The Way of the Strong Part 79

"It's the saddest sight I've seen in my life."

Frank swung round at the sound of the voice. In a moment his arms were outstretched.

"Phyl!" he cried. "You?"

Phyllis caught his hands and held them tightly.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Phyllis Caught His Hands and Held Them Tightly]

"Yes, Frank. I've--I've been chasing for you all the afternoon. Say----"

"Oh, Phyl, Phyl, did you hear? Did you hear all that man said?" Frank broke in. "That's Austin Leyburn. That's the man to whom my duty is pledged. Was there ever such a lying, despicable traitor to humanity?

He tells them to burn--to kill their fellows. And that's the man whom I have been helping. Never, never, never again. Just G.o.d! I have done with it all. Was there ever such vile criminal teaching or methods?

Thank G.o.d, my eyes are open to it all--at last."

Phyllis drew his two hands toward her and placed them about her neck.

Then she reached up to him, tip-toeing, and kissed him on the lips.

"And I thank G.o.d too, dear."

The man drew her to him in a great embrace.

"Never again, Phyl," he said more calmly, after a moment. "Never again, so long as I live." He kissed her tenderly.

Then, as the strident tones of Leyburn still reached them, the girl looked up.

"Frank," she cried, with a slight start. "I had almost forgotten. You made me forget. I--I came to find you. I want you to come back to Deep Willows. Will you come? Mr. Hendrie is there."

"Alexander Hendrie?"

"Yes."

The man stood silent for a moment, and the girl's eyes became intensely earnest.

"Will you come and tell him--what we have heard--to-night?" she begged.

"Will you come and tell him--what you have told me? But it's not that I want you for most. There's trouble around. Desperate trouble for--for Monica." She clasped her hands in her anxiety. "Oh, come--come and help. Come and help us--her. Doctor Fraser says she cannot live unless--unless she is operated on by--by a surgeon from Winnipeg. But the railroad strike has made it impossible to get him--in time."

Frank started back and his arms dropped abruptly from about the girl's slim body.

"Monica?" he cried. "Monica dying?" Then, with a gasp. "Oh, G.o.d, and I helped to make that strike!"

CHAPTER XVI

THE DAWN OF HOPE

Alexander Hendrie started round at the sound of the servant's voice.

He was in the library. Night had fallen, and the room was in darkness.

He had been staring blankly at one of the windows, across which the curtains had not yet been drawn. For hours his mind had been concentrated upon the one eternal problem which confronted him. He was beset with doubts, hopes, fears, each one of which he examined closely, dismissed or accepted, and pigeon-holed the latter in the back cells of memory for future use.

The man was obsessed with one idea only. The fulfilment of Doctor Fraser's demands, and the saving of the one precious life which was far more to him than his own. The nervous tension at which his efforts left him made him literally jump at the sound of the voice of the man who had entered the room so silently.

"Miss Raysun would be glad to know if you would spare her a few minutes, sir. She say's it's a matter of importance."

The millionaire swung his chair about, and faced the man in the darkness.

"Turn on the lights," he said sharply. "You can draw the curtains; then tell Miss Raysun to come right along."

The electric switch clicked and the room was flooded with light. Then the servant crossed the room silently and drew the curtains. Then he moved over to the door, hesitated, and finally stopped.

"She has some one with her, sir," he said doubtfully.

This man was in full possession of the gossip of the house. Besides, he valued his position.

"Who?"

Hendrie's question came with an alert inflection. He understood the man's doubt.

"It's Mr. Smith--Mr. Frank Smith--I think, sir."

"Well?"

There was no mistaking the tone of the second inquiry. The man hastened to remedy his mistake.

"Beg pardon, sir, I--I thought I'd just mention it."

"That will do."

Hendrie appeared to occupy himself with the papers on his desk as the man hurried out.

But the moment he was alone the millionaire gave up the pretense. Again he sat back in his chair, and gazed unblinkingly at the reading lamp before him. All in a moment, it seemed, from comparative indifference at Phyllis's desire for an interview, his mood had leaped to impatience for her coming. Frank was with her--why? Here, at a moment when he knew he was face to face with, perhaps, the greatest disaster of his life; here, when almost every man's hand seemed to be turning against him; here, when all his powers of achievement were being taxed to the limit, he was to be confronted with his own natural son, Frank. Again his groping mind questioned--why?

Thought traveled swiftly back over other scenes, scenes he would gladly have shut out of memory--now. But they were always there ready to confront him with his own mis-doings. He thought of the poor woman on the lonely Yukon trail. He thought of the hardships with which she must have been beset. He thought of the young life-burden she had been bearing. Then he remembered the stalwart youth who had refused to betray Monica's secret, preferring to face penal servitude as an alternative. Then he remembered the honest youth championing the cause of the oppressed before his cold argument. And again he questioned the meaning of his coming now.

But his reflections were cut short. He glanced across at the door as it opened, and Phyllis hurried in. She was still dressed in her riding suit, her face and eyes, beneath the soft, wide-brimmed prairie hat she was wearing, shining with an excitement she could hardly restrain.

Behind her came the great figure of Frank, and the millionaire's eyes were for him alone.

He rose and silently placed a chair for the girl. But Phyllis refused it and remained standing. She turned to Frank.

"You sit down, Frank," she said, with a peremptoriness begot of her excitement.

Without thinking the man obeyed.

Hendrie's eyes were still upon him.