CHAPTER XXII--A WARNING
In the luxuriously appointed smoking-room of the hotel Clay leanedforward in the deep leather chair into which he had dropped and lookedkeenly at Osborne.
"Tell me how you are interested in this fellow Farquhar," he demanded.
"I don't know that I am much interested," Osborne replied. "He was ofsome service to us during our voyage from Japan, and seemed a smartyoung fellow. It merely struck me that I might give him a lift up inreturn for one or two small favors."
"Let him drop! Didn't it strike you that your daughter might have herown views about him? The man's good-looking."
Osborne flung up his head, and his eyes narrowed.
"I can't discuss--"
"It has to be discussed," Clay interrupted. "You can't have that man atyour house: he's one of the fellows who were working at the wreck."
"Ah! That makes a difference, of course. I suppose you have been ontheir trail, but you have told me nothing about it yet."
"I had a suspicion that you didn't want to know. You're a fastidiousfellow, you know, and I suspected that you'd rather leave a mean job ofthat kind to me."
"You're right," Osborne admitted. "I'm sure you would handle it betterthan I could; but I'm curious to hear what you've done."
"I've gone as far as seems advisable. Had the fellows fired from severaljobs and made it difficult for them to get another; but it wouldn't payto have my agents guess what I'm after." Clay laughed. "Farquhar and hispartners are either bolder or smarter than I thought; I found themtaking my own money at the Clanch Mill."
"You meant to break them?"
"Sure! A man without money is pretty harmless; but wages are high here,and if they'd been left alone, they might have saved enough to give thema start. Now I don't imagine the poor devils have ten dollars betweenthem."
"What's your plan?"
"I don't know yet. I thought of letting them find out the weakness oftheir position and then trying to buy them off; but if I'm not verycareful that might give them a hold on me."
Osborne looked thoughtful.
"I wonder whether the insurance people would consider an offer for thewreck? I wouldn't mind putting up my share of the money."
"It wouldn't work," Clay said firmly. "They'd smell a rat. I suppose youfelt you'd like to give them their money back."
"I have felt something of the kind."
"Then why did you take the money in the first instance?"
"You ought to know. I had about two hundred dollars which you had paidme then, and I wanted to give my girl a fair start in life."
"And now she'd be the first to feel ashamed of you if she knew."
Osborne winced.
"What's the good of digging up the bones of a skeleton that is betterburied!" he said impatiently. "The thing to consider is the wreck. If wecould buy it we could blow it up."
"We can blow it up, anyway. That is, if we can get there before theFarquhar crowd. We have steam against their sail, and I've made itdifficult for them to fit out their boat. Unless I find I can come toterms with the fellows, I'll get off in the yacht as soon as the icebreaks up."
"Your crew may talk."
"They won't have much to talk about; I'll see to that. Now, I don't knowwhat claim insurers have on a vessel they've paid for and abandoned fora number of years, but I guess there's nothing to prevent our trying torecover her cargo, so long as we account for what we get. It's knownthat the yacht has been cruising in the North, and what more naturalthan that we should discover that a gale or a change of current hadwashed the wreck into shallow water after the salvage expedition gaveher up? If there had been anything wrong, we'd have made some moveearlier. Very well; knowing more about the vessel and her freight thananybody else, we try what we can do. If we fail, like the salvagepeople, nobody can blame us."
"You'd run some risk, for all that," Osborne said thoughtfully.
"I can't deny it. If Farquhar and his friends were business men, I'dfeel uneasy. He has cards in his hand that would beat us; but he doesn'tknow how many trumps he holds. If he did know, we'd have heard from himor the underwriters before this."
"It seems probable," Osborne agreed. "All the same, I wish the winterwas over and you could get off. It will be a relief to know that she isdestroyed."
"You'll have to wait; but there won't be much of her left after we getto work with the giant-powder," Clay promised cheerfully.
They talked over the matter until it got late; and the next morning theparty broke up, the Osbornes returning home and Aynsley going back tohis mill. Clay, however, stayed in Vancouver and visited a doctor whowas beginning to make his mark. There were medical men in Seattle whowould have been glad to attend to him, but he preferred the Canadiancity, where he was not so well known. He had been troubled rather oftenof late by sensations that puzzled him, and had decided that if he hadany serious weakness it would be better to keep it to himself. Hithertohe had been noted for his mental and physical force, and recognized as adaring, unscrupulous fighter whom it was wise to conciliate, and itmight prove damaging if rumors that he was not all he seemed got about.
His work was not finished and his ambitions were only half realized.Aynsley had his mother's graces, for Clay's wife had been a woman ofsome refinement who had yielded to the fascination the handsomeadventurer once exercised. The boy must have wealth enough to make him aprominent figure on the Pacific Slope. Clay knew his own limitations,and was content that his son should attain a social position he couldnot enjoy. This was one reason why he had been more troubled aboutFarquhar's salvage operations than he cared to admit. His personalreputation was, as he very well knew, not of the best, but his businessexploits, so far as they were known to the public, were, after all,regarded with a certain toleration and would be forgotten. The wreck,however, was a more serious matter, and might have a damaging effect onhis son's career if the truth concerning it came out. This must beavoided at any cost. Moreover, with his business increasing, he wouldneed all his faculties during the next few years, and the mysteriousweakness he suffered from now and then dulled his brain. In consequence,he was prudently but rather unwillingly going to see a doctor.
The man examined him with a careful interest which Clay thought ominous,and after questioning him about his symptoms stood silent a few moments.
"You have lived pretty hard," he commented.
"I have," said Clay, "but perhaps not in the way that's generallymeant."
The doctor nodded as he studied him. Clay's face showed traces ofindulgence, but these were not marked. The man was obviously not in thehabit of exercising an ascetic control over his appetites, but he lookedtoo hard and virile to be a confirmed sensualist. Yet, to a practisedeye, he showed signs of wear.
"I mean that you haven't been careful of yourself."
"I hadn't much chance of doing so until comparatively recent years,"Clay replied with a grim smile. "In my younger days, I suffered heat andthirst in the Southwest; afterwards I marched on half-rations, carryinga heavy pack, in the Alaskan snow; and I dare say I got into the habitof putting my object first."
"Before what are generally considered the necessities of life--food andrest and sleep?"
"Something of the kind."
"You work pretty hard now?"
"I begin when I get up; as a rule, it's eleven o'clock at night when Ifinish. That's the advantage of living in a city hotel. You can meet thepeople you deal with after office hours."
"It's a doubtful advantage," said the doctor. "You'll have to change allthat. Have you no relaxations or amusements?"
"I haven't time for them; my business needs too much attention. It'sbecause I find it tries me now and then that I've come here to learnwhat's wrong."
The doctor told him he had a serious derangement of the heart whichmight have been inherited, but had been developed by his having taxedhis strength too severely.
Clay listened with a hardening face.
"What's the cure?" he asked.
"There is n
one," said the doctor quietly. "A general slackening oftension will help. You must take life easier, shorten your workinghours, avoid excitement and mental concentration, and take a holidaywhen you can. I recommend a three months' change with complete rest, butthere will always be some risk of a seizure. Your aim must be to make itas small a risk as possible."
"And if I go on as I've been doing?"
The doctor gave him a keen glance. He was a judge of character, and sawthis was a determined, fearless man.
"You may live three or four years, though I'm doubtful. On the otherhand, the first sharp attack you provoke may finish you."
Clay showed no sign of dismay. He looked thoughtful rather thanstartled, for something had occurred to him.
"Would you recommend a voyage to a cold, bracing climate, say in thespring?"
"I'd urge it now. The sooner the better."
"I can't go yet. Perhaps in a month or two. In the meanwhile I supposeyou'll give me a prescription?"
The doctor went to his desk and wrote on two slips of paper which hehanded to Clay. He had told him plainly what to expect, and could do nomore.
"The first medicine is for regular use as directed; but you must becareful about the other," he cautioned. "When you feel the faintness youdescribed, take the number of drops mentioned, but on no account exceedit. The dispenser will mark the bottle."
Clay thanked him and lighted a strong cigar as he went out, thenremembered that he had been warned against excessive smoking, andhesitated, but the next moment he put the cigar back in his mouth. Ifthe doctor's opinions were correct, this small indulgence would notmatter much. With good luck, he could bring all his schemes to fruitionin the next year or two; he had no intention of dropping them. He hadbeen warned, but he had taken risks all his life, and he had too much onhand to be prudent now. Still, it would do no harm to have theprescriptions made up. He looked around for a quiet drugstore. Nobodymust suspect that his career was liable to come to a sudden termination.