Big Game - A Story for Girls

"What I have told you is true, but--but--I have not told you all!"

"I should think not, indeed! Who expected that you should? I am not at

all sure that I care to hear it."

"Oh, but--I want to tell you!"

The Chieftain chuckled with amusement. He was evidently comfortably

convinced of the non-importance of the forthcoming revelations, and

Margot's courage suffered another ebb as she returned his unsuspicious

glance.

"I--we--we knew that you were staying at the Nag's Head!"

The Chieftain cocked a surprised eyebrow, startled but unresentful.

"You knew that we were here, before you arrived, and met us in the

flesh? Is that so? I wonder how you heard! I make it a rule to keep

my holiday plans as secret as possible, for the very good reason that a

holiday is a holiday, and one wants a change of companionship as well

as scene. How in the world did you hear that we were bound for

Glenaire? I'm curious!"

Margot's eyelids fell guiltily, but Nature had generously endowed these

same lids with long black lashes, the points of which curled up in a

manner distractingly apparent when shown in contrast with a flushed pink

cheek; so it happened that instead of being hardened by the sight, the

Chieftain drew a few inches nearer, and smiled with genial approval.

"Well, out with it! How did you hear?"

"I--asked!"

"Asked?" The brow became a network of astonished wrinkling. "You

asked? Whom did you ask? And why? What did you know about us, to give

you interest in our comings or goings? This grows curiouser and

curiouser! I imagined that we were as absolute strangers to you as you

were to us."

"It--it--there was the magazine--it was because of the magazine."

"Oh, indeed! You knew the name through the magazine! I understand!"

The Chieftain straightened himself, and the laugh died out of his eyes.

For the first time in the history of their short acquaintance Margot saw

his face set in firm, hard lines, the business face which had been left

at home, together with the black coats and silk hats of City wear, and

seeing it, trembled with fear. But it was too late to retreat; for

better or worse she was bound to go forward and complete her half-

finished revelations.

"I wanted to get to know your brother, because he is the editor of the

Loadstar, and I had heard people say that he was the most powerful

literary man in London; that if he chose to take up any one who was

beginning to write he could do more to help than any one else. We know

no literary people at home, and I wanted to. Badly!"

"I see! Just so. Written a novel, and want help to get it into print,"

returned the Chieftain slowly. He had drawn down his lips into an

expression of preternatural gravity, but the hard look had disappeared.

The murder was out, and he was not angry; he might pretend to be, but

Margot was too sharp-witted to be frightened by a pretence.