The Master Mystery | Page 4

of conflicting emotions of Locke, Eva, Paul, and Zita was being enacted the two partners in the library were disputing hot and heavy. As they argued, almost it seemed as if Balcom's very face limned his thoughts--that he desired Brent out of the way, as a weakling in whom he had discovered some traces of conscience which, to Balcom, meant weakness.
Balcom leaned forward excitedly. "I do not intend to let you wreck this company because your conscience, as you call it, has begun to trouble you," he hissed.
Brent's hand clutched nervously. He was afraid of Balcom--so much so that he fought back only weakly.
Locke was down in the hallway just in time to meet Eva and Paul as they entered.
"Oh--do you know, I'm so glad--I think my father is the most kind-hearted of men," Eva trilled to Locke, as she recounted what had happened in the library with Davis.
Locke listened with restrained admiration for the girl, whatever might have been his secret opinion of her father or of the story he already knew.
On his part, Paul did not relish the situation, nor did he take any pains to conceal it. He shrugged and turned away.
"Come," he said, with a tone of surly authority, "I think I hear my father in the library."
Eva looked back swiftly at Locke and smiled as Paul led her toward the library door. But that, also, made Paul more furious.
"Why do you make me ridiculous before that fellow?" he demanded.
"I'm sorry," replied Eva, in surprise. "I didn't meant to do that."
Vaguely Paul understood. The girl was too unsophisticated to have meant it. Somehow that made it worse. Though she did not know it, he did. Unknown to herself, there was a response in the presence of Locke which was not inspired in his own society. He hurried her into the library.
It was as though the entrance of Paul and Eva had been preconcerted. The partners, in their dispute, stopped and turned as the young people entered and moved over to a divan. Balcom lowered his voice and plucked at Brent's sleeve as he nodded toward the couple.
"I could trust you better if they were married within a week," suggested Balcom.
Brent recoiled, but Balcom affected not to notice.
"Then I will believe that you are dealing fairly with me," he emphasized.
Brent studied a moment, then nodded assent. Balcom extended a cold, commanding hand and the partners shook hands.
Outside, Locke had paused, about to enter the library. The pause had been just long enough for him to hear--and it was a blow to him. He watched, dazed, as the two older men walked over to the younger couple; then he turned away, heart sick.
"My dear," began Brent, as he patted the shoulder of the girl, the one spot of goodness that had shone in the otherwise blackness of his life, making him at last realize the depth to which lust of money had made him sink, "we were just saying that perhaps it would be advisable to--er--hasten your marriage to Paul--say--perhaps next week."
The words seemed to stick in his throat.
As for Eva, she felt a shiver pass over her. Without knowing why, she drew back from Paul, at her side, shrank even closer to her father, trying not to tremble. Did Paul realize it?
Brent felt the shudder with a pang. He leaned over. "Promise to do this--for my sake," he whispered, so low that there was no chance of the others hearing. "By to-morrow all may be changed."
There was something ominous about the very words.
CHAPTER III
Brent had no intention of keeping the promise which Balcom had extracted from him by a species of moral duress that afternoon.
In fact, already he had gone too far in his plans for restitution--or was it self-preservation?--to turn back. It was late in the night that he himself secretly admitted to the house a tall, dark-haired stranger who evidently called by appointment.
"Well, Flint," he greeted, in a hushed tone, "what was it you asked to see me about?"
Flint replied not a word, but impressively tapped a bundle which he carried under his arm and began to undo the cord which bound it.
Brent looked startled, then caught himself. He had known Flint for some time--an adventurer, more or less unscrupulous, who had been the foreign representative of International Patents.
Flint took off his coat and threw it on a chair with an air of assurance that seemed to increase Brent's anxiety, then began again to untie the bulky package.
"Just a moment, Flint," cautioned Brent, stopping him.
With an air of uneasy secrecy Brent hurried to the door that led from the dining-room to the conservatory and bolted it securely. Then he made sure that the door to the library was bolted.
As he did so he did not see his secretary, Zita, watching in the hall, for the