Read DUSKIN for Free Online Page A

seemed bitter to her that even the pleasure she might have taken from the journey into a new part of the country had to be spoiled by her dread of these men.
    She took out the memorandum she had made of their half-whispered conversation the afternoon before and reread it, wondering if perhaps she had misconstrued some of their sentences, for she had been tired then. But no, they seemed more incriminating than when she had first heard them, and she put them away and began to ponder just how she should use them.
    It was a serious thing of course, to make a charge against them, especially so grave a charge as the evidence she held made necessary. And she was a girl alone, with no one whom she dared trust to advise her. If Mr. Fawcett had only been well it would have been a simple enough matter to have handed him the sheets on which she had typed their conversation and turned the whole thing over to him. But here she was in Mr. Fawcett’s place, possessed of knowledge that no one else in the company knew, and sworn to act according to her best judgment in everything regarding the Fawcett Construction Company.
    Should she have consulted someone in the office before she left? Her judgment told her no. She tried to think of one who could have been trusted with the information. Mr. Clough, the bookkeeper, would have been for having the men arrested without further ado, and perhaps that was what should have been done. If she only knew! And yet on the other hand, it might have been disastrous to precipitate matters if it should turn out that these men were in the confidence of the owner, for instance.
    It seemed to her that really the first thing she ought to do was to find out who the men were—where they lived and what relation they sustained to the matter. And how was she to go about it? Perhaps she had better telegraph tonight to the office boy and get him to wire the names of the two men. Their cards would likely be at the desk by the elevator, or perhaps lying on Mr. Fawcett’s desk. Harry was a smart boy. She would say, “Send all information possible about two men you brought to the office yesterday at two o’clock. Wire answer care Duskin.” Then perhaps it would be there when she arrived. That would help greatly. Only where then would the two men be? Her birds might already have flown. Well, it was the best she could do. Perhaps she might get some clue in Chicago that would make things plainer, or she might even find it wise to ask the younger Fawcett’s advice. One thing was certain: she did not intend to give those men any more opportunities of seeing her than were necessary. To this end she managed to watch their movements, from the shelter of her curtain, and when she saw them get up and go to the smoking room, their hands obviously searching for cigars in their upper pockets, she drew a long breath and relaxed her vigilance.
    The men had to pass her door to go to the diner, and she kept a diligent watch on their movements when it came near mealtime—knew when they went to the diner and when they returned to their seats, and timed her own meals accordingly—so that she did not again come in direct contact with them. But she could not get them out of her mind. They were like carrion crows that continued to hang over her head.
    The afternoon’s monotony was broken by a telegram which the porter brought to her. As she took it, she noticed with eyes that were business-wise that the envelope had been torn open, and she gave the porter a questioning glance.
    “It’s been opened?”
    “Yes, miss,” the porter apologized. “The gemmen, he done make a mistake. He expected it were fer him. He sends his regrets. Gemmen back dere where you was last night, miss. He see de number of de seckshum on de emvelup and take it de message was fer him.”
    Carol felt a sinister apprehension stealing over her. Those men again! They had managed to read her telegram!
    She gave the porter a quarter and got rid of him, but her heart