Who could tell? Perhaps--perhaps, the business would always be
his in spite of the second will! Perhaps, he would have his chance to
make good. He got to his feet; he held out his hand.
"I'll do it."
"Ain't it worth any thanks?"
"Not between us," declared Tarboe.
"When are you going to do it?"
"To-night--now." He drew out some paper and sat down with a pen in his
hand.
"Now," John Grier repeated.
CHAPTER IX
THE PUZZLE
On his way home, with Luzanne's disturbing letter in his pocket, Carnac
met Junia. She was supremely Anglo-Saxon; fresh, fervid and buoyant with
an actual buoyancy of the early spring. She had tact and ability,
otherwise she could never have preserved peace between the contending
factions, Belloc and Fabian, old John Grier, the mother and Carnac. She
was as though she sought for nothing, wished nothing but the life in
which she lived. Yet her wonderful pliability, her joyful boyishness,
had behind all a delicate anxiety which only showed in flashes now and
then, fully understood by no one except Carnac's mother and old Denzil.
These two having suffered strangely in life had realized that the girl
was always waiting for a curtain to rise which did not rise, for a voice
to speak which gave no sound.
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