"I didn't know that Mrs. Horncastle and Mrs. Barker were such friends,"
he said dryly as he sat down again. But his face presently became so
abstracted that Demorest said gayly:--
"Well, Jim, I'm glad I'm not a Napoleon of Finance! I couldn't stand
it to have my privacy or my relaxation broken in upon at any moment, as
yours was just now. What confounded somersault in stocks has put that
face on you?"
Stacy looked up quickly with his brief laugh. "I'm afraid you'd be none
the wiser if I told you. That was a pony express messenger from New
York. You remember how Barker, that night of the strike, when we were
sitting together here, or very near here, proposed that we ought to have
a password or a symbol to call us together in case of emergency, for
each other's help? Well, let us say I have two partners, one in Europe
and one in New York. That was my password."
"And, I hope, no more serious than ours," added Demorest.
Stacy laughed his short laugh. Nevertheless, the conversation dragged
again. The feverish gayety of the early part of the evening was gone,
and they seemed to be suffering from the reaction. They fell into their
old attitudes, looking from the firelight to the distant bulk of Black
Spur without a word. The occasional sound of the voices of promenaders
on the veranda at last ceased; there was the noise of the shutting of
heavy doors below, and Barker rose.
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