It was not at all polite of her to laugh, but he had to admit that her laughter was very pleasant and young.

“It is funny, you know,” she murmured apologetically.  “For I am sure you pictured father as a kind of white patriarch, surrounded by his primitive children (father is certain to have called the Indians his ’children’!).  Unfortunately, the Indians detest father.  They’re half afraid of him, too.  I don’t know why.  Years ago, when we lived up coast—­” she paused, plainly annoyed at her own loquacity, “we knew plenty of Indians then,” she finished shortly.

“And are there no Indians here at all?”

“There is an Indian reservation at North Vancouver.  That is the nearest.  I do not think they are just what you are looking for.  But both in Vancouver and Victoria you can get in touch with men who can direct you.  Your journey need not be entirely wasted.”

“But Dr. Farr himself—­Is he not something of an authority?”

“Y-es.  I suppose he is.”

“What information the letters contained seemed to be the real thing.”

“Oh, the letters were all right.  I wrote them.”

“You!”

“Didn’t I tell you I was the secretary?  My department is the ‘information bureau.’  I do not see the actual letters.  There are always personal bits which father puts in himself.”

“Bits regarding boarding accommodation, etc.?”

She did not answer his smile, and her eyes grew hard as she nodded.

“Usually I can keep things from going that far.  I can’t quite see how it happened so suddenly in your case.”

“I happen to be a sudden person.”

“Evidently.  Father was quite dumbfounded when he knew you had actually arrived.  He certainly expected an interval during which he could invent good and sufficient reasons for putting you off.”

“Such as?”

“Such as smallpox.  An outbreak of smallpox among the Indians is quite a favorite with father.”

“The old—­I beg your pardon!”

“Don’t bother.  You are certainly entitled to an expression of your feelings.  It may be the only satisfaction, you will get.  But aren’t we getting away from the question?” “Question?”

“When do you wish Li Ho to take you back to Vancouver?”

Professor Spence opened his lips to say that any time would suit.  It was the obvious answer, the only sensible answer, the answer which he fully intended to make.  But he did not make it.

“Must I really go?” he asked.  He was, so he had said himself, a sudden person.

His hostess met his deprecating gaze with pure surprise.

“You can’t possibly want to stay?”

“I quite possibly can.  I like it here.  And I’m horribly tired.”

The hostility which had begun to gather in her eyes lightened a little.

“Tired?  I noticed that you limped this morning.  Is there anything the matter with you?”