CHAPTER XII

CORNERED

Donaster had finished his dinner, and was deep in an evening paper in the smoking-room of the Fundy Hotel.  So intent was he upon the article he was reading that he allowed his cigar to go out, a most unusual thing for him.  But there was a reason, for he was reading a vivid account of the daring rescue which had been made early that morning on the brink of the falls.  It occupied two pages of the paper, describing accurately and in detail all that had taken place.  It told of the thunder storm up river, of the breaking loose of the “Eb and Flo,” the run to the city, and the noble action of Eben Tobin, who would not desert his post of duty.  Donaster breathed more freely when he found that his own name was not mentioned.  The paper merely stated that two men had escaped by means of a motor-boat after they had been unable to induce the young commander to go with them.  Much praise was given to the men on the tug for the great risk they had run in making the rescue.  When he had read the article through for the second time, he laid the paper aside, re-lighted his cigar, and sat for some time in deep thought.

During the whole of this time Gabriel Grimsby had been sitting not far away watching Donaster most intently.  He was much better dressed than on the evening he had presented himself before Mrs. Randall and demanded payment for his silence.  His face still bore the placid expression of peace and contentment, while his eyes beamed their goodwill to all.  Anyone observing his manner might have mistaken him for a visitant from another world, clothed in human fashion, and mingling for a time in the ways of men.  Such was the outward appearance of Gabriel Grimsby, the stand-between.

After a while Donaster rose and made his way into the billiard-room at the rear of the building.  He was an expert player, and soon was deeply engaged in his favourite game.  Grimsby followed, and for a time stood and watched the game.  Then he went back to the smoking-room, resumed his seat, and brought forth, a handful of papers from an inside pocket of his coat.  Glancing furtively around to see if anyone was watching, he selected a newspaper clipping and read it through very carefully.  It told of the mysterious disappearance of Miss Jess Randall, the only daughter of Henry Randall, the noted lumber merchant.  It was believed that she had drowned herself near the Randall’s summer home along the river, and men were already searching for her body.  Grimsby next referred to another article, written a day later, which told of the unsuccessful search for the body of the missing girl.  A smile overspread his face as he read this, and he glanced toward the billiard-room.  He evidently knew something which was giving him considerable satisfaction.  He believed that Donaster would play for some time yet, so there was no hurry.