I observe results with interest, that is
all."
Desire began to collect the breakfast dishes. "That was where the
book seemed weak," she said thoughtfully. "It hadn't much to say
about results. It dealt mostly with consequences. They," she added
after a pause, "were rather frightening."
The professor glanced at her sharply. Had she been worrying over
this? Had she connected it with that dreadful old man whom she
called father? But her face was quite untroubled as she went on.
"I think they've missed something, though," she said. "There must be
something more than the things they tabulate. Some subtle force of
life which isn't physical at all. Something that uses physical
things as tools. If its tools are fine, it will do finer work, but
if its tools are blunt it will work with them anyway. And it gets
things done."
"By Jove!" said Spence. This was one of Desire's "windows with a
view." He was always stumbling upon them. But he knew she was shy of
comment. "We'll tell Aunt Caroline that," he murmured hopefully. "It
may distract her mind." . . .
That day they found and followed the trail to the shack of Hawk-Eye
Charlie. It proved to be neither long nor arduous. The professor
managed it with ease. But he would have been quite unable to manage
the hawk-eyed one without the expert aid of his secretary. To his
unaccustomed mind their quarry was almost witless and exceedingly
dirty. But Desire knew her Indian.
"It isn't what he is, but what he knows," she explained.
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