in," he said. "The guy-rope they had on the gangplank might have held
it up."
Turning away, he entered the smoking-room, where he spent a while
over an English newspaper that devoted some space to social functions
and the doings of people of importance, noticing once or twice, with a
curious smile, mention of names he knew. He had the gift of making
friends, and before he went to India he had met a number of men and
women of note who had been disposed to like him. Then he had won
the good opinion of responsible officers on the turbulent frontier and
had made acquaintances that might have been valuable. Now, however,
he had done with all that; he was banished from the world in which
they moved, and if they ever remembered him it was, no doubt, as one
who had gone under.
Shaking off these thoughts, he joined some Americans in a game of
cards, and it was late at night when he went out into the moonlight as
the boat steamed up Lake St. Peter. A long plume of smoke trailed
across the cloudless sky, the water glistened with silvery radiance, and,
looking over the wide expanse, he could see dark trees etched faintly on
the blue horizon. Ahead, the lights of Three Rivers twinkled among
square, black blocks of houses and tall sawmill stacks.
A few passengers were strolling about, but the English newspaper had
made Blake restless, and he wanted to be alone. Descending to a
quieter deck, he was surprised to see the girl he had assisted sitting in a
canvas chair near the rail. Nearby stood several large baskets, from
which rose an angry snarling.
"What is this?" he asked, with the careless abruptness which usually
characterized him. "With your permission."

He raised a lid, while the girl watched him with amusement.
"Looks like a menagerie on a small scale," he remarked. "Are these
animals yours?"
"No; they belong to Mrs. Keith."
"Mrs. Keith?" he said sharply. "The lady I saw at the Frontenac, with
the autocratic manners? It's curious, but she reminds me of somebody I
knew, and the name's the same. I