"Now, this house," Casey explained, as they entered, "belongs to you three. It's yours to have, hold, and occupy for your sole use and benefit while you are here. Is that sufficiently legal, Wade? The Chinaman is yours, too. He takes his orders from you. Mrs. Wade, your room is there. Miss Burnaby, that one is intended for you. But if you like to change about, do so, by all means."
"I'm bunking in one of the other buildings."
"What? We're putting you out of your own house!" Wade exclaimed. "That won't do, Casey, really it won't. We won't let you."
But Casey was firm. He explained that he came and went at all hours, rose early, had to be where he could confer with McHale. He insisted on his fictions, and ended by half convincing them.
Clyde, entering the room he had pointed out as hers, was struck by its absolute cleanness and daintiness. The curtains were tastefully draped, tied with ribbon; there were scarfs on dresser and stand, pin-cushion and pins, little trays for trifles. The bed was made with hospital neatness.
A moment afterward Kitty Wade entered, looking around.
"Yours, too," she said. "No mere bachelor ever did these things, Clyde. The Chinaman is out of the question. It is to find the woman."
But it was not till after dinner that Kitty Wade did so.
"Miss McCrae was kind enough to fix up the rooms for you," Casey replied.
Casey pulled a handful of photographs from a drawer, and shuffled them. He handed one to Mrs. Wade.
"That's Sheila McCrae. I'll drive you over to Talapus, her father's place, one of these days."
Clyde, moved by an interest which she could not understand, bent over Kitty Wade's shoulder. The picture was an enlarged snapshot, but a splendid likeness. Sheila was standing, one hand by her side holding her riding hat, the other, half raised to her hair, as if to arrange it when the shutter had opened. Her dark, keen face with its touch of wistfulness looked full at them.
"What a nice-looking girl!" Kitty Wade exclaimed. "Don't you think so, Clyde?"
Clyde agreed perfunctorily. But, looking into the steady, fearless eyes of the pictured girl, she felt a vague, incomprehensible hostility. Kitty Wade glanced at her quickly, detecting the strained note. Clyde felt the glance, and inwardly resented it. Kitty Wade's eyes were altogether too observant.