“He’ll come if it’s possible; he’s an obstinate fellow,” Scott agreed.  “There’s a train just before the meeting.  Will you go to the station?”

“Yes,” said Agatha.  “I feel he will be there.”

“Then you’ll hold us up; that train is often late,” George grumbled.

“Have you got a hint about what Stormont wants?” Agatha asked Scott.

“Not yet, but we’ll know soon.  I expect George told you Stormont has floated a company to work the claims his men staked behind our block.”

They had some hours to wait because the meeting was in the afternoon, and Agatha found the shops strangely unattractive; moreover, she did not know if it would be prudent to buy the things she wanted.  In the afternoon she went to the Canadian-Pacific Station, and being told the train had left Ottawa late, she sat down in the neighboring square by the Cathedral.  She was surprised to find that she was nervous, but this was not altogether because of the money at stake.  Thirlwell had not failed her yet and it would be a painful shock if he did so now.  She had a half-superstitious feeling that it was important he should come.  If he arrived, all would go well; if not—­but she refused to follow the thought, and looked at her watch.  Only a few minutes had gone since her last glance and she tried to conquer her impatience.

Her heart beat when she stood beside the platform gate as the long train rolled in.  The cars were crowded, but she thrilled when Thirlwell jumped down from a vestibule.  He looked thin and tired, but smiled when she gave him her hand.

“I’m here,” he said.  “A little late, but the train was held up by a broken trestle.”

“You are always where you are wanted,” Agatha replied, with a touch of color in her face.  “One trusts people like that.”

Thirlwell said he would get a hack in the square, and Agatha studied him as they drove across the city.  Sometimes his face was stern, but for the most part, it wore a look of quiet satisfaction, and once or twice his eyes twinkled, as if he were amused by something.

“It’s too bad to hurry you off to an important meeting when you’re tired,” she said.

Thirlwell laughed.  “I expect to hold out until the business is finished.  In fact, I’m looking forward to meeting Mr. Stormont.”

He had made a long and risky journey over a rough trail and across rotten ice, and after George’s messenger found him had pushed on as fast as possible through deep, melting snow, but he did not mean to talk about this.  By and by he gave Agatha a humorous account of a small accident at the mine, and she followed his lead.  She had felt disturbed and anxious, but now he had come she could smile.  For all that she was silent when they drove up a shabby street where the company’s office was situated at the top of an old building.

The office had two rooms; one very small, where a wheat-broker had a desk and combined the secretary’s duties with his regular business.  The other was larger, and when George and Scott went in was occupied by Stormont, Gardner, and two or three other gentlemen.  George imagined they had come early to arrange their program.