“You know I don’t watch your every movement,” Dave said reproachfully. “You don’t need to explain anything, unless you wish.”
“Well, it happens that I want to, Dave.” Doris knew that in spite of her friend’s words, he found it quite impossible not to be jealous of Weiser, so she felt it would be best to clear up the atmosphere.
“I trust you, Dory. I’m sure you went to that office on urgent business and not to see that—that clumsy, ignorant, brazen—”
“Never mind the rest of the adjectives,” Doris interrupted, half-laughing. “As a matter of fact, I went there to see Ollie Weiser.”
“You did?” A hurt look flashed over Dave’s face.
“Yes, I wanted to tell him that Morehouse has exonerated him of all blame in connection with the fire. I knew he’d want to hear it.”
“Oh!” Dave smiled again. “That’s different. It was mighty decent of you to take the trouble.”
“I thought you would see it that way.”
Doris was relieved that he had not misinterpreted her motive in calling upon the magician; but then, she had known Dave was fair-minded. It was only because he liked her so much that he was troubled with jealousy. She was very fond of Dave, too. If anything had happened to him in the airplane accident—but she resolutely forced the thought from her mind.
“How are you feeling?” she questioned anxiously. “Don’t you think perhaps you had better see a doctor? It’s possible you may have received internal injuries.”
“I’d know it by this time,” Dave laughed. “Marshmallow and I are both all right, though for the life of me I don’t understand how we escaped. Mrs. Mallow nearly had heart failure, when she learned about the accident.”
“I don’t wonder. Kitty and I nearly went crazy, too!”
“Marshmallow’s mother tried to put him to bed when he got home, but he balked.”
“It’s all a huge joke to you two,” Doris chided severely, “but if you had been killed, it wouldn’t have been so funny. Oh, sometimes I wish you’d give up aviation. It’s so dangerous!”
Dave gazed down at her intently.
“Would you care—much—if I did get hurt?”
“Oh, don’t ask such a question. Of course I would! Now you’re just trying to tease me.” She changed the subject, refusing to permit Dave to draw any further admission from her. As they motored swiftly toward the camp she told him of her interview with McDermott.
“Well, I don’t know how to advise you,” Dave said in perplexity. “I’m like you. I heartily dislike that bird and yet have no reason for it.”
“He seemed honest enough today, although somehow I had a feeling that he wasn’t entirely in sympathy with my claim for a share in the Estate.”
“I don’t like his asking for a fee right away.”
“That’s what I thought. Of course, I can raise the sum, but I want to be sure it’s wisely spent.”
“Maybe you can look around and find another lawyer.”
“Possibly,” Doris agreed doubtfully, “but I don’t want to antagonize McDermott. He’s in a position to make my way very difficult.”
“That’s so, too.”
“It seems to me that I’ll be practically forced to employ McDermott, Dave. Of course, the money will be well spent, if it results in bringing me the inheritance.”
“That little word ‘if’ has been the stumbling block in many a deal,” Dave observed pessimistically.
“I agree, but one has to take some chances. If I only could find someone who could prove that my Uncle John Trent really is dead, it would greatly simplify matters.”
“But where can you find such a person?”
“That’s what I don’t know, but I have one glimmer of hope.”
“What is that?”
“I am hoping that Mr. Jay may know something of him. He’s lived in Cloudy Cove for years and years, you know.”
Dave nodded soberly.
“It wouldn’t do any harm to try him. He’s a mysterious old fellow but very likeable.”
“I believe I’ll talk with him, just as soon as I get back.”
Doris did not have an opportunity to interview the old miser until late that afternoon, for upon reaching the camp she found Mrs. Mallow and Kitty still excited over the recent airplane accident. They had told the story to nearly everyone in the camp, and neighbors besieged them for details. Dave and Marshmallow declared that they enjoyed being in the limelight.
“Everyone has had a narrow escape now, save me,” Mrs. Mallow sighed. “I do all the worrying.” Doris wished to see Mr. Jay alone, but she was not able to slip away from the others until nearly supper time. Hurrying toward the cabin in the woods, she caught a glimpse of the miser down on the beach. He was standing on a high rock, looking out across the water at the brilliant sunset.
As Doris hurried up, Mr. Jay turned and smiled in a friendly manner.
“The custard you brought this morning was very good,” he said. “Please thank Mrs. Mallow for me.”
He turned to look at the sky again, apparently forgetting Doris’s presence. She studied him silently for several minutes, wondering how she had better begin.
“Mr. Jay,” she said hesitatingly, “there’s something I want to ask you.”
The old man reluctantly gave her his entire attention.
“You’ve lived here at Cloudy Cove for a great many years, haven’t you?” Doris plunged on, wishing that Mr. Jay would make it easier for her.
“Yes,” the miser answered. There was a long pause before he added, “a great many years.”
“You must know nearly everyone around here, then. Tell me, did you ever hear of a man by the name of Trent? John Trent?”
Mr. Jay’s eyes lifted quickly, but after the first quizzical glance directed at Doris, he merely shook his head in a bewildered way. He began to edge toward the path.
“Oh, don’t go, please,” Doris pleaded.
From the glance he had bestowed upon her she was convinced that Mr. Jay had heard of her uncle. She could not permit him to leave without making a desperate attempt to quiz him. Why was he always so unwilling to answer questions?
Reluctantly the miser halted, but he avoided Doris’s penetrating eyes. He hung his head as though ashamed to face her.
“Think hard,” Doris begged. “Have you ever heard of the name?”
“Sounds a bit familiar,” Mr. Jay admitted, shuffling his feet and dislodging a small stone which fell over the side of the cliff into the cold water.
“Oh, it would mean so much to me if only you could remember where you heard the name!” Doris could see that the old man was fighting a battle with himself, but just what was causing him such mental anguish she was at a loss to understand. Why had her questions disturbed him?
“It would mean—a lot to you—to know about John Trent?” Mr. Jay asked in a low voice, but one tense with suppressed emotion.
Doris nodded eagerly.
“I knew John Trent quite well,” the miser admitted slowly. A grim smile flickered over his face for an instant. “He