XXXI. WHAT IS HE MAKING
Other boxes addressed to O. Brotherson had been received at the station,and carried to the mysterious shed in the woods; and now, with lockeddoor and lifted top, the elder brother contemplated his stores andprepared himself for work.
He had been allowed a short interview with Oswald, and he had indulgedhimself in a few words with Doris. But he had left those memories behindwith other and more serious matters. Nothing that could unnerve his handor weaken his insight should enter this spot sacred to his great hope.Here genius reigned. Here he was himself wholly and without flaw;--aTitan with his grasp on a mechanical idea by means of which he wouldsoon rule the world.
Not so happy were the other characters in this drama. Oswald's thoughts,disturbed for a short time by the somewhat constrained interview hehad held with his brother, had flown eastward again, in silent love andlonging; while Doris, with a double dread now in her heart, went abouther daily tasks, praying for strength to endure the horrors of thisweek, without betraying the anxieties secretly devouring her. And shewas only seventeen and quite alone in her trouble. She must bear it allunassisted and smile, which she did with heavenly sweetness, when themagic threshold was passed and she stood in her invalid's presence,overshadowed though it ever was by the great Dread.
And Mr. Challoner? Let those endless walks of his through the woodsand over the hills tell his story if they can; or his rapidly whiteninghair, and lagging step. He had been a strong man before his trouble, andhad the stroke which laid him low been limited to one quick, sharp blowhe might have risen above it after a while and been ready to encounterlife again. But this long drawn out misery was proving too much for him.The sight of Brotherson, though they never really met, acted like acidupon a wound, and it was not till six days had passed and the dreadedSunday was at hand, that he slept with any sense of rest or went his wayabout the town without that halting at the corners which betrayed hisperpetual apprehension of a most undesirable encounter.
The reason for this change will be apparent in the short conversationhe held with a man he had come upon one evening in the small park justbeyond the workmen's dwellings.
"You see I am here," was the stranger's low greeting.
"Thank God," was Mr. Challoner's reply. "I could not have facedto-morrow alone and I doubt if Miss Scott could have found the requisitecourage. Does she know that you are here?"
"I stopped at her door."
"Was that safe?"
"I think so. Mr. Brotherson--the Brooklyn one,--is up in his shed. Hesleeps there now, I am told, and soundly too I've no doubt."
"What is he making?"
"What half the inventors on both sides of the water are engaged uponjust now. A monoplane, or a biplane, or some machine for carrying menthrough the air. I know, for I helped him with it. But you'll find thatif he succeeds in this undertaking, and I believe he will, nothing shortof fame awaits him. His invention has startling points. But I'm notgoing to give them away. I'll be true enough to him for that. As aninventor he has my sympathy; but--Well, we will see what we shallsee, to-morrow. You say that he is bound to be present when Miss Scottrelates her tragic story. He won't be the only unseen listener. I'vemade my own arrangements with Miss Scott. If he feels the need ofwatching her and his brother Oswald, I feel the need of watching him."
"You take a burden of intolerable weight from my shoulders. Now I shallfeel easier about that interview. But I should like to ask you this: Doyou feel justified in this continued surveillance of a man who has sofrequently, and with such evident sincerity, declared his innocence?"
"I do that. If he's as guiltless as he says he is, my watchfulness won'thurt him. If he's not, then, Mr. Challoner, I've but one duty; to matchhis strength with my patience. That man is the one great mystery ofthe day, and mysteries call for solution. At least, that's the way adetective looks at it."
"May Heaven help your efforts!"
"I shall need its assistance," was the dry rejoinder. Sweetwater was byno means blind to the difficulties awaiting him.
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