The Secret of the Reef Part 13

"It had a tragic story," Ruth agreed. "I wonder what would happen if somebody fished it up?"

Osborne laughed.

"There's not much fear of that. The wreck must have slipped off the reef soon after we left, because the salvage people found both halves of her in deep water; but the strong tides and the bad weather prevented them from working and they declared that she would be buried in the sand before another attempt could be made."

He turned to her with a smile in his eyes.

"Now, little girl," he said, "you know all about it, and I hope you're satisfied."

"I found it very interesting," Ruth replied with a thoughtful air. "In reality, it was the insurance payment that gave you a start?"

"In a sense." Osborne's tone was grave. "Still, it was not what I'd now consider a large amount, and I've sometimes felt that I wouldn't be sorry for an excuse to give it back."

"I don't suppose Clay ever felt that way," Ruth said.

"One wouldn't imagine so. What Clay gets he keeps. He's not the man to let his imagination run away with him."

Osborne rose and strolled across the lawn, but Ruth sat still in the gathering dark. It was a curious story she had heard, but she thought she could understand her father's feeling regarding the gold. It had brought him bitter disappointment and permanent lameness, as well as hardships and suffering. There was, however, something puzzling in Clay's determined attempt to break into the strong-room while the ship was going to pieces. He was insured against all loss, and he was not the man to take undue personal risks. Then Ruth's thoughts returned to the gold, which had a fascination for her. After all, it was, perhaps, not impossible that it should be recovered. A spell of unusually fine weather or a change in the currents might make another attempt easier.

Treasure often had been taken from vessels long after they had sunk.

Ruth thought of Jimmy Farquhar, engaged in some mysterious occupation on an island in the North. It seemed extravagant to suppose that he had found the wreck; but it was not impossible. It would be a curious thing if he should bring up from the depth what her father had lost. But her father had said the gold brought bad luck in its train.

The darkness crept up across the lawn and hovered round the girl, enshrouding her, as she thought of Jimmy Farquhar on the lonely island in the North and puzzled over his connection with the ill-fated gold.

CHAPTER XI-FATHER AND SON

Osborne did not go to town on Sat.u.r.days, and he and Ruth were sitting in a shady corner of the lawn during the hot afternoon when a cloud of dust whirled up among the firs. The speed with which it streaked the climbing forest had its significance to Ruth, but when a big gray car flashed across an opening her expression changed.

"There's no mistaking Aynsley's trail," Osborne laughed. "He blazes it on the bodies of straying chickens and hogs; but I imagine you noticed that he wasn't alone."

"I did; and I would have been quite as pleased if he had left his father at home."

"So I surmised." Osborne smiled. "It seems to be what the older generation is intended for; but Clay's not the man to take kindly to the shelf and, everything considered, you couldn't blame him. Aynsley's the more ornamental-a fine figure of a man as he sits at the wheel; but his father's the driving force that makes the machine go. So far, his son hasn't made much of anything unless the material was put ready to his hand."

"At least, he has done no harm."

"That's a very negative virtue. It isn't thought highly of in this country."

"I told him not long ago that he ought to work," Ruth replied in unguarded confidence.

"It will be interesting to see if he follows your advice. His friends have been urging the course for several years without much effect."

"He means to take charge of the Canadian mill; but, of course, he may have a number of reasons for doing so," Ruth added hastily.

Osborne made no comment. Of late, he had begun to wonder where her friendship for Aynsley would lead, and although it would not have displeased him had she shown any tenderness for the man, he could discover no sign of this.

He went forward to meet his guests, and when they came out of the house a few minutes later Aynsley went straight across the lawn to greet Ruth and Miss Dexter, who had joined her niece, while Clay and Osborne followed a path which led through the pines. Clay was strongly made and burly, with very dark hair and eyes and a somewhat fleshy face. He looked as if he enjoyed good living; but the alertness of his expression redeemed it from sensuality. He had an air of rakish boldness which rather became him, and his careless dress added to this effect. In white Panama hat, well-cut clothes negligently put on, with a heavy gold watch-chain, diamond studs, and a black silk band round his waist, Clay looked more of a swashbuckler than a sober business man. His appearance was not altogether deceptive, for, although he used modern methods with great shrewdness, he had habits and characteristics more in keeping with the romantic '49.

"Have you held on to those Elk Park building lots?" he asked.

Osborne nodded. "Yes."

"Still got an option on the adjoining frontage?"

"I believe so; the offer wasn't quite formal."

"Then wire and clinch the deal. Do it right now."

"Ah! The munic.i.p.al improvement scheme is going through?"

"Sure. I got the tip by 'phone as I was leaving. Whatcom serves me pretty well, but there are other fellows to take a hand in the game, and the news will leak out some time this evening. We're an hour or two ahead-that's all. Here, write your message."

Taking a telegram blank from his pocket, he handed it to Osborne; and then swung off his hat with ceremonious gallantry as he came suddenly upon the others through an opening in the pines. Ruth gave him a rather cold bow, for his voice carried well, and she had heard enough to disturb her. She did not expect much from Clay; but it looked as if her father were abetting him in a conspiracy to take an unfair advantage of some civic improvements. She had no justification for questioning either of them; but her aunt, who was seldom diffident, proceeded to deal with the matter boldly when Osborne joined them after dispatching the telegram.

"What's this I hear, Henry?" Miss Dexter asked.

"I can't say. You were not intended to hear anything," Osborne replied with a patient air.

"Then your friend should talk lower. Have you been buying up property the city needs?"

"It's a fairly common practice. I suppose you don't approve of it?"

"Need you ask?" Miss Dexter bristled with Puritanical indignation. "Have you any moral right to tax the people because they want a healthier and cleaner town? Is this the example you would set your daughter?"

Osborne smiled tolerantly.

"It's hardly likely that Ruth will feel tempted to speculate in real estate. Besides, the tax is optional. The people needn't pay it unless they like."

"That's a quibble," Miss Dexter replied shrewdly. "They wouldn't buy your lots at an extravagant price if there was another site available."

"It's unwise to jump at conclusions. As a matter of fact, there are two better sites in the market."

Miss Dexter looked puzzled.

"If that's true," she declared, "the matter's more suspicious than before. There's something not straight."

"I'm afraid there often is," Osborne responded good-humoredly. "Still, while I can't hope for your approval of all my doings, I don't think you have much reason to question my veracity."

"I have none. I beg your pardon, Henry," Miss Dexter said with some dignity. "I'm glad to say that I've always found your word reliable."

"That's something to my credit, anyway." Osborne turned to Clay. "My sister-in-law has no admiration for our modern business ethics."

"There she shows sense," Clay answered with a smile. "I'm old-fashioned enough to believe, ma'am, that the less women have to do with business the better."

"Why?" Miss Dexter demanded sternly.