“Oh, no.”  She lifted her head bravely like his Alaska flower in the bitter wind.  “I shall not accept it.  My grandfather believed in the ruby devoutly,” she went on evenly.  “It was his birthstone.  And since it is yours too, Marcia, it should bring you better fortune than it has brought me.  But see!  The villa roof is finished and stained moss-green as it should be, against that background of firs.  And isn’t the big veranda delightful, with those Venetian blinds?”

The yacht nosed alongside the little stone quay, and preceded by the host, who was carried ashore in his chair, not without difficulty, by relays of his crew, the party made the landing.

Tisdale’s first impression when he stepped over the threshold of the villa was of magnitude.  A great fireplace built of granite blocks faced the hospitable entrance, and the interior lifted to the beamed roof, with a gallery midway, on which opened the upper rooms.  The stairs rose easily in two landings, and the curving balustrade formed a recess in which was constructed a stage.  Near this a pipe organ was being installed.  It was all luxurious, created for entertainment and pleasure, but it lacked the ostentatious element for which he was prepared.

It had been understood that the visit was made at this time to allow Mrs. Feversham an opportunity to go through the house.  She was to decide on certain furnishings which she was to purchase in New York, but it was evident to Tisdale that the items she listed followed the suggestions of the woman who stood beside her, weighing with subdued enthusiasm the possibilities of the room.  “Imagine a splendid polar-bear rug here,” she said, “with a yellowish lynx at the foot of the stairs, and one of those fine Kodiak skins in front of the hearth.  A couch there in the chimney corner, with a Navajo blanket and pillows would be color enough.”

Morganstein, watching her from his invalid chair, grasped the idea with satisfaction.  “Cut out those Wilton carpets, Marcia,” he said.  “I’ll write that Alaska hunter, Thompson, who heads the big-game parties, to send me half a dozen bears.  They mount ’em all right in Seattle.  Now see what we are going to need in that east suite up-stairs.”

They went trooping up the staircase, but Hollis did not hurry to follow.  His glance moved to the heavy, recumbent figure of his host.  He was looking up across the banisters at Mrs. Weatherbee as she ascended, and something in his sensuous face, the steady gleam of his round black eyes, started in Tisdale’s mind a sudden suspicion.  She stopped to look down from the gallery railing and smiled with a gay little salute.  Then Elizabeth called, and she disappeared through an open door.

“I’d give fifty dollars to see her face when she gets to that east room,” Morganstein said abruptly.  “But go up, Mr. Tisdale; go up.  Needn’t bother to stay with me.”

“There’s a good deal to see here,” Tisdale responded genially.  “A man who is accustomed to spend his time as I do, gathering accurate detail, is slower than others, I suppose, and this all seems very fine to me.”