Even in the quick glance
she bestowed up and down Washington Street before the hotel swallowed
her up, her quality was to be noted by the discerning,--the quality of a
commander, of one born to prevail. The flash of her gray-green eye was
interested but unconcerned. Complemented by the marked auburn of her
plenteous hair, the eyes were masterful, advertising most legibly the
temperament of a capable ruler. The subdued, white-faced boy of twelve,
with hair like his mother's, who trotted closely at her heels was, for
the moment, a negligible factor.
An hour later I entered the sanctum of the _Argus_, to find its owner
alone before his littered table. Upon his usually careless face was the
most profoundly thoughtful look I had ever known him wear. Open before
him was that week's _Argus_, but his eyes narrowed to its neat columns
only at intervals. For the most part his gaze plunged far into virgin
realms of meditation. It was only after several reminding coughs that I
succeeded in recalling him from afield; and even then the deeply
thoughtful look remained to estrange his face from me.
"Say, Cal, do you believe in _powers_?"
"What kind of powers?"
"Well, I don't know--every kind--just _powers_--mystic, occult powers.
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