Free Hydrofoil Mystery by Eric Walters Page A

reaching out to take them.
    He dropped the dice into my open palm and then grasped my wrist tightly. He stared into my eyes. “Peculiar how you reached out with your right hand to take the dice, but threw them with your left hand … very peculiar indeed.”
    I pulled my hand away but couldn’t escape his gaze. “Knowing something and proving it are two different things. I know what was happening here, and I expect this will be the last I see of these dice,” he said and turned and walked away.
    I watched and waited until he was out of earshot. “What’s his problem anyway? He’s given me nothing but grief since I first got here.”
    â€œThat is not surprising,” Simon replied. “He does not like strangers very much, especially those from the city.”
    â€œThe city? What’s he got against Halifax?”
    â€œNothing against the city itself … just against people who come from that city … or at least one person,” Simon answered.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œIt is a long story. Come, I’ll explain it all as we walk to the orchard.”
    â€œThe orchard?”
    â€œYes, that is why I’m here. I was told to come and get you on my way to the orchard.”
    â€œYou mean I get to leave here!” I exclaimed.
    â€œThat is what I was told. Will you be sad?” he chuckled.
    â€œNo way! I’ve had enough of sheep manure to last me a lifetime.”
    â€œGood. It is perhaps good timing for you to leave. Most of the men know you did not cheat them, but it is hard to predict what people will do.”
    Simon turned and started off and I fell into stride beside him.
    â€œDo you know what we’re going to be doing?”
    â€œI know I will be tending to some new trees and cutting back some of the older growth. I do not know what you will be doing.”
    â€œI didn’t know you did trees. I just thought you tended to the flowers and things,” I said.
    â€œFlowers, vegetables, trees. Anything that is growing. I learned all about these things from my father, who learned from his father.”
    I couldn’t help but think about the things I’d learned from my father—and what little good they’d ever do me.
    â€œYour family isn’t from around here, is it?” I said, commenting on his accent, which was different from the Scottish burr of a lot of the workers at the estate.
    â€œNo. My father is Dutch. Most of the gardeners are from Holland, although Mr. Bell has staff who are from many different countries. Some employers only want people to work for them who are from their own country. Mr. Bell does not care about such things. He only sees the man, not where the man is from. Which leads us back to the story I promised you about Isaac. Do you want to hear it?”
    â€œDefinitely.”
    â€œHer name was Henrietta.”
    â€œWhose name was Henrietta?”
    â€œThe woman who Isaac loved. She was from Marble Mountain, a community not far from here.”
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œWell, Isaac was courting Henrietta, hoping to someday make her his wife. I was told she was a very handsome woman.”
    â€œThen why would she be interested in Isaac?” I asked. “He was not always old and wrinkled, you know. This was all much before my time here, but I am sure at one point in time he was a fine-looking young man, and she did return his interest.”
    â€œSo they got married?”
    â€œThey were to marry, but alas, it was not to be. While making arrangements for the wedding she met a man … a man from the city … and he swept her off her feet. She ran off with him in the middle of the night.”
    â€œGood for her, getting away from both Isaac and that hick town!”
    â€œPoor Isaac could not believe she had left either him or Marble Mountain. He said she would come to her senses and return and he would wait for her.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œHe’s