The Merry Anne 22

The Merry Anne 22

"Yes, I thought so."

 

"Well, he isn't at all."

 

"Oh," said Dick again. And then, "Isn't he?"

 

"No, he has something to do with--don't you understand what I'm getting

at, Dick?" He shook his head.

 

"Are you going to make me tell you?"

 

"You needn't tell me anything you don't want to, Annie."

 

"O dear, I don't understand it myself, much of it; but I thought you

would if what he says is true."

 

"It's something about me, then?"

 

"Yes, Dick,--and the revenue cutter."

 

"The revenue cutter?"

 

"Yes, the _Foote_. He has something to do with her."

 

"He's a revenue officer, then?"

 

"Yes, or something. I don't know just what he is. But you understand it

now, don't you?"

 

"Not a bit."

 

"But you must, Dick. He says something is going to happen, right here."

 

"On the pier?"

 

"Yes."

 

"When?"

 

"Now--to-night. I was afraid it would be before I could get out here.

And I had to wait till dark, you know."

 

"But how do you know all this, Annie?"

 

"Mr. Beveridge--Mr. Beveridge told me more than he meant to, I guess.

And then he talked with father. And father and mother both tried to make

me go up to Aunt Lizzie's early this evening, so I wouldn't be here. It

was to save me from something, they said."

 

"But I don't see, Annie--"

 

"Why don't you go, Dick. I've come out here to tell you, so you can

sail away before he comes. Then you won't have any trouble. There's a

mistake, I know; and when they have found it out, you can come back."

 

"Oh, I couldn't do that, Annie. I have no reason to go away. If anybody

wants to see me, he knows where he can find me."

 

This silenced Annie. She looked at Dick, and then looked away from him,

out over the Lake, not knowing what to say or think.

 

"You came out just to warn me, Annie?"

 

She nodded.

 

"There must be something more then--something you haven't told me."

 

"No--only he--Mr. Beveridge said a good deal--he tried to make me

believe you were--dishonest, or something."

 

"And you didn't believe it?"

 

She made no reply to this. She was beginning to think about getting back

to the house. When Dick spoke again, it was in a gentler voice.

 

"I'm glad you came out, Annie, mighty glad. And I know you 'll be glad to

find out that he is wrong."

 

"Oh, I know that--"

 

"But there must have been some things I don't understand at all. I don't

know but what it's a good thing he is here. If he can clear it up, it

will be better for all of us. So I 'll stay right here, and if he wants

me, he can have me. That's no reason why I should dodge any man living."

 

"I knew it--I'm glad--"

 

Then Dick's reserve broke down. He caught her hands again. "But you

can't tell me your coming out here doesn't mean anything, Annie. You've

told me already what I didn't dare to ask you."

 

"No, Dick, let me go. I'm going back."

 

"But after this--you can't put me off now, Annie. Don't you see? It's

no use trying to make me think you would have done this for anybody,

because you wouldn't. I know it, and you know it."

 

"Now, Dick, please! I'm afraid--"

 

"If you only knew how I've felt this trip,--what a regular hell it has

been,--you wouldn't keep me waiting any longer. I know to-morrow's the

time; and I wouldn't have said a word to-night if you hadn't come out

here. But you _are_ here, and you have let me know so much that it's

only a matter of saying a word. You can't blame me if I take your coming

that way."

 

Annie was struggling, and Dick in his eagerness was holding her tightly.

But she got her hands free now and turned away.

 

"Let me go back with you, Annie. I--I 'll try not to bother you. I didn't

mean to just now. Hang it, I never can trust myself when--"

 

"No, you mustn't come."

 

"Not even good night, Annie?"

 

But she hurried off without a word into the shadows, and felt her way

nervously until she reached the central roadway, where it was lighter.

It was now getting on toward nine o'clock, and nothing had happened.

Perhaps nothing was going to happen, after all. What with her hope that

it all might be a mistake, and her fear that she had come on a fool's

errand, Annie was in a pretty state of mind. She did not know what to

make of Beveridge; she did not know what to make of herself; the natural

thing, apparently, was to get angry with Dick, and this she was rapidly

doing.

 

When she was passing the last but one of the lumber piles, hurrying

along with less caution than she had used in coming out, a man appeared

out of the shadow and blocked the way. She stepped aside and tried to

run by, but he, as quick as she, stepped aside too and caught her wrist.

Then she saw that it was Beveridge.

 

"Let me go!" she said breathlessly.

 

"No, Annie, wait. You decided to warn him, did you?"

 

"Let me go. You have no right to hold me."

 

"Yes I have, more right than you know. Now tell me, why did you do it?"

 

"Mr. Beveridge--"

 

"You must wait, Annie. No one is going to hurt you. If you had known

what you were doing, you never would have come. It's no place for a

woman. But now that you have done this, now that you are here, I think

you had better stay and see with your own eyes what you have done. Then

perhaps you will believe me."

 

Poor Annie could say nothing more. Her head whirled. She let him lead

her back along the roadway.

 

Close to the spot where she had turned off to reach the schooner

Beveridge stopped. In a moment he was joined by another man.

 

"Bert?"

 

"Yes. What is it? Want me to take her home?"

 

"No. Wait here, in case I call. And have an eye on the other boat."

 

"You aren't going to take her back there?"

 

"Never you mind what I'm going to do."

 

"But look here, Bill! This is no place for--"

 

"Do what you're told and keep still."

 

Annie heard this muttered conversation without taking it in. Beveridge

still held her wrist, held it tighter than he knew, but she was hardly

conscious of this either. She was caught up and whirled along on the

high wind of events. She was conscious only of Beveridge, of a new side

to his character. The young man she had known on the beach and aboard

the _Captain_ had vanished. This Beveridge was hard, irresistible; his

manner, the atmosphere about him, spoke of some object that must be

reached without regard to obstacles. Her Beveridge had been friendly,

considerate; there was nothing considerate about this man. And yet, a

part of his object was to convince her that he was right and that Dick

was wrong; and she knew why.

 

Dick had gone back to his seat on the cabin trunk. Beveridge, gripping

Annie's wrist, stood at the pier edge, and looked down.

 

"Smiley," he said.

 

Dick crossed the deck. "I'm Smiley. What is it?"

 

"I shall have to ask you to come away with me."

 

"Who are you?"

 

"Beveridge, special agent of the United States Treasury Department."

 

"Well, what do you want me for?" Dick was peering forward, trying to

make out the figure in the background.

 

"I guess it isn't necessary to tell you that; I 'll give you a minute to

get what things you need."

 

"Who have you got there?"

 

"It's me, Dick."

 

"Annie!" Dick leaped up to the pier. "Have you dragged her out here to

see--"

 

"Get back there on your schooner, Smiley. It won't be necessary to do

any talking. Anything you say is likely to be used against you. Get back

there."

 

Dick looked at him a moment, then jumped down. Beveridge followed, helping Annie, none too gently.