thoughtfully
through an open window which gave on shore and cottage. He could see
Gower sitting on the porch, the thick bulk of the man clean-cut against
the white wall. As he looked he saw Betty go across the untrimmed lawn,
up the path that ran along the cliffs, and pass slowly out of sight
among the stunted, wind-twisted firs.

He walked to the after deck, laid hold of the dinghy, and slid it
overboard. Five minutes later he had beached it and was walking up the
gravel path to the house.

He was conscious of a queer irritation against Gower. If he were willing
to sell the place, why did he sit like a spider in his web and demand
that victims come to him? MacRae was wary, distrustful, suspicious, as
he walked up the slope. Some of the old rancor revived in him. Gower
might have a shaft in his quiver yet, and the will to use it.

CHAPTER XX

The Dead and Dusty Past

Gower sat in a deep grass chair, a pipe sagging one corner of his mouth,
his slippered feet crossed on a low stool. His rubber sea boots lay on
the porch floor as if he had but discarded them. MacRae took in every
detail of his appearance in one photographic glance, as a man will when
his gaze rests upon another with whom he may be about to clash.

Gower no longer resembled the well-fed plutocrat. He scarcely seemed the
same man who, nearly two years before, had absently bestowed upon MacRae
a dollar for an act of simple courtesy. He wore nondescript trousers
which betrayed a shrunken abdominal line, a blue flannel shirt that
bared his short, thick neck. And in that particular moment, at least,
the habitual sullenness of his heavy face was not in evidence. He looked
placid in spite of the fiery redness which sun and wind had burned into
his skin. He betrayed no surprise at MacRae's coming. The placidity of
his blue eyes did not alter in any degree.

"Hello, MacRae," he said.

"How d' do," MacRae answered. "I came to speak to you about a little
matter of business."

"Yes?" Gower rumbled. "I've been sort of expecting you."

"Oh?" MacRae failed to conceal altogether his surprise at this
statement. "I understand you are willing to sell this place. I want to
buy it."

"It was yours once, wasn't it?"

The words were more of a comment than a question, but MacRae answered:

"You know that, I think."

"And you want it back?"

"Naturally."

"If that's what you want," Gower said slowly. "I'll see you in----"

He cut off the sentence. His