Brandon of the Engineers

"One would hardly expect you to speak against him. Considering

everything, it's perhaps not quite in good taste."

Dick put down the drawing-board and looked at him steadily. "It's very

bad taste. In fact, I find myself in a very awkward situation. Your

father gave me a fresh start when I needed it badly, and agreed when your

sister put you in my charge."

"Ida's sometimes a bit officious," Jake remarked.

"Well," Dick continued, "I promised to look after you, and although I

didn't know what I was undertaking, the promise must be kept. It's true

that Kenwardine afterwards did me a great service; but his placing me

under an obligation doesn't relieve me from the other, which I'd incurred

first."

Somewhat to his surprise, Jake nodded agreement. "No, not from your point

of view. But what makes you think Kenwardine is dangerous?"

"I can't answer. You had better take it for granted that I know what I'm

talking about, and keep away from him."

"As a matter of fact, it was Miss Kenwardine to whom you owed most," Jake

said meaningly. "Do you suggest that she's dangerous, too?"

Dick frowned and his face got red, but he said nothing, and Jake resumed:

"There's a mystery about the matter and you know more than you intend to

tell; but if you blame the girl for anything, you're absolutely wrong. If

you'll wait a minute, I'll show you what I mean."

He went into the shack and came back with a drawing-block which he stood

upon the table under the lamp, and Dick saw that it was a water-color

portrait of Clare Kenwardine. He did not know much about pictures, but it

was obvious that Jake had talent. The girl stood in the patio, with a

pale-yellow wall behind her, over which a vivid purple creeper trailed.

Her lilac dress showed the graceful lines of her slender figure against

the harmonious background, and matched the soft blue of her eyes and the

delicate white and pink of her skin. The patio was flooded with strong

sunlight, but the girl looked strangely fresh and cool.

"I didn't mean to show you this, but it's the best way of explaining what

I think," Jake said with some diffidence. "I'm weak in technique, because

I haven't been taught, but I imagine I've got sensibility. It's plain

that when you paint a portrait you must study form and color, but there's

something else that you can only feel. I don't mean the character that's

expressed by the mouth and eyes; it's something vague and elusive that

psychologists give you a hint of when they talk about the aura. Of

course you can't paint it, but unless it, so to speak, glimmers through

the work, your portrait's dead."

"I don't quite understand; but sometimes things do give you an impression

you can't analyze," Dick replied.