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CARMEN'S
MESSENGER
HAROLD BINDLOSS


KD njihe 6144
7 Hicks
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Kareship Inace





CARMEN'S MESSENGER





LIETTI



WAITING IN AN AGONY OF SUSPENSE, SHE SAW WALTERS GRASP
HIS SHOULDER”- Page 298


CARMEN'S
MESSENGER
BY
HAROLD BINDLOSS
AUTHOR OF
JOHNSTONE OF THE BORDER,
PRESCOTT OF SASKATCHEWAN, ETC.
WITH FRONTISPIECE IN COLORS.
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK


KD 6144
Copyright, 1917, by
PREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
All rights reserved


CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. FEATHERSTONE CHANGES HIS PLANS
. 1
II. THE MILL-OWNER . . . . . .
III. FOSTER MAKES A PROMISE . . . . 20
IV. THE FIRST ADVENTURE . . . . .
V. FEATHERSTONE'S PEOPLE . .
VI. His COMRADE'S STORY
S STORY . .
VII. THE PACKET . . .
VIII. AN OFFER OF HELP . .
IX. THE FALSE TRAIL . . .
X. THE DROVE ROAD . .
XI. THE POACHERS . .
XII. A COMPLICATION . . . . . . . 113
XIII. FOSTER RETURNS TO THE GARTH . . 123
XIV. FOSTER SEES A LIGHT . . . . . . 134
· THE GLOVE . · · · · · · · · 145
XVI. A DIFFICULT Part. . . . . . . 154
XVII. THE LETTERS . . . . . . . . 164
XVIII. SPADEADAM WASTE . . . . . . 175
XIX. ALICE's CONFIDENCE . . . . . . 186
XX. THE RIGHT TRACK . . . . . . . 197
XXI. DALY TAKES ALARM . . . . . . 208


CONTENTS
CHAPTER
PAGE
XXII. CARMEN GETS A SHOCK . . . . . 217
XXIII. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING .... 228
XXIV. LAWRENCE's Story ...... 240
XXV. FOSTER SETS OFF AGAIN . . . . .
XXVI. THE REAL-ESTATE AGENT . . . .
XXVII. THE MINE . . . . . . . 277
XXVIII. THE LOG BRIDGE . . . . .
XXIX. FOSTER ARRIVES . . . . . . .
XXX. Run Down . . . . . . . . .
XXXI. DALY SOLVES THE PUZZLE . . . . 321
XXXII. FEATHERSTONE APOLOGIZES . . . . 333
..
266
...
288
300
311


CARMEN'S MESSENGER
FEATHERSTONE CHANGES HIS PLANS
IT was getting dark, and a keen wind blew across the
I ragged pines beside the track, when Jake Foster
walked up and down the station at Gardner's Crossing
in North Ontario. Winter was moving southwards
fast across the wilderness that rolled back to Hudson's
Bay, silencing the brawling rivers and calming the
stormy lakes, but the frost had scarcely touched the
sheltered valley yet and the roar of a rapid throbbed
among the trees. The sky had the crystal clearness
that is often seen in northern Canada, but a long trail
of smoke stretched above the town, and the fumes of
soft coal mingled with the aromatic smell of the pines.
Gardner's Crossing stood, an outpost of advancing
industry, on the edge of the lonely woods.
The blue reflections of big arc-lamps quivered be-
tween the foam-flakes on the river, a line of bright
spots, stretching back along the bank, marked new
avenues of wooden houses, and, across the bridge, the
tops of tall buildings cut against the glow that shim-
mered about the town. At one end rose the great
block of the Hulton factory, which lost something of
its utilitarian ugliness at night. Its harsh, rectangular
1


CARMEN'S MESSENGER.
outline faded into the background of forest, and the
rows of glimmering windows gave it a curious trans-
parent look. It seemed to overflow with radiance and
filled the air with rumbling sound.
In a large measure, Gardner's Crossing owed its
rapid development to the enterprise of the Hulton
Manufacturing Company. Hulton was ready to make
anything out of lumber for which his salesmen found
a demand; but his firm grip on the flourishing business
had recently relaxed, and people wondered anxiously
what would happen if he did not recover from the blow
that had struck him down. Fred Hulton, his only son,
and assistant treasurer to the Company, had been
found in the factory one morning with a bullet-hole in
his head, and it was believed that he had shot him-
self. His father gave his evidence at the inquiry with
stern self-control, but took to his bed afterwards and
had not left it yet. So far as the townsfolk knew, this
was the first time he had shown any weakness of body
or mind.
The train was late, but Foster enjoyed the pipe he
lighted. It was ten years since he landed at Montreal,
a raw lad without friends or money, and learned what
hard work was in a lumber camp. Since then he had
prospered, and the strenuous life he led for the first
few years had not left much mark on him. Now he
thought he had earned a holiday, and all arrangements
for his visit to England were made. Featherstone,
his partner, was going with him. Their sawmill, which
was run by water-power, had closed for the winter,
when building material was not wanted, and the devel-
opment of a mineral claim they owned would be
stopped by the frost. They had planned to put in a


FEATHERSTONE CHANGES PLANS 3
steam engine at the mill, but the Hulton Company
had delayed a contract that would have kept the saws
running until the river thawed.
Foster, however, did not regret this. Except on
Sundays, he had seldom had an hour's leisure for the
last few years. Gardner's Crossing, which was raw
and new, had few amusements to offer its inhabitants;
he was young, and now he could relax his efforts, felt
that he was getting stale with monotonous toil. But
he was a little anxious about Featherstone, who had
gone to see a doctor in Toronto.
A whistle rang through the roar of the rapid and a
fan-shaped beam of light swung round a bend in the
track. Then the locomotive bell began to toll, and
Foster walked past the cars as they rolled into the
station. He found Featherstone putting on a fur coat
at a vestibule door, and gave him a keen glance as he
came down the steps. He thought his comrade looked
graver than usual.
"Well," he said, “how did you get on?"
"I'll tell you later. Let's get home, but stop at
Cameron's drug store for a minute."
Foster took his bag and put it in a small American
car. He drove slowly across the bridge and up the
main street of the town, because there was some traf-
fic and light wagons stood in front of the stores. Then
as he turned in towards the sidewalk, ready to pull up,
he saw a man stop and fix his eyes on the car. The
fellow did not live at the Crossing, but visited it now
and then, and Foster had met him once when he called
at the sawmill.
“Drive on," said Featherstone, touching his arm.
Although he was somewhat surprised, Foster did


CARMEN’S MESSENGER
as he was told, and when they had passed a few blocks
Featherstone resumed: "I can send down the pre-
scription to-morrow. That was Daly on the sidewalk
and I didn't want to meet him.”
A minute later Foster stopped to avoid a horse that
was kicking and plunging outside a livery stable while
a crowd encouraged its driver with ironical shouts.
Looking round, he thought he saw Daly following
them, but a man ran to the horse's head and Foster
seized the opportunity of getting past.
"What did the doctor tell you?” he asked.
"He was rather disappointing," Featherstone re-
plied, and turned up the deep collar of his coat.
Foster, who saw that his comrade did not want to
talk, imagined that he had got something of a shock.
When they left the town, however, the jolting of the
car made questions difficult and he was forced to mind
his steering while the glare of the headlamps flickered
across deep holes and ruts. Few of the dirt roads
leading to the new Canadian cities are good, but the
one they followed, though roughly graded, was worse
than usual and broke down into a wagon trail when
it ran into thick bush. For a time, the car lurched
and labored like a ship at sea up and down hillocks
and through soft patches, and Foster durst not lift his
eyes until a cluster of lights twinkled among the trees.
Then with a sigh of relief he ran into the yard of a
silent sawmill and they were at home.
Supper was waiting, and although Foster opened a
letter he found upon the table, neither of the men said
anything of importance during the meal. When it
was over, Featherstone sat down in a big chair by the
stove, for the nights were getting cold. He was about


FEATHERSTONE CHANGES PLANS
5
thirty years of age, strongly built, and dressed in
city clothes, but his face was pinched. For part of
the summer, he and Foster had camped upon their
new mineral claim in the bush and worked hard to
prove the vein. June, as often happens in Canada,
was a wet month, and although Featherstone was used
to hardship, he sickened with influenza, perhaps in
consequence of digging in heavy rain and sleeping in
wet clothes. As he was nothing of a valetudinarian he
made light of the attack, but did not get better as soon
as he expected on his return, and went to see the
Toronto doctor, when Foster urged him.
The latter lighted his pipe and looked about the
room. It was warm and well lighted, and the furni-
ture, which was plain but good, had been bought, piece
by piece, to replace ruder articles they had made at
the mill. One or two handsome skins lay upon the
uncovered floor, and the walls were made of varnished
cedar boards. A gun-rack occupied a corner, and the
books on a shelf indicated that their owners had some
literary taste, though there were works on mining
and forestry. Above the shelf, the huge head of a
moose, shot on a prospecting journey to the North,
hung between the smaller heads of bear and caribou.
Foster, who had hitherto lived in tents and shacks,
remembered his misgivings when they built the house.
Indeed, he had grumbled that it might prove a danger-
ous locking up of capital that was needed for the
enlargement of the mill. Featherstone, however, in-
sisted, and since most of the money was his, Foster
gave in; but they had prospered since then. They
were good friends, and had learned to allow for each
other's point of view during several years of strenu-


CARMEN'S MESSENGER
ous toil and stern economy. Still, Foster admitted
that their success was not altogether due to their own
efforts, because once or twice, when they had to face a
financial crisis, the situation was saved by a check
Featherstone got from home. By and by the latter
turned to his comrade.
"Your letter was from Hulton, wasn't it? What
does he want?"
"He doesn't state, but asks us to call at the factory
to-morrow evening. That's all, but I heard in town
that the doctor and nurse had left; Cameron told me
Hulton fired them both because they objected to his
getting up."
"It's possible," Featherstone agreed. “Hulton's
not the man to bother about his health or etiquette
when he wants to do a thing. Anyhow, as he has been
a pretty good friend of ours, we will have to go, but
I wouldn't have imagined he'd have been ready to talk
about the tragedy just yet.”
"You think that is what he wants to talk about?"
Featherstone nodded. “We knew Fred Hulton bet-
ter than anybody at the Crossing, and at the inquiry
I tried to indicate that his death was due to an acci-
dent. I imagined that Hulton was grateful. It's true
that I don't see how the accident could have happened,
but I don't believe Fred shot himself. Though it was
an open verdict, you and I and Hulton are perhaps
the only people who take this view."
"We'll let it drop until to-morrow. What did you
learn at Toronto?"
"Perhaps the most important thing was that I'll
have to give up my trip to the Old Country.”
“Ah," said Foster, who waited, trying to hide his


FEATHERSTONE CHANGES PLANS
7
disappointment and alarm, for he saw that his sus-
picions about his partner's health had been correct.
"The doctor didn't think it wise; said something
about England's being too damp, and objected to a
winter voyage,” Featherstone resumed. “It looks as
if you were better at calculating the profit on a lumber
deal than diagnosing illness, because while you doc-
tored me for influenza, it was pneumonia I had. How-
ever, I admit that you did your best and you needn't
feel anxious. It seems I'm not much the worse,
though I'll have to be careful for the next few months,
which I'm to spend on the Pacific slope, California for
choice. It's a bit of a knock, but can't be helped.”
Foster declared his sympathy, but Featherstone
stopped him. “There's another matter; that fellow
Daly's here again. I expect you guessed what he
came for the last time?”
"I did. The bank-book showed you drew a rather
large sum.”
"No doubt you thought it significant that the check
was payable to myself?"
Foster was silent for a moment or two. He trusted
his comrade, but suspected that there was something
in his past history that he meant to hide. For one
thing, Featherstone never spoke about his life in the
Old Country, and Foster was surprised when he stated
his intention of spending a few months there. It
looked as if Daly knew his secret and had used his
knowledge to blackmail him.
"I'll go to California with you," he said. “One
place is as good as another for a holiday, and I'm
really not keen on going home. I've no near relations
and have lost touch with my friends."


FEATHERSTONE CHANGES PLANS 9
school and kept there by an uncle who wanted to get
rid of me. Then I'd a year or two in a merchant's
office and cheap lodgings, and when I'd had enough
of both came out to Canada with about five pounds.
You know how I've lived here."
Featherstone gave him an amused glance. “You
needn't let that trouble you. It's curious, but the bush
seems to bring out the best that's in a man. I can't
see why getting wet and half frozen, working four-
teen hours a day, and often going without your dinner,
should have a refining influence, but it has. Besides,
I'm inclined to think you have learned more in the
Northwest than they could have taught you at an
English university. Anyhow, you'll find my people
aren't hard to please.”
“When are you going to California ?” Foster, who
felt half embarrassed, asked.
“Let's fix Thursday next, and I'll start with you."
“But I'm going east, and your way's by Van-
couver."
"Just so,” said Featherstone dryly. “For all that,
I think I'll start east, and then get on to a west-bound
train at a station down the line. The folks at the
Crossing know I'm going home, and I don't want to
put Daly on my track.” He smoked in silence for a
few moments, and then added: "I wonder whether
Austin helped the fellow to get after me?"
Foster looked up with surprise, but admitted that
his partner might be right. Austin was a real-estate
agent who now and then speculated in lumber and
mineral claims. He had some influence at the Cross-
ing where, however, he was more feared than liked,
since he lent money and bought up mortgages. On


10
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
three or four occasions he had been a business rival
of Foster and Featherstone's, and the former thought
he might not have forgiven them for beating him.
"It's possible," he said thoughtfully. “But you
don't imagine Daly told him what he knows about
you?"
"I should think it most unlikely," Featherstone ·
rejoined. “Daly means to keep all he can get for him-
self, but if he gave Austin a hint that he could injure
me, the fellow might be willing to help. He's pretty
often up against us; but we'll let that go. You're a
friend of Carmen Austin's, and as you'll meet her at
the reunion, it might be better if you didn't tell her
I have changed my plans. Of course, I don't mean
to hint that she has anything to do with her father's
schemes."
Foster laughed. He liked Carmen Austin and was
mildly flattered by the favor she showed him, but
thought he knew her well enough not to attach much
importance to this. Carmen was clever and ambitious,
and would, no doubt, choose a husband who had wealth
and influence. Though very young, she was the ac-
knowledged leader of society at the Crossing.
"You needn't be afraid of hurting my feelings,” he
said. “To some extent I do enjoy Miss Austin's pa-
tronage, but I know my drawbacks and don't cherish
any foolish hopes. If I did, I believe she'd tactfully
nip them in the bud.”
"On the whole, I'm pleased to hear it,” Feather-
stone replied. "Now, if you don't mind, there's some-
thing I want to read.”


II
THE MILL-OWNER
R IG arc-lamps flared above the railroad track that
D crossed the yard of the Hulton factory, but ex-
cept for a yellow glimmer from a few upper windows,
the building rose in a huge dark oblong against the
sky. The sharp clanging of a locomotive bell jarred
on the silence, for the mill hands had gone home and
the wheels that often hummed all night were still. It
seemed to Foster, who glanced at his watch as he
picked his way among the lines, that the shadow of the
recent tragedy brooded over the place.
"I don't know that I'm imaginative; but I wouldn't
like the night-watchman's job just now," he remarked
to Featherstone. "Hulton's illness can't have spoiled
his nerve, or he'd have asked us to meet him at his
house, in view of what he probably wants to talk
about.”
"I suspect that Hulton's nerve is better than yours
or mine, and although I'm sorry for the old man, it
was a surprise to me when he broke down,” Feather-
stone replied. “This is the first time I've been in the
mill since Fred was shot, and I'll own that I'd sooner
have come in daylight.”
They went round a row of loaded cars to the time-
keeper's office, where a man told them that Hulton
was waiting and they were to go right up. A dark
II


12
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
passage, along which their footsteps echoed, led to a
flight of stairs, and they felt there was something
oppressive in the gloom, but a small light burned near
the top of the building, and when they reached a
landing Featherstone touched his partner. It was at
this spot Fred Hulton had been found lying on the
floor, with a fouled pistol of a make he was known to
practice with near his hand. Foster shivered as he
noted the cleanness of the boards. It indicated care-
ful scrubbing, and was somehow more daunting than
a sign of what had happened there.
A short flight of stairs led to the offices of the head
of the firm, and the treasurer, whose assistant Fred
Hulton had been. They went on and entered a small,
plainly-furnished room, well lighted by electric lamps,
where Hulton sat at a writing-table and signed them
to sit down. His shoulders were bent, his clothes hung
slackly on his powerful frame, and Featherstone
thought his hair had grown whiter since he saw him
last. He looked ill, but his face was hard and resolute,
and when he let his eyes rest on the young men his
mouth was firmly set. Hulton's business acumen and
tenacity were known, and it was supposed that the
latter quality had helped him much in the earlier part
of his career. The other man, who sat close by, was
the treasurer, Percival.
i “To begin with, I want to thank you for the way
you gave your evidence," Hulton said to Featherstone,
who had been one of the last to see Fred Hulton alive.
"I don't know that thanks are needed,” Feather-
stone replied. “I had promised to tell the truth.”
"Just so. The truth, however, strikes different peo-
ple differently, and you gave the matter the most


THE MILL-OWNER
13
favorable look you could. We'll let it go at that. I
suppose you're still convinced my son was in his usual
health and spirits? Mr. Percival is in my confidence,
and we can talk without reserve."
"Yes, sir; I never found him morbid, and he was
cheerful when I saw him late that night."
“In fact, you were surprised when you heard what
happened soon after you left?” Hulton suggested in
a quiet voice.
"I was shocked. But, if I catch your meaning, I
was puzzled afterwards, and had better say I see no
light yet."
"Is this how you feel about it?" Hulton asked
Foster.
"It is," said Foster, noting the man's stern calm,
and Hulton turned to Percival.
“That's my first point! These men knew my son.”
Then he looked at Featherstone. "Fred went with
you now and then on hunting and prospecting trips,
and that probably led to a certain intimacy. You
say he was never morbid; did you ever find him
anxious or disturbed ?”
Featherstone pondered. Fred Hulton, who was
younger, had spent a year or two in Europe before
he entered the factory. He had moreover told Feather-
stone about some trouble he had got into there, but
the latter could not tell how much his father knew.
"You can talk straight,” Hulton resumed. “I guess
I won't be shocked.”
"Very well. I did find him disturbed once or twice.
Perhaps you knew he had some difficulties in Paris.”
"I knew about the girl,” Hulton answered grimly.
“I found that out not long since; she was a clever


14
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
adventuress. But I don't know where Fred got the
money he sent her. Did you lend it him?"
"I lent him some,” Featherstone admitted, hesitat-
ingly. “He told me afterwards she had promised to
make no further claim, and I understand she kept her
word.”
Hulton turned to the treasurer. "You will see Mr.
Featherstone about this to-morrow. I've cleared up
another point; Fred was not being urged to send more
money." Then he asked Foster: "Do you know if
he had any other dangerous friends?"
"There was Daly. They were friends, in a way,
and I wouldn't trust the fellow. Still, I don't know
how far his influence went, and imagine Fred hadn't
much to do with him for some months. Besides, Daly
wasn't at the Crossing when "
Hulton said nothing for the next few moments and
Foster mused. Fred Hulton had been very likable, in
spite of certain weaknesses, and he thought it cost his
father something to talk about him as he did. Hulton,
however, seldom showed what he felt and would, no
doubt, take the line he thought best with a stoic disre-
gard of the pain it might cause. He rested his elbow
on the table, as if he were tired, and sat very quiet
with his chin on his hand, until he asked Featherstone:
"Why did you lend Fred the money he sent the
girl?"
"For one thing, because he was my friend," Feather-
stone answered with a flush. “Then I knew into what
straits the need of money can drive a young man. I
got into trouble myself some years ago."
Hulton nodded. “Thank you. You helped him


THE MILL-OWNER
15
out. You have no ground to think he was em-
barrassed by the need of money on the night he died?"
"I feel sure he was not. He kept me some time
talking cheerfully about a hunting trip we meant to
make.”
"Well,” said Hulton quietly, "you're going to be
surprised now. I did not give my evidence as frankly
as you claim to have done, but kept something back.
Mr. Percival was away for two or three weeks, and
Fred was the only person besides myself who knew
the combination that opens the safe. On the morning
after we found him dead I examined the safe. A
number of bonds and a wad of small bills for wages
had gone. It was significant that Percival was due
back next day.”
Featherstone started, but his face was hot with
scornful anger.
“That had no significance! I'd as soon suspect
myself or my partner of stealing the bonds, but the
safe's being open throws a new light upon the thing.
Somebody you haven't thought of yet knew or found
out the combination.”
"Then, in face of what you have heard, you do not
believe my son fired the shot that took his life?"
"No, sir," said Featherstone, with quiet earnestness.
"I never thought it, and it is impossible to believe it
now."
"My partner's opinion's mine," Foster broke in.
Hulton looked from one to the other and a curious
steely glitter came into his eyes. It hinted at a pitiless,
unchangeable purpose, and bracing himself with an
effort he clenched his fist.
"Nor do I believe it! If necessary, I'll let my busi-


16
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
ness and factory go and spend the last dollar I've
got to find the man who killed my boy.”
Next moment he sank limply back in his chair, as
if the strain and vindictive emotion, reacting on his
physical weakness, had overcome him, and there was
silence until he recovered. Foster felt it something
of a relief that the man's icy self-control had broken
down.
“Very well,” Hulton resumed in a shaky voice. “I
brought you here because you knew my son and I
wanted your support. Then I meant to convince Per-
cival, whose help I may need to clear the boy's good
name. We'll let that go and try to be practical."
"Were the bonds negotiable?” Foster asked. “Could
they be easily sold ?"
Percival, who was about fifty years of age and had
a reserved manner, answered: “Some were bearer
bonds, and, if the thief acted quickly, would be as good
as cash. Most, however, were registered stock, and it
is probable that he would be afraid to sell them in
Canada or America. The transfers would require to
be forged.”
"What about Europe?”
"That is where the danger lies. If he had clever
confederates, a large part of the value of the bonds
could be borrowed from a bank, or they might be sold
to unsuspecting buyers on a French or German
bourse."
"But this would depend on the publicity you gave
their theft."
"Exactly," Percival agreed with some dryness. "I
have been trying to make Mr. Hulton recognize it."
Hulton's tense look softened and he smiled. “Pero


THE MILL-OWNER
17
:
cival seems to have forgotten that I am a business man.
At the inquiry I shirked my duty by keeping something
back, and now he expects me to brand my son's good
name. The money must go. In a sense, it is a trifling
loss."
"At last, you put me wise," said Percival. “But to
prove that Fred was innocent you must find the thief.”
“That's so. It must be done with skill and tact by
the best New York private investigation man that I
can hire. The job's too delicate for the regular
police.”
Featherstone, who had been sitting thoughtfully
silent, looked up. "Perhaps it's lucky the wage clerk
went into the treasurer's office after I left, though I
spoke to the watchman, Jordan, as I went out."
"No," said Percival sharply. “It wasn't Jordan's
week on night-guard.”
There was silence for a moment, and then Hulton
asked: “Where did you meet the man you thought
was Jordan? Did he answer you?”
“He was going along the ground-floor passage in
front of me, and the only light was in the pay-office
at the end. He stood in the doorway as I passed and
I said, 'It's a cold night, Tom.' I'd gone a few yards
when he answered, 'It will be colder soon.'”
“Then as you passed the door he must have seen
your face, though you could not see his,” said Hulton,
who turned to Percival. “Clark was on night-guard
and his name's not Tom. Where was he when Mr.
Featherstone left?”
"In the lathe-room at the other end of the build-
ing. The punch in the check-clock shows it,” Percival
replied.


18
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
Hulton pondered, knitting his brows, before he said,
"Since you thought the man was Jordan, you wouldn't
know him again.”
“No; he was about Jordan's height and build, but
I only saw his figure. It showed dark and rather
indistinct against the light.”
“Well,” said Hulton, "you see the importance of
this. We have something to go upon; a stranger was
in the factory.” Then he got up with a look of keen
relief in his worn face. “I thank you and your part-
ner; you have given me hope. Some day all who
knew my boy will believe what you believe. Now I
have something to say to Percival, and then he must
help me home to bed.”
He shook hands with them and let them go. They
left the factory in silence, but as they crossed the yard
Foster remarked: "I'm sorry for Hulton. For all his
quietness, he takes the thing very hard.”
"I imagine the fellow who shot Fred Hulton will
need your pity most," Featherstone replied. “The
old man will run him down with the determination and
energy that helped him to build up his business.
Money with brains behind it is a power, but I wouldn't
like Hulton on my track if he hadn't a cent. There's
something relentless about the man.” He paused and
resumed: "Well, he has a clew. It's curious I didn't
think of mentioning before that I spoke to the watch-
man, but I thought the fellow was Jordan. I wonder
how the thief will get the bonds across to Europe.”
"There would be some danger in carrying them;
anyhow, he'd imagine so, although it looks as if Hul-
ton doesn't mean to tell the police much just yet. Of


THE MILL-OWNER
19.
course, there's the mail, but the thief might be afraid
to post the papers."
Featherstone nodded: "I think it's in Hulton's
favor that he'll be satisfied with one of the private
detective agencies to begin with, while the man he's
looking for will be on his guard against the police.
Besides, it's possible that the fellow won't take many
precautions, since there's a plausible explanation of
Fred Hulton's death.”
"Do you think the man you passed saw you well
enough to know you again ?"
“He may have done so."
"Then if he imagined that you saw him, it would
make a difference," Foster said thoughtfully. "He'd
reckon that you were the greatest danger he had to
guard against.”
Featherstone stopped and caught his comrade's arm
as the yard locomotive pushed some cars along the
track they were about to cross, and the harsh tolling
of the bell made talking difficult. When the cars
had passed they let the matter drop and went back to
the hotel where they had left their automobile.


IN
FOSTER MAKES A PROMISE
2
drome
THERE was keen frost next evening and Foster
drove to the Crossing without his comrade,
who thought it wiser to stay at home. The reunion
he was going to attend was held annually by one or
two mutual-improvement societies that combined to
open their winter sessions. It had originally begun
with a lecture on art or philosophy, but had degen-
erated into a supper and dance. Supper came early,
because in Canada the meal is generally served about
six o'clock.
The wooden hall was decorated with flags and cedar
boughs, and well filled with young men and women,
besides a number of older citizens. The floor and
music were good, and Foster enjoyed two dances
before he met Carmen Austin. He had not sought
her out, because she was surrounded by others, and
he knew that if she wanted to dance with him she
would let him know. It was generally wise to wait
Carmen's pleasure.
When he left his last partner he stood in a quiet
nook, looking about the hall. The girls were pretty
and tastefully dressed, though generally paler than
the young Englishwomen he remembered. The men
were athletic, and their well-cut clothes, which fitted
somewhat tightly, showed their finely developed bui
20


FOSTER MAKES A PROMISE 21
rather lean figures. They had a virile, decided look,
and an ease of manner that indicated perfect self-
confidence. Indeed, some were marked by an air of
smartness that was half aggressive. A large number
were employed at the Hulton factory, but there were
brown-faced farmers and miners from the bush, as
well as storekeepers from the town.
On the whole, their dress, manners and conversation
were American, and Foster was sometimes puzzled
by their inconsistency. He liked these people and got
on well with them, but had soon discovered that in
order to do so he must abandon his English habits and
idiosyncrasies. His neighbors often showed a certain
half-hostile contempt for the customs of the Old
Country, and he admitted that had he been less ac-
quainted with their character, it would have been
easy to imagine that Gardner's Crossing was situated
in Michigan instead of Ontario. Yet they had re-
jected the Reciprocity Treaty on patriotic grounds,
and in a recent crisis had demonstrated their passion-
ate approval of Britain's policy. He had no doubt
that if the need came they would offer the mother
country the best they had with generous enthusiasm,
and nobody knew better that their best was very good.
By and by Carmen dismissed the young men around
her and summoned him with a graceful motion of her
fan. He crossed the floor, and when he stopped close
by with a bow that was humorously respectful she
gave him a cool, approving glance. Foster was
twenty-eight, but looked younger. Though he had
known hardship, his face was smooth, and when un-
occupied he had a good-humored and somewhat lan-
guid air. He was tall and rather thin, but athletic


22
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
toil had toughened and strengthened him, and he had
frank gray eyes that generally smiled. A glove that
looked significantly slack covered his left hand, which
had been maimed by a circular saw when he worked
in his mill.
Carmen was a blonde, but with none of the softness
that often characterizes this type of beauty. Her
features were sharply cut, her well-proportioned figure
was firmly lined, and the lack of color in her face
was made up for by the keen sparkle in her eyes. As a
rule, Carmen Austin's wishes were carried out. She
knew how to command, and rival beauties who now
and then ventured to oppose her soon found that her
power was unshakable.
“You haven't thought it worth while to ask for a
dance yet," she remarked, and Foster could not tell
if she was offended or not.
"No," he replied, smiling, “I was afraid of getting
a disappointment, since I didn't know your plans, but
only made a few engagements in case you sent for me.
One finds it best to wait your orders."
Carmen studied him thoughtfully. "You generally
take the proper line; sometimes I think you're cleverer
than you look. Anyway, one isn't forced to explain
things to you. Explaining what one wants is always
annoying."
"Exactly. My business is to guess what you would
like and carry it out as far as I can. When I'm right
this saves you some trouble and gives me keen satis-
faction. It makes me think I am intelligent."
"Our boys are a pretty good sample, but they don't
talk like that. I suppose you learned it in the Old


FOSTER MAKES A PROMISE 23
some
Country. You know, you're very English, in some
respects.”
"Well,” said Foster, "that is really not my fault.
I was born English, but I'll admit that I've found it a
drawback since I came to Canada."
Carmen indicated the chair next her. "You may
sit down if you like. You start for the Old Country
on Thursday, don't you?”
"Thank you; yes," said Foster. “One likes to be
in the fashion, and it's quite the proper thing to make
the trip when work's finished for the winter. You find
miners saving their wages to buy a ticket, and the
Manitoba men sail across by dozens after a good har-
vest. As they often maintain that the Old Country's
a back number, one wonders why they go.”
"After all, I suppose they were born there."
"That doesn't seem to count. As a rule, there's
nobody more Canadian first of all than the man who's
only a Canadian by adoption."
"Then why do you want to go?"
"I can't tell you. I had a hard life in England and,
on the whole, was glad to get away. Perhaps it's a
homing instinct, like the pigeon's, and perhaps it's
sentiment. We came out because nobody wanted us
and have made ourselves pretty comfortable. Amer-
ica's our model and we have no use for English pat-
ronage, but every now and then the pull comes and
we long to go back, though we wouldn't like to stop
there. It's illogical, but if there was trouble in Europe
and the Old Country needed help, we'd all go across."
“In a mild way, the journey's something of an
adventure,” Carmen suggested. “Doesn't that appeal
to a man?


FOSTER MAKES A PROMISE 29
bound train's on time. You can express my things
on from Ottawa. The Montreal express stops about
an hour."
“That ought to throw Daly off the track," Foster
agreed, and they talked about something else.


IV
THE FIRST ADVENTURE
It was about ten o'clock at night and the Montreal
1 express sped through the lonely forest of North
Ontario. The train was light, for there were few
passengers on board, and the road was by no means
good, but in spite of the jolting Foster enjoyed his
cigarette in a corner of the smoking compartment
at the end of a car. A colored porter had told him
his berth in the sleeper was ready, Featherstone had
left the train, and most of the passengers were al-
ready in bed, but Foster did not want to follow them
just yet. For a time, he had done with business, and
was on his way to England. He relished the unusual
sense of freedom.
A half-moon shone down upon the rugged wilder-
ness, and he could see the black pines rush past. The
cars lurched and he heard the great locomotive snort
on the inclines. Now and then there was a roar as
they sped across a bridge, and water glimmered among
the rocks below; afterwards the roar sank into a
steady clatter and a soothing throb of wheels. The
car was warm, and Foster, who had given the porter
his overcoat, was lighting another cigarette when a
man came in and sat down opposite. He looked hard
at Foster, who quietly returned his gaze. The man
was about his own height but some years older, and
his expression was disturbed.
30


THE FIRST ADVENTURE
31
Foster felt interested. He had faced danger in the
northern wilderness, where he had risked starvation
and traveled on frozen rivers when the ice was break-
ing up. Besides, he had once or twice been involved in
savage fights about disputed mining claims, and knew
how men looked when they bore a heavy strain. He
thought the stranger was afraid but was not a coward.
“You're going to Ottawa, aren't you? I heard
you talking to your friend,” said the man.
"I'm going to Montreal, but don't see what that
has to do with you."
The other made a sign of impatience. “Well, I
dare say you can be trusted, and I've got to take a
risk.”
"It is a risk to trust a man you don't know," Foster
rejoined. “But how can I help?"
"I want you to put on my coat and cap, and stay
here, reading the Witness, for about ten minutes."
“Holding the newspaper in front of my face, I
suppose? Well, it's rather an unusual request and I
must know a little more. If there's a detective on
your trail and you expect me to hold his attention
while you hide or try to jump off the train, I must
refuse."
The stranger smiled. "I've wired for the police to
meet me at Ottawa; the trouble is that I mayn't
get there. Time won't allow of a long explanation,
but there are men on board who'd stop at nothing
to prevent my arrival. In fact, to some extent, I'm
putting my life in your hands."
Foster looked at him, surprised. He had not ex-
pected an adventure of this kind on a Canadian Pa-


32
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
cific train, but did not think the other was exag-
gerating.
“How many men ?” he asked.
"I've seen one, but know there are more."
“Then why not tell the conductor and have the
· train searched ?"
“It wouldn't work. I might find one enemy, but
I'd warn the others that I was on my guard, and to
let them think I suspect no danger is the best chance
I have. The conductor's making his way up the train,
and I'm going to see if he can get me into the express
car. It's the only safe place; the clerks are armed.
Well, my business is lawful and in the public interest,
and I take it you're a patriotic citizen.”
Foster saw that he must decide quickly. Somehow
he did not doubt the man, who kept his eyes on the
door as if he expected somebody to come in. More-
over, he expected to be met by the police at Ottawa.
"It looks as if I'd run your risk when I put on your
coat," he said.
"The porter's sweeping up the car, and if you keep
the door open, you'll be safe while he's about. Besides,
if I can't get into the express car, I'll come back. Give
me ten minutes, and then, if I don't turn up and you
feel uneasy, take off the coat and put the newspaper
down.”
“Very well,” said Foster. "Perhaps you had better
take my hat.”
The stranger gave him his heavy fur coat. "I'll
ask you for it at Ottawa. You're going to Montreal.
What's your name?”.
Foster told him and he resumed: “Then, if you
don't see me, stop at the Windsor, where I can tele-


THE FIRST ADVENTURE
33
graph, a day or two. You'll be repaid for any expense
or inconvenience. Well, I'm going. Thanks!”
“Good luck!” said Foster, who sat down and opened
the Witness.
Now he was alone, he began to wonder if he had
been imposed upon. The man, however, did not look
like a criminal; though alarmed, he had an air of
quiet authority. In a sense, it seemed absurd that he
should think himself in danger. Violence was not
common in Canada, where the carrying of weapons
was prohibited, and Foster had never heard of any
sensational crime on the big expresses. Still he
thought the man would not be afraid without good
cause. He did not look like a detective, and Foster
felt nearly sure he had not got on board at the Cross-
ing. This seemed to indicate that he could not have
been investigating the tragedy there, particularly since
Hulton had only recovered from the shock a few
days ago. Then Hulton had stated that he meant
to send for a New York man, and not that he had
done so. The fellow, however, might be a confiden-
tial agent of the Government's, who had perhaps found
out something about certain mysterious attempts to
damage public property.
By and by Foster smiled. Carmen had given him
a valuable packet to take care of, and now this stran-
ger had asked his help. Both had stated their confi-
dence in him, but it was getting obvious that to look
as if one could be trusted had its drawbacks. He did
not feel much disturbed as he read the newspaper,
which reported the arrest of two strangers with dyna-
mite cartridges near the locks of a big canal, but pres-
ently put it down and glanced at his watch. The ten


34
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
minutes had nearly gone and he looked out of the
window. A frozen lake shimmered at the edge of the
track and then, with a harsh uproar, the train plunged
into the shadow of a cliff. On the summit stunted
pines cut against the sky, and Foster knew they ran
from the Manitoban border to the Ottawa across as
rugged and stony a wilderness as there is in the Do-
minion. The stations were small and sometimes only
places where the locomotives stopped for water. He
could not remember when they had passed the last.
Looking at his watch again, he saw that he had
kept his promise, but decided to give the man a few
more minutes, and then go to his berth, unless he could
learn something about him from the conductor. The
berth was in the Pullman farther along the train, and
after walking through the empty car he opened the
door of a vestibule and stepped out on the platform.
It was unprotected except for a brass rail at the side,
which was divided in the middle where the steps went
down. The floor jolted and a bitter wind that whistled
between the vestibules buffeted him. Although he
wore the fur coat, he shivered, and as he stepped
across the gap between the platforms the door behind
him rattled.
Turning sharply round, he saw a man's dark figure
in the shadow of the curving roof, and felt his heart
beat. Then the door he had been making for swung
back, and he knew he had another antagonist to deal
with. He carried no pistol and there was not much
chance of a shout for help being heard, but he did not
wait to be attacked, and with a sudden spring threw
himself upon the man in front. He felt his knuckles
jar and heard the fellow's head crash against the


THE FIRST ADVENTURE 35
vestibule, but the other seized him as he turned. Fos-
ter surmised that they feared the report of a pistol
but might use the knife, and determined to throw the
fellow down the steps. If this proved impossible, he
must try to jump off the train.
So far as he could remember, the savage struggle
only lasted a few moments. His assailant had appar-
ently not room enough to draw a weapon and Foster
kept his grip on him, so that he could not free his right
arm, although this left his own face exposed. He was
breathless and exhausted when he fell against the rail,
but with a tense effort he lifted the fellow off his feet.
Since there seemed to be no other way, they must both
fall off the train. He lost his balance and his foot
slipping from the top step threw him backward. Then
he missed the rail he clutched at and felt a heavy
shock.
When his senses came back he found that he was
lying on hard-frozen ground. There were dark firs
about, but, a little farther on, the rails glistened in the
moonlight, and he dully realized that he had fallen
off the car. A faint snorting and a rumble that echoed
across the forest showed that the train was going on.
Foster lay still and listened until the sound died away.
It looked as if nobody but the men who had attacked
him knew there had been a struggle and he was left
behind. Then he cautiously raised his head and lean-
ing on his elbow looked about. It was a relief to
find that he could do so, but he must see if his an-
tagonist had fallen off with him, because if the fellow
was not badly hurt he might renew the attack.
There was nothing in the shadow beside the line,
the gap where the rails ran into the moonlight was


36
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
empty, and everything was still, except for the sigh
of the cold breeze among the firs. For all that, Foster
hesitated about getting up. The train was probably
going at forty miles an hour, the ground was hard, and
he might find that some bones were broken when he
tried to move. The shock had perhaps dulled his,
senses and prevented his feeling much pain. It was,! -
however, bitterly cold, and making an effort he got
shakily upon his feet. To his surprise, he discovered
that he was not much the worse although he felt sore
and dizzy, and he sat down on a fallen branch to think
what he should do.
The next station was probably only marked by an
agent's office and a water-tank. Besides, his antago
nists might get down there and come back to look
for him, in which case he would be at their mercy if
they met. It was a long way to the station they had
passed, but he thought the safest plan would be to
make for it. This meant a walk of some hours, with
nothing to eat on the way, but a train from Winnipeg
would stop early in the morning, and the others would
not expect him to resume his journey east. If they
had found out their mistake, they would take it for
granted that he was a confederate of the man they
followed and most likely calculate on his trying to
reach the new Canadian Northern line. Foster felt
angry with the fellow who had lured him into the
adventure and resolved to extricate himself from it as
soon as possible.
Getting up, he started west along the track, and
after a time found himself embarrassed by the fur coat.
It was heavy and too warm, but he would need it
when he stopped. Then he wore thin city boots, and


THE FIRST ADVENTURE 37
the track, as usual, was roughly ballasted with coarse
gravel. The stones rolled about under his feet, and
the ties were irregularly spaced, so that he could not
step from one to another except by an awkward stride.
He went on, however, and by and by began to wonder
where he could get a drink, for the struggle or the
shock had made him thirsty.
The big coat proved troublesome to carry when
he took it off. After a time his feet got sore and he
tried to walk in the shallow drain beside the line, but
this was filled with ice, on which he slipped. He had
traveled by rougher trails and carried heavy loads, but
that was some years ago and he wore different boots
and fastened on his pack by proper straps. More-
over, one got soft when leading a business life.
By and by he heard the roar of water and pushing
on faster came to a foaming creek that plunged down
a stony ravine. A bridge crossed the gorge, and leav-
ing the track he clambered down the rocky bank.
Where the spray had fallen there were patches of ice,
but Foster felt that he must get a drink. When he was
half-way down his foot slipped and he slid the rest
of the distance, bringing up with a shock at the edge
of the water, where he struck a projecting stone. He
felt shaken, but got a drink, and when he began to
climb back found that he had wrenched his knee.
Some movements were not painful, but when his
weight came upon the joint it hurt. He must get up,
for all that, and reached the top, where he sat down
with his lips firmly set, and after putting on the coat
felt in the pocket for a cigarette.
The case he took out was not his, and he remem-
bered that he was wearing another man's coat. The


38
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
cigarettes were of Turkish tobacco, which is not much
used in Canada, and he thought the quality remark-
ably good. This seemed to imply that their owner had
a cultivated taste, and Foster began to wonder whether
he was after all not a business man running away
from his creditors, but rejected the theory. It was
strange that although the cigarettes were expensive
the case was of the kind sold in Western stores for
fifty cents, but Foster presently gave up speculating
about the man.
The moon was getting low and ragged pine branches
cut against the light. The track was wrapped in
shadow that was only a little less dense than the
gloom of the surrounding bush. It was not really
cold for North Ontario, but the fur coat was hardly
enough protection to make a bed in the open air
comfortable. Foster had slept in the Athabasca for-
ests when the thermometer marked forty degrees be-
low zero, but he then wore different clothes and had
been able to make a roaring fire and build a snow-bank
between him and the wind. Moreover, he was still
liable to be overtaken by the men on the train.
Getting up, he found his knee sore and stiff, but
limped on for an hour or two after the moon sank.
He seemed to be stumbling along the bottom of a dark
trench, for the firs shut him in like a wall and there
was only an elusive glimmer of light above their ser-
rated tops. He did not expect to find a house until
he reached the station, for much of North Ontario is
a wilderness where the trees are too small for milling
and agriculture is impossible among the rocks. To
make things worse, he felt hungry. The train had
stopped at about seven o'clock at a desolate station


THE FIRST ADVENTURE
39
where the passengers were given a few minutes to get
supper, but Foster's portion was too hot for him to
eat. He tried to encourage himself by remembering
that he had once marched three hundred miles across
the snow with a badly frozen foot, but this did not
make his present exertion easier.
As he got hungry he got angry. He had gone away
to enjoy himself, and this was how his holiday had
begun! The Government agent, if that was what he
was, ought not to have dragged a confiding stranger
into his difficulties. He was now safe in the express
car and chuckling over the troubles he had left his
substitute to face. Then Foster tried to remember
if he had left any papers with his address in his over-
coat and decided that he had not done so. His wallet
was now in his jacket pocket. This was satisfactory,
because he meant to have nothing more to do with
the matter. Tying the fur coat round his waist to
take some of the weight off his shoulders, he trudged
on as briskly as he could through the gloom.


FEATHERSTONE'S PEOPLE
AFTER walking for some time, Foster heard a
1 rumble in the distance behind him and climbed
the rocky bank of the single-line track. There was
not much room between the bank and rails, and he
was glad of an excuse for sitting down. Taking out
the stranger's case, he lighted another of the Turkish
cigarettes. They were the only benefit he was likely
to derive from the adventure, and he felt some satis-
faction in making use of them.
In the meantime, the rumble grew into a roar that
rolled across the forest with a rhythmic beat, and a
ray of light pierced the gloom up the track. It was
very bright and he knew it was thrown by a locomotive
headlamp. A west-bound freight train was coming
and he must wait until it passed. Freight trains were
common objects, but as a rule when Foster saw one
approaching he stopped to watch. The great size and
power of the locomotive appealed to his imagination,
and he liked to think of the reckless courage of the
men who drove the steel road through eight hundred
miles of rugged wilderness to Port Arthur, and then
on again through rocks and muskegs to the Western
prairie. It was a daring feat, when one remembered
the obstacles and that there was no traffic to be devel-
oped on the way.


FEATHERSTONE'S PEOPLE
41
The beam of light became a cone of dazzling radi-
ance; the rocks throbbed, and the gnarled pines shook
as the roar swelled into a tremendous harmony of
many different notes. Then there was sudden darkness
as the locomotive leaped past, and huge box-cars
rushed, lurching and rocking, out of the thick, black
smoke. Flying ballast crashed against the rocks, and
though the ground was frozen hard a hail of small
particles rattled among the trees. Then, as the tail-
lights on the caboose sped by, a deep hoot of the
whistle came back from about a quarter of a mile off,
and soon afterwards the fading glimmer vanished
round a curve. It seemed to be going slower, and the
rumble died away suddenly. Foster thought there
was a side-track ahead, where the freight would wait
until a train going in the other direction crossed the
switches. If he could reach the spot in time, he might
save himself a long walk.
His knee hurt as he stumbled over the gravel at the
best pace he could make, but that did not matter much.
A few minutes' sharp pain could be borne, and he
set his lips as he ran, while the perspiration dripped
from him and his breath got short. This was the
consequence of leading a soft and, in a sense, luxurious
life, he thought, but when he tried to walk next day
he understood the reason better. Still, he did not
mean to be left behind in the frozen bush, and as he
reached the curve was relieved to see lights Aicker
about the track. When he stopped a man flashed a
lantern into his face.
.! “Looks as if you'd made good time, but the track's
pretty rough for breaking records on,” he remarked.
“That's so," Foster answered breathlessly. “I


42
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
wanted to get here before you pulled out, because I'm
going on with you.”
"No, sir; it's clean against the rules. You can't
get a free ride now on a C. P. freight.”
“The rules apply to hobos. I've got a first-class
ticket to Montreal.”
"Then why in thunder are you running back to
Fort William?"
"I'd have been satisfied to make the next station.
You see, I fell off the train.”
Another man, who wore big gloves and grimy over-
alls, had come up, and laughed when he heard Foster's
explanation.
"You sure look pretty lively after falling off the
Montreal express. Guess you must have done that
kind of thing before! But our bosses are getting
blamed particular about these free rides."
Foster opened his wallet and took out a strip of
paper, folded in sections, but it was not by accident
he held two or three dollar bills against it.
"There's my ticket. I bought it at the agent's office,
but I expect you know what would have happened if
I'd got it on board. Anyway, you've heard of the
drummer who beat his passage from Calgary to To
ronto at the cost of a box of cigars."
The brakesmen grinned, because the hint was plain.
It is said on Western railroads that when a conductor
collects a fare he throws the money at the car-roof
and accounts to the company for as much as sticks
there.
"Well," said the first man, "I guess we'll take our
chances and you can get into the caboose. You'll
find blankets, and a bunk where you can lie down if


FEATHERSTONE'S PEOPLE
43
you take off your boots. We'll dump you somewheres
handy for catching the next east-bound.”
Foster found the caboose comfortably warm.
There was a stove in the middle and two or three
bunks were fixed to the walls. In a few minutes the
train they waited for went roaring past, and when the
freight started one of the men gave him some supper.
Then he got into a bunk and went to sleep.
He caught the next express going east, and on reach-
ing Ottawa, where he had some time to wait, half
expected the man he had helped would come, or send
somebody, to meet him. Although he wore the fur
coat and stood in a conspicuous place, he was not
accosted, and presently bought a newspaper. It threw
no light upon the matter, and for a time he walked
up and down, considering if he would go to the police.
This was perhaps his duty, but it looked as if the
owner of the coat had not been molested. After all,
the fellow might be an absconding debtor, and if not
it was obvious that he had some reason for keeping
his secret. Foster decided to let him do so, and went
back to the train.
When he arrived at Montreal he went to the Wind-
sor as he had been told, but there was no letter or
telegram waiting and none came during the day or
two he stayed. On the evening before he sailed he
was sitting in the large entrance hall, which is a fea-
ture of American and Canadian hotels, when he
thought a man some distance off looked hard at him
over his newspaper, Foster only caught a momentary
glimpse of his face, because he held up the paper as if
to get a better light and people were moving about be-


44
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
tween them; but he thought the man was Daly, and
after a few moments carelessly crossed the floor.
A man sat at the spot he had marked and the chairs
on both sides were unoccupied, but when Foster sat
down in the nearest he saw the fellow was a stranger.
This puzzled him, since he did not think he had been
mistaken. It was, however, possible that Daly had
been there, but had moved off quietly when Foster's
view was obstructed. If so, he must have had an
object for hiding, and Foster waited some minutes
before he went to the office and examined the guest-
book. Daly's name did not appear, and he found that
nobody from the West had signed the book recently.
"I wanted to see if a man I know is staying here,"
he told the clerk.
"That's all right," said the other. "Quite a number
of people have been looking for friends to-day.”
Foster described Daly as well as he could, and asked
if he had examined the book.
"No," said the clerk. “Nobody just like that had
the register while I've been about; but now I think
of it, a man who might meet the bill stood by while
another looked at the last page.” Then he indicated
a figure near the revolving door. “There! that's who
he was with!”
As the man pushed the door round Foster saw his
face, and knew him for the stranger who had occupied
the chair in which he had expected to find Daly. He
thanked the clerk and went back thoughtfully to his
place, because it looked as if Daly had been there
and the other had helped him to steal away. If this
surmise was correct, they might be trying to follow
Featherstone; but he was, fortunately, out of their


FEATHERSTONE'S PEOPLE 45
reach, and Foster decided that he must not exaggerate
the importance of the matter. After all, Daly might
have come to Montreal on business, and the rotunda
of a Canadian hotel is something of a public resort.
Still, he felt disturbed and presently gave the clerk
the fur coat, telling him to deliver it when asked for.
He felt it a relief to get rid of the thing.
Next day he sailed on an Empress liner, and on the
evening after he reached England left the train at a
lonely station in the North. It was not yet dark, and
for a moment or two he stood on the platform looking
about. There had been rain, and the air had a damp
freshness that was unusual in Canada. In the east
and north the sky was covered with leaden cloud,
against which rounded hilltops were faintly marked.
Rugged moors rolled in long slopes towards the west,
where the horizon was flushed with vivid saffron and
delicate green. Up the middle of the foreground ran
a deep valley, with blue shadow in its bottom and
touches of orange light on its heathy sides. There
were few trees, although a line of black firs ran boldly
to the crest of a neighboring rise, and stone dykes
were more common than the ragged hedges. Foster
saw no plowed land, and nothing except heather
seemed to grow on the peaty soil, which looked black
as jet where the railway cutting pierced it. Indeed,
he thought the landscape as savage and desolate as any
he had seen in Canada, but as he did not like tame
country this had a certain charm.
While he looked about a man came up. He was
elderly and dressed with extreme neatness in old-
fashioned dark clothes, but he had the unmistakable
look of a gentleman's servant. Though there was a


46
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
small car in the road, he was obviously not a pro-
fessional chauffeur.
“You'll be Mr. Foster, sir, for the Garth ?” he said.
Foster said he was and the man resumed: "Mr.
Featherstone sent the car and his apologies. He had
to attend the court, being a magistrate, and hoped you
would excuse his not coming."
Then he picked up Foster's portmanteau and called
a porter, who was moving some clanging milk cans,
to bring his bag.
"Never mind; I'll take it," Foster told him.
"As you like, sir, but it's perhaps not quite usual
in this country,” the other answered in a deprecatory
tone.
"I suppose I ought to have remembered that,” Fos-
ter agreed smiling.
They crossed the platform, and while they waited
for the bag the man said respectfully, “Might I ask if
Mr. Lawrence was better when you left, sir? It was
a disappointment to us when we heard he could not
come home.”
Foster liked the fellow. He was very formal, but
seemed to include himself in his master's family.
"Yes," he said. “In fact, I expect he'll be quite
well in a month or two. I suppose you were at the
Garth before my partner left?".
"I've served Mr. Featherstone for thirty years, sir,
and led Mr. Lawrence's first pony and cleaned his first
gun. It wasn't my regular duty, sir, but he was the
only son and I looked after him. If I may say so, we
were much upset when we heard that he was ill."
Then the bag was brought, and as the car ran across
the moor Foster noted the smooth, hard surface of the


FEATHERSTONE'S PEOPLE 47.
wet road. The country was wild and desolate, but
they had no roads like this in Canada, except perhaps
in one or two of the larger cities. Indeed, in Western
towns he knew, it was something of an adventure to
cross the street during the spring thaw. The light
got red and angry as they dipped into the valley; the
firs on the hillcrest stood out black and sharp, and
then melted into the gray background. A river pool
shone with a ruby gleam that suddenly went out, and
the dim water vanished into the shadow, brawling
among the stones.
There was smooth pasture in the valley, broken by
dark squares of turnip fields and pale stubble; but here
and there the heath appeared again and wild cotton
showed faintly white above the black peat-soil. By
and by a cross, standing by itself on the lonely hillside,
caught Foster's eye, and he asked his companion
about it.
“The Count's Cross, sir; a courtesy title they held
in the next dale. He was killed in a raid on a tower
down the water, before the Featherstones came.”
"But did they bury him up there?”
"No, sir; they were all buried at night by the water
of Langrigg, but when they were carrying him home
in the mist by the hill road the Scots from the tower
overtook them. The Count's men were wounded and
their horses foundered, but the Scots let them go
when they found that he was dead. About 1300, sir.
Somebody put up the cross to commemorate it."
“They seem to have been a chivalrous lot," Foster
remarked. "I wonder if that kind of thing would
happen nowadays !"


48
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
"I'm afraid one couldn't expect it, sir," the old
fellow answered and Foster smiled.
The cross faded into the hillside; it got dark and
the valley narrowed. Trees grew in sheltered spots;
the faint, delicate tracery of birch branches breaking
the solid, black ranks of the firs. The road wound
along the river, which roared, half seen, in the gloom.
Now and then they ran through water, and presently
the glare of the headlamps bored through breast-high
mist. There was a smell of wet soil and rotting leaves.
It was very different from the tangled pine bush of
Ontario and the stark bareness of the plains, but it
was somehow familiar and Foster felt that he was at
home.
By and by the moon came out, and the mist got
thinner as they ran into an opening where the side of
the glen fell back. Lights twinkled at the foot of a
hill, and as they sped on the irregular outline of a
house showed against a background of trees. It glim-
mered, long and low, in the moonlight, and then Fos-
ter lost it as they ran through a gate into the darkness
of a belt of firs. A minute or two later, the car
slowed and stopped after passing round a bend.
A wide door stood hospitably open, and a figure
upon the steps cut against the light. There were two
more figures inside the hall, and as he got down Foster
heard voices that sounded strangely pleasant and re-
fined. Then a man whom he could not see well shook
hands with him and took him in, and he stopped, half
dazzled by the brightness.
The hall was large and a fire burned on a deep
hearth. There were oil lamps on tall pillars, and in the
background a broad staircase ran up to a gallery in


FEATHERSTONE'S PEOPLE
49
the gloom. Foster, however, had not much time to
look about, for as soon as he had given up his hat and
coat his host led him towards the fire and two ladies
came up. He knew one was his partner's mother and
the other his sister, but although they were like Law-
rence he remarked a difference that was puzzling until
he understood its origin. Mrs. Featherstone had an
unmistakable stamp of dignity, but her face was gentle
and her look very friendly; her daughter was tall and
Foster thought remarkably graceful, with an air of
pride and reserve, although this vanished when she
gave him a frank welcoming smile. Featherstone,
who was older than his wife, had short, gray hair,
and a lined, brown face, but looked strong and carried
himself well.
Foster, who liked them at once, wondered rather
anxiously whether he had pleased or disappointed
them. But he imagined that they would reserve their
opinion. They were, of course, not the people to show
what they thought, and if he had felt any embarrass-
ment, they would have known how to put him at his
ease. Still his type was, no doubt, new to them and
his views might jar. He did not remember what they
said, but they somehow made him feel he was not a
stranger but a friend who had a claim, and when he
went to his room he knew he would enjoy his stay with
Featherstone's people.


VI
HIS COMRADE'S STORY
TOSTER spent the most part of the next day in
T the open air with his host. Featherstone had
a quiet, genial manner and seemed to have read much,
though he held the narrow views that sometimes mark
the untraveled Englishman. He appeared to be scru-
pulously just and showed sound judgment about mat-
ters he understood, but he had strong prejudices and
Foster did not think him clever. With his rather
sensitive pride and fastidiousness he was certainly not
the man to make his mark in Canada, and Foster be-
gan to understand certain traits of his comrade's that
had puzzled him. Lawrence, although he had keener
intelligence, was not quite so fine a type as his father,
and in consequence stood rough wear better. But he
too, in spite of his physical courage, now and then
showed a supine carelessness and tried to avoid, in-
stead of boldly grappling with, things that jarred.
They set out to go shooting, but Featherstone
stopped to talk to everybody they met, and showed
keen interest in such matters as the turnip crop and
the price of sheep. It was clear that he was liked and
respected. Sometimes he turned aside to examine tot-
tering gates and blocked ditches, and commented to
Foster upon the economics of farming and the burden
of taxes. The latter soon gathered that there was not


HIS COMRADE'S STORY 51
much profit to be derived from a small moorland estate
and his host was far from rich. It looked as if it had
cost him, and perhaps his family, some self-denial to
send the money that had once or twice enabled Law-
rence, and Foster with him, to weather a crisis.
At noon they were given a better lunch than Foster
had often been satisfied with at a lonely farm, where
Featherstone spoke of him as his son's partner, and
seemed to take an ingenuous pride in making it known
that Lawrence was prospering. This gave Foster a
hint that he acted on later. They, however, shot a
brace of partridges in a turnip field, a widgeon that
rose from a reedy tarn, and a woodcock that sprang
out of a holly thicket in a bog. It was a day of gleams
of sunlight, passing showers, and mist that rolled
about the hills and swept away, leaving the long slopes
in transient brightness, checkered with the green of
mosses and the red of withered fern. The sky cleared
as they turned homewards, and when they reached
the Garth an angry crimson glow spread across the
west.
Tea was brought them in the hall and Foster, who
had changed his clothes, which was a rare luxury in
Canada, sat with much content in a corner by the
hearth. He had been out in the raw wind long enough
to enjoy the rest and warmth, and the presence of
two English ladies added to the charm. Mrs. Feather-
stone was knitting, but Alice talked to her father
about the shooting and what he had noted on the
farms. Foster thought her cleverer than the others,
but it was obvious that her interest was not forced.
She understood agriculture and her remarks were sin-
gularly shrewd.


52
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
In a sense, this was puzzling, for she had, in an
extra degree, the fastidious refinement that marked
the rest, and with it a touch of quiet haughtiness.
Although she often smiled, she was characterized by
a restful calm, and her glance was steady and level.
Alice was tall, with unusually regular features, brown
eyes, and brown hair, but Foster could not analyze
her charm, which was somehow strengthened by a
hint of reserve. He was in the glow of the fire, and
imagined that she once or twice gave him a glance of
thoughtful scrutiny.
The room was getting dim, but lights had not been
brought, and the red glow outside filled the large
oblong of the casement window. Dark fir branches
cut against the lurid color and Foster, looking out,
saw the radiance strike through the straight rows of
trunks.
"Something like Ontario, isn't it?” said Feather-
stone, indicating the trees.
“Yes, in a way, but there's a difference,” Foster
replied. "In eastern Manitoba and Ontario the bush
is choked and tangled, and runs nearly eight hundred
miles. The small pines are half burned in places; in
others they're wrecked and rotten, and lean across each
other as if they were drunk. Then you can travel all
day without finding an opening, unless it's a lonely
lake or a river tumbling among the rocks."
"It sounds depressing,” Mrs. Featherstone re-
marked. “We must hope you will find your stay here
a pleasant change."
"The curious thing is that it doesn't feel strange.
All I've seen so far, including the Garth, seems fa-
miliar."


HIS COMRADE'S STORY 53
"But perhaps that isn't remarkable. You are Eng-
lish and were, I dare say, brought up in the country
and used to our mode of life.”
Foster saw Alice glance at him and felt he must be
frank.
"No," he said, “my life in England was different
from yours. It was spent in monotonous work, and
when I went home at night to a shabby room in a
street of small dingy houses it was too late, and I was
often too dejected, to think of amusements. Twice
I spent a glorious ten days among the hills, but that
was all I saw of England unspoiled by tramway lines
and smoke, and the holidays cost a good deal of self-
denial. Railway fares were a serious obstacle.”
Alice smiled, but he thought the look she gave him
hinted at approval.
"Self-denial isn't so unusual as you seem to think.
We know something about it at the Garth.”
"But you sent my partner money when he needed
it," Foster answered, wondering how far he could
go. “The last time it was a large amount and helped
us to turn an awkward corner. In fact, we should
have gone under for a time if it hadn't come, and I
remember feeling that I owed much to friends I might
never see, because I shared the benefit with your
brother. In its Western sense, partner means more
than a business associate.”
"That is obvious,” Alice rejoined quietly, but with
meaning.
“The main thing is that the money seems to have
been well spent,” Featherstone interposed. "For all
that, we don't know much about what Lawrence did
with it or, indeed, about his life in Canada."


54 CARMEN'S MESSENGER
"It's curious that one gets out of the way of writing
home in the West, and it's often difficult to give one's
friends a clear idea of how one lives. Things are
different
Mrs. Featherstone smiled, and Foster saw that his
wish to make excuses for his comrade's negligence was
understood. Featherstone, however, was franker
than he expected.
“There were good reasons for Lawrence's not writ-
ing home and they made it awkward for us to write
to him for a time. You can now tell us what he has
done in Canada. We want to know.”
Foster began with some hesitation by relating how
he had first met his comrade in the churned-up mud
outside a logging camp after a dispute with the bully-
ing manager. The men were beaten, but Lawrence
and two or three more from the river-gang would not
five in, and started in the rain, without blankets and
with very little food, which a sympathetic cook stole
for them, on a long march to the nearest settlement.
There they took a contract for clearing land, and
Foster described how they lived in a rude bark shack
while they felled the trees and piled them up for burn-
ing. It was strenuous work, and having been unable
to collect their wages from the lumber firm, the clothes
they could not replace went to pieces and they slept,
for the most part, in the wet rags they wore by day.
But they held out until the work was done and paid
for. Foster tried to do his comrade justice and
thought he had not exaggerated, for Lawrence's phil-
osophic good humor had encouraged the rest and
smoothed over difficulties that threatened to break up
the gang


HIS COMRADE'S STORY
Then he stopped and glanced at the others, wonder-
ing whether he had said too much and had drawn a
picture they shrank from contemplating. Alice's eyes
were steadily fixed on him. Mrs. Featherstone looked
grave, but there was a hint of proud satisfaction in her
husband's face. Somewhat to his surprise, Foster saw
that he had not jarred or bored them.
"You made good; I believe that's the proper
phrase," said Featherstone. “Go on, please."
Foster did so. His adventures had not appeared
remarkable when they happened, and he did not think
himself much of a story-teller, but he meant to do his
best, for his partner's sake. It would be something
if he could show Lawrence's people the courage and
cheerfulness with which he had faced his troubles.
Still, he thought it better to vary the theme, and re-
lated how they engaged themselves as salesmen at a
department store, where Lawrence rashly undertook
to serve the drugs and prescribed for confiding cus-
tomers until a mistake that might have had disastrous
consequences led to his being fired. Foster went with
him, and they next undertook to cook, without any
useful knowledge of the art, for a railroad construc-
tion gang. Their incompetence became obvious when
Lawrence attempted to save labor by putting a week's
supply of desiccated apples to soak at once, with the
consequence that the floor of the caboose was cov-
ered with swollen fruit that had forced itself out of
the pot. One of the gang, who went in to steal some
fried pork, declared that the blamed apples chased him
down the steps.
Featherstone's chuckle was encouraging, but Foster
glanced at Alice and thought he read another emotion


56
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
than amusement in her sparkling eyes. It was now
nearly dark, but the glow of the fire touched the others'
faces and nobody seemed to think of ringing for lights.
He went on to describe their retreat in winter from
a worthless mineral claim, where they had remained
until the snow surprised them when their food was
nearly gone. Eight or nine miles a day was the most
they could drag their hand-sledge through the tangled
bush, and Foster got his foot frozen through sleeping
in wet boots. The frozen part galled into a wound,
but with provisions running out they could not stop
to rest. The tent and half their blankets had to be
thrown away and Lawrence hauled him on the sledge
over rocks and fallen logs, with the temperature at
forty degrees below, until they reached a frozen river,
down which he struggled against a savage wind.
Then came a profitable contract, which Lawrence
obtained against keen opposition, for supplying tele-
phone posts, and Foster was surprised to find that
the description of their efforts to get the logs out of
a rugged wilderness made a stirring tale. Although
he paused once or twice apologetically, the others made
him resume, and he began to wish he was not in the
firelight when he saw that Alice was quietly studying
him. It was his partner's story he meant to tell, but
since they were together he could not leave himself
out.
He could, however, change the scene, and skipping
much, came to their start as general contractors at
Gardner's Crossing. The Hulton Company, which
was not so large then, gave them work, but they were
hampered by want of capital, and had to meet the
competition of richer and sometimes unscrupulous


HIS COMRADE'S STORY. 57
antagonists. Still they made progress; staking all
they had on the chance of carrying out risky work
that others would not touch, sometimes testing the
patience of creditors, and now and then outwitting
a rival by an ingenious ruse. Lawrence lived in the
single-room office, cooking for himself on an oil-stove,
while Foster camped with their men where they were
at work.
Then they built the sawmill with the help of Law-
rence's check from home, and soon afterwards met
with their worst reverse. They had engaged to supply
the Hulton Company with lumber of a certain kind
for some special work, and then found that few of the
trees they required grew near the river. This meant
that a skidway must be made over a very rough hill
and a gasolene winding engine bought or hired to haul
the logs out of the next valley. There was, however,
another fir easily accessible that might suit the pur-
pose, but not quite as well, and Foster related how he
and his partner sat up late one night, calculating costs
and wondering whether they should pay Hulton a fine
to break the bargain. He added naïvely that they
were some time arguing if they should substitute the
inferior wood.
“Whose opinion was it that you should supply the
exact material you had promised ?" Featherstone
asked.
"Well," said Foster, “Lawrence said so first, but I
think we both meant to let them have the best.”
Featherstone's glance at his wife indicated relief,
but something in Alice's face showed that she had
known what Foster's reply would be. She had listened
with keen interest, and he stopped, half amused and


58
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
half embarrassed. Perhaps he had talked too much,
and while he meant to do Lawrence justice, he did
not want to play the part of the indomitable pioneer
for the girl's benefit. Moreover, he knew she would
detect, and despise him for, any attempt to do so, and
as he valued her good opinion, it was not modesty
alone that led him to make Lawrence the hero of the
piece.
"So you stuck to your bargain!" Featherstone re-
marked. “Tell us how you carried it out."
Foster forgot himself and the others as he contin-
ued, for he had a vivid memory of the struggle. He
took charge of the work in the woods, while Lawrence
tactfully pressed for payment of outstanding accounts,
put off creditors, and somehow provided money for
wages. As extra gangs had to be hired, Foster owned
that he did not know how the thing was done. He
cut a grade for the skidway up the hill, slashing
tangled bush and blasting rocks, worked in the snow
by moonlight long after his men stopped, and after-
wards learned that Lawrence often went without a
meal when pay-day got near. But they hauled out
the logs and the lumber was delivered. When he
stopped, Featherstone looked up with some color in
his face.
"Thank you," he said. "It is a moving tale. The
money we sent you was well spent. I could have ex-
pected nothing better of my son. But I suppose you
found it paid to keep your promise."
"In this case, it did,” Foster answered with a smile.
“Hulton's gave us the first chance of any work they
did not care to do themselves; you see, we had put
in a few wood-working machines. In fact, after a


HIS COMRADE'S STORY
59
time, Hulton told Lawrence to walk through the fac-
tory now and then and send in anything the heads of
departments required. But I've talked long enough
and fear you're bored.”
"No," said Featherstone simply, "you have given
us great pleasure and made us realize the bracing life
my son is leading. You could have done us no favor
that would equal this."
Then he took Foster off to the gun-room, where they
smoked and talked about the day's shooting, until
Featherstone said rather abruptly, "Perhaps I had
better tell you that I didn't send Lawrence the check
that enabled you to build the mill. It was not in my
power to do so then.”
"But he said the money came from home.”
"It did. Alice was left a small legacy and insisted
on selling the shares it consisted of in order to help her
brother. I must confess that I thought she was rash,
but the money was hers. Now it is obvious that the
sacrifice she made was justified.”
Featherstone began to talk about something else,
but Foster felt embarrassed. It looked as if he owed
his success in business to the girl's generosity, and
although he could not see why this should disturb him,
it did.
He went down to dinner rather early and found
Alice in the hall. There was nobody else about, and
by the way she looked up as he advanced he thought
she had been waiting for him. Alice had beauty, but
it was her proud reserve he felt most. She did not
give her friendship lightly, but he believed it was
worth winning.
“I wanted to thank you for explaining things so
Ts. Now Thought she to help her


60
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
well,” she said. "It's the first time we have really
learned much about my brother's life in Canada."
Foster hesitated. “I felt that you wanted to know.
But, in a way, it must have sounded rather egotistical.
In fact, the thing wasn't as easy as you perhaps think.”
Alice smiled. “You couldn't leave yourself out,
although it was obvious that you meant to give my
brother the leading part."
"I honestly don't think I exaggerated.”
"No," she agreed, “it sounded real, and there were
touches, little personal characteristics, you couldn't
have imagined. You see, I am younger than Law-
rence and thought him something of a romantic hero
before he left home.” Then she paused for a moment.
"I got a very bad shock when he was forced to go.
You know why he went ?"
"I don't; I've sometimes thought he wanted to tell
me."
“Then you never asked ?”
"I did not; I think I didn't want to know."
She gave him a steady searching glance and he
felt that if he had been insincere she would have found
out.
“But you knew there was something wrong. If he
had injured somebody in England, he might have
'injured you. What made you so trustful ?"
"Your brother himself. Then he was, so to speak,
my benefactor. If he hadn't taken me up, I might
have been chopping trees in the snow, instead of enjoy-
ing a holiday in England and, to emphasize the con-
trast, staying at a house like this."
"It doesn't follow; you might have found another


HIS COMRADE'S STORY
opportunity. The point is that you did trust Law-
rence."
Foster disliked sentiment and knew that if he struck
a false note it would jar.
"Well,” he said, “I don't claim that I'm a judge
of character, but one can't make progress in Canada
and be a fool. We had gone hungry in the bush to-
gether, and hauled the hand-sledge across the snow,
when it was very doubtful if we'd make the settle-
ments. Perhaps there isn't a better way of testing a
partner than that. Then a man starts fair in the new
countries, and one feels that this is right. He may
have given way once to some strong temptation and
go the straighter for it afterwards.”
Alice looked at him with a curious gleam in her eyes
that made his heart beat.
"It was a very strong temptation,” she said quietly
and stopped as Mrs. Featherstone came in.


VII
THE PACKET
W HEN he had been a few days at the Garth,
Foster thought he had better take Carmen's
packet to Edinburgh. She had said nothing about its
being urgent and he did not want to go, but he must
keep his promise and would afterwards be at liberty.
Mrs. Featherstone had given him to understand that
he was to make the Garth his headquarters as long as
he stayed in England, and he looked forward to doing
so with much content. The more he saw of his hosts,
the better he liked them, and it was a privilege to
enjoy Alice Featherstone's friendship. She had, of
course, given it him for her brother's sake, but he must
try to keep it on his merits.
Since he had seen Alice he began to understand Car-
men better. Carmen had charm and knew how to use
it to her advantage, while he could not imagine Alice's
employing her beauty to gain an object. She was
proud, with an essentially clean pride, and sincere,
while Carmen had a talent for intrigue. The latter
enjoyed using her cleverness to put down a rival or
secure a prominent place; she was a hustler, as they
said in the West. Alice, he thought, would not even
claim what was hers; it must be willingly offered or
she would let it go. Yet he knew she would be a
staunch and generous friend to anybody who gained
her confidence.
62


THE PACKET
63
This kind of comparison, however, was profitless
and perhaps in bad taste. After all, he was a friend of
Carmen's and must do her errand. He left the Garth
next morning, and Featherstone, who made him prom-
ise to come back as soon as possible, drove him across
the moors to a small station on the North British line,
where he caught an Edinburgh train.
When they ran out of the hills at Hawick, rain was
falling and the valley filled with smoky haze, through
which loomed factories and chimney stacks. The sta-
tion was crowded, and Foster gathered from the talk
of the people who got in that a big wool sale was
going on and the townsfolk who were not at the auc-
tion made it a holiday. His compartment was full,
but looking through the window he saw a fashionably
dressed girl hurrying along the platform with a porter.
They tried one or two carriages, in which there seemed
to be no room, and the guard had blown his whistle
when they came abreast of Foster's compartment.
Opening the door as the train began to move, he held
out his hand and pulled the girl in.
"My bag; it mustn't be left!" she cried, trying to
get back to the door, but Foster caught the bag as the
porter held it up and put it on the rack.
"There's a seat in the corner,” he said and went into
the corridor.
When they stopped at Galashiels a number of people
got out, and he returned to the compartment. It was
now unoccupied except by an old man and the girl he
had helped, who gave him a grateful smile.
"I hadn't time to thank you, but I should have
missed the train if you had not been prompt,” she said.
Foster did not know if Scottish etiquette warranted


64
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
anything more than a conventional reply, but he ven-
tured to remark: "You certainly seemed to have cut
things rather fine.”
"I had to drive some distance and the hill roads
were bad; then when we got to the town the streets
· were crowded."
“That would be sae," the old man agreed. "Ha-
wick's gey thrang at the wool sales when the yarn
trade is guid.”
Foster liked to talk to strangers and as the girl had
not rebuffed him, he took her cloak, which looked very
wet, from the rack.
"Perhaps I'd better shake this in the corridor and
then we can hang it up,” he said.
She allowed him to do so and the old man remarked:
“Guid gear's worth the saying, and I was thinking it
would be nane the waur o' a bit shake, but if ye had
leeved to my age among the mosses, ye'd no' find yere-
self sae soople.”
"Any kind of gear's worth taking care of.”
"That's true," agreed the other. “A verra praise-
worthy sentiment, if ye practice it. But I wouldna'
say ye were a Scot.”
"In a sense, I'm a Canadian, but from what I've
seen of the Ontario Scots the difference isn't very
marked. Anyhow, they don't buy new material until
the old's worn out.”
The man chuckled, but Foster thought the girl
looked interested.
"Then you come from Canada,” she said. "Do you
know any of the Ontario cities?"
"I have been in Toronto, but I know the small towns
near the Manitoba border best. In fact, I left an am-


THE PACKET
65
bitious place called Gardner's Crossing about fourteen
days ago."
From the quick glance she gave him he imagined
that she had heard of the town, but she said, “I have
some friends in Ontario and understand that they have
had what they call a set-back there. Did this extend
to the neighborhood you came from?"
Foster told her something about the development of
the lumber trade and mining, but although he had
hardly expected her to be interested he thought she
was, and the old man's shrewd remarks helped the con-
versation along.
“Isn't the Crossing where the big factory is? I for-
get the name of it," she asked by and by
"Hulton's," said Foster, and afterwards thought she
tactfully encouraged him to talk about the manufactur-
ing firm, although he did not mention Fred Hulton's
death. Her manner, however, was quite correct; he
had been of some small help, which warranted her con-
versing with him to pass the time. That was all, and
when their companion got out and she opened a book
he went to the smoking-compartment.
When he left the train at the Waverley station he
saw her on the platform and she gave him a slight
bow, but he understood that their acquaintance ended
there and was content. After lunch he walked along
Princes Street and back to the castle. The sky was
clear, the sun shone on the old tall houses, and a nip-
ping north-easter blew across the Forth. In spite of
its age and modern industry, the town looked strangely
clean and cold. No smoke could hang about it in the
nipping wind; its prevailing color was granite-gray.
The Forth was a streak of raw indigo, and the hills


66
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
all round were steely blue. Edinburgh was like no
English town; it had an austere half-classical beauty
that was peculiar to itself; perhaps Quebec, though
different, resembled it most of all the cities he had
seen.
Then he remembered Carmen's packet, and after
asking a passer-by took a tram-car that carried him
through the southern quarter of the town into a wide
road, lined by well-built stone houses. Standing in
small, neat gardens, they ran back to the open country,
with a bold ridge of moors in the distance. Foster
got down where he was directed and crossed the road
to one of the houses. They were all much alike and
he thought hinted at the character of their occupants.
One would expect to find the people who lived there
prosperous citizens with sober, conventional habits.
He went up a short, tiled path and rang the bell.
A smart maid-servant showed him into a small, morn-
ing-room, where everything was very neat, and after a
few moments a man came in. He was the kind of man
Foster had expected to find in such a house, well-
dressed, with polite but rather formal manners, and
Foster briefly stated his business. He thought the
man looked at him sharply, but it was about four
o'clock in the afternoon and the light was not good.
"Mr. Graham does not live here now; he left a week
or two ago," he said. “Do you know him personally ?"
"No," said Foster. “Miss Austin asked me to give
him the packet.”
“Then you know Mr. Austin.”
"In a way,” said Foster, smiling. "We speak when
we meet on the street, but don't get much further. In
fact, Austin's a business rival of mine."
Miss Ausow him perant a week


THE PACKET
67
The man seemed to ponder for a moment or two.
Then he said, “I gather that you want to deliver the
packet, not to post it?"
"That's so. I don't know if it matters much, but
I'd like to put it in Graham's hands."
* “Very well. He's gone to Newcastle, but I have
This address somewhere. If you will wait a minute or
two, I'll look."
He took the packet, as if he meant to write the
address on it, and Foster sat down. The door of the
room was half open and while he waited somebody
entered the house. Steps came along the hall, and a
girl pushed the door back, and then stopped, looking
at him in surprise. He understood this as he saw she
was the girl he had helped into the train.
"I didn't know you were coming here," she said.
"Nor did I, in a sense,” Foster answered with a
smile. “I mean I didn't know it was your house."
“My name was on the label of the bag and rather
conspicuous.”
"It would have meant nothing if I had seen it. In
fact, I must own I don't know it now.”
The girl looked puzzled, and Foster explained that
he had come with a packet, but had merely been given
Graham's name and the number of the house. He
added that he had found he must look for the man in
Newcastle.
“Then you are a friend of Mr. Austin's?” she said.
Foster thought it strange that she had not told him
she knew Austin when she asked about the Crossing,
but he replied: "I'm a friend of Miss Austin's.”
"Ah!” she said thoughtfully; "do you mind ex-
plaining what you mean by that?"


68 CARMEN'S MESSENGER
"Perhaps it's hardly worth while, but I can't claim
that Austin and I are particularly friendly. Our busi-
ness interests sometimes clash.”
She was silent for a few moments, and he wondered
why both she and the man had been curious to know
how far his acquaintance with Austin went. Then she,
looked up with a quick movement. “Newcastle is not
a charming town, and if you have no other reason for
going there, it might be better to post the packet.”
Foster was somewhat puzzled. She had spoken
meaningly, as if she meant to give him a hint.
“The trouble is that I promised Miss Austin to
deliver it.”
“You have brought it to England,” she persisted.
"It will be safe in the post "
She stopped with a glance at the door, and Foster
heard a step in the passage. Then she quietly turned
to the man who had taken the packet.
"I would have missed the train at Hawick but for
this gentleman's help,” she said. "Still, I did not
know he was coming here until I saw him as I passed
the door."
The other, who had looked at her rather sharply,
nodded and gave Foster the packet.
"As there was room enough, I wrote the new ad-
dress on the cover."
Foster thanked him and took his leave, but as the
man went before him to the door the girl made a sign.
"Post it," she whispered and turned back into the
room.
After leaving the house Foster walked along the
road in a thoughtful mood. The girl was apparently
the man's daughter or niece. Their relative ages war-


THE PACKET
69
ranted the surmise, and her quick explanation of how
she came to be talking to a stranger indicated that she
recognized his authority, while Foster thought she
had been disturbed when she heard his step. It was
strange that she should urge him to post the packet,
" and he would sooner have done so, but it was not a
long journey to Newcastle and he must keep his prom-
ise. Then he saw a tram-car coming and dismissed the
matter.
Going back to his hotel, he found there was an even-
ing train and decided to leave by it. Edinburgh had
attractions, but he could come back and was anxious
to get rid of the packet, moreover he grudged the time
he spent away from the Garth. There were not many
passengers at the station and he found an empty
compartment, where he read a newspaper until he got
tired and lifting a corner of the blind looked out.
Here and there a light rushed back through the dark-
ness and vanished as the express sped south with a
smoothness that was a contrast to the jolting he had
been used to in Canada. Indeed, except for the roar
when they ran across a bridge and the confused flash-
ing past of lamps as they swept through a station, he
could hardly have imagined himself on board a train.
There was, however, not much to be seen, and he took
out the packet.
It looked somewhat bulkier and he examined it care-
fully, but the cover did not seem to have been removed.
It could not have been replaced by another, because
the original address was there and he knew Carmen's
hand; then there was a seal, which he did not think
could have been tampered with. Besides, the man had
only had it for a minute or two, and if he had opened


70
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
it, would probably have taken something out instead
of putting something in. Foster decided that he was
mistaken about its size and returned it to his pocket.
Then he wanted a cigarette and took out the case
he had got in the fur coat. Since he had left the coat
in Montreal, the case was the only record of his ad-
venture on the train, and he wondered whether he
would ever be able to restore it to its owner and specu-
lated languidly about the man. As the latter knew his
name, it was strange that he had not communicated
with him at the Windsor, as he had promised. He had
obviously not been attacked, because there had been
nothing about it in the Canadian newspapers. The
thing was puzzling, but after all it did not concern
Foster much and he thought about something else.
It was late when he arrived at Newcastle and went
to an hotel. There was fog and rain next morning,
and he saw very little of the town, which seemed filled
with smoke. Taking a tram-car that carried him past
rows of dingy buildings and shops where lights twin-
kled, he got out at the corner of a narrow street that
ran back into the haze. After looking at the address
on the packet, he plunged into the gloom beside a row
of tall, sooty buildings. There was no pavement, and
here and there a cart stood beneath an opening in the
wall. The buildings were apparently warehouses, but
some of the doors had brass plates and lights shone in
the upper windows. By and by he found the number
he wanted and entered a dirty arch, inside which a
few names were painted on the wall. Graham's was
not there, but he went up the steps to inquire at the
first office he reached.
The lower stories were used as a warehouse and he


THE PACKET
71
came to the top landing before he saw a name that
seemed to be Danish or Scandinavian painted on a
door. Going in, he knocked on the counter. The
office was small and shabby and smelt of bacon, which
he thought indicated that its occupant dealt in pro-
visions, but he could not see much because of a glass
partition. When he was getting impatient, an old man
came to the counter.
“Can you tell me if there's a Mr. Graham in this
building ?” Foster asked.
“Yes, he's here," said the other. "What do you
want?”
Foster said he had brought a packet from Canada,
and the old man, who looked rather hard at him, lifted
a flap in the counter and told him to pass through.
A door in the partition opened as he advanced and an-
other man beckoned him to come in. It looked as if
the latter had heard what had passed, but this saved an
explanation and Foster, who asked if he was Graham,
put the packet on a table. There was not much else
in the small, dusty room, except a cupboard fitted with
pigeon-holes, a desk, and a safe.
“This is from Miss Austin of Gardner's Crossing,"
he remarked.
Graham glanced at the packet carelessly, as if he did
not consider it of much importance, and Foster felt
puzzled. The fellow was not as old as Carmen's
father, but Foster thought there was nothing about
him that would attract a girl used to admiration, as
Carmen was. He was certainly not handsome and had,
on the whole, a commonplace look, while he was obvi-
ously in a small way of business.
"Thank you," he said. “It seems you have been to


72
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
Edinburgh. We had a branch there, but closed it re-
cently. Newcastle has more facilities for importing
our goods. I'm afraid you have been put to some
trouble.”
Foster replied that he did not mind this, since he had
promised Miss Austin to bring the packet and she was
a friend of his, but although he studied the man's face
saw nothing to indicate that he was interested.
“Are you staying here?” he asked, and when Foster
told him that he was going back as soon as he could,
resumed: "If you had been staying, I would have been
glad to take you about the town; but, after all, there's
nothing much in the way of amusement going on. I
might arrange to meet you in the afternoon, but must
now finish some letters for the Continental mail.”
Foster said he could not wait and went out, feeling
that the other was pleased to get rid of him. Graham
was obviously a small importer of provisions, and he
could not see why the girl in Edinburgh had warned
him to post the packet. Carmen's reason for sending
such a man something she valued was impossible to
discern.
This, however, was not Foster's business, and after
lunch he caught a train to Hexham and, finding he
could get no farther, spent the night in the old Border
town.


VIII
AN OFFER OF HELP
IT rained and the light was going when Foster sat in
a window seat of the library at the Garth. He was
alone, but did not mind this. The Featherstones
treated him as one of the family; he was free to do
what he liked, and Alice had just gone away, after
talking to him for half an hour. Lighting a cigarette,
he mused and looked about.
Outside, the firs rose, black and dripping, above the
wet drive. Between their trunks he saw the river,
stained with peat, brawling among the stones, and the
streaks of foam that stretched across a coffee-colored
pool. Then a few boggy fields ran back into the mist
that hung about the hills. A red fire threw a soft glow
about the library. The room was somewhat shabby
but spacious. Rows of old books in stained bindings,
which Foster thought nobody read, faded into the
gloom at its other end. It was warm and quiet, and he
found it a comfortable retreat.
He had now been a fortnight at the Garth and did
not want to leave. Featherstone and his wife obvi-
ously wished him to stay; he was grateful for the
welcome they had given him, and felt as if he belonged
to the place. What Alice thought was not clear, but
she treated him with a quiet friendliness that he found
singularly pleasant. By and by he began to wonder
73


74
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
why Lawrence had not written, particularly as he
had brought away a bag of his. Foster had one like
it, and as both had its owner's initials stamped out-
side, he imagined the baggage agent had been deceived
by the F when he affixed the check. Lawrence's bag,
however, had his name engraved upon the lock.
Foster sat down in a big chair by the fire, and imag-
ined he fell asleep, because it had got nearly dark with-
out his noticing it when the opening of the door roused
him. Looking up, he saw Featherstone come in with
a letter in his hand. The post did not arrive until the
afternoon.
“Ah!” he said, "you have heard from Lawrence."
"No, but the letter is about him," Featherstone
replied, and sitting down opposite, was silent for a
few moments. His pose was slack and he looked as if
he had got a shock.
"I don't see how you can help, but perhaps you had
better know how matters are," he resumed and gave
the letter to Foster.
It was short, but Foster, who was surprised and
disturbed, understood his host's alarm. Daly had
written from Hexham, asking, or rather summoning,
Featherstone to meet him there next day, although he
stated that if this was impossible, he would arrive at
the Garth in the evening. There was a threat in the
intimation that it would be to Lawrence's advantage
if Featherstone saw him soon.
"Well,” said Foster dryly, “it looks as if our plot
had succeeded better than we thought. We certainly
didn't expect the fellow would follow me to England.”
Featherstone did not seem to understand, and Foster
remembered that, with the object of saving him anx.


AN OFFER OF HELP
75
iety, he had said nothing about Daly's having ex-
torted money from Lawrence in Canada. He now
explained the situation in as few words as possible.
“But Lawrence ought to have told me!" Feather-
stone exclaimed.
"I don't know that it would have been of much
use. You see, Lawrence meant to put Daly off the
track, and if he failed in this, to fight. When I heard
of it, I quite agreed.”
“But he can't fight," Featherstone objected in a
strained voice. “I'd have urged him to do so, if it had
been possible. We're not cowards."
“Why is it impossible?”
“Don't you know?” Featherstone asked with some
surprise.
"I know my partner's in trouble; that's all."
Featherstone hesitated, as if he wanted to take the
other into his confidence, but shrank from doing so.
Then he said with forced quietness: "If this rogue
knows as much as I suspect, he can get my son ar-
rested."
“On a serious charge? I don't ask what it is."
"It would mean a long imprisonment, to say nothing
of the humiliation," Featherstone answered brokenly,
and was silent for a minute with the firelight on his
tense face. Then he went on with an effort: “I must
tell you what I can. Lawrence in a desperate moment
injured, I had better call it robbed, a relative of ours.
The boy had got into difficulties, but hitherto, although
he had been a fool, there was a certain generosity in his
rashness. He was very hard pressed--I have seen
that since—but I can make no excuse for what he did.”
"He made good afterwards," Foster interposed.


AN OFFER OF HELP
77
thought what he had done then would always trouble
him, and after all it had proved useless. The worst
was that his sensitive uprightness might make him an
easy victim of the unscrupulous adventurer. But
Foster did not mean him to be victimized. As a rule,
he was rather humorous than dramatic, but he got up
and stood with his hands clenched.
“This thing touches us both, sir. Lavrence is your
son, but he's my friend, and I've got to see him
through, which warrants my giving you the best ad-
vice I can. Very well, you must show a bold front
to Daly; to begin with you can't go to Hexham."
Featherstone gave him a grateful glance. He felt
dejected and desperate, but Foster looked comfortingly
resolute. At first he had welcomed him for his son's
sake, but had come to like him for himself.
"No," he agreed. "I can't go; but that doesn't
help us; because he'll come here."
“Yes; he must be met. But do you know how he
came to learn about the matter?"
"I don't, but my relative, who was interested in
politics and social schemes, had a secretary. I can't
remember his name, but this might be the fellow."
“Then it's curious he didn't get on Lawrence's track
before. Anyway, he must be met with the bluff direct
now."
“How can he be bluffed ?" Featherstone asked with
a hopeless gesture. “He can have my son arrested if
I don't agree to his demands."
"He would first have to tell the police all he knew,
and as soon as he did this his hold on you would be
gone. Then they'd ask why he'd kept the secret,
which would be remarkably hard to answer, although
sake, but had corst he had welcome booked comfortin felt


78
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
he might perhaps take the risk out of malice if he saw
you meant to be firm. For all that, you must be firm;
you can't buy him off. He'd come back later with a
fresh demand. Would your estate stand the strain?"
"My wife and daughter would make any sacrifice
for Lawrence's sake.”
"The sacrifice would benefit this bloodsucker, which
is a different thing,” Foster rejoined. “Then, even if
you impoverished your family, you'd only put off the
reckoning, which would come when the fellow had
taken all you'd got. In short, he must be bluffed off
now."
He sat down and pondered and there was silence
for some minutes. It had got dark and he heard the
steady patter of the rain. He knew he had undertaken
a difficult task, and felt daunted because he could not
see his way. Still, it looked as if the happiness of
these charming people, and perhaps his partner's fu-
ture, depended upon him. If that were so, he must
not fail them.
"Well," he said by and by, “my opinion is that Daly
thinks Lawrence is here, so to speak within his reach,
which must be a strong encouragement. If he learns
the truth, he'll, no doubt, go back to Canada and get
on his track. I'd like to set him searching up and
down Great Britain. There would be something
amusing in his wasting his time and money, but at
present I don't see how it could be done. However,
we have until to-morrow to think of a plan.”
Featherstone left him soon afterwards and he stayed
in the library until dinner, which was a melancholy
function. It was necessary to appear undisturbed
while the servants were about, and he envied his


AN OFFER OF HELP
79
friends' fine self-control. These people had courage
and when they talked carelessly about things of no
importance he did his best to play up. Still, although
they sometimes laughed, their amusement sounded
forced, there was a curious feeling of tension, and he
thought Mrs. Featherstone once or twice showed signs
of strain.
When the meal was over he made an excuse for
leaving them alone, but some time afterwards Alice
came into the hall, where he sat quietly thinking. She
was calm, but he saw she had heard about the threat-
ened danger. He got up as she advanced, but she
beckoned him to sit down.
"My father has told me about the letter, and I under-
stand you know,” she said.
"I wish I knew what ought to be done! It's an
awkward matter. To tell the truth, it bothers me.”
Alice sat down, shielding her face from the fire with
lier hand.
"You mean you feel you ought to put it right?"
"Something of the kind," said Foster, forcing a
smile. “In a sense, of course, that's presumptuous;
but then, you see, I'm in your brother's debt.”
"You like to pay your debts,” Alice remarked, fixing
a level glance on him.
“When I can; but that's not all. I'm not in Law-
rence's debt alone," Foster answered with some diffi-
dence. “I came over here, a stranger, ignorant of
your ideas and customs, and you made me welcome.
Of course, if I had jarred you, you wouldn't have let
me know; but there are degrees of hospitality."
Alice smiled. “You needn't labor your excuses for
wanting to help us, and you are not a stranger now.


80
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
You must have understood this when my father showed
you the letter."
“Thank you,” Foster replied with feeling, and was
silent for the next few moments. Alice, who was
proud and reserved, trusted him, and he must some-
show justify her confidence. He had a vague plan in
his mind, but it needed working out.
"But we must be practical," she resumed. "Can
you help? You must see that there is nobody else
who can.”
Foster made a sign of agreement, for it was plain
that Featherstone could not tell his friends about his
trouble.
"I begin to think I might; but although I haven't
quite made my plans yet, I see some danger. Would
you take a risk for your brother's sake?''
The girl's eyes sparkled, and he saw that she had
Lawrence's reckless courage. He had heard his part-
ner laugh when they faced starvation on the frozen
trail.
"I would take any risk to save him or punish the
blackmailer."
“Very well. I rather think your father will leave
things to me, and I have a half-formed plan. There
ought to be some humor in the plot, if I can work it
out. Daly's plainly convinced that your brother's
here, and I don't see why he shouldn't be encouraged
to stick to his opinion. In fact, the longer he looks
for Lawrence, the more amusing the thing will get. Of
course, he may turn spiteful when he finds he has been
tricked, but he, no doubt, means to do all the harm he
can already. However, you must give me until to
morrow."


AN OFFER OF HELP
81
Alice got up and when he rose said quietly, but with
something in her voice that thrilled him: "I think
you like my mother and she knows I meant to talk to
you. Lawrence is very dear to her and if he were
dragged back into disgrace, now when we thought it
was all forgotten and he has made a new start in
Canada, I am not sure she could bear the shock. There
is nobody else who could help us and we trust to you."
"Then I must try to deserve it,” Foster answered
with a bow. "But what about your old servant, John?
Have you much confidence in him?"
The girl's tense face relaxed. "In a sense, John is
one of the family, but if you want his help, you must
use some tact and not expect Western frankness. He
is remarkably discreet."
Foster opened the door for her, and then went to the
gun-room, where he found John, who had driven him
from the station when he arrived, pouring out some
Rangoon oil. Sitting down carelessly, he lighted a
cigarette.
“I understand you were rather fond of my partner,
Lawrence Featherstone," he remarked.
“If I may say so, sir, I was. A very likable young
gentleman."
“I expect you know he got into trouble."
John looked pained at his bluntness. “I heard some-
thing about it, sir. Perhaps Mr. Lawrence was a little
wild. It sometimes happens in very good families."
"Just so," said Foster. "Would you be surprised
to hear he hadn't got out of that trouble yet?”
“Not surprised exactly; I was afraid of something
like it, sir."


82
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
Foster knew this was as much as he would admit, but
felt that he could trust the man.
“Very well. My partner's in some danger, and with
Mr. Featherstone's permission I must try to see him
through, but may want your help. I suppose you're
willing ?”
“Yes, sir. If it's for Mr. Lawrence, you can take
it that I am."
"You can drive an automobile pretty well ?"
"Not like a professional, sir, but now we don't keep
a chauffeur I often drive to the station.”
“That's satisfactory. I may want the car to-mor-
row evening, but nobody else must know about this."
“Very good, sir,” said John. “When you're ready
you can give me your instructions; they'll go no fur-
ther."
Then he dipped a rag in the oil and began to rub a
gun, and Foster went out, feeling satisfied. It was
plain that he could rely upon the old fellow, who he
thought was unflinchingly loyal to the Featherstones.
After all, it was something to have the respect and
affection of one's servant.


THE FALSE TRAIL
W HEN Foster got up next morning he had made
V his plan, and spent ten minutes explaining it to
John. The old fellow understood his orders, and al-
though he listened with formal deference, the faint
twinkle in his eyes showed that he approved. After
breakfast, Foster asked Featherstone to come out on
the terrace and while they walked about indicated the
line he thought it best to take.
Featherstone agreed, but expressed some misgivings.
“There may be danger in putting Daly on the track,
and after all I'm only delaying a crisis that must be
faced.”
"The longer it's delayed, the better; something may
happen in the meantime," Foster replied. “Then, you
see, the track is false. When the fellow finds you
obstinate, he'll try to get hold of Lawrence, particu-
larly as he got money from him before; but as he
believes Lawrence is in England, he'll have some trou-
ble. The advantage is that he won't be able to bother
you while all his time and energy's occupied by follow-
ing me."
"That is possible," said Featherstone. "But you
may find it difficult to get away from the rogue, since
you must give him some kind of a clew."
Foster laughed. "I don't mind the difficulty, sir.
In fact, I imagine, I'm going to enjoy the chase."
83


86
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
out, making noise enough to be heard in the library as
he shut the hall door. When he went down the steps
he saw the lights of the car that had brought Daly
glimmer on the wet gravel of the drive. The back of
the car was next him, for it had been turned round
ready to start. Then Featherstone's car rolled up qui-
etly, and Foster was getting in when he stopped and
felt his heart beat as a slender figure appeared on the
terrace. He turned, with his foot on the step, and
waited until Alice came up.
"I couldn't let you go without a last word of
thanks,” she said. "It is splendid! We can't forget."
"I believe I'm going to have an amusing trip," Fos-
ter replied. “Then, you see, the Garth is a remark-
ably nice place to come back to, and there's the pleasure
of looking forward to my return. But I'm unselfish
enough to hope I won't have that satisfaction all to
myself."
Alice smiled, but there was something very friendly
in her look and her voice was unusually soft.
"You can always be sure of your welcome and we
will miss you when you are away. I very sincerely
wish you good luck."
Foster was seldom theatrical, but felt the occasion
justified his doing something unusual. John, having
already grasped the wheel, had his back to them, and
Foster took the girl's hand, which rested on the rail,
and kissed it. She made a little abrupt movement, and
he thought he saw a tinge of color in her face, but
she did not look angry and he felt a strange exultant
thrill.
"Make as much noise as you can," he said to John.
• The car backed across the rattling gravel, and the


THE FALSE TRAIL
87
girl's figure faded into the gloom; then John turned
the wheel and they shot forward down the drive. The
lights of the other car vanished, there was a splash
as they swung into the wet road, and Foster pulled the
rug around him when he had struck a match and noted
the time.
' “You needn't hurry her too much," he said. "If I
catch the train by about a minute, it is all I want.”
“Very good, şir. If I may remark, the other's a
powerful car."
"I don't think they'll try to overtake us until we're
near the station,” Foster answered with a laugh. “But
we can't allow it then.”
"No, sir," said John. "I quite understand.”
They ran down the valley at a moderate speed, and
Foster, looking around when they came to a straight
piece of road, was not surprised to see a gleam of light
in the distance. He lost it a few moments afterwards,
but it flashed out again every now and then, until they
plunged into a thick fir wood. They were about half-
way to the station, but the light had not got much
nearer. He had, however, not expected it to do so,
because he thought Daly would be satisfied if he kept
his supposititious victim in sight. The danger would
arise when they got near the station, and whether they
overcame it or not depended on John's coolness and
nerve. Foster thought the man would not fail him.
It was a dark night and a damp haze thickened the
gloom. Stone walls and ragged thorn bushes leaped
up in the glare of the lamps and faded, but one could
see nothing outside the bright beam. This was a dis-
advantage, because Foster could not tell where he was
and much depended on his reaching the station with


CARMEN'S MESSENGER
exactly the right time to spare. He was rather anxious
about it, since his plan would be spoiled at the start if
the train were late. By striking a match in the shelter
of the screen, he could see his watch, but it did not seem
prudent to distract John's attention often.
By and by the walls vanished and withered heath,
glistening with damp, rolled past the car. They were
running through a peat moss, with a deep ditch on one
side, and climbing an incline, to judge by the heavy
throb of the engine. Shallow ruts, filled with water,
ran on in the blaze ahead and showers splashed about
the wheels. Outside the bright beam the darkness
was impenetrable. Foster, however, was conscious of a
pleasant thrill. If one looked at the thing in one way,
he was plunging into trouble that might have been
avoided; but he had been prudent long enough and
found a strange satisfaction in being rash. Besides,
no matter what difficulties he got into, he would be
repaid by the memory of the look Alice had given him.
The way the warm color crept into her face had stirred
him as nothing else had done. Anyhow, he had started
on the adventure and was going to see it through.
After a time, they sped across a bridge, where a burn
splashed noisily down a ravine, and John asked: "How
long have we got, sir?”
“Ten minutes, if the train's punctual.”
"And where's the other car, sir?”
Foster, whose eyes were dazzled by the match he had
struck, looked round and saw a misty flash in the
dark.
"About half a mile behind, I think.”
"Very good, sir. It all depends upon the train now.
She's not often late."


THE FALSE TRAIL
89
The throb of the engine quickened and struck a
sharper note, and Foster felt the car leap forward up
the hill. Turning in his seat, he watched the flickering
gleam behind and saw it grow fainter and then grad-
ually get bright. It looked as if the pursuers had lost
sight of the front car's tail lamp and were increasing
their speed.
“They're creeping up,” he said to John, who did not
reply.
Foster thought they had now reached the top of the
moor, and as they swung up and down across the
heathy undulations a streak of light flashed out in the
distance.
“That's the train," he said.
“Yes, sir. You can see her for two or three miles.”
Then there was a change in the sound and motion,
and Foster knew the engine was running all-out.
Showers of small stones and water flew up about the
wheels and the wind whipped his face, but the follow-
ing light was a little nearer when he looked behind.
The other car had reached the summit and it would be
a close race, but he thought they could keep their lead
long enough. Then he looked ahead and saw that
the bright streak he had noticed had gone. The fire-
man had, no doubt, closed the furnace door, but the
lights from the carriage windows twinkled faintly
across the heath. He could not see the station, but
it was obvious that he had not much time to spare.
A few moments later they swept across a low rise
and a faint blur of buildings loomed among a cluster
of lights. They were now going furiously and he
seized the side of the car as they swung round a curve.
He felt the near wheels sink as they crushed through


90
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
spongy sod, and the car tilted, but they got round, and
there was a sudden jar when the station lay some fifty
yards ahead. Foster jumped out before the car quite
stopped.
"Round with her! I'm all right,” he said.
"Very good, sir. If I might remark "
Foster heard nothing more as he ran up the road,
carrying the bag. The train was very near; he could
hear the roar it made in a shallow cutting, but as he
reached the station the sound ceased and the engine
rolled past. He took a ticket to Edinburgh, and hurry-
ing across the bridge, picked a compartment that had
another occupant and stood at the door, where he could
see the steps he had come down. There was nobody
on the bridge and he seemed to be the only passenger,
but a porter began to drag some packages from the van
and leisurely put them on a truck. Foster quivered
with impatience as he watched the fellow. If he kept
the train another minute, it might be too late. Then
he glanced back at the bridge. Nobody came down
the steps yet, but the porter had not finished, and one
could still catch the train.
He crossed the floor to the opposite window, from
which he could see the booking office, but as he losed
the strap he felt a jerk. Then the engine panted and
the wheels began to turn. He ran back to the other
door, but there was only the porter on the platform and
the lamps were sliding past. Pulling up the window,
he turned to the passenger with a forced smile.
"Sorry if I disturbed you! The man I was looking
for hasn't come."
In the meantime, John turned the car round and
drove back to the bend. The road was narrow, but


THE FALSE TRAIL
91
.
there was room for two vehicles to pass, provided that
both kept well to the proper side. John, however, took
the middle and did not swerve much when a dazzling
beam swept round the curve. He blew his horn; there
was an answering shriek from an electric hooter, and
then a savage shout. John, who was near the left side
now, but not so close as he ought to have been, freed
the clutch and used the brake, and the other car, miss-
ing him by an inch or two, plunged into the wet grass
across the road. As he stopped he saw the boggy
soil fly up and the lamps sink towards the ground.
Jumping off, he found the car had brought up in front
of a wall, with the front wheels buried to the axle.
The driver and a very angry man in a soft hat were
getting out.
"You nearly wrecked us," said the latter. "What
d'you mean by fooling about the middle of the road
like that?”
“I wasn't quite in the middle, sir. It's an awkward
curve and your lights dazzled me."
"Where's the man you brought?”
“I imagine he's caught the train, sir," John an-
swered with imperturbable calm.
He thought the other came near to knocking him
down, for he clenched his fist, but after a savage ex-
clamation went back to the car.
"The engine won't move her. How are we going to
get her out?” he said.
"I could give you a pull, sir," John replied with
respectful gravity. “They keep a rope at the station
for shunting. Perhaps you had better send the driver,
sir."


X
THE DROVE ROAD
FOSTER spent the next day lounging about Edin-
1 burgh and looking out for Daly, whom he had
expected to follow him. He, however, saw nothing of
the man, and felt half disappointed, because he missed
the excitement of the chase. It was too cold and wet
to roam the streets with much enjoyment, there was
no good play at the theaters, and he had seen picture
palaces in Canada. Moreover, he had led an active
life, and having nothing to do soon began to get irk-
some. It was curious that he had never felt bored at
the Garth, even when he scarcely saw Alice during the
day, but then the Garth had a peculiar charm. It was
possible that Daly had gone back there, and he had
been a fool to leave.
He was sitting in the hotel smoking-room next
morning when a stranger came up and sat down close
by. The man had a quiet, thoughtful air, and lighted
his pipe. There was nothing about him to indicate
his rank or occupation, and Foster wondered what he
I wanted.
"I hope you won't object to my asking if you're a
Canadian?” he said.
"I don't know if I object or not. Anyhow, I'm
English."
"But perhaps you have been in Canada," the stran-
ger remarked politely.
92


THE DROVE ROAD
93
Foster looked hard at him. "I haven't the pleasure
of your acquaintance, but had better hint that you're
wasting time if you're a friend of Daly's."
The stranger smiled and Foster saw that he had been
incautious. “I don't know the gentleman.”
“Then what is your business?”.
“If you insist on knowing, I'm connected with the
police."
“Well,” said Foster, “I'll pay you a compliment by
stating that I wouldn't have imagined it; but I don't
understand what the police have to do with me.”
"It's very possible that they have nothing to do with
you, but you can perhaps make that plain. You signed
the visitor's book John Foster, which doesn't quite
correspond with the letters on your bag."
"Ah!" said Foster, “I begin to understand. No
doubt, you noticed Lawrence Featherstone's name on
the lock, and the Canadian Pacific label ?”
"I did,” the other admitted with humorous dryness.
Foster pondered. On the whole, he was glad he had
registered in his proper name, though he had been
tempted to give Featherstone's, in case Daly made
inquiries. He had, however, decided that the latter
probably thought they were both in Great Britain and
would expect them to keep together. He did not doubt
that his visitor belonged to the police, because an
impostor would be easily found out.
"Featherstone's my partner and I took his baggage
by mistake when we left a small Canadian town," he
said, and added after a pause: “I expect the explana-
tion sounds rather lame.”
The other smiled, but Foster felt he was being sub-
jected to a very close scrutiny. Although sensible of


94
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
some annoyance, he felt inclined to like the man, who
presently resumed: “You have been in Edinburgh
before.”
"For a day; I left in the evening and went to New-
castle.”
"To Newcastle?" said the other thoughtfully. “Did
you stay there?”
"I did not,” said Foster, thinking frankness was
best. “I went back to a country house in Northum-
berland that belongs to my partner's father. Law-
rence Featherstone and I own a sawmill in Canada, but
at present I'm taking a holiday in the Old Country.”
He could not tell if the man was satisfied or not, for
he asked abruptly: "Who is the Mr. Daly you men-
tioned ?"
"I really don't know. It looks as if he were some-
thing of a blackmailer, and I must admit that I was
trying to keep out of his way.”
The man pondered for a minute, and then getting up
gave Foster a card.
“Very well; I don't think I need keep you. You
have my address if you should want to communicate
with me."
He went out and Foster thought he had not handled
the situation with much skill. It was a mistake to
mention Daly and perhaps to state that he had been to
Newcastle. He thought the man looked interested
when he heard this. Then it was curious that he
seemed to imagine Foster might want to write to him;
but he began to see a possible reason for his being
watched. Hulton had, no doubt, sent somebody over
to inquire about the stolen bonds, and if the man had
discovered anything important, he might have asked


THE DROVE ROAD
95
the help of the police. In this case, the movements of
strangers from Canada would be noted. The trouble
was that Foster could not be frank with the police,
because Lawrence's secret must be carefully guarded.
In the afternoon he entered a fashionable tea-room
and sat for a time in a corner. The room was divided
into quiet nooks by Moorish arches, from which lamps
of an antique pattern hung by chains and threw down
a soft red glow. Heavy imitation Eastern curtains
deadened the hum of voices and rattle of cups. The
air was warm and scented, the light dim, and Foster,
who had often camped in the snow, felt amused by the
affectation of sensual luxury as he ate iced cakes and
languidly watched the people. He could only see two
or three men, one of whom he had noticed at the hotel
and afterwards passed in the street. This was prob-
ably a coincidence, but it might have a meaning, and
he moved back behind the arch that cut off his corner.
When he next looked about, the fellow had gone.
There were, however, a number of pretty, fashionably-
dressed girls, and he remarked the warm color in their
faces and the clearness of their voices. The Scottish
capital seemed to be inhabited by handsome women.
He was, however, somewhat surprised when one
came towards him and he recognized the girl he had
met at Hawick station. He had hardly expected her
to claim his acquaintance, as she obviously meant
to do.
"You seem to be fond of Edinburgh,” she remarked,
sitting down at his table.
"It's an interesting city. I'm a stranger and igno
rant of your etiquette; but would I be permitted to
send for some cakes and tea?”


96
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
"I think not,” she answered, smiling. “For one
thing, I must go in a minute."
Foster waited. The girl had good manners, and he
thought it unlikely that she was willing to begin a
flirtation with a man she did not know; besides she
had stopped him sending for the tea. She was pretty,
and had a certain air of refinement, but it was a dainty
prettiness that somehow harmonized with the exotic
luxury of the room. This was a different thing from
Alice Featherstone's rather stately beauty, which
found an appropriate background in the dignified aus-
terity of the Garth.
"Are you enjoying your stay here?” she resumed.
“I begin to think I've had enough. The climate's
not very cheerful, and the people seem suspicious about
strangers.”
“The Scots are proverbially cautious," she answered
carelessly, but Foster thought he saw a gleam of inter-
est in her eyes. “I suppose somebody has been bother-
ing you with questions?”
“Yes; as I'm of a retiring character, it annoys me.
Besides, I really think it's quite unjustified. Do I
look dangerous?"
"No," she said with a twinkle, "if you did, I
shouldn't have ventured to speak to you. On the con-
trary, you have a candid air that ought to banish dis-
trust. Of course, I don't know if it's deceptive.”
"You have to know people for some time before you
understand them, but, on the whole, I imagine I'm
harmless," Foster replied. “That's what makes it
galling. If I had, for example, a part in some dark
plot, I couldn't resent being watched. As it happens,
I merely want to get as much innocent pleasure as


THE DROVE ROAD
97
possible out of a holiday, and feel vexed when people
won't let me.”
The girl gave him a quick, searching look, and then
said carelessly, “One can sympathize with you; it is
annoying to be watched. But after all, Edinburgh's
rather dull just now, and the cold winds are trying to
strangers.”
"Is this a hint that I ought to go away?”.
“Do you take hints?" she asked with a smile.
'Somehow I imagine you're rather an obstinate man.
I suppose you took the packet to Newcastle?".
"I did," Foster admitted in an apologetic voice.
“You see, I promised to deliver the thing."
“And, of course, you kept your word! Well, that
was very nice of you, but I wouldn't make any rash
promises while you stay in this country. Sometimes
they lead one into difficulties. But I must go.”
She left him with a friendly smile, and he sat down
again in a thoughtful mood. It looked as if she had
had an object in talking to him, and she had learned
that he had gone to Newcastle and had since been
watched. He gathered that she thought the things had
some connection, though her remarks were guarded.
Then she had given him another hint, which he meant
to act upon.
Leaving the tea-room, he walked for a short distance
and then stopped on the pavement in Princes Street
and looked about. It was dark, but a biting wind had
cleared the air. At one end of the imposing street a
confused glimmer marked the neighborhood of the
Caledonian station, and when one looked the other way
a long row of lights ran on, and then curving round
and rising sharply, ended in a cluster of twinkling


98
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
points high against the sky. The dark, blurred mass
they gathered round was the Castle rock, and below
it the tall spire of the Scott monument was faintly
etched against the shadowy hollow where the gardens
sloped away.
Now he had resolved to leave the city, Foster felt its
charm and half resented being, in a manner, forced to
go, but walked on, musing on the way women had
recently meddled with his affairs. To begin with, Car-
men had given him the troublesome packet, then it was
largely for Alice Featherstone's sake he had embarked
on a fresh adventure, and now the girl in the tea-room
had warned him to leave the town. It was a privilege
to help Alice, but the others' interference was, so to
speak, superfluous. A man could devote himself to
pleasing one woman, but one was enough.
After a few minutes he stopped and looked into a
shop window as a man passed a neighboring lamp. It
was Daly and the fellow moved slowly, although Fos-
ter did not think he had seen him yet. He would know
very soon and for a moment or two he felt his heart
beat, but when he looked round Daly had passed.
Foster followed and saw him enter the tea-room. This
was disturbing, although Foster remembered that he
had told nobody he was going there. He decided to
leave Edinburgh as soon as he could next morning and
bought a map of southern Scotland on his way back to
the hotel.
After dinner, he sat down in the smoking-room near
a man to whom he had once or twice spoken. The
latter was a red-faced, keen-eyed old fellow, and looked
like a small country laird.
"I've come over to see Scotland and have been long


THE DROVE ROAD
99
enough in the capital," he said. “After all, you can't
judge a country by its towns. What would you
advise?”
"It depends upon what ye want to see?” the man
replied.
"I think I'd like the moors and hills. I get enough
of industrial activity in Ontario, and would sooner hear
the grouse and the black-cock than shipyard hammers.
Then I'd prefer to take my time and go on foot."
His companion nodded approval. “Ye have sense.
Are ye a good walker?”
"I have walked three hundred miles through pretty
rough country and dragged my belongings on a hand-
sledge.”
"Then I think I can tell ye how to see rugged Scot-
land, for the country has two different sides. Ye can
take your choice, but ye cannot see both at once. I
could send ye by main roads, where the tourists' motors
run, to the show-places, where ye would stay at smart
hotels, with Swiss and London waiters, and learn as
much o' Scottish character as ye would in Lucerne or
the Strand.”
"I don't think that is quite what I want. Besides,
I haven't much time and would sooner keep to the
south.”
"Then ye'll take the high ground and go by tracks
the moss-troopers rode, winding up the waters and
among the fells, where there's only cothouse clachans
and lonely farm-towns. Ye'll see there why the old
Scottish stock grows firm and strong and the bit, bleak
country breeds men who make it respected across the
world. Man, if I had not rheumatism and some fash-


100
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
ious business I cannot neglect, we would take the moors
together!"
"You don't seem to like the smart hotels," Foster
remarked, half amused.
"I do not like the folk they harbor. The dusty
trippers in leather coats and goggles ye meet at Mel.
rose and Jedburgh are an affront to an old Scottish
town. But a man on foot, in clothes that match the
ling and the gray bents, gives a human touch to the
scene, whether ye meet him by a wind-ruffled lochan or
on the broad moor. Ye ken he has come slowly
through the quiet hills, for the love o' what he sees.
But ye will not understand an old man's havering!"
"I think I do," said Foster. “One learns the charm
of the lone trail in the Canadian bush. But I have a
map, and don't care much where I go, so long as it's
somewhere south. Suppose you mark me out a route
towards Liddesdale.”
The man did so, and jotted down a few marginal
notes.
"I'm sending ye by the old drove roads," he ex-
plained. “Sometimes ye'll find them plain enough, but
often they're rough green tracks, and nobody can tell
ye when they were made. The moss-troopers wore
them deeper when they rode with the spear and steel-
cap to Solway sands. Afterwards came the drovers
with their flocks and herds, the smugglers' pack-horse
trains, and messengers to Prince Charlie's friends from
Louis of France. That's why the old road runs across
the fell, while the turnpike keeps the valley. If ye
follow my directions, ye'll maybe find the link between
industrial Scotland and the stormy past; it's in the


THE DROVE ROAD
101
cothouse and clachan the race is bred that made and
keeps alive Glasgow and Dundee.”
Foster thanked him and examined the map. It was
clearly drawn and showed the height and natural fea-
tures of the country, which was obviously rough. The
path marked out led over the Border hills, dipped into
winding valleys, and skirted moorland lakes. It
seemed to draw him as he studied it, for the wilderness
has charm, and the drove road ran through heathy
wastes far from the smoke of factories and mining
towns. Well, he was ready to cross the bleak uplands,
without troubling much about the mist and rain, for
he had faced worse winters than any Scotland knew,
but he reflected with grim amusement that Daly would
find the traveling rough if he got on his trail.
There were, however, some things he needed for the
journey, and he went out to buy them while the shops
were open. Next morning he gave instructions that
letters for himself and Lawrence should be sent to
Peebles, and when the clerk objected that he could not
forward Featherstone's without the latter's orders, said
it did not matter. He had left a clew for Daly, which
was all he wanted, but, in order to make it plainer, he
sent the porter to the station with the bag and told
him to wait by the Peebles train. Then he set off,
dressed in the oldest clothes he had, wondering what
adventures he would meet with in the wilds.


XI
THE POACHERS
TOSTER left Peebles soon after his arrival and
T following the Tweed down stream to Traquair
turned south across the hills. A road brought him to
Yarrow, where he sat down to smoke in the shelter of
a stone dyke by the waterside. He had no reason to
believe that he was followed, and there were two good
hotels beside St. Mary's loch, which was not far off.
But Foster did not mean to stay at good hotels and
knew that Daly would not have much trouble in reach-
ing St. Mary's in a car if he arrived at Peebles by a
later train. It would then be difficult to keep out of his
way, and if he found Foster alone, he would, no doubt,
go back to look for Lawrence at the Garth. Taking
this for granted, Foster thought it better to put Ettrick
Forest between himself and possible pursuit.
It looked a lonely region on the map, and when he
glanced south the hills loomed, dark and forbidding,
through thin gray mist. Pools of water dotted the
marish fields, and beyond these lay a wet, brown moss
where wild cotton grew among the peat-hags. Plover
were crying about the waste and a curlew's shrill
tremolo rang out as it fitted across the leaden sky.
The outlook was not encouraging, but Foster picked his
way across the bog and struck up the side of a fell.
There was a road, but it would take him some distance
round.
102


THE POACHERS
103
Wiry grass twined about his feet, he sank in velvety
green patches where the moss grew rank, and walking
was harder when he crossed belts of withered heath.
Here and there a gnarled thorn bush rattled its dry
twigs in the wind; there were bits of dykes and rusty
wire fences, but he saw no path except the winding
tracks the sheep had made. Still Ettrick water was
not far off, and he would strike it if he held south.
Heavy rain met him on the summit, and after strug-
gling on for a time he took shelter behind a broken
dyke. The rain got worse and the moor was lost in
mist a quarter of a mile away, but he heard a faint,
hoarse sound in the haze below. He thought this was
the roar of Ettrick or a fall on a moorland burn that
would lead him down.
When he began to feel cold he set off again, and
the rain, which thinned as he went down hill, stopped
altogether when he reached the bottom. A road ran
beside the angry water, but the valley was deeply sunk
in the dark fells and their summits were hidden by
drifting mist. There was no hint of life in the dreary
landscape except a moving patch that looked like a
flock of sheep, and a glance at the map showed that his
path led on across the waste to the south. It would
be a long march to Hawick, which was the town he
meant to reach, particularly if he went up the valley,
until he found a road, but his director had indicated a
clachan as his stopping-place. He understood that a
clachan meant a hamlet, and the old fellow had said
he would find rough but sufficient accommodation in
what he called a change-house. It would be awkward
if he lost the way, but this must be risked, and cross-
ing the river he struck into the hills.


104
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
He found a rough track, and presently the sky began
to clear. Pale-blue patches opened in the thinning
clouds, and gleams of sunshine, chased by shadow,
touched the moor. Where they fell the brown heath
turned red and withered fern glowed fiery yellow. The
green road, cropped smooth by sheep and crossed by
rills of water, swung sharply up and down, but at
length it began a steady descent, and about four o'clock
in the afternoon Foster stopped in the bottom of a
deep glen.
A few rushy fields occupied the hollow and a house
stood in the shelter of a thin fir wood. It had mul-
lioned windows and a porch with pillars, but looked
old, and the walls were speckled with lichens. A gar-
den stretched about it, and looking in through the iron
rails, Foster saw gnarled fruit trees fringed with moss.
Their branches cut against a patch of saffron sky, and
a faint warm glow touched the front of the building.
There was a low window at its nearer end and Foster
saw a woman sewing by the fire.
The house had a strangely homelike look after the
barren moors, and Foster, feeling tired and cold,
ionged to ask for shelter. Had it been a farm, he
might have done so, but he thought it belonged to some
country laird and resumed his march. He never saw
the house again, but remembered it now and then, as
he had seen it with the fading light that shone through
the old apple trees touching its lichened wall.
The road led upwards and he stopped for breath
at the summit. The glen was now shut in and the
light going, but here and there in the distance a loch
reflected a pale gleam. A half-moon shone above the
hills and the silver light got brighter as he went on.


THE POACHERS
105
The wind had fallen and the silence was emphasized
by the faint splash of water. After a time, he came
down to lower ground where broken dykes divided
straggling fields, but there was no sign of life until as
he turned a corner an indistinct figure vanished among
the dry fern in the shadow of a wall. Foster thought
this curious, particularly when he passed the spot and
saw nobody there, but there was an opening in the
dyke for the sheep to go through.
A little farther on, the road ran across a field, and
when he was near the middle he saw something move
behind a gorse bush. Although it looked like a man's
head, he did not stop. Going on, as if he had seen
nothing, until he was close to the gorse, he left the track
and walked swiftly but softly across the grass. When
he reached the bush a man who had been crouching
behind it sprang to his feet. He was tall and roughly
dressed, and looked like a shepherd or farm-hand.
"Weel,” he said with a truculent air, “what is it ye
want with me?"
The question somewhat relieved Foster, who now
noted the end of a long, thin net in the grass.
"I was curious to see what you were doing. Then I
meant to ask the way to Langsyke.”
“What are ye wanting there?"
"To stay the night. I was directed to a change-
house where they'd take me in.”
“They might. Ye're a stranger, and ye'll tak' the
road again the morn?”.
Foster said he meant to do so and the other pon-
dered.
“Weel, there's a soft flow where ye might get mired
if ye left the road, which is no' that plain, and I could


106
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
set ye on the way, but there's a bit job I'll hae to finish
first.” He paused and added with a grin as he indi-
cated the net: “Maybe ye hae a notion what it is."
"I imagine it's connected with somebody else's
grouse or partridges, but that's not my business.
You'll be a shilling or two richer if you show me the
way.”
“Then the sooner I'm finished here, the sooner we'll
be off, though I doot we hae fleyt the paltrig. Bide ye
by the whinns, and when ye see me at the dyke come
forrad with the net. If I lift my airm, ye'll stop.".
He went off with the end of the net, and Foster
waited, half amused. The fellow probably wanted to
ensure his saying nothing about the poaching by mak-
ing him an accomplice, but this did not matter much.
It was an adventure and he was anxious to find a guide.
By the way the net unwound and slipped across the
grass he thought there was another man at work, but
he carried his part forward as he had been told and
then dropped it and sat down among some rushes.
Two indistinct figures were moving towards each
other and he got up presently when one signaled.
When he joined them a number of small dark objects
showed through the net.
"Hae!” said a man who opened the meshes, and
added when Foster picked up two limp birds: “We've
no' done so bad.”
Then Foster remembered the man he had seen as he
came along the road.
“How many of you are in the gang?” he asked.
“There's twa o' us her. I'm thinking that's a' ye
need ken."
"It's what I meant,” said Foster apologetically.


THE POACHERS
107.
"Still I passed another fellow hiding, a short distance
back.”
The men, saying nothing, took out the birds and be-
gan to roll up the net. Foster had now four partridges,
which they seemed to expect him to carry, and was
putting their legs together so as to hold them conven-
iently when he heard a rattle of stones. Then a dark
figure leaped down from the wall and somebody
shouted: “Stand where ye are or I'll put a chairge o'
number four in ye!"
A leveled gun twinkled in the moonlight, and for a
moment Foster hesitated. He hardly thought the man
would shoot, and it would be awkward if he was ar-
rested with the partridges in his hand. Springing sud-
denly forward, he struck, from below upwards, with
his stick. There was a flash and a report, but he felt
himself unharmed and brought the stick down upon the
gamekeeper's head. He heard the gun drop, and then
turned and, keeping in the shadow of the wall, ran
across the field. When he was near the opposite end,
he saw another man waiting to cut him off, and seizing
the top of the dyke swung himself over. He came
down among withered fern and ran back behind the
wall towards the spot where he had left his first antag-
onist, until he struck a small, winding hollow through
which water flowed. This seemed to offer a good hid-
ing-place, but Foster knew better, although he followed
it for a short distance. One can often hide best in the
open and it was prudent to avoid the obvious line of
search. Creeping out of the hollow, he made for a
clump of rushes and felt satisfied when he lay down
behind it. His waterproof and cap were gray, and his


108 CARMEN'S MESSENGER
pursuers would have to search all the field before they
found him, unless they were lucky.
After a few minutes, he saw them, but while one
plunged into the hollow, the other sat on top of the
wall. This seemed to be the fellow he had struck, and
Foster was relieved to see he was not badly hurt. The
man, however, occupied a commanding position, be-
cause Foster's chance of remaining unseen depended
largely on the searcher's height above the ground. He
knew from experience gained in hunting that a very
small object will hide a man so long as the line of sight
he must avoid is nearly horizontal, but the fellow on
the wall could see over the rushes. In consequence,
immobility was his only resource, and he very cau-
tiously turned his head enough to enable him to see.
The gamekeeper who had entered the hollow pres-
ently came back into the field and began to walk
methodically up and down, and Foster regretted his
rashness in helping with the net. The poachers had
vanished, but the others seemed to know there was
somebody about, and since they were gamekeepers
would be hard to deceive. His cover was not good,
and although he might have changed his place when
the fellow in the field was farthest away, he feared that
a movement would betray him to the other on the
wall.
į In the meantime, the chill of the wet soil crept
through his mackintosh and his hands got numbed.
He thrust them into the mossy grass for fear they
should show in the moonlight, and buried his face in
the rushes, which prickled his skin. He could, with
some trouble, see through the clump and anxiously
watched the fellow who came steadily nearer. Now


THE POACHERS
109
and then he turned aside to examine a whinn bush, and
Foster saw that he had acted wisely when he dropped
behind the rushes. Had he chosen a prominent object
for cover, he would have been caught.
At length, the searcher crossed the field on a line that
would bring him close to where Foster lay, and the
latter let his face sink lower and tried to check his
breathing. He durst not look about, but heard the
man's heavy boots splash in the boggy grass, until the
fellow suddenly stopped. Foster thought he had seen
him, but did not move. In the Northwest, he had now
and then caught a jack-rabbit by carefully marking its
hiding-place, but had not seen it afterwards until he
nearly trod upon the crouching animal. It was com-
forting to remember that his pursuers had not watched
him drop behind the rushes.
"Hae ye seen aught, Jock ?” the keeper near him
called, and Foster was conscious of keen relief.
"Naething aya," answered the other. “If he went
doon the burn, he's no come oot.”
"He's no' there; ye would ha' seen him if he'd
headed back.
There was silence for a moment or two and Foster
heard the water bubble in the moss as the man moved
his foot. The fellow would tread upon him if he took
a few steps in the right direction, but his mackintosh
was much the color of the withered grass and his facet
and hands were hidden.
Then the man on the wall remarked in a thoughtful
tone: "I'm no' quite sure he went ower the dyke. Ye
see, I was kin' o' staggered by the clout on the head,
and he might ha' slippit oot by the gate."
"It will be Lang Pate, of course.”


110
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
"Just him," agreed the other. “He was near
enough to reach me with his stick and the light no'
that bad. Besides, wha' else would it be?"
Foster, seeing that he had escaped notice, felt
amused. Long Pete was suspected and therefore
judged guilty; the keeper's last argument banished
doubt.
"My heid's sair," the man resumed. “We'll look if
they've gone doon the glen, and then tak' the road if
ye'll row up the net.”
The other crossed the field and Foster lay still until
he heard him climb the wall and afterwards made for
a hole that led into the road. Somewhat to his sur-
prise, he found that he had brought the partridges.
He followed the road quietly, keeping in the shadow
of a dyke, although he thought the gamekeepers had
gone the other way, and on turning a corner came
upon the poachers lurking behind a thorn bush.
“We thought they had caught ye,” one remarked.
“I suppose you were anxious about it, because you
were afraid I might put them on your track.”
"I canna say ye're altogether wrang, but whaur are
they the noo?"
"Looking for you in the glen, I believe. But which
of you is Long Pete?”.
The man he had met first said it was his name, and
Foster resumed: “Then I imagine the fellow with the
gun means to declare that you struck him."
"He would !” Pete remarked, grinning. "Weel, it's
lucky I hae twa three frends wha'll show that I
couldna' ha' been near the spot just then. But we'll
need to hurry."
"I think I understand," said Foster, who went on


THE POACHERS
111
with them. "Still you can't save much time, even if
you walk very fast.”
“Verra true," Pete replied. “But it's no' difficult to
pit back the clock."
Leaving the road presently, they struck across a bog
that got softer as they advanced until Foster felt the
rotten turf tremble beneath his feet. All round were
clumps of rushes, patches of smooth but treacherous
moss, and holes where water glimmered in the moon-
light. He imagined it was a dangerous place for a
stranger to cross, but his companions knew the way,
and although he sank to the top of his boots they
reached firmer ground. Soon afterwards, Pete showed
him a rough track that crossed the side of a hill.
“Yon's your road and ye'll see the clachan in aboot
a mile. If they're no' verra willing to tak' ye in, ye
can tell them ye're a freend o' mine."
Foster thanked him and followed the track, which
led him to a hollow where lights shone among a clump
of bare ash trees. A few low, white houses straggled
along the roadside, and he thought one that was some-
what larger and had dormer windows was the change-
house. When he knocked he was shown into an un-
tidy kitchen where two men sat drinking by a peat fire.
At first, the landlord seemed doubtful about being able
to find room for him, but his manner changed when
Foster carelessly mentioned that he understood from
Pete that he would be welcome, and one of the others
gave him a keen glance.
"Where met ye Pate?” he asked.
"On the hill,” said Foster, who felt sure of his
ground. “I helped him with the net."
“Had he any luck?".


112
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
"Not much," said Foster. "Two gamekeepers
turned up and although we got a few partridges Pete
lost his net."
There was silence for a moment, and then another
remarked: "I wouldna' say but we ken enough. We
hae helpit Pate oot before, and a change is lightsome.
He can gang till the moss-side folk noo."
They let the matter drop, but Foster was given a
better supper than he expected and afterwards a bed
in a cupboard fixed to the kitchen wall.


XII
A COMPLICATION
A T noon next day Foster sat, smoking, on a bridge
near the clachan. The air was mild and sun-
shine filled the hollow, while Foster had just dined
upon some very appetizing broth. The broth was
thick with vegetables, but he did not think the meat
in it came from a barn-door fowl. The clachan was
a poor and untidy place, but he was tired, and as the
gamekeepers would not suspect a neatly-dressed stran-
ger, had thought of stopping another night. When
he had nearly finished his pipe, Long Pete came up.
Foster, who had only seen him in the moonlight, now
noted that he had a rather frank brown face and a
twinkling smile.
“Ye'll be for Hawick ?” he remarked.
Foster said he was going there and Pete resumed in
a meaning tone: “It's a grand day for the road and
ye could be in Hawick soon after it's dark.”
“Just so," said Foster, who could take a hint. “But
is there any reason I should start this afternoon?"
"Ye should ken. I was across the muir in the morn-
ing and found a polisman frae Yarrow at Watty Bell's.
He'd come ower the hills on his bicycle and was asking
if they'd seen a stranger wi' a glove on his left han’.”
Foster made a little abrupt movement that he
thought the other noted, but said carelessly, “The fel-
low must have had a rough trip."
113


A COMPLICATION
115
dark peat, flashed in the sunshine. The pale-blue of
the sky changed near the horizon to delicate green,
and a soft breeze blew across the waste. Foster en-
joyed the walk, although he was puzzled and some-
what disturbed. If inquiries had been made about
Featherstone, he could have understood it, but the
police were asking for a man with a glove on his left
hand, which could only apply to him. Daly, of course,
would be glad to get him out of the way, if he had
learned that he was in Scotland, but the police could
not arrest a man who had done nothing wrong.
Foster now regretted that he had helped the poach-
ers, although he thought he had made friends who
would not betray him and might be useful. He had
met Border Scots in Ontario, and knew something
about their character. They were marked by a stern
independence, inherited from their moss-trooper ances-
tors, and he thought Pete was a typical specimen of the
virile race. The man met him at the broken dyke,
and leaving the road they turned east up the side of a
sparkling burn.
The narrow strip of level ground was wet and cov-
ered with moss, in which their feet sank, but the hill-
side was too steep to walk along. It ran up, a slope of
gray-white grass, to the ragged summit where the peat
was gashed and torn. Here and there a stunted thorn
tree grew in a hollow, but the glen was savagely deso-
late, and Foster, glancing at his companion, thought
he understood why the men who wrung a living from
these barren hills prospered when they came out to the
rich wheat-soil of Canada. The Flowers of the Forest,
who fell at Flodden, locking fast the Scottish square
against the onslaught of England's finest cavalry, were


116
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
wah
bred in these wilds, and had left descendants marked
by their dour stubbornness. Pete's hair was turning
gray and his brown face was deeply lined, but he
crossed the quaking moss with a young man's stride,
and Foster thought his mouth could set hard as granite
in spite of his twinkling smile. He was a man who
would forget neither a favor nor an injury, and Foster
was glad to feel that he was on his side.
At the head of the glen they climbed a long grassy
slope and came to a tableland where the peat was torn
into great black rifts and piled in hummocks. This
was apparently Nature's work, but Foster could not see
how the storms that burst upon the hills could have
worked such havoc. Crossing the rugged waste to a
distant cairn, they sat down upon the stones, and Pete
filled his pipe from Foster's pouch.
“Ye'll haud east until ye find a burn that will lead
ye doon to the road; then as ye cross the breist o' a
fell ye'll see the reek o' Hawick," he said and added
after a pause: “Maybe ye'll no' be stopping in the
town?”
"I'll stay the night. After that, I think I'll take
the hills again. I'm going south towards Liddesdale,
but I expect that's out of your beat.”
Pete smiled. “There's maist to be done in my
regular line this side o' Hawick. Buccleugh looks
after his hares and paltrigs weel, and his marches rin
wide across the country from Teviot to Liddel. But I
hae freends a' the way to the North Tyne, and there's
no' many sheep sales I do not attend. If ye're wanting
them, I could give ye a few directions that might help
ye on the road."
Foster thanked him and listened carefully. It looked


A COMPLICATION
117
as if the poachers, who seemed to work now and then
as honest drovers, knew each other well and combined
for mutual protection. It might be useful to be made
an honorary member of the gang.
“Weel,” his companion concluded, "if ye stop at
the inns I've told ye o', ye'll find folks who can haud a
quiet tongue, and if ye see ony reason for it, ye can say
ye're a freend o' mine."
Foster rather diffidently offered him some money,
but was not surprised when the man refused the gift.
Indeed, he felt that it would have jarred him had
Pete taken it. The latter gave him his hand with a
smile and turned back to the glen while Foster pushed
on across the heath. He reflected with some amuse-
ment that Pete probably thought him a fugitive from
the law.
After a time he stopped to look about. His view
commanded a horizon of two or three miles, for he
seemed to be near the center of the tableland. Its
surface was broken by the hummocks and hollows
of the peat, and tufts of white wild cotton relieved
the blackness of the gashes in the soil. Sheep fed in
the distance, and he heard the harsh cry of a grouse
that skimmed the heath. The skyline was clear, and
by and by two sharp but distant figures cut against it.
Foster's first impulse was to drop into the ling, but
he did not. If the men were following him, it would
take them half an hour to reach the spot he occupied
and, if necessary, the roughness of the ground would
enable him to reach the edge of the moor without their
seeing which way he went. Besides, since he would
be visible as long as he stood up, he could find out
whether they were looking for him or not. They came


118
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
nearer and then vanished, and he sat down and specu-
lated about his line of retreat. Their disappearance
was suspicious, and although he thought he could baf-
fle the rural police, it would be different if he had game-
keepers to deal with.
By and by the men reappeared, but as they did not
seem anxious to cover their movements he felt relieved.
It was possible that they had come to mend a fence
or look for some sheep. For all that, he drew back
among the hummocks, and looked for hollows where
he would have a background for his figure as he re-
sumed his march. He saw no more of the men and by
and by came to a burn, which he followed to lower
ground, where he found the road Pete had told him
about.
It led him up and down hill, and now and then the
track was faint, while when he crossed the last ridge
the light was fading. Motionless gray clouds stretched
across the sky, which glimmered with pale saffron in
the west. Rounded hills, stained a deep blue, cut
against the light, and a trail of gauzy vapor hung
about a distant hollow. Since there was no mist on
the moors, he knew it was the smoke of Hawick mills.
As he went down, stone dykes began to straggle up
the hill. The fields they enclosed were rushy and
dotted with whinns, but they got smoother and pres-
ently he came to stubble and belts of plowing. Then
he turned into a good road and saw rows of lights
that got gradually brighter in the valley ahead. It
had been dark some time when he entered Hawick,
and the damp air was filled with a thin, smoky haze.
Factory windows glimmered in the haze and tall chim-
neys loomed above the houses. The bustle of the town


A COMPLICATION
119
fell pleasantly but strangely on his ears after the
silence of the moors.
Reaching a hotel that looked comfortable, he went
in, ordered dinner, and provisionally booked a room,
though he did not register and explained that he could
not tell yet if he would stay all night. Then, leaving
his knapsack, he went into the street and stopped by a
bridge where three roads met. A guide-post indicated
that one led to Selkirk, and the map had shown Foster
that this was the way to Peebles and Yarrow. Another
ran up the waterside to Langholm and the south.
Foster lighted a cigarette and drawing his maimed
hand into the sleeve of his mackintosh, leaned against
the side of the bridge and watched the Selkirk road.
It was not cold and the street was well lighted by
the windows of the shops. Briskly moving people
streamed across the bridge, as if the factory hands
were going home from work, but nobody seemed inter-
ested in Foster and the policeman who stood by the
guide-post paid him no attention. He thought about
going back to the hotel when a car, traveling rather
fast, came down the road and pulled up close by.
Foster leaned quietly against the bridge and did not
turn his head, but saw Daly sitting beside the driver;
the half-dried mud that was thickly crusted about the
car indicated a long journey. An abrupt movement
might be dangerous, although he did not think Daly
expected to find him or Featherstone calmly lounging
about the street. The driver beckoned the policeman
and Foster heard him ask if one crossed the bridge
for Langholm.
The man told him to turn to the right, and after
speaking to the driver Daly asked if there was a garage


120 CARMEN'S MESSENGER
and a good hotel near. The policeman gave him some
directions, and when the car turned round and rolled
away Foster followed. He passed close by the police-
man and, taking advantage of the sociable Scottish
custom, nodded and remarked that it was a fine night.
The man answered civilly, with a careless glance at
Foster, who went on, feeling satisfied with his experi-'.
ment. It was obvious that no inquiries about him had
been telegraphed to Hawick and he had only Daly to
deal with. This was curious, if the police were really
anxious to find him.
The garage was open and Foster asked a man if
he could hire a motor bicycle. The fellow said he
thought so, but the manager was out, and Foster
strolled about the room. Daly's driver was refilling
the lamps with carbide, and when he finished asked
for petrol.
"Ye're for the road again,” the man who brought the
tin remarked.
"For Langholm,” replied the driver. "I don't ex-
pect we'll go farther to-night, but I must have things
ready if the boss wants to go on.”
Foster hoped the other would ask where they had
come from, but he did not do so, and next moment
Daly walked down some steps at the other end of the
room. Knowing that a quick retreat might betray
him, Foster stood still and examined a lamp he picked
up. Daly crossed the floor, passing within a yard or
two.
"You can fix her all right, I suppose?” he said to
the driver.
The latter said something about a sparking-plug,
and when Daly stooped over the engine the light of a


A COMPLICATION
121
lamp shone into his face. He was a big, handsome
man, but Foster, studying him closely, noted his hard
and greedy eyes. . For a moment, he came near for-
getting the need for caution and giving way to a fit
of rage. The fellow had it in his power to bring dis-
grace upon upright people and drag an honored name
in the mire. He could humble Alice Featherstone's
pride and ruin the brother she loved.
Lawrence had done wrong, but had paid for it and
made good in Canada, and now the rogue who had
learned his secret would drag him down, or, as the price
of silence, bring his relatives to poverty. Foster felt
that Daly was not the man to be merciful when there
was an advantage to be got; one saw a sinister hint
of cruelty in his coarsely-handsome face. It would
have been a relief to provoke the fellow and throw him
out of the garage, but Foster knew he must deny him-
self this satisfaction, since it would make things worse
for those he meant to shield. He did not remember
having felt so full of primitive savageness before, but
he exercised his self-control.
Standing in the shadow, he turned his head, looking
down at the lamp he began to take to pieces, and
presently Daly said to the driver, “You had better get
some food; I'll want you soon."
Then he came back and passing close enough to
touch Foster, went up the steps and through a door.
Foster put down the lamp and strolled out of the
garage. He found dinner ready at his hotel and when
he had finished went to the smoking-room, which was
opposite the office. He left the door open and by and
by heard a man enter the hall and stop at the counter.
"Have you an American called Franklin here?” he
garage finished went the left the door


122
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
asked and Foster smiled as he recognized Daly's voice.
He had half-expected the visit, and the inquiry was
cleverly framed. Daly had not asked about a Cana-
dian, because the accent of Western Canada is that of
the United States, and Franklin resembled Feather-
stone enough to prompt the girl clerk to mention the
latter if he were a guest. For all that, Daly was
ignorant of the Scottish character, because the Scot
seldom offers information that is not demanded.
"No," she said, "we have no American staying
with us.
Foster thought Daly opened the visitors' book, which
lay on the counter, but as he had not yet entered his
name, there was nothing to be learned from it. Still
Daly might come into the smoking-room, and he picked
up the Scotsman and leaning back in his chair held up
the newspaper to hide his face. After a few moments,
Daly said, “I don't know anybody here; it looks as if
my friends aren't in the town.”
i Then he went along the hall, and when the door
shut Foster put down the newspaper and began to
think. He imagined that Daly hardly expected to find
Featherstone in Hawick, but it was curious that he
was going to Langholm, which was on the best road
to Lockerbie in Annandale. It was the police Foster
had tried to put off the track at the clachan by striking
west across the moors, and he did not think Daly had
anything to do with them. He could see no light on
the matter, but when he went back to the garage it was
something of a relief to find the car had gone.


XIII
FOSTER RETURNS TO THE GARTH
AFTER breakfast next morning Foster asked the
11 hotel porter to take his knapsack to the station
and get him a ticket to Carlisle. He must leave a
clew for Daly, who might come back to Hawick when
he failed to find him in Annandale but would be badly
portant railway center, where one would have a choice
of several different routes. This would give Foster a
few quiet days, after which he must think of a way
of inducing Daly to resume the chase. The latter
probably thought he was following Lawrence, and if
he did not, no doubt concluded that Foster was working
in concert with him, and to find one would help him to
deal with the other.
It was a dark morning and the smoke of the woolen
factories hung about the town. A few lights burned
in the station, but the building was gloomy and Foster
had some trouble in finding the porter among the
waiting passengers. Soon after he did so, the train
came in and the man hurried along the platform, look-
ing into the carriages.
“Ye wanted a corridor, sir," he said as he opened a
door.
Foster got in and stood at the window until the
porter went away. People were running up and down
123


| 124
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
looking for places, but he had no time to lose. Open-
ing the door on the opposite side, he went along the
corridor and stood for a moment on the step at the
other end of the carriage. He could not see the porter,
and when two or three passengers ran up got down
from the step. Next moment the whistle blew, the
engine snorted, and the train rolled out of the station.
As none of the porters spoke to him, Foster thought
he had managed the thing neatly and made it look as
if he had come to see somebody off instead of having
been left behind. For all that, he waited a minute or
two, studying a time-table, to avoid the risk of over-
taking the hotel porter; and then made his way by
back streets out of the town. For some miles, the
road he took ran south up a well-cultivated valley, past
turnip and stubble fields and smooth pasture; and then
changed to a rough stony track that climbed a hill.
A turn shut in the valley when he reached higher
ground, and a long stretch of moor rolled away ahead.
Foster thought these sharp transitions from intensive
cultivation to the sterile wilds were characteristic of
southern Scotland. It had rained since he left Hawick,
but now the sun shone down between the clouds and
bright gleams and flying shadows chased each other
across the waste. To the south the sky was clear and
shone with a lemon-yellow glow, against which the
rounded hills rose, delicately gray. In one place there
was a gap that Foster thought was Liddesdale, and
his path led across the latter towards the head of Tyne.
Not a house broke the sweep of withered grass and
heath, and only the crying of plover that circled in
the distance disturbed the silence.
Foster liked the open trail and went on with a light


126
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
dered whether Daly was now in Annandale. The
fellow was obviously determined to find Lawrence, and,
if one admitted that he had come to England for the
purpose, did not mind how much it cost him, which
was rather strange. After all, blackmailing was a risky
business and the Featherstones were not rich. It
looked as if Daly might have some other object in
tracking Lawrence, but Foster could not see what it
was. Indeed, he was frankly puzzled. There was a
mystery about Carmen's packet, he had been warned
out of Edinburgh, and inquiries about him were after-
wards made, while Daly's keenness was not quite ex-
plained. He wondered whether these things were
somehow related, but at present they only offered him
tangled clews that led nowhere. Well, he might be able
to unravel them by and by, and getting up went on his
way.
He spent the night at a lonely cothouse on the edge
of a peat-moss and reached the Garth next afternoon.
John let him in and after taking his mackintosh re-
marked: “Mr. and Mrs. Featherstone are out, but
Miss Featherstone is at home; I will let her know you
have arrived." Then he paused and added in a half-
apologetic tone: “I hope you had a pleasant journey,
sir."
Foster smiled. John had softened his imperturbable
formality by just the right touch of respectful interest.
In a sense, they were accomplices, but Foster thought
if they had committed a crime together, the old fellow
would have treated him with unmoved deference as
his master's guest.
“On the whole, I had. I suppose you met the other
car when you turned back at the station?"


FOSTER RETURNS TO THE GARTH 127
“Yes, sir. I met it coming round the bend.”
"As the road's narrow, your judgment's pretty good.
Did anything happen?"
John's eyes twinkled faintly. "Not to our car, sir.
The other had the bad luck to run on to the grass
where the ground was soft. In fact, we had some
trouble to pull her out. The gentleman seemed an-
noyed, sir."
Foster went to his room chuckling. He could im-
agine the deferential way in which John, who had
caused the accident, had offered help. When we went
down Alice met him in the hall and he thrilled at some-
thing in her manner as she gave him her hand. It was
getting dark and the glow of the fire flickered among
the shadows, but there was only one lamp, and as it
was shaded the light did not travel far beyond the
small table, on which tea was presently served. This
hinted at seclusion and homelike intimacy. An em-
broidered cloth half-covered the dark, polished oak,
the china was old but unusually delicate, and the blue
flame of a spirit lamp burned beneath the copper kettle.
Foster thought everything showed signs of fastidious
taste, but there was something austere about it that
harmonized with the dignified shabbiness of the house.
It was, for example, very different from the prettiness
of the Edinburgh tea-room, and he thought it hinted
of the character of the Borderers. For all that, the
society of his companion had the greatest charm. Alice
was plainly dressed, but simplicity became her. The
girl had the Border spirit, with its reserves of strength
and tenderness. Now she was quietly friendly, but
Foster knew her friendship was not lightly given and
was worth much.


128
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
Alice made him talk about his journey and he did so
frankly, except that he did not mention his meeting
the girl in the tea-room or the detective's visit to his
hotel. Still he felt a certain embarrassment, as he had
done when he told his partner's story. It was rather
· hard to relate his own exploits, and he knew Alice
would note any error he was led into by vanity or false
diffidence.
"Then it was really to keep a promise to Miss Austin
you went to Newcastle,” she remarked presently.
“Since she sent you with the packet, you must know
her pretty well.”
“Yes,” said Foster, “in a way, we are good friends.
You see there are not a great many people at the
Crossing."
Alice gave him a quiet glance. He was not such a
fool as to imagine it mattered to her whether he knew
Carmen well or not. But he thought she was not alto-
gether pleased.
“What is Miss Austin like?” she asked.
Foster was careful about his reply. He wanted Alice
to understand that he was not Carmen's lover, which
needed tact; but he was her friend and must do her
justice, while any breach of good taste would be noted
and condemned. He did his best, without learning if
he had produced the right effect, for Alice let the mat-
ter drop, as if it no longer interested her.
"Perhaps it's a pity you helped the men who were
poaching,” she said. “I'm afraid you're fond of ro-
mantic adventures.”
"I'm sometimes rash and sorry afterwards," Foster
admitted. “However, there's an excuse for the other
thing. This is a romantic country and I've spent a


130 CARMEN'S MESSENGER
white desolation outside. Perhaps it's curious, but
after working hard all day, earning dollars, one can't
read rubbish. One wants romance, but romance that's
real and has the truth in it.”
"But your own life has been full of adventure."
“In a way, but there was always a business propo-
sition to justify the risk. It's good to be reckless now
and then, and I've felt as I read about your ancestors
that I envied them. There must have been some
charm in riding about the moors with one's lady's
glove on one's steel cap, ready to follow where adven-
ture called.”
"So far as we know,” said Alice, “it was the custom
to honor one lady, always. The Border chiefs were
rude, but they had their virtues, and there are some
pretty stories of their constancy."
Foster imagined he saw a faint sparkle in her eyes.
He would have liked to think she resented his having
gone to Newcastle on Carmen's behalf, but doubted
this. After a pause she resumed :
"People say we are decadent and getting slack with
luxury, but one likes to think the spirit of the race
survives all changed conditions and can't be destroyed.
There is a colliery not very far off where the water
broke in some years ago. The men in the deep work-
ings were cut off, but the few who escaped went back
into the pit-and never came up. They knew the
thing was impossible, their leaders frankly told them
so, but they would not be denied. Well, the colliery
was not reopened, the shaft-head towers are falling
down, but there's a granite fountain on the moor that
will stand for ages to record the splendid sacrifice."
“They had all to lose," said Foster. "One must


FOSTER RETURNS TO THE GARTH 131
admire, without hoping to emulate, a deed like that."
Alice changed the subject rather abruptly. “What
you have told me is puzzling. I can't see why the
police followed you, and there's something mysterious
about the packet. It all seems connected with Law-
rence's affairs, and yet I can't see how. I suppose you
(have no explanation ?”
“Not yet. I feel there's something going on in
which I may by and by take a part. The clews break
off, but I may find one that's stronger, and then— "
He stopped, but Alice gave him an understanding
glance. “Then you would follow the clew, even if it
led you into some danger, for Lawrence's sake?”
"I'd try,” said Foster, with a flush that gave him a
curiously ingenuous look. “As I've no particular
talent for that kind of thing, I mightn't do much good,
but you have accused me of being romantic and I've
owned that I am rash.”
Alice smiled. “You're certainly modest; but there's
a rashness that is much the same as generosity."
Then Featherstone came in and after a time took
Foster to the library, where he gave him a cigarette.
"It's strange we haven't heard from Lawrence yet,"
he said in a disturbed voice. "He hasn't given the
Canadian post office his new address, because here's a
letter they have sent on.”
"From Hulton, who seems to be in Toronto," said
Foster, picking up the envelope. “As I'm a partner,
I'll open it."
He did so and gave Featherstone the letter, which
inquired if they could supply some lumber the com-
pany needed.
"I'm sorry we can't do the work, because we won't


132
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
be back in time. It would have been an interesting
job to cut the stuff in the way Hulton wants."
“He seems to leave a good deal to your judgment
and to have no doubt about your sending him the
right material.”
"I suppose that is so," Foster agreed. “Hulton
soon got into the way of sending for Lawrence when
he wanted any lumber that had to be carefully sawn.
In fact, he treats him as a kind of consulting specialist,
and I imagine likes him personally.”.
He was silent for the next minute or two. Feather-
stone's remark had shown him more clearly than he
had hitherto realized how high Lawrence stood in the
manufacturer's esteem. No other outsider was
treated with such confidence. Then he told Feather-
stone about his journey, and the latter said:
"I have heard nothing from Daly, but soon after
you left, a gentleman from Edinburgh came here to
inquire about you."
"Ah!” said Foster, rather sharply. "I suppose he
was sent by the police and imagine I met him at my
hotel. His name was Gordon; I thought it curious
that he gave me his card.”
"That was the name. He asked if I knew you and
I said I did.”
"Then it looks as if he meant to test my statements.
Did he seem surprised to learn I was staying here?”
"It was hard to tell what the fellow thought; but
somehow I felt that he expected to find your story
true. He, however, gave me no information. What
do you suppose he wants ?”
"I can't imagine; the thing's puzzling. What makes


XIV
FOSTER SEES A LIGHT
AFTER leaving the Garth, Foster went to Carlisle,
11 where he bought small articles at different shops
and had them sent to his hotel, addressed to Feather-
stone. He also asked if any letters for his partner
had come, and then, having done all he could think of
to give his pursuers a hint, waited to see what would
happen. He imagined that since Daly seemed to be
well provided with money he would not undertake the
search alone, and there were private inquiry agents
who would help him. The services of these gentlemen
would not be cheap, and Foster wondered if the fellow
knew that there was not very much to be extorted
from Featherstone. This, however, was Daly's busi-
ness, and seeing no result from his experiment, he
resolved to leave Carlisle.
He reached the station undecided where to go. A
Midland express would shortly start for the south,
but it would be difficult to leave a clew in the big
manufacturing towns, and there was a stopping train
soon after the other on the North British line, which
traverses the Border hills. Foster preferred this
neighborhood, because he was beginning to know it
and it was not far from the Garth, but after a few
moments' consideration went to the Midland ticket
window.
134


FOSTER SEES A LIGHT
135
A row of passengers were waiting their turn, and
as he took his place in the line a man crossed the floor
and stood behind him. There was nothing suspicious
in this, but the fellow had not come in by the entrance
hall, and if he had been in the station, it was strange
he had not got his ticket earlier. When his turn came,
Foster asked for a ticket to Appleby in a husky voice,
and when the booking clerk demanded, “Where?"
looked over his shoulder. The man behind was lean-
ing forward, as if to catch his reply.
“Appleby," said Foster, who had seen by a railway
map that the town was not far off, and getting his
ticket, joined the passengers on the platform. As he
did so, the long train came in, but knowing that it
would be a minute or two before the engine was
changed he walked up the platform leisurely, looking
into the carriages. There was some bustle, for people
were getting out and in, and he kept out of sight
among them until the guard waved his flag. Then he
stepped behind a truck loaded with milk-cans as the
train rolled away.
If the man he had noticed had been watching him,
he thought he had put him off the track, but he had
no time to lose if he meant to catch the stopping train.
He got in as it started, choosing an old carriage with-
out a corridor, so that nobody could spy on him. They
jolted over the crossings, the old red wall of the city
rolled by and dropped behind, and as they ran out
towards the open country across the Eden, Foster
thoughtfully lighted a cigarette. He had tried to put
his pursuers on his partner's supposititious trail, but
it began to look as if they were not following Lawrence
but him. His injured hand could hardly have escaped


136 CARMEN'S MESSENGER
notice, and he was not really like Lawrence, of whom
Daly would no doubt have given his agents a good
description.
He wondered who was on his track, and with what
object. Daly would gain nothing by molesting him,
and he could not see why the police should take an
interest in his movements, but he was being watched,
and felt uneasy. He was not sure that he had sent
the last man off to Appleby, although he hoped he had.
The train, which stopped now and then, ran across
flat fields until it entered the valley of the Esk. The
valley narrowed as they sped through the woods beside
the stream, and when the line turned up the water
of Liddel bleak hills began to rise ahead. The trees
and rich cultivation were gradually left behind, the
air got keener, and lonely moors rolled down to the
winding dale. It got dark as they followed the river,
and soon afterwards Foster alighted at a small station.
Nobody else left the train except two or three country
people, and he went to an inn in the straggling little
town.
Next morning he set off on foot, heading northeast
into the hills. He walked leisurely, because he was
going to Jedburgh, but had not made up his mind if he
would get there that night, since Pete had told him of
a farm where he could stop.
About four o'clock in the afternoon he stopped near
the middle of a barren moorland and looked round.
The road ran back into the strong yellow glow of the
sunset, but it crossed a ridge about a mile off, and
there was nobody in sight. It was very rough in
places, but he thought a skillful driver could take a car
over it. To the east, where the horizon was hazy,


FOSTER SEES A LIGHT
237
the high ground fell away, and he thought he could
strike another road to Jedburgh in three or four miles
if he crossed the heath. There seemed to be no reason
why he should do so, but he left the road and some
time later came to a burn that ran down hill.
By and by a rough track began in a marish field and
got smoother as it followed the burn. Then a hedge
of tall thorns, with wool-fringed gaps between their
stems where the sheep went through, ran down the
waterside, and Foster sat down on a stone and studied
his map. He thought it would take him nearly two
hours to reach Jedburgh, but the small farm Pete had
spoken of was not far off. The track he was on seemed
to lead to a better road in the valley. Mist was gather-
ing in the hollow, but when he looked back the sky
was bright and the yellow glow rested on the hill. The
evening was very calm; he heard a curlew crying far
off across the moor, and then raised his head sharply
at a quick ringing sound. There was a wire fence up
the hill, which he had got over because the rotten gate
stuck fast. Somebody had stumbled in climbing it and
his foot had struck the wire.
Foster's eyes narrowed as he gazed up the track and
saw two figures come round a corner. They were too
far off to be distinct, but were walking fast. If he
sat still, he would be invisible for two or three minutes
but not longer, and he quickly studied his surroundings.
There were large boulders and brambles between him
and the water, and the tall hedge offered a hiding-
place on the other side. It might be wiser to get out
of sight, but he would make an experiment, and
dropped a few wax matches and a London newspaper
he had bought in Carlisle. The country people did not


138
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
use wax matches and London newspapers were not
common among the Border moors.
Then, moving slowly, he made for the hedge. There
were only a few bushes between him and the approach-
ing men, but he had a good background, into which
his figure would melt, and was ready to lie down if
needful. He paused for a moment at the edge of
the burn, which spread out in a shallow that reflected
the fading light. He might be seen against the water,
but something must be risked, and if the men were
looking for him, they would watch the road. Step-
ping into the stream, he waded across, making as lit-
tle splash as possible, and found a hole in the hedge,
through which he crawled. He was now in the shadow
and it would be difficult to distinguish him among the
thick stems.
The men were plainly visible and did not look like
country people, for the hill farmers and shepherds
walk with a curious gait. Foster crouched down and
waited, knowing he would get a useful hint when they
reached the spot he had left. They stopped and one
picked up the newspaper, while his companion bent
down and got up with something in his hand. Foster,
seeing that the fellow had found the matches, won-
dered whether he had made the trail too plain. If they
suspected the trick, they would know he was not far,
off and search for him.
He could not distinguish their faces and regretted
this, because it would have been useful to know the
men again, and when they began to talk their voices
were too low for him to hear what they said. Pres-
ently one left the road on the opposite side to the
stream and climbed the bank, on which he stood as


FOSTER SEES A LIGHT
139
if he wished to look across the moor. The other
walked along the edge of the grass with his head bent,
but Foster thought it was too dark to see any foot-
prints he might have left. The fellow came on a few
yards towards the stream, and then stood still while
Foster tried to study him, but could only distinguish
his face as a white oval in the gathering dark.
He was anxious and puzzled, because he did not
know whether the men wanted him or Lawrence.
The nearer of them would, no doubt, see him if he
crossed the burn, but Foster thought he might seize
and put the fellow out of action before the other came
up. This, however, would be risky, and since he did
not know their intentions he was not sure he would
gain much if he came off victor. To his relief, the
man went back and joined his companion in the road,
where they stood looking about, and then set off
rapidly down hill as if they had decided to go on to
Jedburgh.
When their footsteps died away Foster turned back
along the hedge and struck across the moor in the
dark. It would be better to avoid Jedburgh, and he
must try to find the house that Pete had told him of.
He had some trouble in doing so and on the way fell
into a bog, but at length a light blinked on a hillside
and he came to a small building, sheltered by a few
stunted ash trees. A shed thatched with heather and
a rough stone byre stood near the house, and a big
peat-stack filled one end of a miry yard. A dog ran
out and circled around Foster, barking, until an old
man with a lantern drove it off and asked what he
wanted.
Foster said he wanted shelter for the night and was


140 CARMEN'S MESSENGER
willing to pay for the accommodation, to which the
other replied that they did not take in strangers. When
Foster stated that Long Pete had told him to go there
he hesitated, and finally said, “Weel, ye can come awa'
in and see the mistress.'
The flagged kitchen was very clean and a big peat
fire burned in the grate. A black oak meal-chest stood
against the wall and old-fashioned china filled the rack
above. On the opposite side there was a large cup-
board, which Foster thought concealed a bed. The
room was warm and looked comfortable after the wet
moor. Then Foster turned to the red-cheeked old
woman who sat knitting by the fire and fixed on him a
quietly-scrutinizing gaze. He explained that he was
tired and wanted to stay the night, adding that Pete
had said they would be willing to accommodate him.
"What for no', if ye're a friend o'his?" she asked.
“It's a lang road to Jedburgh. But ye'll be wanting
some supper."
Foster confessed that he was hungry and after a
time sat down to a plain but appetizing meal. When
this was over he gave his host his tobacco pouch and
for an hour or two they talked and smoked. The man
farmed a patch of sour moss-land, but he was marked
by a grave politeness and asked his guest no awkward
questions. Foster thought the woman was studying
him, but she restrained her curiosity and he admitted
that the manners of both were remarkably good. He
was beginning to understand and like the lowland
Scots, though he saw that some of the opinions he
had formed about them were wrong.
They were reserved, essentially practical, and indus-
trious, but they had, when one came to know them, a


FOSTER SEES A LIGHT
141
certain reckless humor that one did not often find
among Englishmen. Then they were marked by an
individualistic independence of character that made
them impatient of authority. They were not turbulent
or given to protesting about freedom, but they could
not be cajoled or driven. It was strange to find a well-
organized fraternity of poachers in a quiet, law-keep-
ing country, but one must allow something for habits
inherited from moss-trooper ancestors. Foster had
noted their respect for good landlords of ancient stock,
but this did not prevent them using the landlord's sal-
mon and game. Since he had, so to speak, been made
a member of the band, it was comforting to feel that
they could be trusted, and he was somehow sure of
this.
He slept soundly in the cupboard bed and made an
excuse for staying at the farm next day, but as he
stood outside the house in the afternoon his host came
up.
“There were two men on the Jedburgh road asking
about a stranger on a walking tour.”
"Ah!” said Foster. "Do you know whether they
asked if the man they wanted wore a glove ?”
“They did that!”
Foster pondered. He was being searched for, and
his host knew he was the man inquired about, but the
old fellow's face was expressionless.
"Since I didn't get so far as the road, they'd learn
nothing."
The other's eyes twinkled. “I wouldna' say they
would find out much if they cam' up here."
"Well,” said Foster, “I don't know yet if I'll go
on to-day or not."


142
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
"Ye ken best aboot that,” the farmer answered with
Scottish dryness. “I dinna' see much objection if
ye're for stopping another night.”
He went off, but Foster felt satisfied that he was
safe with him, and presently strolled round to the
peat-stack where he sat down in the sun. There was
a hollow where the peats had been pulled out, and the
brown dust was warm and dry. Lighting his pipe, he
began to think. He was being watched, but whether
by the police, or Daly, or somebody else, there was
nothing to show. He did not think his poaching ad-
venture had much to do with it, but he had taken the
packet to Newcastle, although he had been warned
against this. There was a mystery about the packet.
For a time he got no further, and as he sat, gazing
vacantly across the moor, the sun went behind a cloud
and the freshening wind whistled round the stack. It
got cold and Foster's pipe burned out, but he did not
move. Hitherto he had been working in the dark,
feeling for a clew, but he began to see a glimmer of
light and presently clenched his fist with an exclama-
tion. The light dawned on him in an illuminating
flash.
He had been tricked and made a tool. Carmen had
acted by her father's, or somebody else's, orders when
she gave him the packet, and the man in Edinburgh
had enclosed something before he sent him on to New-
castle. Nobody would suspect him and that was why
he had been entrusted with the packet in Canada.
It was now clear that he had been made use of to carry
the stolen bonds to Great Britain. Carmen, of course,
knew nothing about them, but had been influenced
by Daly. Perhaps she was in love with him, but in


FOSTER SEES A LIGHT 143
the meantime this did not matter. Foster fled his
pipe again, because he meant to solve the puzzle while
the light was clear and his brain was working well.
Alice Featherstone had given him the first hint of
the truth when she suggested that the packet was
somehow connected with his being watched and Dale's
pursuit of Lawrence. Of course it was! The police
had not much ground for suspecting him, but he had
come to England without any obvious business, and if
Hulton or his agents had warned them, they would
inquire about strangers from Canada. Then he began
to see why Daly was determined to find Lawrence.
Fred Hulton had been robbed and killed and Daly
was implicated in the crime, if he had not committed
it himself. The fellow's first object was not black-
mail; he meant to use his power over Lawrence to
ensure his secrecy. Lawrence was the only person who
had seen the murderer. It could not have been clear
if he had mistaken him for the watchman or not when
he went into the pay-office at the factory, and as long
as a doubt remained Lawrence was the greatest danger
the gang had to reckon on. Foster felt sure there was
a gang. Admitting all this, one could understand why
Daly meant to find Lawrence, but Foster began to see
how he could make use of the situation.
He had been easily deceived and the plotters no
doubt thought him a fool. Suppose he took advantage
of their belief and asked for an answer to his message
or something of the kind? He might by good luck get
a letter or find out enough about them to explain what
had happened in Canada. The vague plan appealed
to him strongly. He was savage at the way he had
been tricked, and it would be something to circumvent


144
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
the people who had made him a tool. Besides, he
could not go to the police yet: Lawrence's secret must
be kept. He must first of all gain such a hold on Daly
as would render him powerless to injure his comrade.
After that, when he knew how far the man was impli-
cated in the robbery, he could decide what ought to be
done. Well, he would go to Newcastle and see
Graham, to whom he had given the packet, but he
might need help and thought he knew where to find
it. Getting up with a quick, resolute movement, he
went back to the house.
"I'm going to write to Pete and bring him here,"
he said to the woman. “I don't suppose you'll turn
me out before he comes.”
She gave him a quiet, searching glance, and her
husband seemed to leave the matter to her.
"For a' his poaching, ye'll find Pate an honest
man,” she answered meaningly.
“So am I; it's an honest man I want. You have
trusted me and I'll trust you as far as I can when Pete
arrives. Shall we leave it until then?”
The woman nodded. “Ye can stay until he ken
what yere business is.”
“Thank you,” said Foster, who sat down to write
to Pete.
· He thought her judgment would be just, if she had
(not already decided in his favor. Until he came to
Scotland, he had never met people who could say so
little and mean so much. Moreover, he imagined one
could depend upon their standing by all that they
implied. They were taciturn but staunch.


145
CARMEN S JIESSENGER
Fister saw the others' eyes were fixed ca tim
and he must, to some extent, satisfy their curiosity.
He did not think he could have convinced conventional
Englishmen, or perhaps Canadians, but these Scots
were different. They were certainly not less shrewd
than the others, but while sternly practical in many
ways they had imagination; moreover, they were ce-
scendants of the Border cattle-thieves.
"I'm not really hiding from the police, but from
people who have better grounds for fearing them. I
Owe nobody anything and, so far as I know, have done
nobody wrong.”
There was silence for a moment or two and he rec-
ognized that his statement was very incomplete, but
somehow thought the others did not discredit it.
"If I could tell you the whole story, I would, but
that's impossible just now," he resumed. “Other peo-
ple, honorable, upright people, are involved. Of
course, the thing looks suspicious, and you know noth-
ing about me, but what I mean to do is not against
the law.”
They were silent yet, but after a few moments Fos-
ter saw his host glance at the woman.
"What is it ye mean to do?" she asked.
"I'm going to Newcastle to try to get some informa-
tion and papers that will help me to save a friend from
serious trouble. That's my first object, but I hope to
find out something about a crime in Canada, by which
another friend of mine suffered terribly. I may have
to steal the papers, and if I get them, expect I shall
have to deal with a gang of dangerous men, who will
try to take them back. That's why I want Pete; but
he'll probably find it a risky business."


THE GLOVE
147
Foster waited anxiously for a reply. He was not
justified in expecting it to be favorable, but he did
so. The woman seemed to ponder, but presently
turned to Pete.
“Ye had better gang."
Pete laughed, a reckless laugh that hinted at a love
of excitement and danger.
"Aye,” he said, “that's what I was thinking !"
After this the matter was soon arranged, and next
morning Foster and Pete set off. They went south by
hill-tracks, for Foster meant to visit the Garth, but
preferred to arrive when dusk was falling. He did
not want his visit to be marked, but must see Alice
before he embarked upon his new adventure.
The sun was setting behind the moors when they
came down the waterside, and leaving Pete in the
gloom of the fir wood, he walked through a shrubbery
to the house. He had seen nothing to indicate that
he was watched and could trust Pete to see that no-
body followed him from the road, but he meant to take
precautions and did not want to meet Featherstone.
When he left the shrubbery he had only a few yards
of open lawn to cross and the light was dim beside
the house, but he kept off the graveled terrace until
he was abreast of the door. He was now faced by a
difficulty, but must leave something to chance and felt
relieved when John answered his quiet knock. The
man showed no surprise at seeing him.
“Mr. Featherstone is out, sir, and Mrs. Feather-
stone occupied, but Miss Featherstone is at home," he
said.
"Will you ask her if she can meet me for a few
minutes in the orchard ?”


148
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
"Very good, sir; I will take your message."
Foster turned away. He had given John no hint
to keep his visit secret, because this would be useless.
If the old fellow thought it his duty to tell his master,
he would do so; if not, one could trust to his discre-
tion. Entering the orchard by an arch in a mossy
wall, he waited where a soft light shone into it from
the west. Outside the arch, the smooth sweep of lawn
ran back into deepening shadow and the bare trees be-
hind it rose, sharp and black, against the sky. Above
there was a heavy bank of gray-blue clouds.
Then his heart began to beat as Alice appeared in
the arch. Her figure was silhouetted against the light
and he noted how finely she held herself and moved.
Still he could not see her face and waited with some
uneasiness until she advanced and gave him her hand.
“I hoped you would come," he said. "But I was
half afraid "
Alice smiled and as she turned her head the fading
glow touched her face. It gave no hint of resentment
or surprise.
"That I would not come ?" she suggested. “After
all, I really think men are more conventional than we
are. But why did you not let John bring you in?”
"When I was last here, I noted a change in your
father's manner. That is one reason, though there are
others. Then I must go in two or three minutes."
Alice looked at him steadily and he knew that frank-
ness was best.
"You mean you thought he had lost his confidence
in you?"
"I was afraid he might find it getting strained. He
seemed disturbed.”


THE GLOVE
149
“He is disturbed,” Alice said quietly. “We have
heard nothing from my brother yet.”
"One can sympathize with you, but I don't think
you have much ground for uneasiness. Lawrence was
told he must be careful, but that was all, and there's
no likelihood of his health's suddenly breaking down.
Then I understand he was rather irregular about writ-
ing home; he forgot now and then.”
"He did forget," Alice agreed and fixed her eyes
on Foster while a slight flush crept into her face.
"Perhaps I had better say I do not altogether share
my father's anxiety."
Foster felt a thrill, for he thought she meant she
had not lost her confidence in him.
"I'd like to go back and look for Lawrence, but
can't do so yet," he said. “For one thing, it might
put Daly on his track and it's now important that he
shouldn't meet Lawrence in Canada. There have been
developments; in fact, I have come to think Daly
had something to do with sending the packet I took
to Newcastle.”
"Then Miss Austin was in the plot against my
brother and made use of you?"
“No; she certainly made use of me, but I imagine
others made use of her. There is a plot, but I don't
believe she knew anything about it.”
“I suppose you feel you must defend the girl ?”
"In a way," Foster agreed. “Carmen Austin is a
friend of mine; but I'm not sure she really needs
defending. Anyhow, if I'd known what was in the
packet, I wouldn't have taken it.”
“Then you have found out what was in it?"
"I have a suspicion. I'm going to see how far it's


150 CARMEN'S MESSENGER
justified, and if I'm fortunate, rather think the people
who sent me to Newcastle will be sorry."
Alice said nothing for a few moments, but he
thought she grasped the significance of his hint that
he was willing to spoil the plans of Carmen's friends.
He did not know if this gave her any satisfaction, but
did not expect her to show her feelings.
"Can you tell me anything more?” she asked.
“Yes," he said. “I feel I ought to tell somebody.
because it may turn out rather a serious undertaking.
One reason for choosing you is that it's a complicated
and unlikely tale."
"And you thought I would believe where others
might doubt?"
Foster bowed. "I did hope something of the kind.
I don't know if I was too venturesome. But if you'll
listen- ”
She gave him a curious look and he began by telling
her of the tragedy at the Hulton mill and Lawrence's
meeting the supposititious watchman. Then he related
how he had been tracked through the hills, and ex-
plained the conclusions he had arrived at when the
light first dawned on him as he puzzled out the matter
by the peat stack. She said nothing until he finished,
but he thought she looked somewhat moved.
“But wouldn't it be better to leave the thing to the
police?” she asked.
"No," said Foster, smiling. “To begin with, they
might suspect me; one understands they're not very
credulous people and it would take some time to prove
my statements. Then, if they weren't very careful,
they'd frighten the Newcastle man away, while I
might, so to speak, catch him off his guard."


THE GLOVE
151
"It sounds plausible; but I think you have a better
reason.”
"If I have, it's to some extent temperamental; a
natural reaction after leading a sober life," Foster said
humorously. “There's a charm in trying to do some-
thing that's really beyond your mark and ought to be
left to somebody else.”
"It's possible; but I'm not satisfied yet.”
Foster hesitated. “After all, it might be better to
keep the police off Daly's track until I've seen him.
He might make trouble for Lawrence if he was arrest-
ed, but I don't think this counts for much. You would
be nearer the mark if you took it for granted that I'm
naturally rash and can't resist a chance of adventure.”
They had walked round the orchard, and reached
the arch again, but Alice stopped.
“So it seems,” she said in a quiet voice that never-
theless gave a Foster a thrill. “The charm of rashness
is a favorite subject of yours."
"It's better that your friends should understand
you,” Foster replied modestly.
“One must admit that you live up to the character
you give yourself. First you plunged into difficulties
to keep a promise you should not have made, then
you undertook to baffle a dangerous man because your
partner needed help, and now I think you are going to
face a very serious risk.”
Foster, who felt embarrassed, said nothing, and
Alice gave him her hand.
"I am glad you have been frank with me, and if my
wish can bring you good fortune, it will be yours.
You will do your best, I know; but be careful and
come back safe!"


152
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
Foster had kissed her hand on another occasion,
but durst not do so now. He was conscious of a keen
emotional stirring and thought the girl felt some
strain. There was a hint of suppressed feeling in her
voice that sapped his self-control, and he thought it
was because she trusted and liked him her manner had
a certain touch of pride.
"After all, I don't think I run much risk," he an-
swered. “But if there was a risk, it would be well
worth while."
It was nearly dark, but he thought he saw some
color in her face.
"Good luck! But wait in the road for a minute
or two," she said and turned away.
He watched her cross the lawn until her figure faded
into the gloom, after which he went back to the gate
and waited until John came up with a small packet.
“Miss Featherstone sends you this, sir, but hopes
you won't open it until you are in the train."
Foster thanked him and went back with Pete up the
waterside. The air was keen and a light mist hung
about the rough track that took them to the moors.
There was a beat of wings as a flock of wild duck
passed overhead when they skirted a reedy pool, and
once or twice the wild cry of a curlew came out of the
dark. Except for this, the moor was silent and deso-
late, but Foster felt a strange poignant elation as he
stumbled among the ruts and splashed across boggy
grass. They walked for two or three hours and he
was muddy and rather wet when the lights of a small
station began to twinkle in the gloom ahead.
Half an hour later they caught a train to Hexham,
and Foster, who sent Pete to a smoking compartment,


THE GLOVE
153
was alone when he opened the packet John had
brought. Then the blood rushed to his face and his
heart beat, for when he unfolded the thin paper he saw
a small white glove. Remembering how they had
once talked about Border chivalry, he knew what Alice
meant. She believed his tale and knew the risks he
ran, and had sent him her glove that he might carry
it as her badge. He folded the piece of delicate kid
carefully and put it in a pocket where it rested upon
his heart.
"After this, I've got to put my job over, whatever
it costs," he said. .


XVI
A DIFFICULT PART
IT was four o'clock in the afternoon when Foster
1 stopped in front of the grimy building where
Graham had his office, and looked up and down the
street. Close by, a carter stood at the head of an
impatient horse that stamped and rattled its harness,
and a hoist clanked as a bale of goods went up to a
top story; but except for this the street was quiet.
Farther off, one or two moving figures showed indis-
tinctly, for rain was falling and the light getting dim.
Foster, who had arrived in Newcastle that morning,
had waited, thinking it might suit him better to leave
the town in the dark.
“Go back to the end of the street, where you can
see the clock," he said to Pete. "If I don't join you
in half an hour, run to the nearest police station and
ask for a man to search the top office in this building."
"The polis are no' good friends o' mine," Pete re-
plied doubtfully. “I would sooner come for ye my
lane. There's an airnmonger's roon' the corner, where
I would maybe get a shairp gairden fork.”
Foster laughed. Pete's methods were too primitive,
although, in his strong hands, the fork would prove a
dangerous weapon.
"I don't expect you'd be able to help much if I'm
not back when I said. But you can walk along the
154


A DIFFICULT PART
155
street now and then, and notice anybody who leaves
the building."
He went in and set his lips as he climbed the stairs,
for he imagined he would need all the tact and coolness
he possessed. He had been made the tool of people
who thought him an unsuspecting simpleton, but was
uncertain how far it would be safe to trade upon this
view of his character, although he meant to do so to
some extent. There might be an advantage in hinting
that he knew a little about their business; but he must
make no mistakes. His steps echoed hollowly along
the top landing and there was something daunting in
the gloom, for the gas had not yet been lighted and
the building was very quiet. It was possible that he
had started on this adventure with a rashness as great
as his folly in undertaking Carmen's errand, but he
carried Alice Featherstone's glove and it was unthink-
able that he should turn back.
There was nobody in the outer office when he opened
the door, but after he had knocked once or twice a
voice he recognized told him to come in and he strolled
carelessly into Graham's room. Sitting down, he
offered his cigarette case to Graham, who glanced at
him with some surprise but took a cigarette while
Foster lighted another. It would be easier to look
languidly indifferent if he could smoke. Graham
pushed aside some papers on his desk as if impatient
at being disturbed. He was dressed and looked like
a sober business man, and Foster admitted that it was
ridiculous to imagine him to be anything else.
"I'm rather busy just now," he said. "For all that,
if I can be of any use to you, Mr. - ".


A DIFFICULT PART
157
of by the rest of the gang, he must imply that they
had to some extent taken him into their confidence.
"To tell the truth, I haven't heard from Daly for a
month," Graham replied. “This has disadvantages
and I'll own that I'd like to know what he is doing."
“Then it looks as if I was better informed. Mr.
Daly's engaged in some private business."
"Private business?"
"Just so," Foster answered, smiling. "He imagines
it will turn out profitable, but I expect it will take up
much of his time.”
“But ” said Graham, and stopped.
Foster made a sign of comprehension. “You feel
he oughtn't to have any business that might interfere
with his duty to the rest of you?"
“What do you know about his duty ?" Graham
asked.
“Well,” said Foster, “I frankly don't know very
much. In fact, it looks as if your Canadian friends
didn't trust me very far, but just told me enough to
make me understand my job. No doubt, that was
wisest, although it's not flattering. Anyhow, I brought
you a packet with some valuable enclosures, which
ought to justify your sending back any confidential
message to the people it came from by me.”
He had made a bold venture, but saw that he was
right, for Graham knitted his brows, as if he was
thinking hard. Then he said, “Very well. As it hap-
pens, there are some papers I would like to send, and if
you don't mind taking them, I'll give you a letter to
Daly and another to Miss Austin.”
“Miss Austin, of course, will pass the letter on.”
“That's understood,” Graham agreed.


158
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
Foster carelessly lighted a fresh cigarette, and
Graham, leaning forward, opened a safe and took out
one or two papers that Foster could not see well. So
far, the latter had done better than he had hoped, and
in another few minutes would be in the possession of
papers that might throw a useful light upon the plot.
Yet the strain was beginning to tell and his nerves
tingled as he watched his companion write.
A lamp with a broken mantle flickered above Gra-
ham's head and the stove crackled, but the outer office,
the door of which was open, was dark, and the build-
ing was strangely quiet. No sound rose from the
narrow street below, which ran like a still backwater
among the tall warehouses. Foster, putting his hand
in his pocket as if to feel for matches, touched the
small Browning pistol he had brought. He was not
afraid of Graham, but somebody might come in. At
length the man sealed two envelopes and put them be-
side his writing-pad.
“If you cannot find Daly, you must bring the first
back to me. When do you sail?”
"I don't know yet; I haven't looked up the steam-
ship companies' notices," Foster answered, and as
soon as he had spoken saw that he had made a mis-
take.
He had led Graham to believe he was going at once;
indeed, this was his excuse for offering to take a mes-
sage, but he remembered that in order to get a good
room on a fast boat it was necessary to book one's
passage some time in advance. He thought Graham
had marked the slip, although his face was expres-
sionless.


A DIFFICULT PART
159
"I don't want the letters carried about for long,"
he said.
"Certainly not,” Foster agreed. "If I'm delayed,
or can't get hold of Daly as soon as I thought, I'll
bring them back. However, I've kept you from your
business and must get off.”
Graham did not move, and the letters were out of
Foster's reach.
"You have got your instructions from Gascoyne
and know what to do if you have any trouble on your
journey?"
Foster felt embarrassed. He did not know if Gas-
coyne was the man he had gone to in Edinburgh, and
durst not risk a fresh mistake. Besides, it was possible
that there was not such a person among the other's
friends and the question was a trap.
"No," he said boldly. “I can get all the instruc-
tions that are needful when I meet Daly. Give me
the letters."
"I think not. It would be better to wait until we
hear what Gascoyne has to say, since you haven't seen
him as I thought. He may have something to send
with the other documents. Suppose you come back
about this time to-morrow.”
Foster feared he was found out, and imagined that
if he agreed, he would find the office closed and
Graham gone; unless perhaps the fellow waited for
him with one or two of his accomplices. Foster was
certain he had accomplices. He knew he was playing
a dangerous game, but he carried Alice Featherstone's
glove and meant to get the letters.
"No," he said. “I'm willing to do you a favor,
particularly as I want something to show my friends


160
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
in Canada that I brought the packet safe. But I'm
not going to put myself to much inconvenience. You
have written the letters. Let me have them; I must
catch my train."
He put his hand on the Browning pistol and was
glad to feel it there, though he hardly thought he would
be forced to draw it. He was physically stronger than
Graham, but it had come to a trial of nerve and he
knew he had a cunning antagonist. Besides, he could
not tell how much longer they would be left alone and
he might be in serious danger if somebody else came
in. Still, he must not look anxious and quietly fixed
his eyes on Graham's face.
"I can't take the risk,” the latter declared. “Will
you wait until I see if I can get Gascoyne on the tele-
phone?"
The telephone was in the other office and Foster
durst not let the man out of his sight.
"I've been here long enough and have just time to
get to the station.”
There was silence for a few moments and Foster
felt his heart beat. He meant to finish the interview
as it had begun, without doing anything unusual, but
if this was impossible, he had another plan. His mus-
cles were stiffened ready for a spring; he would pin the
fellow to his desk while he seized the letters. Though
he meant to look calm, his face got very grim; but
Graham carelessly pushed the letters towards him.
"Very well! You will take the responsibility if
there's any trouble.”
"I will,” said Foster, as coolly as he could, and
picked up the envelopes. "Sorry if I've detained you.
Good afternoon.”


A DIFFICULT PART
161
He was half afraid to turn his back to the other,
but there was no avoiding this and he heard no sus-
picious movement until he reached the door. Then,
as he expected, the telephone bell rang, and Foster,
running down the steps, drew a breath of relief when
he reached the street. It was now dark, but he felt
comforted as he saw Pete's tall figure in the gloom.
“Look behind you now and then and tell me if any-
body follows us," he said, and knowing that Pete's
eyes could be trusted, carefully reviewed the situation
when they turned into a busy street.
It was obvious that the conclusions he had come to
by the peat-stack were correct, and the police, who
were obviously watching him, thought he might know
something about the Hulton tragedy. If so, his move-
ments had not been calculated to allay their suspicions.
He had now papers that were probably dangerous in
his pocket, and if he were caught before he got rid of
them, it would be difficult to prove his innocence. The
safe line would be to make for the nearest police sta-
tion and give up the documents. So long as he kept
them, he had as much to fear from the police as from
Daly's gang. But he did not mean to give them up
just yet.
His duty to the State was plain, but he was frankly
determined to save his comrade first, and imagined
that he could do so, although the thing would be
difficult. For all that, Daly must be forced to keep
Lawrence's secret. Then he had, to some extent, dis-
credited Daly with his accomplice by informing
Graham that he was engaged upon some profitable pri-
vate business. It looked as if Graham did not know
what the fellow's object was; after all, the gang might


162
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
not trust each other very far. The trouble was that
Daly might not be easily found, and in the meantime
Foster had two dangers to guard against; but he meant
to be careful, and to tell the police all he knew as soon
as he had dealt with Daly.
Nothing indicated that they were followed on their
way to the Central Station, where Foster left Pete
outside and ascertained that a train would shortly
start for Carlisle. He would have liked to travel by
it, since he expected to find Daly near the western
Border. Besides, it was prudent to leave Newcastle
as soon as he could, since his injured hand made him
easily distinguishable and Graham had run to the tele-
phone. The latter would not have let him take the
papers without a struggle had he not some plan of
getting them back. Foster did not know how many
accomplices Graham had, but imagined he had to deal
with a well-organized gang, who would find it much
easier to watch the railway than the lonely moors
between it and the Cheviots. Making his way through
a crowd on a busy platform, he left the station by
another door, where he met Pete, whom he had sent
round. It was possible that these precautions were
needless, but he did not mean to take any risk he could
avoid.
“Where will ye be for the noo?” Pete asked.
“The head of Liddesdale, to begin with. But I
don't know yet if we'll go west by the old military
road, or across the moors. It will depend upon
whether the fellow I went to see gets upon my track.”
Pete's eyes twinkled. "It will be a clever man
who tracks us when we tak’ the heather. But have ye
the papers ye went tae steal?”.


A DIFFICULT PART
163
"I have. If they're what I think and I can keep
them safe until I use them, they're worth twenty
pounds to you."
“Aweel,” said Pete, “I'll feel mair sure o' the money
when we win oot o' the toon. It's ower full o' polis,
and my talents are no' o' much use here."
They had left the station and reaching a street
where Foster made some inquiries, waited in the door
of an office building until a tram-car came up. Getting
in, they were carried through the wet and smoky
streets towards the city's western outskirts.


XVII
THE LETTERS
THE sky had cleared when Foster left the car at
the end of the line and headed towards open
country. On the whole, he thought he was fortunate
to get out of Newcastle safe, because there were
grounds for believing that Graham had found out the
trick. If this were so, he would certainly try to re-
cover the documents. On the surface, it seemed
strange that the fellow had let him take them away;
but, when one came to think of it, as soon as he had
written and sealed the letters he was helpless.
In order to keep them, he would have had to over-
power Foster, for which he had not the physical
strength, while any noise they made in the struggle
might have brought in help. Then supposing that
Graham had by some chance mastered him, he would
not have gained much, because Foster would have gone
to the police when he got away. It was, of course,
absurd to think that Graham might have killed him,
since this would have led to his arrest. He had ac-
cordingly given up the letters, but Foster felt he was
not safe yet. He might be attacked in some cunning
way that would prevent his assailants being traced.
It depended upon whether the documents were worth
the risk, and he would know this soon.
In the meantime he was entering a belt of
the pobrinink that
led to him
Foster
164


THE LETTERS
165
ugly industrial country. Now and then the reflected
glare of a furnace quivered in the sky; tall chimney-
stacks and mounds of refuse showed faintly in the
dark, and he passed clusters of fiercely burning lights
and dull red fires. He supposed they marked pithead
banks and coke-ovens; but pushed on steadily towards
the west. He wanted to put some distance between
himself and Newcastle before he stopped.
After a time a row of lights twinkled ahead and,
getting nearer, he saw chimneys, dark skeleton towers
of timber, and jets of steam behind the houses. It
was a colliery village, and when he passed the first
lamps he vacantly noticed the ugliness of the place.
The small, grimy houses were packed as close as they
could be got, the pavement was covered with black
mud, and the air filled with acrid smoke. Presently,
however, he came to a pretentious hotel, built of glar-
ing red brick and ornamented with sooty paint. He
wondered what accounted for its being planted there;
but it offered shelter for the night and he went in.
He admitted that he had slept in worse places than
the room he was shown, although it looked far from
comfortable, but the supper he got was good, and he
afterwards entered a small room behind the bar.
There was a bright fire, near which he sat down when
Pete went away. The strain he had borne had brought
its reaction; he felt tired and slack. There was an-
other room across the passage, and he smelt rank
tobacco and heard voices speaking a harsh dialect
and the tramp of heavy boots on boards. The door
was open and men with curiously pale faces that did
not look clean passed now and then. Foster thought


166
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
they were colliers and he had nothing to fear from
them.
He had two or three companions, who sat round a
small table and seemed by their talk to belong to a
football committee. The landlord treated them with
some deference, as if they were important people, but
Foster wished they would go. He wanted to examine
the letters, but thought it safer to wait until he was
alone, since inquiries might afterwards be made about
him. At length the footballers went way, and shutting
the door, he turned his chair so that he could see
anybody who came in, without looking round. It
was satisfactory to note that the table would be be-
tween him and a new-comer.
Before opening the letters, he tried to recollect what
had happened in Graham's office. The fellow sat in
front of a desk with a row of pigeon-holes and sides
that prevented Foster's noting exactly what he did
after he began to write. In consequence, Foster could
not tell if he had put anything except the letters in
the envelopes, although he had taken some papers
from the safe. It looked as if Graham had not meant
him to see and had not trusted him altogether from
the beginning. Now he probably knew he was an
impostor, although this was not quite certain. Foster
took out the envelopes, and broke the seal of the first,
which was addressed to Daly, without hesitation.
It contained a tourist agency's circular cheque for a
moderate sum, payable by coupons at any of the com-
pany's offices in England and Canada, and Foster saw
the advantage of this, because, as the offices were
numerous, one could not tell where the coupons would
be cashed. Then he found a letter, which he thought


THE LETTERS
167
bore out his conclusions, although, on the surface, it
did not tell him much. It stated that Jackson's busi-
ness had been satisfactorily transacted in Berlin, but
the Hamburg matter had not been arranged yet. Las-
celles had had some difficulties in Paris, but expected
to negotiate a sale.
Foster carefully folded the papers and replaced
them in his pocket. The names were probably false,
but they stood for agents of the gang, whose business
was, no doubt, the sale of the stolen bonds. He re-
membered Percival, the treasurer's, statement that the
securities might be disposed of on a Continental
bourse, and Hulton's reluctance to advertise their loss.
Well, he now had proof that Daly was, at least, a
party to the theft, and ground for believing him to
be open to a more serious charge. The fellow was
in his power.
He, however, hesitated a moment before opening
the letter to Carmen. He was half-afraid of finding
her to some extent implicated in the plot; and it was
with relief he saw nothing but another envelope inside
the first, which he threw into the fire. The enclosed
envelope was addressed to a man he did not know, and
he thought Carmen's part would be confined to giving
it to her father, or somebody else, who would pass it
on. Tearing it open, he found a cheque on an Ameri-
can bank for a thousand dollars, but the payee's name
was different from that on the cover. Foster put it
away and lighted his pipe.
Some of the bonds had obviously been sold and
there were a number of men in the plot, though it was
possible that they did not know all about the Hulton
tragedy. Foster understood that one could dispose


168
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
of stolen securities through people who would under-
take the dangerous business without asking awkward
questions, if the profit were high enough. Still he
thought Graham knew, and this would give him an
incentive stronger than his wish to save the money
for trying to get the letters back. Indeed, Foster
imagined that he was now in serious danger. Graham's
run to the telephone had alarmed him.
Nobody came in and by degrees the room across
the passage got quiet as its occupants went away. It
was some relief that the noise had stopped, but Foster
liked to feel that there were people about. He was
tired and began to get drowsy as he lounged in front
of the fire, but roused himself with an effort, knowing
he ought to keep awake. For all that, he did not hear
the door open, and got up with a start as a man came
in. Then his alarm vanished for Pete stood looking
at him with a sympathetic twinkle.
"I ken what ye feel,” the latter remarked. "It's
like meeting a keeper when ye hae a hare in the lining
o' yere coat."
"Yes," said Foster, “I expect it's something like
that. But where have you been?”
“Roon' the toon, though it's no' verra big or bonnie.
Then I stopped a bit in the bar o' the ither hotel.
Sixpence goes some way, if ye stick to beer.”
"I hope you didn't say much if there were strangers
about."
· Pete grinned. “I said a' I could; aboot the sheep
and bullocks we were going to look at up Bellingham
way; but, if it's only comfort, there's no strangers
in the place but a commaircial who deals with the
grossers and anither who got a good order from the


THE LETTERS
169
colliery. Maybe that's worth the money for the beer!"
"It certainly is,” Foster agreed. “We'll have a
reckoning at the end of the journey, but here's your
sixpence." Then he looked at his watch. “Well, I
think it's late enough to go to bed, and you can order
breakfast. We had better get off as soon as it's light.”
“There's a train to Hexham at nine o'clock, the
morn. It might suit ye to start for the station, even
if ye dinna' get there."
"No," said Foster thoughtfully. “We'll pull out
by some by-road before that. You see, the train comes
from Newcastle.”
He went to his room, which was next to Pete's, and
after putting the letters under his pillow quietly moved
a chest of drawers against the door. The lock was a
common pattern and could probably be opened by a
key from any of the neighboring rooms. He was
half-ashamed of this precaution, but admitted that he
was getting nervous. Hitherto he had found some
amusement in leaving a trail for his pursuers, but
there was a difference now. For all that, he slept
soundly until he was awakened by a noise at the door.
It was dark and somebody was trying to get in. Seiz-
ing his pistol, he leaned on one elbow, ready to spring
say, “Dinna' keep on knocking! Leave the hot water
outside."
"Yes; put it down, thanks,” said Foster, who got
up, feeling angry with himself.
It looked as if the person outside had been knocking
for some time, and the landlord's curiosity might have
been excited had he heard that his guest had barricaded
his door. Dressing by gaslight, he found breakfast


170
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
ready when he went down, and day broke soon after
the meal was over. Foster paid his bill and set off
with Pete, taking the main road west until they reached
the end of the village, where some men were working
on a colliery bank. Pete indicated a lane that branched
off to the north.
. "Yon's our way, but I'm thinking we'll gang straight
on for a bit."
They followed the main road until the men were out
of sight, and then crossing some fields, turned into the
lane they had passed, which rose steadily to higher
ground. After a time they found another road run-
ning straight towards the west. This was the old mili-
tary road, made when the Romans built the Pict's wall,
and long afterwards repaired by General Wade, who
tried to move his troops across to intercept Prince
Charlie's march. Foster sat down for a few minutes
at the corner and looked back at the distant chimney-
stacks and trails of smoke.
The railway and the road by which the main traffic
went followed the valley of the Tyne, but the military
road kept to the edge of the bleak moors. He gathered
from the map that it was, for the most part, lonely,
and thought Graham would expect him to go by train;
the latter probably knew enough about him to antici-
pate his making for Liddesdale, and as there were not
many trains running north from Hexham, would
reckon on his traveling by Carlisle. If this were so,
and he was being looked for, his pursuers would now
be in front of him instead of behind, and he saw some
advantage in keeping them there. Still he must not
lose much time in finding Daly; for one thing, it would
be awkward if the police arrested him while he had


THE LETTERS
,171
the checks in his pocket. All the same, he meant to
visit the Garth, tell Alice he had been successful, ask
is she had news of Lawrence, and try to overcome
Featherstone's suspicions. Then, if Lawrence had
not written yet, he must go back to Canada as soon
as he had seen Daly.
: Beyond this Foster's plans were vague; he did not
know, for example, how he could force Daly to keep
Lawrence's secret, without promising to withhold evi-
dence that would bring the man to justice. But he
might find a way and was tired of puzzling about the
matter. In a sense, he had taken a ridiculous line
from the beginning and perhaps involved himself in
needless difficulties. His partner, however, must be
protected, and in the meantime he had two objects; to
avoid the police and Graham.
"Perhaps we had better keep the military road un-
til we strike the North Tyne," he said to Pete. “Then,
if nothing turns up to prevent it, we might risk stop-
ping for the night at Hexham.”
Having the day before them, they set off at a lei-
surely pace. The air was cold but still, and bright sun-
shine shone upon the tableland, which rolled north,
rising steadily towards distant snow-streaked hills.
Nothing suspicious happened, and late in the afternoon
they came down into the valley of the North Tyne
and turned south for Hexham. As they did so they
passed an inn and Foster stopped. They were some
distance from Hexham and he felt hungry, while the
inn looked unusually comfortable. He was tempted
to go in and order a meal, but hesitated, for no very
obvious reason.


THE LETTERS
173
They kept along the side of the road, where the
ground was soft, but Foster was ready to jump the
fence if the car returned; the noise would give him
warning enough. After a few minutes they stopped
and waited in the gloom of a hedge, where they could
see the inn. The car stood in the road and it was
empty. Graham had obviously gone in to make in-
quiries, and Foster wondered whether anybody had
seen him and his companion pass. He would know
when Graham came out, and moved a few yards
farther until he reached a gate, which he opened, ready
to slip through. There was no need to warn Pete
now the latter understood matters. One could trust
a poacher to hide himself quickly.
Foster felt some strain. It was disturbing to find
Graham already on his track and he wondered whether
the fellow had been to Carlisle. It would be awkward
if he went to Hexham. After a few minutes two men
came out of the inn and Foster waited anxiously while
one cranked the car, but they drove on when the en-
gine started. Then, as he turned back, the throbbing
stopped again and he beckoned Pete.
"They don't know you and it's getting dark. Go
on and see which way they take.”
He kept close to the hedge when Pete vanished.
The car had stopped where the military road cut across
another that followed the river into the moors, and
Graham apparently did not know which to take. It
looked as if the fellow had ascertained that he was
not at Hexham. After a time he heard the car start.
It was not coming back, but he could not tell which
way it went, and waited in the gathering dark for
Pete's return.


174
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
“They'd gone before I cam' up, but I heard her
rattling on the hill to my left han',” he said.
"That means they've gone west towards Carlisle.”
“There's anither road turns aff and rins north awa'
by Bellingham."
Foster frowned, because this was the road he meant
to take next day, and if his pursuers did so now, it
would be because they expected him to make for the
Garth. They were, however, in front, where he would
sooner have them than behind, and he set off down
the valley for Hexham. He found the old Border
town, clustering round the tall dark mass of the abbey,
strangely picturesque; the ancient Moot Hall and mar-
ket square invited his interest, but he shrank from
wandering about the streets in the dark. Now he had
Graham's checks, he must be careful; moreover his
knapsack and leggings made him conspicuous, and he
went to a big red hotel.
He sent Pete to an inn farther on, because it seemed
advisable that they should not be seen together,
although he would have liked to know the man was
about. After dinner, he sat in a quiet nook in the
smoking-room, reading the newspapers and keeping
his gloved hand out of sight, until it was time to go
to bed.


XVIII
SPADEADAM WASTE
ABOUT eleven o'clock next morning Foster
1 stopped at the top of a hill and sitting down on a
broken wall lighted his pipe. In front, the undulating
military road ran straight across the high tableland to
the west. To the south, a deep hollow, the bottom of
which he could not see, marked the course of the Tyne.
Plumes of smoke rose out of the valley and trailed
languidly across the sky, for the river flowed past
well-cultivated fields, old-fashioned villages, and rows
of sooty cottages that clustered round pithead towers.
Human activity had set its stamp upon the sheltered
dale, alike in scenes of quiet pastoral beauty and in-
dustrial ugliness.
It was different to the north, where the shaggy
moors rolled back in bleak, dark ridges. There were
no white farmsteads here; one looked across a lonely
waste that had sheltered the wolf and the lurking Pict
when the Romans manned the Wall, and long after-
wards offered a refuge to outlaws and cattle thieves.
Foster's way led through this desolation, but his map
indicated a road of a kind that ran north to the head
of Liddel. He must decide whether he should take it
or plunge into the wilds.
Since Graham was in front of him, he had probably
gone to Liddesdale, with the object of finding if Foster
175


SPADEADAM WASTE
177
line as he had expected, but the back of a bold ridge
rose between them and the west and he supposed
Pete meant to follow its other side. They stopped to
eat the food they had brought where a stream had
worn away a hollow in a bank. The sun, striking
the wall of peaty soil behind them, was pleasantly
warm. It was a calm day, with slowly-drifting clouds,
and gray shadows streaked the wide, brown waste.
There was no house in sight and only in one place
a few scattered dots that looked like sheep. Getting
out his map, Foster noted that they were crossing
the high neck where the Pennine range slopes down
to meet the southern spurs of the Cheviots. He had
seen nothing in Canada wilder or more desolate than
this bleak tableland.
In the afternoon they toiled up the rise he had
noticed in the distance, winding in and out among
soft places and hummocks of the peat, but when they
came to the top there was not the dip to a valley he had
expected. The ground was rougher than before, and
the moor rolled on, rising and falling in heathy undula-
tions. By degrees, however, it became obvious that
they had crossed the water-shed and were descending,
for streams that increased in size crossed their path.
So far, none were deep, but the ravines they ran
through began to seam the gradual slope and Foster
understood Pete's remark that something depended on
there not being much water in the burns.
Looking back after a time, he saw the crest of the
moor run up behind them against the sky, and the
next ravine they came to was awkward to climb down,
while he was wet to the knees when he crossed the
burn. A mile farther on, he reached another that was


178
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
worse and they had to work back along the crumbling
sides of its channel to find a place to cross. After this
their progress was marked by erratic curves, and Fos-
ter was soon splashed with black peat-mud and green
slime. By and by they came to a broad level, shut
in by a ridge on its other side, and picked their way
carefully between clumps of rushes and curious round
holes filled with dark-colored water. The ground was
very soft and walking became a toil, but Pete held
steadily to his winding course and Foster, although
getting tired, did not lag behind.
They were some time crossing the bog and when they
reached the foot of the rise, which ran in a long line
between them and the west, the light got dimmer
suddenly. A yellow glow that seemed to come from
low down flushed the sky, but the rough slope was
dark and the hummocks and gullies on its side were
losing their distinctness. Foster felt somewhat
daunted by the prospect of pushing across the waste
after darkness fell, and doggedly kept level with Pete
as they went up the hill obliquely, struggling through
tangled grass and wiry heath. When they reached
the summit, he saw they were on the western edge of
the tableland but some distance below its highest point.
Though it was broken by rolling elevations, the ground
ran gradually down to an extensive plain where white
mist lay in the hollows. A belt of saffron light lingered
on the horizon, with a half-moon in a streak of green
above, and one or two twinkling points showed, faint
and far off, in the valley.
“Yon," said Pete, “is Bewcastle dale, and I ken
where we'll find a welcome when we cross the water o'


SPADEADAM WASTE
179
Line. But I'm thinking we'll keep the big flow in our
left han'."
Instead of descending towards the distant farm-
steads, he followed the summit of the rise, and Foster,
who understood that a flow is a soft bog, plodded after
him without objecting. The heather was tangled and
rough, and hid the stones he now and then stumbled
against, but it was better to hurry than be left with a
long distance to cover in the dark. Indeed, as he
caught his feet in the wiry stems and fell into holes,
he frankly admitted the absurdity of his adventure,
a sense of which amused him now and then. He was
in a highly civilized country, there were railways and
telegraph lines not far off, and he was lurking like an
ancient outlaw among the bogs! It looked as if
there must be better ways of meeting his difficulties,
but he could not see one. Anyhow, he had determined
to save his partner, and now, if his plans were hazy
and not very wise, it was too late to make a sweeping
change.
After a time Pete stopped abruptly, and then drop-
ping into a clump of heather, pointed backwards down
the long slope on their right hand. Foster's sight was
good, but he admitted that the poacher's was better,
because it was a minute or two before he saw any
ground for alarm. Although there was some light in
the sky, the rough descent, was dark and it was only by
degrees he distinguished something that moved across
the heath, below and some distance away. Then he
realized that it was a man, and another became faintly
visible. They might be shepherds or sportsmen, but
it was significant that there were two and they seemed
to be ascending obliquely, as if to cut his line of march.


180
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
He remembered that as he and Pete had kept the crest
of the ridge their figures must have shown, small but
sharp, against the fading light.
"It's suspicious, but I wouldn't like to say they're
on our trail,” he remarked.
“Ye'll soon ken. Watch the bit scaur."
Foster saw a faint dark line down the hill, and sup-
posed it was a gully, torn out of the peat. It ran
nearly straight up, crossing the strangers' indirect
course to the summit, and would make a very rough
means of ascent, but if they entered it the men would
be out of sight. He blamed himself for not looking
back before but had felt safe in the wilds, and even
now it was hard to believe that the men were following
him. Straining his eyes, he watched them move to-
wards the gully, and set his lips when they disappeared.
It was plain that they meant to get as close as possible
before they were seen.
He did not move for the next few moments, but his
brain was busy. Graham might have come back down
the north road in his car and afterwards taken to the
moors, but it was difficult to understand how he had
found Foster's track. Chance, however, sometimes
favored one in a curious way; the fellow might have
found out that he had left the road and expected him
to stop the night in Bewcastle dale. Since Foster had
Pete with him, he was not, in one sense, afraid of
Graham. Although the fellow was, no doubt, danger-
ous, he was not likely to force an equal fight. The
risk would come if Graham found him alone and at a
disadvantage, when Foster thought it would go hard
with him. This was why he could not have the men
on his track, watching for the right moment to strike.


SPADEADAM WASTE 183
that the hut would catch the eyes of the men behind
if they came close enough, and he stopped where the
ground rose.
“We'll no' gang in yet," said Pete.
They skirted the mound, which was larger than
Foster thought and broken by out-cropping rock, and
when a thick screen of the birches rose between them
and the building, crept into a nook among the stones.
Foster imagined that the others might search for half
the night without finding them unless they were lucky.
Then Pete remarked in a meaning tone: “There's just
the twa, and I hae a good stick.”
Foster smiled. He was tired, wet, and savage, and
would have liked to confront Graham and settle their
differences by force; but the matter could not be
treated in this primitive way. He could not shoot the
men, and would be no better off if he overpowered and
threw them in the bog. They would know where he
was and would follow him as close as was safe, while
he wanted to shake them off and make them uncertain
whether they were on his track or not. Besides, his
antagonists might avoid a conflict.
“The thing's too complicated to be straightened
out by knocking somebody down,” he said. “But I'm
glad I'm not here alone."
In the meantime, the others were getting nearer,
for Foster heard them splash through the wet moss and
stumble among the rushy grass. They were walking
fast, which indicated that they thought themselves
some distance behind the fugitives; but stopped when
they saw the birches, and then came on again cau-
tiously. Foster could not see them until their blurred
figures appeared among the trees. So long as he


184
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
kept still there was little chance of his being found.
The moonlight filtered through the low mist that
rose half-way up the thin birch trunks on the top of
the mound, but the shieling stood on a lower level, and
when they went towards it the men's forms got very
indistinct. They vanished, but he knew they had
gone in when a pale stream of light flickered among the .
trees.
“A polisman's trick," Pete said in a low voice. "A
poacher would not ha' let ye see the light."
Foster felt that he must find out who the men were.
The thing was risky, but it was worth trying, and he
crawled out from behind the stones. The rock was
rough and wet; his hand plunged into some water and
he scraped his knee, but he made a few yards and then
stopped and lay flat as the light went out. It looked as
if the others had heard him, and he lowered his head
until his face was buried in withered fern. There was
silence for a few moments, and then his nerves tingled
as he heard steps; the men, he thought, were coming
out to look for him. He did not move, however, and
the footsteps got farther off. By and by there was a
sharp rustle and he cautiously looked up. Two hazy
figures showed among the trees, but it was plain that
they were going away.
It was impossible to follow them without being
heard, and he waited until Pete joined him. So far
as he could judge by the noise they made, the men
were hurrying across the bog.
"They're awa', but I wouldna' say they'll no come
back," Pete remarked. "If they dinna' strike the
right place, they'll no' find it easy to cross the burn.
She rins in a deep cut an' the bottom's saft."


SPADEADAM WASTE
185
“What's likely to happen if they get off the track?"
"Weel,” said Pete, with a chuckle, “it's verra possi-
ble they'll stop in the flow till morning, maybe up to
the knees in mire. I dinna' think there's much reason
they should get in deeper, but they might.”
“But suppose they find the way and cross the
burn?"
"Then, if they ken the dale, I would expect them
to haud a bit south for Shopford, where they would
find an inn, or maybe west by the Clattering ford to
Canonbie. If they dinna' ken, it's likely they'll hae to
sleep behind a dyke. Noo, however, we'll turn back
and gang up the dale.”
They recrossed the bog and skirted the moor for
some time, after which they went down a long slope
and reached a level space of grass and heath. They
followed it north until a light shone ahead and the
barking of dogs indicated that they were approaching a
farm. Pete went in first, and Foster did not know
what explanation he gave, but the farmer told him to
sit down when he entered the big, flagged kitchen. He
was not surprised when a woman who came in looked
at him curiously, because he was wet and splashed,
and bits of fern and heather stuck to his clothes, but
his hosts asked no questions and presently gave him
supper.
Soon afterwards he was shown a comfortable room
and went to bed, leaving Pete with the others in the
kitchen. Foster was glad to feel he could be trusted
not to tell them too much, although he would, no
doubt, have to satisfy their curiosity to some extent.
A hint went a long way with the reserved Borderers.


XIX
ALICE'S CONFIDENCE
TOSTER got up late and after breakfast sat by the
1 kitchen fire, studying his map. He imagined
that his pursuers, believing him to be in front, had
crossed the low ground towards the cultivated valley
of the Esk, where they would not have trouble in
finding shelter for the night. Then, if they thought
he was making for the Garth, the railway would take
them up Liddesdale.
: He meant to visit the Garth, although this might
prove dangerous if Graham and his companion watched
the neighborhood. So long as Pete was close at hand,
the risk might not be great, but Pete could not be with
him always and he thought Graham would stick at
nothing to get his papers back. One of the gang had
killed Fred Hulton, and Foster did not suppose the
others would hesitate about getting rid of him, if it
could be done without putting the police on their
track. A shot or stab in the dark would effectually
prevent his betraying them, and it might be made to
look like an accident, or perhaps as if he had killed
himself. Foster, as a rule, distrusted anything that
looked abnormal or theatrical, but admitted that he
might be in some danger. For all that, he was going.
There was no need for an early start, because he did
not want to arrive in daylight and the distance was not
186


ALICE'S CONFIDENCE
187
great. Then he meant to avoid the high roads, and
after a talk with Pete picked out his route across the
hills. It was eleven o'clock when they set off, and
they spent an hour sheltering behind a dyke while a
snowstorm broke upon the moor. The snow was wet
and did not lie, but the soaked grass and ling after-
wards clung about their feet and made walking labori-
ous. The sky was gray and lowering and there was a
bitter wind, but they pushed on across the high moors,
and when the light was going saw a gap in a long ridge
in front. Foster thought this marked the way down
to the Garth.
It was nearly dark when they reached the gap,
through which a brown stream flowed, and he could
see nothing except dim hillsides and the black trough
of the hollow. Pete said they must follow the water,
and they stumbled downhill among the stones beside
the burn. As they descended, a valley opened up and
a rough track began near a sheepfold. Although it
was dark, Foster saw that they were now crossing
rushy pasture, and they had to stop every now and
then to open a gate. The stream was swelling with
tributaries from the hills and began to roar among the
stones. Birches clustered in the hollows, the track
became a road, and at length a group of lights twin-
kled across a fir wood and he knew the Garth was not
far ahead.
Now he had got there, he almost wished he had kept
away. He was not sure of his welcome and did not
know what line to take if Featherstone showed his
doubts. For one thing, he did not mean to talk about
his adventures in Newcastle and on Spadeadam waste.
The affair was too theatrical for the unimaginative


188
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
country gentleman to believe, and for that matter,
when Foster went up the drive past the well-kept
shrubberies and lawn he found it hard to realize that
he had been hunted by determined men and was now
perhaps in danger of his life. Featherstone, living
in his quiet house, could not be expected to credit such
a romantic tale. Graham's letters would to some
extent corroborate his statements, but not unless
Featherstone accepted his surmises as correct; but
Foster admitted that after all pride was his strongest
motive for saying nothing. If Featherstone distrusted
him, he must continue to do so until Foster's efforts to
help Lawrence were successful.
He braced his courage when he rang the bell, but
John, who let him in, did not seem to find anything
remarkable in his choice of a companion. Pete looked
very big and rather truculent in his rough, wet clothes,
but he was not embarrassed.
"This is a friend of mine," said Foster. "I should
be obliged if you will look after him.”
John showed no surprise at his statement. “Very
good, sir; I think I can promise that. Will you give
me your coat, sir?" Then he beckoned Pete. "If
you please, come with me.”
He took Pete away and Foster wondered with some
amusement what they thought of one another. A few
moments afterwards Alice came in, dressed with a
curious elegant plainness that he thought suited her.
Alice needed no ornaments, and fripperies would have
struck a jarring note. Foster sometimes called her
stately, though he felt that this was not quite what he
meant. She had a certain quiet grace, touched with
pride, that he had never noticed about anybody else,
lof mine after his state


190
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
she asked no questions about his journey and avoided
mentioning Lawrence. It looked as if she knew her
husband's doubts, but Foster somehow thought she
did not altogether share them. In the meantime, he
tried to act as if their relations were perfectly normal,
but found it hard, and now and then glanced at the
clock. It was a long way to the nearest inn and he
wondered when Featherstone would return, because
he could not accept the hospitality of a man who dis-
trusted him.
When dinner was over, he went with the others to
the drawing-room and did his best to engage them in
careless talk. Alice supported him when his efforts
flagged, as they sometimes did, and once or twice gave
him a half-amused, half-sympathetic glance. He did
'not know if he was grateful for this or not, but saw
that she knew what he felt. If Mrs. Featherstone
guessed, she made no sign; she treated him with the
graciousness one would expect from a well-bred host-
ess, but went no further.
It was a relief when Featherstone came in. He
made a little abrupt movement when he saw Foster,
to whom he did not give his hand. The latter thought
he looked disturbed.
"I am sorry I was not at home when you arrived,"
Featherstone said. “Still, I had no reason for thinking
you would be here."
"In fact, you were rather surprised to see me,”
Foster suggested.
Featherstone looked at him as if he thought he had
been blunter than was necessary, but replied: "Well,
I suppose that's true, but I have no doubt Mrs. Feather-
stone has made up for my absence, and since you have


ALICE'S CONFIDENCE
191
come, we would like to talk to you about Lawrence.
I dare say you will give us a few minutes."
He opened the door as Mrs. Featherstone rose, and
Foster went with them to the library, where Feather-
stone sat down at a big table. It was here he wrote his
business letters and occasionally attended to magis-
terial duties, and Foster thought this was why he had
chosen the place. It, no doubt, gave him a feeling
of authority. Mrs. Featherstone sat by the fire, but
Foster was surprised when Alice came in. Feather-
stone glanced at her with a frown.
"It might have been better if you had stayed down-
stairs and left this matter to your mother and me," he
remarked and waited, as if he expected his wife to
support him, but she did not.
"No," said Alice; "I am beginning to get anxious
about Lawrence, and if Mr. Foster can tell us anything
fresh, I ought to hear it. But I don't think he can. I
believe he told us all he knew before."
Featherstone looked disturbed by her boldness, but
Foster felt a thrill. Alice was on his side and meant
to show the others her confidence in his honesty. He
wondered what Featherstone would do, and was not
surprised when he made a gesture of resignation. Fos-
ter knew his comrade well, and imagined that Feather-
stone was very like Lawrence. The latter was physi-
cally brave, but sometimes gave way to moral pres-
sure and vacillated when he should be firm. Both
showed a certain lack of rude stamina; they were, so
to speak, too fine in the grain. Foster, however, had
other things to think about, and indeed felt rather like
a culprit brought before his judges. Then Mrs. Feath-
erstone relieved the unpleasant tension.


192
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
“We have not heard from Lawrence yet and do not
understand it. Can you do anything to set our fears
at rest?"
“I'm sorry I can't,” said Foster, and seeing he must
deal with the matter boldly, asked Featherstone:
"Have you any ground for believing I have not been
frank?"
“It is an awkward question. You are our guest
and my son sent you to us. I must add that we had
begun to like you for your own sake; but I have
grounds for supposing that you kept something back.
To begin with, Daly, whom you told us you meant
to mislead, was here again yesterday."
"Did you give way to his demands? It's important
that I should know.”
Featherstone hesitated, and Foster saw where his
suspicions led, but for the next moment or two was
absorbed by speculations about Daly's visit. Then
Alice looked at her father with a smile.
“You can tell Mr. Foster. It's obvious that if he
was in league with the fellow he would have no need
to ask.”
"I did not give way,” said Featherstone. "He
must have seen that I was determined, because after
the first I thought he did not press me very hard."
“Ah!" said Foster; "that was curious, but we'll let
it go in the meantime. I suppose there is something
else?"
"Since you left, the police have paid me another
visit. They asked some rather strange questions, be-
sides inquiring where you were.”
"Which you couldn't tell them!”
"I didn't know," Featherstone rejoined pointedly,


ALICE'S CONFIDENCE
193
and Foster saw that Alice had said nothing about his
recent visit. She gave him an inquiring glance, as
if she wondered why he did not state his reasons for
going to Newcastle, but he looked as unobservant as
he could. He could not signal her, because while this
might escape his host's notice he was afraid of Mrs.
Featherstone.
: “Well,” he said, "it might be better if you, so to
speak, formulated your suspicions and made a definite
charge. After all, I'm entitled to hear it."
“I do so most unwillingly, but feel an explanation
is needed. To begin with, we had one short letter
from my son, stating that he could not come home but
you would tell us how he was getting on. This was
all; he said nothing about Daly, or his starting east
with you. You arrived with his portmanteau and
what I now think is a rather curious story. Then,
after Daly wrote, you suggested an extraordinary plan,
which, as the fellow came here, has not worked very
well. Besides, the police have made inquiries about
you and there's something mysterious about your jour-
neys. I do not think they were all intended to mislead
Daly."
"All this is true," Foster admitted. “But you
haven't stated the conclusions you draw from it."
“The conclusions are vague but disturbing. Law-
rence trusted you and, you tell us, started with you
for a place he did not intend to reach. Since then he
has vanished. It is possible that you have deceived
both him and us."
"That's rather absurd," Alice remarked. "I really
don't think Mr. Foster would make a very dangerous
plotter, and you admitted that Lawrence trusted him."


194 CARMEN'S MESSENGER
"I did," Featherstone rejoined sharply, as if he
resented the interruption. “Still I don't see your argu-
ment."
“She means that Lawrence is not a simpleton,” Mrs.
Featherstone interposed. "For myself, I doubt if Mr.
Foster could deceive him.”
“We'll go on," Featherstone resumed, turning to
Foster. “There was a very mysterious affair at Gard-
ner's Crossing shortly before you left and some valu-
able bonds were missing.”
Foster's face got red, but he laughed. “This is too
much, sir! If your suspicions went so far, why did
you not tell the police?"
"Ah!” said Featherstone with some awkwardness,
"there you have me at a disadvantage! While Daly
has the power to injure Lawrence, I must keep the
police in the dark.” He paused and added: “I cannot
say I believed you reckoned on this."
“Thank you,” said Foster, but Alice broke in:
“Why don't you tell my father why you went to
Newcastle?"
Featherstone gave her a surprised glance and then
turned to Foster. “It looks as if my daughter were
better informed than I. There is obviously some-
thing I do not know about.”
"There is; but I must ask Miss Featherstone to
respect my confidence in the meantime," Foster an-
swered, and getting up, stood silent for a few mo-
ments, resting his hand on his chair.
He saw restrained curiosity in Mrs. Featherstone's
face and her husband's anger, while he thought Alice
knew how significant the line she had taken looked.
She had boldly admitted that he knew her well enough


ALICE'S CONFIDENCE
195
to trust her with his secrets, and declared herself on
his side. In the meantime, he was conscious of a
strain that he thought the others felt and was sorry
for Featherstone. He could not resent the man's
anxiety about his son. For all that, he did not mean
to tell him why he had gone to Newcastle. It would
not make a plausible tale.
"I must own that things look bad for me," he said.
"I can't offer any explanation that would satisfy you
and could not expect you to take my word that I mean
well. All I can do is to frighten off Daly and then find
Lawrence, and I'm going to try.”
"It doesn't matter much about Daly now. But if
you can find Lawrence, you will clear yourself.”
Alice turned to her father with an angry sparkle in
her eyes. “That's a very grudging concession for us
to make. We will not blame Mr. Foster when he has
proved that it's impossible for him to be guilty!"
The tension was too great for any of them to be
much surprised by her outbreak and Featherstone said
dully, “It's logical.”
"Logical!" Alice exclaimed in a scornful tone. "Do
you expect Mr. Foster to be satisfied with that, after
what he has borne and the risks he has run for us?
Now, when things look bad for him, is the time for
you to show your trust and knowledge of character."
"You imply that your judgment is better than
mine?" Featherstone rejoined, but without heat.
"I know an honest man,” Alice said quietly, with
some color in her face.
There was silence for a few moments and by an ef-
fort of self-control Foster kept his face unmoved.
He did not mean to let the others see the exultant


196
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
satisfaction the girl's statement had given him. Feath-
erstone brooded with knitted brows and a troubled
look. Then he said:
“You will understand, Mr. Foster, that this has been
a painful interview to my wife and me. You were
our guest and my son's friend; but I do not know what
has happened and we have no news of him. If you
can bring him back, I will ask your forgiveness for
all that I have said.”
“I will do my best and get to work to-morrow,''
Foster answered. Then he bowed to Mrs. Feather-
stone and Alice, and the girl gave him a look that
made his heart beat as he went out of the room.
Shortly afterwards he entered the hall, wearing
his damp walking clothes, and met Mrs. Featherstone,
who protested against his leaving them at night.
Foster answered that he had no time to lose and beck-
oning Pete, who was waiting, went out. Alice had not
come down to bid him good-by, but after all he had
not expected this; the meeting would not have been
free from embarrassment. He had much to say to her,
but must wait until he had kept his promise.
He did not blame Featherstone and rather sym-
pathized with him, but could not stay at the Garth or
come back there until he had cleared up the mystery
about his comrade's silence. Pete did not grumble
much when they went down the drive, but said he had
no friends in the neighborhood and it was a long way
to the nearest inn.


198
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
supposition that Daly would return to Canada. Then,
dismissing the matter for the time, he speculated about
the possibility of Graham's lurking in the neighbor-
hood and began to look ahead. A stone dyke, broken
in places, ran between the winding road and the
stream it followed; on the other side, which lay in
shadow, thin birches straggled up a steep hill. The
moon was low and would soon sink behind the trees,
when it would be very dark. When he looked back he
could not see the lights of the Garth. He was on the
road to the station, and remembered that there was a
train from the south in the evening.
Taking out his watch, he calculated that anybody
who left the station on foot when the train arrived
might be expected to reach the Garth in the next
quarter of an hour. This was disturbing, but he saw
nothing to cause him alarm as he went on. Now and
then a rabbit, startled by his footsteps, ran across the
road, and once or twice an owl hooted as it futtered
overhead. The river splashed among the stones and
sometimes the shadows moved as a puff of wind came
up the valley; but that was all. Still Foster quickened
his pace; it was some distance to the village where
he knew of an inn, and he wanted to get there before
the people went to bed. He would not admit that he
shrank from being left in the dark when the moon ,
sank.
: By and by Pete stopped to relight his pipe and ut-
tered an exclamation when he put his hand in his
pocket.
"I hae lost the guid pooch ye gave me at Hexham,"
he said. "I mind I filled my pipe by the big thorn


THE RIGHT TRACK
199
where the wire fence stops, and the moon's on the road.
If ye'll bide or gang on slowly, I'll rin back.”
“Never mind it. I'll give you another."
“Na," said Pete. "If ye had been used with an
auld tin and had a smairt pooch for the first time, ye
wouldna' lea' it in the road. Besides, it was fu' o' a
better tobacco than I often smoke.”
Foster would sooner have kept him, but was un-
willing to admit that he did not like to be alone. It
was not very far to the thorn tree and Pete would
soon overtake him. He went on, but did not loiter,
and noted how his footsteps echoed along the edge of
a wood ahead. In fact, the noise he made rather
jarred his nerves, but the grass by the roadside was
hummocky and wet. The road was dark beside the
wood, for the moon was near the tops of the black firs,
but there were gaps through which the silver light
shone down.
· As he passed the first of the trees he heard a rattle
of wings and stopped abruptly. Wood-pigeons were
fluttering among the branches, and if he had not dis-
turbed them, there was somebody in the wood. After
a few moments, the sound died away, but he stood
listening. He could not hear Pete coming, and was
sorry he had let him go; the road looked lonely, and
he knew there was no house for some distance. Still,
if he had not frightened the pigeons, it might be unsafe
to stay where he was, and he did not mean to turn
back. It was better to be cautious, but he must not
give his imagination rein.
Bracing his courage, he went on, a little faster than
before but without hurrying, and for two or three
minutes heard no fresh noise. The wood ran along


200
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
the road for perhaps a quarter of a mile and he was
near the middle of it when there was a sharp report
and something flicked against the wall behind him. He
sprang aside instinctively, and then running forward
smashed through the rotten fence and plunged into the
wood. The nervous shrinking he had felt had gone.
Now he was confronted with a danger that was not
imaginary, he was conscious of savage anger and a
fierce desire to come to grips with his treacherous an-
tagonist. His fury was greater because of his pre-
vious fear.
| The wood was dark and thick. Branches brushed
against him and hindered his progress, crawling bram-
bles caught his feet. He could hear nothing except
the noise he made, and as the fit of rage passed away
his caution returned. He was putting himself at a
disadvantage, because his lurking enemy could hear
him and would no doubt try another shot if he came
near enough. Stopping behind a fir trunk, with his
finger on the trigger of the Browning pistol, he lis-
tened. At first no sound came out of the dark, but he
presently heard a rustle some distance off. There was
another man in the wood beside the fellow who had
fired at him, but so long as he kept still and the others
did not know where he was, he had an advantage over
them. They might expose themselves, and he was a
good shot.
He would have liked to wait, but reflected that if
he killed or disabled somebody, he would have to jus-
tify his action, and he had compromising papers in
his pocket. He did not want to destroy the checks
or tell his story to the police yet. Then he noticed
that the rustling was getting farther away, as if the


THE RIGHT TRACK
201
man was pushing through the wood towards the moor
behind it, and he turned back half-reluctantly to the
road. After getting over the fence, he kept on the wet
grass, and had nearly reached the end of the wood
when he heard somebody running behind him. The
moon was now behind the firs and their dark shadow
stretched from fence to wall. It looked as if Pete
had heard the shot and was coming to his help, but
Foster kept on until he was nearly out of the wood,
and then stopped, standing against the fence, a yard
or two back from where the moonlight fell upon the
road. There was no use in running an unnecessary
risk.
The steps got nearer; he heard somebody breathing
hard, and a figure appeared in the gloom. Then Foster
thrust the pistol into his pocket, for the man who came
into the moonlight was Gordon, whom he had met at
the Edinburgh hotel.
"Mr. Foster!” he exclaimed breathlessly, but Foster
thought he was not surprised, and sitting on the fence
took out a cigarette as calmly as he could. He had
Graham's checks and must be careful.
“Yes,” he said. “I didn't expect to see you."
"I imagine it's lucky that you knew me,” Gordon
remarked, rather dryly. “Well, perhaps we ought to
have stopped you at the other end of the wood."
“You were watching it then?”
“Both ends. It's obvious now that we should have
watched the middle.”
“Ah,” said Foster thoughtfully; "then you knew
somebody was hiding among the trees?”
"We thought it very possible.”


202
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
"Well, you know I was shot at, but I imagine the
fellow got away. Do you mean to let him go?"
Gordon laughed. “My friends tell me I'm getting
fat, and I'm certainly not so vigorous as I was. Be-
sides, it's not my part of the business to chase a sus-
pected person across the hills, and I have men able
to do it better than I can. But you stopped as you
entered the wood. Did you expect to be shot at?".
“I thought it very possible," Foster answered dryly.
“A fair retort! You were shot at. Were you nearly
hit?"
"I believe the fellow would have got me if he'd used
a gun instead of a pistol; but the former would, of
course, have been a conspicuous thing to carry about."
"That's true,” Gordon agreed. “But, after escap-
ing, why did you stop here and run the risk again?"
Foster pondered. There was no sign of Pete, but
he thought the latter could be trusted to elude the
police, and did not want to let Gordon know he had
felt it necessary to provide himself with a bodyguard.
Something of this kind would be obvious if he stated
that he was waiting for a companion.
"Well,” he said, “it's annoying to be shot at, and
when I heard somebody running I thought I might
catch the fellow off his guard. You see, I had already
gone into the wood to look for him."
"But you must have known that it would have
been very rash for the man who fired the shot to run
noisily down the middle of the road."
“I suppose I was rather excited and didn't remember
that,” Foster replied.
Gordon said nothing for a few moments and Foster
saw that he had been fencing with him. He had


THE RIGHT TRACK
203
admitted that he had partly expected to be attacked,
and the other knew of the danger to which he had been
exposed. This was puzzling; but it was lucky the
man had not asked his reasons for fearing an attack.
Foster believed he had not omitted to do so from
carelessness.
Then Gordon said, “I must try to find out what my
men are doing. Where are you going to stop to-
night?”
Foster told him and he nodded. “I know the inn
and will call there as soon as I can. Leave your ad-
dress if you go before I come."
He went away up the road and Foster, setting off
again, had gone about a mile when he heard steps
behind him. Soon after he stopped Pete came up.
“Ye're no' hurt?" he asked.
Foster said he was uninjured, and when he asked
where Pete had been the latter grinned.
"Up the hill and sitting in a wet peat-hag. There
was a polisman who ran better than I thought an’ it
wasn'a a'thegither easy getting clear o'him.”
“But why did the policeman run after you?"
“Yon's a thing I dinna' exactly ken, but when I
was coming doon the road I heard a shot and saw ye
break intil the wood. Weel, I thought the back o' it
was the place for me, and I was follying the dyke, quiet
and saircumspect, when a man jumped ower and took
the heather. He had a stairt, but the brae was steep,
and I was thinking it would no’ be long before I had
a grup o' him when the polis cam' ower the dyke be-
hind. Then I thought it might be better if I didna'
interfere, and made for a bit glen that rins doon the


204
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
fell. When I saw my chance I slippit oot and found
the peat-hag.”
Foster knitted his brows. It looked as if Pete had
drawn the police off his antagonist's track, which was
unfortunate; but Gordon had evidently been watching
the fellow, who would now have enough to do to make
his escape. How Gordon came to be watching him
required some thought, but Foster need not puzzle
about this in the meantime. That Graham or his
accomplice had thought it worth while to risk shooting
him in order to recover the checks showed Foster that
he was on the right track. Their importance did not
depend on their money value; Graham meant to get
them back because they were evidence of a crime. It
was satisfactory to think there was not much proba-
bility of the fellow's meeting Daly, who would have
an additional reason for leaving the country if he
heard what had happened.
After walking some distance, he came to a strag-
gling village, and although he had to knock for a
few minutes was admitted to the inn. Somewhat to
his surprise, Gordon did not follow him, and finding
that there was a train to Carlisle next morning, he
gave the name of a hotel there and went to the sta-
tion. He had done what Gordon told him, but did
not mean to stop at the hotel long.
As the train ran down Liddesdale he sat in a corner,
thinking. The fast Canadian Northern boats sailed
from Bristol, and Daly might choose that port if he
were suspicious and meant to steal away; but Liver-
pool was nearer and there were more steamers to
Montreal. Foster thought he could leave this matter
until he reached Carlisle and got a newspaper that gave


THE RIGHT TRACK
205
the steamship sailings. In the meantime he must de-
cide what to do with Pete, and admitted that he would
be sorry to part with the man, although he would not
be of much help in the towns, and their companion-
ship might make him conspicuous.
“I almost think I had better let you go at Carlisle,”
he said.
Pete looked rather hard at him, and then asked:
“Have I earned my money?"
“Yes," said Foster, "you have earned it well."
“Then, if ye have nae great objection, I'd like to
take pairt in the shape o'a third-class passage to West-
ern Canada, where ye come from. I hear it's a gran'
country.”
"It's a hard country," Foster answered. “You had
better not be rash. There's not much poaching yon-
der; the game, for the most part, belongs to the State,
and the laws about it are very strict.”
"There's no' that much profit in poaching here;
particular when ye pay a smart fine noo and then.
For a' that, I wouldna' say but it's better than mony
anither job, if ye're lucky.”
"You ought to make a good hill shepherd.”
“Verra true, an' I might make a good plooman,
and get eighteen shillings or a pound a week for either.
But what's yon for a man's work frae break o' day
till dark? An', mind ye, it's work that needs skill.”
"Not very much," Foster agreed.
“Weel,” said Pete, rather diffidently, "I thought ye
might have some use for me, if ye've no' finished the
business ye are on."
Foster doubted if Pete could help him much in
Canada, since he did not expect to chase Daly through


THE RIGHT TRACK
207
wonder how long he should wait when a bright light
flashed out at the top of the hill across the bridge.
A car was coming down the hill and Foster stopped
behind a tramway cable-post and took out his pipe
as if he meant to strike a match. Just then a tram-car
rolled across the bridge and the motor swerved to-
wards the spot where he stood. It passed close enough
for him to have touched it, and he saw Daly sitting
beside the driver, and two ladies behind. He could
not distinguish their faces, for the car sped across the
bridge and a few moments later its tail light vanished
among the houses that ran down to the river.
Foster set off after it as fast as he could walk. Daly
would not go to the station, because there was no train
south for some time, and the two hotels where motor-
ists generally stayed were not far off. Still he might
drive through the town, making for Kendal or Lan-
caster, in which case Foster would lose him. The car
was not in the first garage, and he hurried to the
other, attached to his hotel. He found the car,
splashed with mud which the driver, whom he had
seen at Hawick, was washing off.
“I want some petrol, and you had better leave me a
clear road to the door,” the man said to a garage hand.
"I expect we'll be out first in the morning, because we
mean to start as soon as it's light."
Foster had heard enough, and quickly went away.
Daly meant to stop the night, and he must decide what
to say to him. He was moreover curious about his
companions.


XXI
DALY TAKES ALARM
W HEN he returned to the hotel Foster signed
the visitors' book, which he examined. Daly's
name was not there, but the last entry recorded the
arrival of Mr. Forbes and two ladies from Edinburgh,
and Foster did not doubt that this was the party he
had seen. He next went to the smoking-room and
choosing a quiet corner, lighted a cigarette. Daly
would probably see his name in the book, but this did
not matter, because he meant to seek an interview with
the man. Foster did not think he had met Graham,
which gave him the advantage of being able to make
a surprise attack, since Daly would not know about
the documents he carried.
By and by, however, he began to see the matter in a
different light. Taking it for granted that Daly meant
to leave England, it might be better to let him go.
Even if he had not killed Fred Hulton, he had obvi-
ously had something to do with the theft of the bonds,
and would be more afraid of detection in Canada,
which would make him easier to deal with. Besides,
his knowledge of Lawrence Featherstone's offense
would be of less use to him there. If Foster could
keep him in sight and sail by the same vessel, he would
be able to have the reckoning when he liked after the
ship left port.
208


DALY TAKES ALARM
209
On the whole, he thought this the better plan, but
resolved to leave the thing to chance. If Daly met
him or saw his name in the book, he would deal with
the fellow then; if not, he would wait until they were
on board ship. When he went in to dinner he chose
a place behind a pillar, where he was not likely to be
noticed, and looked carefully about. The room was
large and occupied by a number of guests, but by and
by he saw Daly at a table near its other end. As he
had taken a prominent place, it looked as if he was
not afraid of being seen. He sat facing Foster, but
at some distance, with two ladies on the opposite side.
They were fashionably dressed and one was older than
the other, but that was all Foster could distinguish.
He had no ground for thinking Daly noticed him
during the meal, and did not see the man for an hour
afterwards. Then finding that he wanted a railway
guide he had left in his room, he went up the stairs
and along a corridor. As he did so, he saw a man and
woman some distance in front. The carpet was thick,
and it was obvious that the others did not hear him,
because the man put his arm round his companion's
waist. So far as Foster could see, the girl yielded
willingly to his embrace, and not wishing to overtake
them he stopped. Next moment they passed a lamp
and he noted that the man was Daly, though he was
unable to distinguish his companion's face. He, how-
ever, thought he would know her dress again.
Daly's love affairs had nothing to do with him, but
in order to save the girl embarrassment he waited
until they opened a door. Foster imagined it led to a
music or drawing-room, but passed without looking in,
and going up a flight of stairs spent some time in his


210
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
room, studying the railway guide and a list of steam-
ship sailings. As he entered the corridor on his way
back he saw the girl, who was now alone, in front.
He knew her by her dress and did not mean to over-
take her, but after she had gone a few paces she
stopped to pick up something she had dropped. Since
it would look rather marked if he waited, he went on
and was close to her when she heard his steps and
glanced round with a start. Then he stopped as he
saw she was the girl he had first met at Hawick.
Although he thought she was embarrassed, she met
him with a smile.
"It looks as if you had got tired of Edinburgh,"
she remarked. “Did you stay there long?"
"No," said Foster bluntly. “But I wonder whether
you did not know that I had left?”
"How could I know ?" she asked with a look of sur-
prise that he thought was well done. “Besides, why
should I be interested ?”.
"You seemed to think it better that I should go
away. Anyhow, you gave me a useful hint, which
perhaps warrants my doing as much for you.”
She hesitated, glancing at an open door close by, and
then moved towards it as if she expected him to follow
her. Foster did so and found himself in a small
drawing-room, where she sat down on a sofa and
waited for him to speak. Instead he stood opposite,
pondering. The girl was pretty and fashionably
dressed, but he had ground for thinking some of her
friends or relatives were dangerous criminals. It did
not, however, follow that she took part in their plots,
and although she obviously knew something about
what was going on, he did not believe she knew it was


DALY TAKES ALARM
211
connected with the tragedy at Gardner's Crossing. He
admitted that he was perhaps giving way to romantic
sentiment, but he was sorry for the girl and thought
her Daly's victim. The fellow was handsome and
must have charm, since he had been able to influence
Carmen, who was strong-willed and clever.
“Well?" she said presently.
"I saw your name in the book, Miss Huntley, and
know whom you came with. I think you ought to go
back to Edinburgh at once and must urge you strongly
not to go to Canada.”
It was plain that she understood him, for the blood
rushed into her face and he saw that she felt some
confusion. This seemed to indicate that she was not a
hardened adventuress.
"To begin with, I am not going to Canada–I did
not mean to go,” she said, and her eyes sparkled as
she added: “But you are guilty of intolerable rude-
ness. Why do you presume to interfere?"
"I suppose I am rude; I'm certainly unconventional.
But you gave me some advice in Edinburgh and I
was grateful, because I saw you meant well. Can't
you believe that I mean well, too?”.
She gave him a quick, half-puzzled, half-nervous
glance, but did not answer, and he resumed: “Any-
how, you would run a greater risk in Canada than I
did in Edinburgh, and you were rash in coming to
Carlisle."
“But I'm not going to Canada!" she broke out.
“Don't you believe me?”
“I suppose I must," said Foster. “But I think you
ought to go home.”
She laughed, a rather strained laugh. “You are


212
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
conventional enough to think I would be safe there.
How do you know what kind of a home I have?”.
"I know nothing about it,” Foster admitted. “I
find you here with a dangerous companion and dare
say I haven't taken a very tactful line in trying to warn
you. That's all.”
There was silence for the next few moments and he
felt sympathetic as he watched her disturbed face. Her
anger had vanished and he thought she was grappling
with doubt and alarm. In the meantime, he was
not free from embarrassment. It was an awkward
business, and he had not managed it very well. Then
she got up and stood looking at him calmly.
"You have gone too far, in one sense, but not far
enough in another. You must be plainer if you want
to justify your conduct.”
“I see that, but am afraid you'll have to take my
honesty for granted, because I can't tell you anything
more, except that the man you came with is not to be
trusted and may involve you in the difficulties that
threaten him. You must think of me as a stranger
to whom you tried to do a good turn and who has
showed his gratitude in a clumsy way."
"Then there's nothing more to be said; but I sup-
pose I must admit that you meant well,” she an-
swered, and giving him a level glance moved to the
door.
Foster held it open and after she had gone went
down to the smoking-room. Perhaps he had been
rash, but this did not matter. On the whole, he did
not think the girl would tell Daly about his warning,
and if she did, he probably knew already that Foster
was at the hotel. In fact, it was rather significant that


DALY TAKES ALARM
213
they had not met. Still, as she was not going to
Canada, he had not gained much, except perhaps by
exciting her suspicions and so preventing Daly's mak-
ing some use of her in his plots. This, however, was
not Foster's object, although he imagined Daly had
some practical reason for his philandering. It was
for the girl's sake he had interfered and her attitude
puzzled him.
She could not have been altogether unsuspecting,
or she would have bitterly resented his attack upon her
lover, but her blush and confusion showed she had
scruples and was rather the prey of a foolish infatua-
tion than an accomplice. She knew something, but he
felt sure she did not know in what a serious crime her
lover was implicated. Foster, however, would not
dwell on this. He hoped she would return to Edin-
burgh, but if she did not, he had done his best. He
must be ready to follow Daly in the morning, and
going to another garage hired a car and then warned
Pete, whom he had sent to a different hotel. A fast
car would reach Liverpool in five or six hours.
There was only one thing that disturbed him; he
had not heard from the police, but it would be dan-
gerous to disobey an order by telegram, while if Gor-
don arrived before Daly left, awkward complications
might arise. Foster, however, could do nothing to
prevent this and presently went to bed.
Getting up in the dark next morning, he went to the
garage. The air was very raw and a fog hung over
the town, but one or two electric lights burned in the
gloomy shed, where an attendant was doing some-
thing. Daly's car stood where Foster had last seen
it, but the cover was off the engine and some tools


DALY TAKES ALARM
215
Daly's came out of the garage. Knowing that he
could reach the door in a few moments, Foster waited,
until the two ladies who had arrived with Daly went
down the steps alone. He could not understand this,
but a waiter came up and said that Miss Huntley
would like to see him. When Foster reached the pave-
ment the girl had got into the car.
"I thought you would be glad to know I am going
home,” she said.
"Are you going in this car?" Foster asked sharply.
“As far as Hawick," she answered with a twinkle of
amusement. “As I am doing what you urged, I don't
see why you should be surprised.”
"No," said Foster, “of course not! Well, I really
think it was a useful hint."
"Perhaps so. Thank you, and good-by,” she said
smiling, and signed to the driver.
The car rolled away and Foster, watching it speed
up the street, wondered where Daly was, and why
the girl had sent for him. It was possible that she had
meant to retire, so to speak, with colors flying and not
to steal away, but he did not understand her amuse-
ment, and feared a Parthian shot. He must find out
why Daly did not want the car.
Going back to the office, he asked the clerk: "Can
you tell me when Mr. Forbes will be down for break-
fast?"
“He left last night. The porter took his luggage
to the twelve o'clock train."
Foster savagely clenched his fist. He had been
cheated; the girl had warned Daly, who had suspected
some danger. Still, Foster did not think she had told
him all and she had taken his advice; but this did not


216
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
matter. Daly had gone and he must get upon his
track as soon as possible. Running down the steps, he
jumped into the car and told the man to drive to the
station.
The twelve o'clock train went to London, but there
was a connection by which one could reach Liverpool
at about four in the morning. It was now eight
o'clock, and Foster walked up and down the plat-
form, growling at his folly, for a minute or two. Then
he ascertained that there was another train for Liver-
pool in half an hour which would arrive at noon, and
sending the car away, waited about the office until he
could get tickets. After all, he might find Daly before
the steamer sailed.


XXII
CARMEN GETS A SHOCK
O N his way to Liverpool, Foster tried to review the
situation calmly. His anger was vanishing, but
he still felt sore and annoyed with himself. He had
weakly yielded to sentimental pity for an attractive
girl and had paid for it, because she had, no doubt,
warned Daly, who knew from Foster's boldness that
he had learned enough to make him dangerous. The
latter grimly resolved that he would not let any Quix-
otic folly spoil his plans again. He had been cleverly
tricked, but was not beaten yet, because a study of the
steamship advertisements led him to believe that Daly
could not leave Liverpool until the afternoon. More-
over, the fellow was obviously afraid of him.
Arriving shortly after twelve o'clock, he drove to
the Canadian Pacific office and asked a clerk for a list
of the passengers by a steamer announced to sail that
day. He was given a list and saw that Mr. Andrew
Forbes had taken a saloon berth. This indicated that
Daly had booked his passage beforehand.
"I see my friend's on board,” Foster remarked.
"Have you got a first and a second-class berth left?”
"We had,” the clerk said, smiling. “Unfortunately,
the boat has gone."
“Gone!" exclaimed Foster, who got a shock.
"Don't your steamers sail in the afternoon ?”
217


CARMEN GETS A SHOCK
219
Arriving at Gardner's Crossing in the evening, he
sent Pete to the hotel and went to Austin's house. He
must see Carmen and resolved that she should find
him proof against her wiles; he was not going to be a
sentimental fool again. In a general way, Carmen
was, of course, too clever for him, but he had now
certain advantages which he meant to use.
He was shown into her drawing-room, where he was
left for some time, and imagined with rather grim
amusement that she was making preparations to
receive him. Carmen knew the power of her beauty,
which, however, owed much to her tasteful dress. In
the meantime, he looked about the room. It was
pretty with a certain exotic touch that the girl knew
how to give. The color-plan of carpets, rugs, and
curtains, although rather vivid, was good; the furni-
ture pleased the eye. Foster had once thought it
charmingly artistic, but knew better now. Alice
Featherstone had taught him the difference between
prettiness and dignified beauty. He felt that differ-
ence plainly when Carmen came in, dressed like the
fashionable women he had seen in Edinburgh.
"You have come back soon, but it's nice to see you,”
she said with a smile. "The Crossing was duller than
usual after you had gone."
“Thank you! I came back sooner than I expected,"
Foster replied, rather dryly.
Carmen gave him a quick look, but sat down with
languid grace in an easy chair.
"Well, I've no doubt you have much to tell me
about your trip, and if you'll talk about Edinburgh
and London, I won't let anybody in.”


220
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
"Aren't you anxious to know if I delivered the
packet?”
"The packet? I had forgotten it,” Carmen said
carelessly. "Still, I did think you might have written
to let me know you took it safe. But I dare say you
had many interesting things to do."
“As it happened, I had,” Foster replied with a touch
of grimness. "For all that, I delivered the packet and
got an answer.”
Carmen regarded him with surprise, as if she
thought he had not played up. “You can give me the
answer afterwards. Tell me about Featherstone's
place and his people. I'm curious about them; particu-
larly his sisters. I suppose he has some?”.
Foster thought he understood. Carmen was clever
and would not have used such obvious means had she
wished to learn if Lawrence had a sister who had at-
tracted him. What she wanted was to persuade him
that the packet was not important.
“I'd sooner talk about the errand you gave me.
Did you know what the packet contained ?”
She laughed, but he thought the laugh was forced.
“Doesn't that sound rather stupid when I sent the
thing?”
"Perhaps it does," said Foster gravely. "Still, I
hope you didn't know."
Her coquettish manner vanished and she leaned
slightly forward while her eyes got hard. Indeed,
there was something feline in her alert pose. Now she
had, so to speak, unsheathed her claws, he was glad
the advantage was heavily on his side. For all that,
he did not want to hurt her.
"Go on,” she said sharply.
"S
:


CARMEN GETS A SHOCK 221
"Very well. I got an answer, which I opened. I'll
show it to you, but won't give it up."
"You opened it!” she exclaimed. “Do you mean
to keep a letter that was sent to me?"
"I don't think it was sent to you; that's impor-
tant."
Carmen smiled defiantly and Foster admired her
pluck, since it was obvious that he had found out the
trick. Still he thought she did not know how impor-
tant the letter really was.
“Then you can quit fencing and get down to busi-
ness,” she said, and Foster saw that the surface polish
she generally wore was thin. The character it con-
cealed was fierce and somewhat primitive. He had
suspected that Carmen would not be restrained by
conventions if she let herself go.
"If you'll be patient, I'll try to make things plain.”
He began by hastily recounting what had happened
at the factory the night Fred Hulton was killed. Car-
men was obviously puzzled, which was a relief to him,
but he saw comprehension in her look as he went on to
relate how he had been watched by the police, and his
interview with Graham and subsequent adventures.
By degrees, her understanding changed to horror, and
when he stopped he saw that she had got a cruel
shock. Her face was white, her gaze was fixed, and
her eyes were unusually wide open. Still he thought it
was through her pride she suffered most. Then she
braced herself and looked at him scornfully.
"You surely lost your nerve and got imagining
things when you were hiding in the bogs. It's a quite
impossible story!"
"It sounds like that, but I have some proof; money


222
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
for Daly and another man, which I suppose you were
to send on. It's evidently their share of the plunder."
He took out his wallet and held up the checks,
keeping, however, a firm grip on them, because he
knew that if Carmen meant to fight for her lover she
would not be scrupulous.
“Daly wasn't near the factory the night Fred Hul-
ton was killed. I know where he was," she said in a
strained but defiant voice.
"All the better for him," Foster rejoined. “It's
pretty clear that he had a share in the thing."
Carmen suddenly leaned back and turned her head.
She had given in sooner than Foster expected, but the
evidence was overwhelming. He did not look at her
for some moments and felt ashamed of the cruelty
he had had to use, but there was no avoiding this
when a number of people's happiness was at stake.
After all, he thought it was rather her ambition than
her affection that had been engaged. Then rousing
herself with an effort she turned to him.
"Well,” she said, “it looks as if I'd had an escape!”
Foster felt comforted, but did not answer, and she
resumed: “You haven't told me this for nothing.
What do you want?”
"I want to know where Daly is. I've no doubt he
called here on his way west and you have his address.”
"You can't force me to give it you."
"I don't know if I can or not, but don't want to use
force," Foster replied, and while he waited, hesitating
to play his last card, Carmen looked up with fear in
her eyes.
"Jake,” she said, "you mustn't think my father


CARMEN GETS A SHOCK
223
knows anything about this. I sent the packet, without
telling him, because Daly asked me."
“But your father and he had some business together
that nobody knew about.”
“They had. They were really backing Nicholson,
who got the first recorders turned off the Fish-hawk
silver claim.”
“Ah!" said Foster, "now I understand !"
He was glad to admit that her statement explained
Austin's rather mysterious association with Daly,
Public feeling had been strongly roused by the dispute
about the mine, whose finders it was believed had
been cunningly cheated out of their rights. There
were, moreover, hints of foul play about a dangerous
accident in the workings that had given the victorious
claimants a legal advantage. Foster could imagine
Daly's finding scope for his talents in the trickery and
intrigue, and saw why Austin did not want his share
in it known.
“In a way, it's a relief to find that's all your father
had to do with the fellow," he resumed. “Anyhow,
I want his address.”
"I won't give it you,” Carmen answered stubbornly.
Foster hesitated. The shock the girl had got had
broken down her self-control. He shrank from turn-
ing this to his advantage and dealing her another
blow, but could not be fastidious when his partner's
safety and Alice Featherstone's happiness were at
stake. Besides, it would be better for Carmen that her
infatuation for Daly should be altogether destroyed.
"Well,” he said, "I'm surprised that you should
still feel you ought to protect the man, and must try
to convince you that he doesn't deserve it.”


224
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
Then he related what he had seen in the corridor
of the Carlisle hotel and how Miss Huntley had helped
Daly to deceive him. Carmen's face paled and then
suddenly turned crimson; but she answered with a
quietness he had not expected:
"You're not a liar, Jake, so I suppose this is true.
But you're all of you human, and you say the girl is
pretty. What you saw mayn't mean very much."
"She wore an engagement ring. I don't imagine it
was given her by another man.”
Then Carmen lung the last of her self-contrtol
away. Her eyes flashed and Foster thought she looked
like a wild cat as she indulged her savage rage.
“The cur!” she cried in a harsh voice. "He went
to Banff, in British Columbia. Now you know, you
had better go after him. Do what you like with him;
I don't mind !”
Foster went to the door, but as he reached it she
called him back and looked at him with a bitter,
mocking smile.
“You're smarter than I thought, Jake, but I suppose
you think I don't know why you meddled! It wasn't
for your partner's sake, though I soon guessed that
Daly was getting after him; Featherstone has a sister,
and you have fallen in love with her. Well, she can
have you with pleasure if she has any use for you, and
before long you'll make her deadly tired. You'd bore
a live woman crazy in a week; you'll never be rich,
because you're afraid of touching a dollar you don't
earn, and you've got the morals of a convent-school
girl!" She gasped and resumed in a scream: “Why
don't you go before I throw something at you?”
Foster left and was glad when he shut the door.


CARMEN GETS A SHOCK
225
Carmen was obviously beside herself and had gone
further than she meant. If it was any comfort to
insult him, he did not grudge it her, but thought he
saw where her remarks led. He had been rather fond
of Carmen, as she no doubt knew, before he under-
stood her, and their friendship might have ripened
until - Well, he was sorry for her, but it looked as
if she was not the only person who had had an escape.
When he got outside, he went to the factory and
found Hulton alone in the president's room. The man
looked worn, but greeted Foster with a reserved smile
and gave him a cigar.
“You haven't been away very long," he remarked.
"Didn't your visit turn out as pleasant as you ex-
pected ?"
“In one way, it did not. But why did you send the
British police after me?”
"As a matter of fact, I let them know you were
all right, but my agent had to go to them, and thought
it might be better if they kept a watch on you. You'd
got busy about some mysterious business. What was
it?"
"I can't tell you,” said Foster bluntly. “It only
concerns me and Featherstone, but it led to something
helped on the train? If he got through all right, why
didn't he send me word ?”
"As the fellows who attacked you had got on the
wrong track, we thought we'd let them follow it, but
they were smarter than we reckoned and we lost
them.”
“Then you made use of me, at my risk, as the
Scottish police did afterwards ?” Foster rejoined. "I


CARMEN GETS A SHOCK
227
“The train goes west,” Hulton answered meaningly.
"It does, but if I think I'm followed, I'll spoil the
trail.”
Hulton's eyes flashed and his face set very hard.
“The man belongs to the gang that killed my son and
tried to blacken his name. I don't quit until I've run
the last rogue down.”
"I mean to see Daly first," Foster answered dog-
gedly.
After a moment or two, Hulton made a gesture of
agreement. “Very well; I allow you have a claim.
But I won't interfere if my agents have already got on
his track.”
"I must take the risk of that," Foster replied and
left the factory a few minutes afterwards.


XXIII
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
ALY was not at Banff, and Foster, who made
cautious inquiries, found nothing to indicate
that he had been there. Indeed, he began to weigh the
possibility of Carmen's having deceived him, but re-
jected this explanation. The girl was clever at in-
trigue, but he did not think she had acted a part. She
had really lost her self-control and told him the truth
in a fit of rage. On the other hand, it was possible that
Daly had deceived her, but there was no obvious rea-
son for his doing so.
The fellow, however, was not in Banff, which is a
small place, frequented mostly by tourists and invalids
who come there in summer, and Foster took a west-
bound train. He was once more at a loss and felt
dispirited. For one thing, he had no time to lose, be-
cause it would spoil his plans if Hulton's agents got on
Daly's track before him.
He left Banff late at night, with a ticket for Van-
couver, which he had bought on speculation, partly!
because the seaboard city is a clearing-house for travel-
ers to all parts of the Pacific coast, but did not sleep
much as the heavy train rumbled through the moun-
tains. The jolting of the cars and the roar of wheels
that echoed among the rocks disturbed him, and he
was troubled by gloomy thoughts. He had promised
228


AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 229
Alice Featherstone that he would clear her brother;
but he had also to clear himself, and in order to do so
must find Lawrence as well as Daly. Just now he had
not much hope of finding either, but he cherished a
vague belief in his luck, and it was unthinkable that he
should neglect any chance of justifying the girl's con-
fidence. He was ready to follow Daly round the
world, sooner than lose that. The trouble was that
he could not tell if he was following the fellow or not.
He went to sleep at last, and getting up rather late,
spent an hour or two trying to knit up broken clews
and looking for a light. It was a profitless but absorb-
ing occupation and he vacantly glanced at the majestic
panorama of snowy peaks and climbing forest that
rolled past the windows of the car. When his
thoughts wandered from their groove, he saw Alice
Featherstone moving with stately calm about the
Garth, or standing in the orchard with the sunset shin-
ing on her face. He recalled the grace of her tall
figure and how her dress harmonized with the mossy
trunks, but he loved to dwell upon the look of trust in
her steady eyes. Then the memories were suddenly
banished, for a whistle rang up the track and there was
a jar of brakes.
Foster hurried out to the platform when the long
train stopped, and saw the conductor talking to the
engineer and passengers jumping down into the snow.
Pete joined him as he followed them, but he stopped
for some moments and looked about. There was no
station near. The track, which was marked by cinders
and stains on the snow, ran along a desolate mountain-
side. Dark pines that looked as if they had been
dusted with icing-sugar rolled in curiously rigid ranks


230
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
up the slope, getting smaller until they dwindled to a
fine saw-edge that bit into a vast sweep of white. This
ended in a row of jagged peaks whose summits
gleamed with dazzling brightness against the blue sky.
Below the track, the ground fell away to a tremendous
gorge, where dark-colored mist hung about a green
river dotted with drifting ice. The sun struck warm
upon his face, though the snow was dry.
"We'll find out why they've stopped,” he said to
Pete and walked forward past the cars.
The engineer stood on the step of the huge locomo-
tive and had not much information to give.
"Track's gone down not far ahead; snow-slide, I
guess.”
He shrugged when Foster asked if it would be a
long job. “You can see for yourself, if you like," he
remarked, indicating a plume of smoke that rose above
the pines. “There's a construction gang at work round
the bend. It's a sure thing we won't pull out before
you're back."
Foster set off with Pete and several passengers, and
the Scot gazed about with wonder.
“I was born among the hills, but never have I seen
ought like this!” he exclaimed. “Man, it passes
dreamin' o'; it's just stupenjious! But I wouldna'
say they'll mak' much o' farming here."
“They have some bench tablelands and pretty rich
alluvial valleys," Foster answered with a smile. “The
province depends largely on its minerals."
Pete glanced back up the track that wound down
between rock and forest from a distant notch in the
high, white rampart.


AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
231
"I'm thinking the men who built yon line had stout
hearts."
"It wasn't an easy job,” Foster agreed. “They
were up against savage Nature, and she's still too
strong for the engineer now and then, as I expect you'll
shortly see."
They walked through a gap in the pines and stopped
with a sense of awe on the edge of a great red furrow
in the mountain. The gash was fringed by shattered
trees, and here and there a giant splintered trunk
rested precariously among stones ground to fragments.
Far beneath, a vast pile of earth and snow dammed the
river, and half-way up an overturned locomotive, with
boiler crushed like an eggshell, lay among the wreck-
age. The end of a smashed box-car rose out of the
boiling flood. For a hundred yards the track had
vanished, but gangs of men were hurrying to and fro
about the gap. Farther back, there was clang of flung-
down rails and a ringing of hammers.
"If they open the road again by to-morrow morning,
they'll be lucky," Foster remarked, and stopped a big
fellow who was going past with an ax on his shoulder.
"Is there any settlement not too far ahead?”
"There's a smart new hotel at the flag station about
six miles off," said the man. “You can make it all
right walking if you keep to the track and watch out
you don't meet the construction train in the snowshed.”
Foster, who knew he would find waiting tedious,
went back to the car for his small bag, after which he
and Pete set off for the hotel. They had some trouble
to cross the path of the avalanche and then spent some
time getting past the men who were unloading a row
of flat cars. The single-line track was cut out of the


AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 235
a' that, they maun tak’ the consequences. Do ye feel
it's yere business to break a new road?”
"Certainly not! I'm not a philanthropist and would
be quite satisfied with making things a little easier for
myself and my friends, but am much afraid I haven't
succeeded yet. In fact, there's one friend in England
who's very far from grateful. But the question is-
Why did I leave the train ?”
“Ye just felt ye had to?"
"I think I did. But why did I feel that?”
Pete chuckled. “There ye have me! This I ken;
whiles when I had a hare or a few paltrig in the lining
o' my auld coat and cam' to a slap in a dyke, I had a
kind o' feeling yon was no' the road for me. I couldna'
tell there was a keeper hiding on the ither side; but I
didna' gang. Maybe it's better no' to argue but follow
yere heart.”
"No," said Foster, “I imagine it's really better to
follow your head. In the meantime, I've had no lunch
and think we'll get on.”
They came to a wide hollow in the hills where the
snow was deep and loose. The sun was shut out and
the frost was keen, while Foster saw by the lengthen-
ing shadow of the pines across the river that the after-
noon was wearing on. A glance at his watch showed
that he had been walking for nearly three hours, but
there was no sign of the hotel. Dark masses of trees'
ran up from the water to the line of summer snow, and
no roof or curl of smoke broke their somber monotony.
High above, the peaks glittered with a steely brightness
that seemed to intensify the cold.
Their breath hung about them as they plodded on,
but at length, when they came to the middle of the


236 CARMEN'S MESSENGER
bend, where the hills curved out again, there was a
break and they stopped at the end of a bridge. The
low sun shone into the gap, which was profoundly deep
and majestically beautiful. On its farther side, tre-
mendous crags held up the snow, which trickled down
their faces in thin gray streaks and stretched back
above, steeped in soft blue shadow. On Foster's side,
giant pines glimmered a bright green in the warm
light, running up to a glittering slope that ended in two
rugged peaks, and a river that sprang from a wrinkled
glacier foamed through the dusky gorge. Where a
small clearing had been cut in the forest, steep red
roofs stood out in harmonious contrast with the green
of the firs, and a picturesque wooden building with
pillars and verandas occupied the greater part of the
opening
"If the place is as attractive inside, it's worth the
walk," Foster remarked. “You appreciate your quar-
ters best when you've had some trouble to get there."
"I'm thinking that's true. The peat fire and the
auld rush chair in the bit cothouse are weel worth win-
ning to when ye come through the rain and wind ower
the dark moss. This is a gran' country, but it's no'
like that ither amang the Border fells.”
Foster stood for a few moments and mused, for he
sympathized with Pete. He remembered the satis-
faction with which he had seen the lights of a lonely
inn or farmstead twinkle when he tramped, wet and
tired, across the Scottish moors. They were bleak and
the Bonments ambered
not analyze, with the half-lights that trembled across
them and their subdued coloring. In spite of some
hardships, he had been happy in the misty, rain-swept


LAWRENCE'S STORY
241
out of the shadow in sharp-cut spires, and far down in
the dusky gorge, from which the roar of the flood and
crash of ice ascended, there were gleams of livid foam.
Still there was much he wanted to learn, and it was
something of a relief when Mrs. Stephen picked up her
sewing and gave her daughter a meaning glance. To
Foster's surprise, Lawrence interposed.
"If you don't mind, I'd sooner you didn't go.”
Then he turned to Foster with a smile. "It's obvious
that you want to unbosom yourself, Jake, but you can
begin. You needn't be afraid of mentioning Daly.
Lucy knows."
Foster remarked the girl's blush. Since she knew
so much, it was plain that Lawrence had asked her
to marry him and she had agreed. He imagined that
Lawrence wanted Mrs. Stephen to hear somebody
else's account of the matter, and although it would
have been easier to talk to Lawrence alone, he asked :
"Did you know the fellow was in Banff a day or
two since ?"
Lucy Stephen made an abrupt movement, and her
mother looked interested. She was a quiet lady and
more reserved than the girl, but Foster thought her
intelligent and firm.
"I did not,” said Lawrence. “As a matter of fact,
I'm no longer afraid of the fellow and mean to fight.
He can't do me much harm-now.”
The girl's shy glance at his comrade moved Foster.
She knew what her lover meant and valued his trust;
but he could sympathize with Mrs. Stephen, who
looked disturbed. The latter was practical and no
doubt saw that Daly might give them trouble.
“You had better begin at the beginning, and then


242
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
we'll understand why you came back and how you got
on Daly's trail,” Lawrence resumed with a hint of
resignation.
“Very well; but first, why didn't you write?"
“I wrote twice. Once to my mother and once to
you.”
"We got no letters. Did you post them?”
“Ah!” said Lawrence, “that was unfortunate. I
gave the first letter to a steward to send ashore from a
San Francisco boat. Walters put the other in the
mail.”
“Who is Walters?”
“We'll come to him later. Get on with your story."
Foster told it as clearly as he could, though this took
some time, and when he had finished was annoyed by
his comrade's smile. Lawrence seldom took things
seriously enough.
"Jake is a born meddler,” he remarked to the others.
"He can't resist the temptation to put crooked matters
right.”
"It is a useful habit,” said Mrs. Stephen quietly.
"Just so," Lawrence agreed. “Still it's a habit that
ought to be carefully controlled and not, so to speak,
be indulged out of sentimental impulses."
Foster felt embarrassed, although he thought he had
said no more about Carmen and Alice than was needed
to make his narrative clear.
"First of all,” Lawrence resumed, "he takes up my
defense, then he must help Carmen, and I think de-
served the trouble in which she involved him. Next
he seems to have been moved by my sister's anxiety."
He paused and gave Foster a curious quiet smile. "I


LAWRENCE'S STORY
243
wondered what Alice would think of you and hope she
was grateful.”
Foster saw Lucy's interest, and wondered whether
he had told more than he meant, but his comrade's
amusement seemed uncalled for, and he rejoined: “I
imagined I'd made it plain that your sister wasn't the
only relative your carelessness alarmed.”.
"You did. The situation wasn't without its humor,
Jake. After you had embarked on a number of strange
adventures on my behalf, it must have been galling to
be suspected of having made away with me. How-
ever, I understand that Alice didn't take this view?”
"She did not,” said Foster shortly, and Lawrence
rang a bell.
"Get me a C. P. telegram form," he ordered the
waiter.
The form was brought, and Lawrence filled it up
and gave it to the man. Then he fixed his eyes on
Foster and remarked carelessly: "I've sent it in your
name, Jake, and not to my father. I thought some-
body had better break the comforting news to him,
and briefly stated that you had found me.”
“Oughtn't you to have added some particulars?”
Mrs. Stephen asked.
"On the whole, I don't think so. For one thing,
Jake's taciturn modesty rather becomes him, and the
charges for an English telegram are high.”
Foster said nothing, but he knew the message had
been sent to Alice and Lawrence was satisfied with
him as his sister's lover. This was something, but
Lawrence's approval might not count for much.
"That's done with," the latter resumed. “Since
you didn't find Daly at Banff, we have to decide if Car-


244
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
men meant to deceive you and he never intended going
there. I rather think we had better leave it to Mrs.
Stephen and Lucy.”
“I imagine she told the truth," Lucy replied. “If
she had loved the man, she might, after all, have tried
to protect him; but a selfish, ambitious girl who found
she had been cheated, would be capable of ruining him
in a fit of jealous rage.”
"But I didn't state that she was ambitious and self-
ish," objected Foster.
Lawrence's eyes twinkled. “You don't realize all
your talents, Jake. For one thing, you have a gift for
narrative, and the portrait you drew of Carmen with a
stroke or two was lifelike. Then, when you met and
bluffed her into giving Daly away, you couldn't have
taken a more effective line if you had been an ambassa-
dor. What do you think, Mrs. Stephen?”
"Mr. Foster seems to have used all his advantages
and the girl got a shock that found out her weak
points. I believe she meant to ruin her worthless
lover."
"So do I,” Lawrence agreed. "I expect you have
made Jake sorry he was firm, but I'd warned him about
Carmen and she doesn't deserve much pity. But why
did Daly leave England and how did he find out that
I'd been at Banff ?”
"If you'll tell me what you have done since you left
the Crossing, it might help to solve the puzzle,” Foster
replied.
Lawrence made a gesture of resignation. “I sup-
pose it must be told. I went to California and didn't
get as well as I expected. There was a good deal of
sea-fog on the coast and after a time I went farther


LAWRENCE'S STORY
245
south. That's one reason I didn't write; I felt languid
and dejected and didn't want to alarm my folks. Well,
I tried Mexico and got rather worse; besides I found
lounging tiresome work. In consequence, I joined a
steamer going north and her doctor told me that dry
cold mountain air was the best cure for troubles like
mine. I met Walters on the voyage up the coast.”
"Perhaps you had better describe him," Lucy sug-
gested.
"Walters looks about my age and is thin and dark;
an amusing fellow and remarkably well informed. In
fact, I couldn't guess his nationality; he seemed to
have been everywhere. He had good manners, but
somehow one missed ”
"Something that good manners must be founded
on," Lucy interposed.
Foster saw that they had argued about the man
before, because Lawrence smiled indulgently.
“Then how did he make your acquaintance?” he
asked the girl.
“That was not altogether Lawrence's fault. Wal-
ters was cleverer than he thought.”
"And he mailed one of the letters that did not ar-
rive?”
“The fellow," Lawrence continued, "was a pleasant
companion and when I mentioned why I was traveling
agreed that the mountains were best for me. Told me
about some friends of his whom the air had cured.”
"In short, he recommended your trying Banff,”
Lucy remarked.
"He did me a good turn there. We separated at
Seattle, but I found him at Victoria, where I stopped


246
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
some weeks. It was there I met Lucy, who was going
to Banff. I must explain that she's a mountaineer.”
The girl blushed. “I climbed in the Olympians
ing some of the northern glaciers next summer, and as
we wanted a change, I persuaded mother to spend a
month or two at a mountain resort where I could get
some practice on the ice." She paused and added in a
grave voice: “I really don't climb well, Mr. Foster,
and doubt if I shall venture on the rocks again."
"Well,” resumed Lawrence, "we decided to go to
Banff together. I got better rapidly and we made a
few easy excursions into the mountains, but the
weather was bad and we didn't like our hotel. Then
Walters turned up again and told us about this place.
In fact, he was rather enthusiastic about it and said
we'd find good rock climbs at the door, so we agreed to
move."
"And took Walters?”.
"He was an amusing fellow. He'd a way of finding
something interesting for one to do and was always
ready when he was wanted; a very useful man to have
about."
Foster imagined his comrade might have found the
fellow about when he was not wanted, but Mrs. Ste-
phen's smile was illuminating. It seemed to hint that
Lawrence had found Walters useful because he took
her off his hands. Foster thought it curious that the
man was satisfied with his part, since Lucy was a very
attractive girl. Walters had obviously not attached
himself to the party on her account.
"As I got stronger we tried some harder climbs,"
Lawrence went on. “Lucy is clever and steady on


LAWRENCE'S STORY 247
the ice; I'd had some practice on Scawfell in winter
when I was at home, and though Walters didn't know
much about the work his nerve is good. At length, we
resolved to try the sharp peak yonder.”
It was nearly dark, but Foster, looking up the valley,
saw a white summit gleam against the sky. The
shoulders of the mountain had faded to a pale gray,
and the darker streak that filled a deep hollow marked
a glacier.
"We started early and at first found the glacier
rough but safe. Walters had insisted on two guides;
prospectors, used to the rocks, who now and then took
a tourist party out. The glacier brought us up some
height, but after a time the surface began to be broken
by big crevasses. We spent two hours picking our way
across and at noon saw we must find another route.
The slope on the right would take us off our line; on
the left there were high, icy rocks that would puzzle
a member of the Alpine club."
"We sat down and examined the mountain with the
glasses. Above the crags, a snowfield ran up to the
foot of the last sharp ridge, but we did not see how we
could reach it. Ragged clouds drove across the ridge
and blowing snow streamed about the peak like mist.
Lucy, however, was keen on going on, and by and
by one of the guides picked out a coulée that might
take us up. Coulée's good French-Canadian, but Al-
pinists call it a couloir. It looked like a thin, white,
perpendicular streak on the face of the dark rock.
But perhaps I'm boring you with these particulars."
Lucy gave Foster a meaning glance and he said,
“No; I want to understand the thing."
"It was awkward to reach the coulée, because the


248
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
glacier was badly crevassed, but we got there. The
gully was nearly precipitous; a narrow trough that
serves as a rubbish shoot for the mountain when the
thaw splits the rocks. I expect it's ground smooth in
summer, but it was filled with hard, slippery snow.
We stopped again and studied it, and I felt doubtful
about taking Lucy up, but she didn't want to go back. á
Walters took my view and said we'd all go back, but he
looked disappointed and Lucy wouldn't agree."
"I lost my temper,” Lucy admitted. “I never liked
Walters and when he supported Lawrence I got obsti-
nate. Besides, I thought he really wanted to get rid
of me.”
“Anyhow, we decided that one guide should take
Lucy back down the glacier."
“Walters decided,” Lucy objected. "It's imper-
tant, Mr. Foster, that he chose the guide. Be careful
how you tell the rest, Lawrence."
"He said she must take the best man, and one
laughed and said that if we meant to get up we'd better
stick to him. Walters, however, sent this fellow off
with Lucy, and then we fastened on the rope and be-
gan to climb. We got up perhaps a hundred feet by
kicking steps in the snow, but that's a tiring job for
the leader, and when he found a crack in the wall,
where we could stop, the guide had had enough.”
"Why was it necessary to find a crack?" Foster
asked.
"One couldn't stand on the snow, and if we had
tried to sit on it, we'd have shot down to the bottom;
for the most part, the walls were ground smooth.
When you go up a place like that, the leader kicks a
little hole as high as he can in front, and then stands in


LAWRENCE'S STORY
249
it while he makes another. The rest put their feet in
the holes as they follow. Well, when we set off again
I went first and had to use my ax because the snow
had hardened into ice. I soon found out I hadn't quite
got better, and was forced to stop when we were nearly
half-way up. We lay down, with our toes in the nicks,
to rest, and I slid my flask down to Walters when I'd
had a drink. It was a big flask, and I'd got it filled
with brandy. I thought the guide took a remarkably
long drink, but he looked steady when he crawled up
to take my place.
“After that it was very slow work and we were glad
when we found a knob of rock sticking out of the ice.
It had been ground into the shape of a bridge pier by
the rubbish shooting past. We stopped a bit and
argued if we should give it up, but the guide declared
he knew a better way down into the next valley and
Walters seemed keen, so we ate something, took an-
other drink, and set off again. The slope was danger-
ously steep and I thought the guide was using his ax
wildly, but we came to a deep crack in the wall and
when Walters suggested that it might help us out of
the gully I threw off the rope. It would have been
of no use if I had fallen, and I meant to come down
unless I saw a fairly safe route to the snowfield. In
fact, I think I meant to give up the climb and only
went to find an excuse for this.
“The crack was not quite vertical and gave a good
hold, but when I'd got up eighteen or twenty feet I
came to an awkward slab. It bulged out, but I found
a hold for my hands and scrambled over the edge. I
managed this because the alternative was falling off
and shooting to the bottom of the coulée, but perhaps


250
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
because I was weaker than I thought, I wrenched my
shoulder during the lift. Anyhow, I couldn't use my
arm. It appeared afterwards that a ligament was
strained, and the joint pinches yet.
! "For a minute or two I thought hard. There was
no way up, and I hadn't nerve enough to lower myself
over the ledge by one arm. When I moved the other
cautiously it hurt worse than at first. I called to the
others and told them how I was fixed, but got a shock
when the guide looked up.
“ 'Can't get down?' he said. "Then why in thunder
don't you jump?'
" 'The fool's drunk,' Walters explained and added
that he'd try to bring me the rope.
"I told him to throw me the end, as there was a
knob I could double it round and then slide down both
parts. The trouble was that Walters had nothing
much to stand on when he tried to throw the coil. He
lost his balance, slid down the gully, and jerked the
guide out of his step. I saw Walters' ax shoot down
in front, but the guide stuck to his, and the blade
dragging over the rough surface checked them a bit.
For all that, it looked as if they'd go straight to the
bottom and they would hardly have got there alive,
but the small rock wasn't far below. I don't think I
breathed while I waited to see if it would bring them
up.
"Walters struck the rock first and was very quick
with the rope; in fact, I was astonished at his coolness,
because he must have got a heavy blow. He stopped
the other fellow and they lay on the rock for a few
minutes. Then Walters shouted: 'He's not to be
trusted, and I can't climb back alone.'


252
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
shiver. "I was very anxious while I waited behind a
hummock of ice, but at last I heard the men coming;
they were carrying Lawrence, who couldn't walk. We
got him down to the hotel-and I think that's all."
"But what became of Walters?" Foster asked.
“He stayed for a few days, and we were glad when
he had to leave. He was in the way when Lawrence
was ill."
"Thank you,” said Foster gravely and was silent for
a time.
He understood why his comrade called Miss Stephen
Lucy, although he had not known her very long. She
had, no doubt, saved his life by hurrying off the rescue
party and had afterwards taken care of him when he
was ill. He thought Lawrence lucky, but was not
justified in congratulating him yet, and had something
else to think about. Lucy suspected Walters, though
Lawrence did not, and Foster imagined that she had
some ground for doing so. She had an object for
making Lawrence tell his story with full particulars,
because it must have been painful to recall the matter.
“We'll say no more about it now, Miss Stephen," he
remarked. “Lawrence and I are old friends, and I'm
heavily in your debt.”
Lucy looked up with a smile and blush, and Foster
understood what she meant when she answered: “I
hope you will always be his friend."


XXV
FOSTER SETS OFF AGAIN
AFTER dinner the party returned to the veranda,
11 which was warm and well lighted. Mrs. Ste-
phen resumed her sewing, Lawrence settled himself
comfortably in his big chair, and Foster engaged Lucy
in careless talk. She had a pleasant voice and pretty,
animated gestures, and after the strain he had borne
there was a charm in relaxing and lazily enjoying the
society of an attractive girl. The trouble was that he
could not be careless long. Lawrence was inclined to
put off disagreeable things, and would no doubt sooner
leave disturbing subjects alone; but Foster had only
kept half his promise to Alice and time that might be
valuable was being lost.
"Your adventure made an interesting story, Law-
rence, but you took unusual trouble to make us under-
stand all that happened,” he said at length.
Lawrence's gesture hinted at humorous resignation.
"You're a restless fellow, Jake, but I hoped you'd wait
until to-morrow. You see, I've been warned to keep
quiet.”
Foster looked at Lucy and imagined that he had her
support; she no doubt knew his comrade's weakness
for procrastination.
"I'll try not to disturb you much,” he replied.
“Then you and Lucy insisted on my relating the
thing at length. I felt I had to indulge you."
253


254 CARMEN'S MESSENGER
Lucy's smile hinted that Foster must be firm.
"That wasn't quite enough. You had another mo-
tive.”
"Oh, well,” said Lawrence, “I suppose I wanted to
recall the thing and see how it looked in the light of
what you told me about your exploits in Scotland.”
“They make it look different, don't they?” Lucy
remarked.
Lawrence gave her a good-humored smile and then
turned to Foster. “Lucy's cleverer than I, but I
really thought she was rather hard on Walters." He
paused for a moment, and then resumed thoughtfully:
“You must remember that my object was to keep out
of Daly's way, and I thought I was safe as long as I
could do so. One would have expected him to play a
lone hand.”
"Didn't you think there was something suspicious
about Walters' turning up again after he'd learned
your name? There then were rather too many coin-
cidences."
“Suppose you enumerate them,” Lawrence sug-
gested.
"He urged you to try the mountains and followed
you to Banff. Then I've no doubt he proposed the trip
up the glacier, for which he chose the guides. He sent
the best back with Miss Stephen, and while this was
the proper thing, it's curious that the other guide got
drunk. Walters gave him your flask. Then he fell
when he threw the ropeat the only place where a fall
would not have led to his shooting down the couloir.
Afterwards, although speed was urgent, he was very
slow in going back for help.”
“Besides, he knew exposure to the frost would be


FOSTER SETS OFF AGAIN 255
very dangerous for you; you told him you had been
ill,” Lucy interposed.
"I did," Lawrence agreed. “Of course if the fellow
had wanted to make an end of me, it's obvious that he
took a clever line; but people don't do that kind of
thing for nothing. Suppose he was a friend of Daly's,
it certainly wouldn't have suited the latter's plans."
“That,” said Mrs. Stephen, "is what Lucy and I
thought. You can be frank, Mr. Foster, because we
know Lawrence's story."
"He was very wise to tell it you," Foster replied, and
turned to his partner. “You imagined that Daly only
wanted to extort money? Well, my explanation is
that he had another object. We'll go back to the night
Fred Hulton was shot. You thought you saw the
watchman in the passage; was he far in front?”
"Perhaps a dozen yards; it's a long passage."
"He was going towards the office and stopped at the
door, with his back to the light?”
“Yes; if he'd gone in I would have seen his face.”
"And the remark you made indicated that you
thought him the watchman?”
"Suggested it,” said Lawrence thoughtfully.
“There might have been a doubt."
"Exactly! The man saw you. The light shone out
from the office behind him.”
“Yes," said Lawrence, “I see your point. I don't
think the fellow could have been certain I didn't get a
glimpse of his face."
"You said nothing about the meeting at the inquiry,
which might look as if you had been warned not to do
SO."


256
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
"Nobody asked a question that led up to it. I didn't
learn he wasn't the watchman until afterwards."
Foster turned to the others. “I think my story has
shown you that we have to deal with a gang of clever
criminals. You'll note that Lawrence saw the only
· man who knows the truth about Fred Hulton's death.”
Mrs. Stephen made a sign of understanding. Lucy
shivered, then her eyes sparkled angrily, but Law-
rence looked obstinate.
"Jake,” he said rather dryly, "you ought to have
been a barrister! You have made a clever use of the
evidence, but it has some weak points and leaves room
for doubt. What are you going to do about it?"
"I'm going to start again to-morrow to look for
Daly,” Foster replied.
Lucy gave him a grateful glance, and Mrs. Stephen
began to talk about something else. By and by she
turned to Lawrence, who looked tired, and reminded
him that it was past the time at which he ought to go
to bed. He grumbled a little but went, and soon after-
wards Mrs. Stephen left the others. Foster thought
the girl wished this, but had not noticed that she gave
her mother a hint. He felt rather awkward, but there
was something to be said.
“I suppose you are going to marry my partner,” he
remarked.
| “Yes," she replied, with a pretty flush. “Are you
surprised?"
“I'm not surprised that he should wish it. But
somehow I hadn't contemplated Lawrence's marry-
ing.”
The girl's color deepened. "Are you very frank,
or only tactless ?"


FOSTER SETS OFF AGAIN
257
"I was stupid,” said Foster with some confusion.
“But I didn't mean what you think. Far from it!
My partner has made good. I'm glad you had the
wisdom and pluck to see this.”
"He is a very dear fellow," she answered with a soft
gleam in her eyes that moved Foster. Then she smiled.
“You are forgiven—and I must confess that at first
my mother took the view I thought you hinted at.
She said Lawrence ought to wait until all risk of the
past's being brought to light was gone. But I suppose
when you guessed the truth it was something of a
shock?"
"No," said Foster. “Although I haven't known you
long, I feel that I won't lose my partner when he mar-
ries you. I was grateful when you said you hoped I
would always be his friend.”
Lucy nodded. “I saw you understood. Before we
met I was rather jealous of you—and curious. I think
Lawrence sometimes makes mistakes about people."
“Walters, for example? Well, I like you to be care-
ful about Lawrence, but hope you don't feel anxious
now you have seen me.”
"He needs a man friend and there's something about
you that makes one feel you can be trusted,” said
Lucy, who gave him a level glance. “You look in-
genuous, but perhaps that's deceptive, in a way. I
mean that I didn't quite understand you until you told
us about your adventures in Scotland.”
"Ah!" said Foster, “Carmen once said something
like that, but she was blunt. She told me I wasn't
quite such a fool as I look. However, I haven't much
ground for boasting about my exploits. The main
results were that I got myself suspected by the police,


258
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
warned off Daly, and made Lawrence's father think I
had murdered him. Now I'd much rather look a sim-
pleton than a homicide!”
Lucy laughed, but her eyes were soft. “We all
make mistakes, Mr. Foster, but your object was good.
Besides, I feel that you will carry it out.”
Foster hesitated for a few moments, studying the
girl. She had courage and he liked the way she took
care of his comrade. In some respects, Lawrence
needed to be guarded.
"I hoped you would stop when your mother went,"
he said.
She nodded. “Yes; I knew you had something to
say."
"It's important. But first of all, I expect you had
a bad time when Lawrence didn't come back from the
mountain."
“I shall not forget it," Lucy said with a shudder.
“While I waited and wondered why he didn't come I
thought the anxiety intolerable, but it was worse after
we met Walters and the drunken guide. He wanted
to join us, but I knew he was somehow to blame.”
"Afterwards you had to wait alone upon the glacier.
That wouldn't make you think any better of him.”
"It did not,” Lucy agreed, with a hard, fixed look.
"I—you see, Lawrence was my lover—I spent two or
three hours in agonizing suspense. I knew what I
should feel when I stopped, but couldn't go on with
the others, because I might have kept them back. It
was freezing hard and now and then a little snow fell,
but I scarcely noticed this; I was listening, as I hope
I shall never listen again. Sometimes the ice cracked
and a snow-bridge fell into the crevasse, but that was


262
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
to the utilitarian ugliness below, dark pines ran up to
the glittering snowfields on the shoulders of the peaks.
Foster went to a big new hotel, which he found dirty
and too hot. Its bare walls were cracked and exuded
resin; black drops from the central heater pipes stained
the rotunda floor, which was torn by the spikes on the
river-Jacks' boots. An electric elevator made a hor-
rible noise. The supper he got in the big dining-room,
where an electric organ played, was, however, very
good, and he afterwards sat rather drearily in the ro-
tunda, watching the men who came in and out through
the revolving door.
There is not much domestic life in the new Western
towns, whose inhabitants, for the most part, live at
hotels, and the rotundas of the latter are used as a
lounge by anybody who prefers them to the street. In
consequence, Foster could not tell who were guests and
who were not. By and by he filled his pipe, and a man
who was lighting his held out the match, which Foster
took with a word of thanks. It might have been a
trifling politeness, but he thought the other had waited
until he was ready.
"You're a stranger," the man remarked.
“Yes," said Foster, "I've just come in.”
“Looking for business?”
Foster quietly studied the man. He was neatly
dressed and looked keen and alert. It was possible
that he was a storekeeper, or a real estate agent, which
is a common occupation in a Western town.
"Well,” he said, "I don't often let a chance of a
trade go past, but when you're in a strange place, the
trouble is to tell if you've got a snap or not."


FOSTER SETS OFF AGAIN 263
"Sure thing," agreed the other. "What's your
line?”
"Dressed lumber."
“Then I can't do much for you, but there's quite a
lot of new construction planned and the boys will get
busy as soon as the frost breaks,” said the man.
He went on to talk about the trade of the town and
province, and on the whole Foster was glad he had
been in British Columbia before and knew something
about the country. It was better to be cautious and
he did not want to show he came from the east.
By and by another man crossed the floor and picked
up a newspaper that lay near. As he did so, he gave
Foster a careless glance, and then went back to the
seat he had left. This was at some distance from the
heaters and near the entrance, to which people kept
passing, but it commanded the spot that Foster and
his companion occupied. Foster, however, could not
detect him watching them, and soon afterwards the
other man went out.
Nothing happened next day, but Foster stopped and
in the evening called for Pete, whom he had sent to a
different hotel, and strolled down the snowy street.
It was very cold and few people were about. A half-
moon hung above the summit of the range, and the
climbing pines cut in ragged black masses against the
snow. After crossing a bridge on the outskirts of the
town they stopped and looked about.
A few half-finished houses stood among blackened
stumps in a cleared belt, where there were rubbish
heaps and willows were springing up, but a little far-
ther on the forest rose in a shadowy wall. It was quiet


264
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
except for the roar of the river, and Foster shivered as
he filled his pipe.
"It's a nipping wind. I'd better go down the bank
a bit before I try to get a light,” he said.
He pushed through the willows growing beside the
creek, but dropped his matchbox, and Pete came to help
him in the search. They found it, but before he could
strike a match a man stopped at the end of the bridge
and looked back up the street. Foster, imagining he
was the fellow who had spoken to him at the hotel,
touched Pete, and they stood very still.
The man might have seen them had he glanced their
way, although the branches broke the outline of their
figures, but he was looking back, as if he expected
somebody to come up behind, and after a few moments
went on again. He crossed the clearing towards a
fence that seemed to indicate a road following the edge
of the forest, and vanished into the gloom of the trees.
Then, as Foster lighted his pipe, another man came
quickly across the bridge and took the same direction
as the first.
"I wunner if yon was what ye might ca' a coinci-
dence,” Pete said softly.
"So do I, but don't see how it concerns us," Foster
replied. “I think we'll take the road straight in front.”
They followed a track that led through the bush at a
right angle to the other. The snow was beaten firm as
if by the passage of logs or sledges, and there were
broad gaps among the trees, which rose in ragged
spires, sprinkled with clinging snow. In places, the
track glittered in the moonlight, but, for the most part,
one side was marked by a belt of gray shadow. After
a time, they heard a branch spring back; then there was


FOSTER SETS OFF AGAIN
265
a crackle of undergrowth, and a man came out of an
opening ahead. It was the man who had first passed
them; Foster knew him by his rather short fur coat.
For no obvious reason and half-instinctively, he drew
back into the gloom. The man did not see them and
went on up the track.
"Yon's a weel-kent trick in my trade," Pete re-
marked. “When it's no' convenient to be followed,
ye send an inquisitive pairson off on anither road.
But I would like to see if he has got rid o' the ither
fellow.”
They waited some minutes, but nobody else ap-
peared, and Foster surmised that the first man knew
the ground and the other did not. The fellow had
vanished among the trees, but after a time they saw
him again, crossing a belt of moonlight some distance
in front, and Foster felt he must find out where he was
going.
By and by the indistinct figure vanished again, and
pushing on cautiously through the shadow, they came
to a clearing at the foot of the range. Steep rocks rose
above the narrow open space, but although the trail
went no farther there was nobody about. Standing
behind a fir trunk, Foster searched the edge of the
bush, but saw nothing except a ruined shack and some
ironwork sticking out of the snow. He could not
examine the shack, because if the other man was near
he would see him when he left the trees. After waiting
a few minutes, he touched Pete and they turned back
silently.


XXVI
THE REAL-ESTATE AGENT
N EXT morning Foster got up in the dark and
I walked briskly down the main street to the
bridge. Lights were beginning to blink in the houses
he passed and there was a pungent smell of burning
wood. In front, the forest rolled upwards in a blurred,
dark mass, but he could not see the mountains. The
air was still and felt damp upon his skin, and he knew
a sudden rise of temperature accounted for the obscur-
ity. The main thing, however, was that there was no-
body to watch him, and he set off along the road he
had taken on the previous night.
He had some trouble to keep the trail when he
plunged in among the trees, but day had broken when
he reached the clearing, and a faint gray light shone
through the haze. There was no obvious reason why
the stranger's disappearance at the spot should interest
him, but his suspicions were quickly excited and it
looked as if the fellow had tried to make his acquaint-,
ance in order to learn his business in the town. He had
come early, hoping to find footprints that might give
him a hint, but was disappointed. There were a num-
ber of marks, but they had lost their sharpness and he
could not tell which had been made recently.
In the meantime, the light was growing and he saw
that the shack at the foot of the rocks had partly fallen
266


THE REAL-ESTATE AGENT 267.
down. Thick wooden beams and props lay beside the
ironwork he had noticed on his last visit. It was
obvious that he was looking at a mineral claim that
had been abandoned after some development work had
been done, while the trampled snow indicated that
somebody had been removing the material not long
since. Passing the heap of rusty iron, from which the
snow was beginning to shrink, he found a narrow open-
ing in the foot of the hill. This was a test adit, and the
tilt of the strata indicated that its slope was steep. The
stone that had been taken out showed that it did not
penetrate far, and Foster saw no reason for entering.
He next studied the rocks, and although he saw no
path, imagined that one could get up that way, but
could not see why anybody should wish to do so, and
the snow did not seem to have been disturbed. After
a minute or two he turned back into the wood with a
gesture of disappointment.
The man he had followed had apparently come there
to meet somebody, but although the mine was con-
veniently near the town it was a cold and cheerless spot
for a rendezvous. Foster surmised from this that
secrecy was important, but after all there was nothing
to indicate that the matter had anything to do with
him. As he went back he heard a musical humming
in the tops of the pines and a lump of wet snow, slip-
ping from a branch, struck his face. The humming
grew louder until the wood was filled with sound, and
he began to feel clammy and hot. A warm Chinook
wind from the Pacific was sweeping up the valley,
driving back the frost.
When he reached the town the snow was wet and the
lights were out, but the post office was open, and hav-


268
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
ing telegraphed his new address, he went in to ask if
there was any mail for him. A girl was busy behind a
lettered brass wicket, but did not look up, and Foster
saw the man in whom he was interested standing
among some others farther along the counter. The
fellow came towards him.
“Been for a walk?" he said. “You get up early."
"I'm used to that,” Foster answered with a careless
smile. "Anyhow, I want my mail, and you enjoy
breakfast better if you've been out first."
"Sure thing," agreed the other. “But you want
to put on rubber shoes when a Chinook wind strikes
this town."
Then the girl clerk looked up and when Foster in-
quired for letters threw him two. His companion
asked for his, giving the name of Telford, and she
indicated the lettering on the wicket.
“Farther along, where you came from! Can't you
read the alphabet ?”
"I can, now I see it," said the other good-humoredly
as he turned back.
On the whole, Foster was glad he had picked up the
letters as the girl threw them down. It is customary
in Western cities for people to call for their mail and
girl clerks are sometimes curt, but she seemed to think
it strange that the fellow had come to the wrong
wicket. If he had had an object for doing so, he had
learned Foster's name, but the latter did not think he
had seen the postmarks or that one letter had an Eng-
lish stamp. Still, he had noted that Foster's boots
were wet, which indicated that the latter had gone
farther than the post office.
He went out before he opened the envelopes, and


THE REAL-ESTATE AGENT. 269
then glancing at the letters put them in his pocket
with a thrill of satisfaction, meaning to read them care-
fully after breakfast. Entering the hotel, he hung up
his coat and went to the dining-room. He was
promptly served, and when he went out after finishing
his meal, saw Telford, who had apparently just re-
turned from the post office, standing in the passage,
which was rather dark. It looked as if he had beer
hanging up his coat, but he stood near Foster's, and
then moved on abruptly as another man came up.
Foster met them and saw that the last was the man
whom he had half-suspected of watching Telford on
the first evening. As he passed, he took the letters
from his coat, and entering the rotunda sat down and
lighted his pipe. It was possible that Telford had
meant to search his pockets, but had been prevented by
the appearance of the other, and Foster frowned. He
was feeling the strain of the constant watchfulness and
getting tired of intrigue. As a matter of fact, he hated
that kind of thing, and it would be a keen relief when
he could attend to his proper business and finish with
the need for caution. In the meantime, he did not
know if he had found a fresh clew or not. After all,
he had not much ground for suspecting Telford.
Then Foster forgot his perplexities as he took out
the letters. The first was from Lucy Stephen, who
said that the doctor had visited Lawrence and was
satisfied with his progress. She added that Foster
knew Lawrence disliked writing letters, but she wanted
to reassure him and wish him good luck. The note
was short, but seemed to put Foster on a footing of in-
timate friendship that he was grateful for, and he
thought Lucy had written with this object.


270 CARMEN'S MESSENGER
The other was from Alice Featherstone and his
heart beat as he studied it. She did not say much;
they had still no news of Lawrence and her father was
very restless and anxious, while she feared her mother
felt the suspense. But she knew Foster would make
every effort and would not fail them; there was nobody
else who could help. All she said struck a note of
quiet confidence. Her faith was unshaken; she trusted
him.
Foster thrilled and his weariness and dejection van-
ished. Alice would have got Lawrence's telegram
soon after she wrote and she had proof of his honesty
now. Still, he had only kept half his promise, and
although he had undertaken a task that needed abilities
he doubted if he possessed, he meant to keep the other
half. He was hemmed in by difficulties and might
make mistakes, but somehow he was going to make
good.
For a time he sat in a corner, recalling what Alice
had said in England and how she had looked. He pic-
tured her standing in the dark-paneled library at the
Garth, with eyes that sparkled as she spoke in his de-
fense, sitting with a smile in the half-light by the big
hearth in the hall, and waiting for him in the orchard.
She moved through all the scenes with the same calm
grace; even in her anger—and he had seen her angry-
there was a proud reserve. But Alice stood above all
other women; there was nobody like her.
Then he got up with a resolute movement. Dreams
and memories would not help, and he must get to work.
To begin with, he would try to find out something
about Telford, and went to the office, where the clerk:
was unoccupied. As a rule, nobody knows more about


THE REAL-ESTATE AGENT
271
everybody else's business than the clerk of a Western
hotel.
"Is there much doing in real estate just now?” he
asked.
“There will be soon. The mines are paying well and
the bosses are planning new developments. Then
there's a big scheme for opening up the ranching land
in the bench country. That means a bigger city.
Are you looking for building lots?”
"My line's dressed lumber, but when you get a
building boom you want material. I suppose Mr. Tel-
ford does a good trade?".
"Talks as if he was going to, but he hasn't begun
yet,” the clerk replied with a smile that hinted that he
had expected the inquiry.
"Then he hasn't been here long?”
"Only came into town a week since," said the clerk,
rather dryly. “When things look like humming these
fellows generally do come along. But you want to go
slow when you deal with a real-estate man, unless you
know all about him.”
“Yes,” said Foster thoughtfully, “as a rule, that's
true. Thank you, anyhow."
He went back to his seat and lighted his pipe again.
He had learned that Telford was a stranger and had
apparently thought it advisable to account for his
visiting the town. Foster saw that he ought to have
guessed the fellow was not a resident when he asked
for his mail, because had he been in business in the
city he would have had his private box at the post of-
fice. Moreover he imagined that the clerk knew he
really wanted to find out something about Telford, and
thought him clumsy, but this did not matter. He had


THE REAL-ESTATE AGENT
273
“If you were as cool and steady as he is, you'd beat
him easy."
"Perhaps that's so," said Telford with a good-
humored laugh and gave Foster a cigar.
"Are you going to make expenses this trip?” he
asked.
"I can't say yet,” Foster replied. “Anyhow, you
don't lose much by taking a look round, and I some-
times go outside my regular line."
“Well, if you feel like speculating in building lots,
I might put you wise.”
Foster pondered. He knew that gambling on un-
used land was popular in Canada, in spite of taxes
planned to prevent it, and while there are respectable
real estate agents, the fringe of the profession is occu-
pied by sharpers who prey upon what is fast becoming
a national vice. Confiding strangers with money to
invest are often swindled, and there was an obvious
motive for Telford's trying to cultivate his acquaint-
ance. On the whole, however, he did not think the
fellow meant to victimize him in this way, though he
was perhaps willing that Foster should suspect him of
such a plan. If so, it might be better to indulge him.
"As a rule, I have a use for all the money I've got,”
he remarked. “Still if I could find a lot that was
bound to go up ”
The other followed the lead and talked about city
extension and the development of the neighboring
land. He seemed to know his subject, and Foster was
beginning to think his suspicions mistaken when Tel-
ford carelessly interpolated a few adroit questions
about his usual occupation. The questions were diffi-
cult to answer without telling more than it was advis-


274
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
able that the other should know, or, what was equally
to be avoided, showing that Foster was on his guard.
He was now nearly sure that the fellow was an accom-
plice of Daly's, and the line he had resolved on would
be difficult.
He had to deal with a clever rogue who probably
knew something about him and meant to find out
more. In consequence, there was no use in trying to
pose as an unsophisticated simpleton; he must, so to
speak, play up to the fellow and persuade him that any
suspicions he entertained were about the latter's de-
signs upon his money. With this object, he disputed
some of Telford's opinions and presently proved a
statement of his wrong.
Telford looked embarrassed and Foster thought he
did it very well.
"Perhaps I was putting it a bit too high, but the
deal ought to turn out a snap if you can wait a while,"
he said, and laughed. “Anyhow I've got to give you
bedrock facts after the way you caught me out. Say,
you're pretty smart!"
"You're apt to get stung over a land deal unless
you're careful,” Foster modestly replied.
It was a relief when Telford said they would stop
talking business and proposed a visit to a bar. Foster
felt mentally exhausted and thought a drink would
brace him. He did not see Telford at dinner and kept
out of his way during the afternoon, but the man came
into the dining-room when supper was served. The
room was large and furnished with separate tables, but
Foster thought he knew the faces of the regular cus-
tomers and noticed that a stranger sat at a table by
himself.


THE REAL-ESTATE AGENT
275
Telford made for this table, which seemed natural,
since there was most room there, but a few moments
afterwards the man whom Foster suspected of watch-
ing him left his place. Crossing the floor carelessly,
but in such a way that a pillar hid his approach, he sat
down near the other two. Foster admitted that he
might not have remarked this had he not been sus-
picious and keenly watchful. The thing looked signifi-
cant, particularly when a waitress came across, frown-
ing, with some dishes. The man must have had an
object for changing his place after he had given his
order, because in the small Canadian towns waitresses
deal firmly with troublesome customers.
Telford did not seem to know the stranger and did
not speak until the man politely handed him a cruet-
stand. He did not say much after this, but Foster
could not see him without leaning forward, because
some other people sat down between. Still he felt a
puzzling curiosity about the fellow, and after supper
went to the rotunda where the man presently sat down
not far off. He was young and vigorous, but walked
with a slight limp as if one knee was stiff. His eyes
were dark and he had a rather engaging smile when
one of the rest offered him a newspaper. Telford was
not about, but the other man strolled in.
Foster's curiosity got stronger. He could not re-
member having met the man he was studying, but had
a vague feeling that he ought to know him. The
strange thing was that he had not expected him to
limp, but this was perhaps accounted for by his athletic
figure. After a time, the fellow put down the news-
paper and went off towards the bar, while Foster, who
found he had run out of tobacco, went to his room.


276
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
When he got out of the elevator, he saw the other
going along a passage in front, which he thought curi-
ous, because he could not have stayed more than a few
moments in the bar. Moreover his limp was not notice-
able now he imagined himself alone. Foster went on
quietly, keeping his distance, and knitted his brows in
thoughtful surprise when the other opened a door.!
The man, who did not seem to know Telford, had gone
into his room.
When the door shut he heard another step and saw,
as he had half-expected, the man who had watched
Telford entering the passage. Foster immediately
turned his head and went on to his room, where he sat
down in the nearest chair. He had got something of a
shock, since he now knew why he had studied the fel-
low with the limp. His brain had been unconsciously
occupied with a description Lucy Stephen had given
him. The man who had gone into Telford's room was
Walters.


278
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
second-class passengers often carry provisions instead
of using the meal stations.
"He bought some tinned meat and biscuits," Pete
resumed. “Then some tea and a wee spirit-stove.”.
"There's no train until to-morrow and I imagine
the fellow wouldn't be satisfied with canned meat, so
long as he could get something better when the cars
stopped.”
Pete grinned. “I'm no'saying he meant to tak'
the train. It looked mair like he was going to pic-
nic in the woods."
"Ah!” said Foster abruptly. "I suppose you fol-
lowed the man?”
"Far enough to see him tak’ the road we went.
Then I cam' back. Ye see, I kent where he was go-
ing.”
Foster made a sign of agreement, because it was
obvious that Telford was going to the shack at the
mine. He understood how the fellow had got out
without his seeing him, since it is usual in Canada to
have a separate entrance to a hotel bar and he had
stupidly been satisfied with watching the hall.
"He has gone to meet somebody; but why did he
take the provisions?".
"Maybe he wanted to give them to the ither man."
"But why should the other need the food ?"
"Weel,” said Pete, “if I was looking for a hidie-hole
convenient to the town, I'd no' find much fault with
yon' auld mine. Maybe it's dry, an' the frost wouldna'
get far in."
Foster started, for he thought Pete had guessed
right. He and Lawrence had camped in the open in
colder weather than was often felt in British Columbia,


280
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
After breakfast next morning he called for Pete and
walked carelessly to the main bridge. He, however,
took his pistol and when they reached the woods Pete
cut a heavy stick. Foster did not expect to use force,
but it was better to be prepared. While Pete was
trimming his cudgel they heard the heavy snorting of a
locomotive and a plume of smoke moved across the
town. Then they saw through an opening in the trees
the cars roll along the mountain side. The Montreal
express had stopped on its journey east, but Foster
was preoccupied and thought nothing of this.
The snow was very soft when they plodded up the
path among the trees, but it was not far to the clearing,
and Foster stopped at its edge. He had met nobody,
and the woods were silent except for the dying roar of
the train, which came faintly down the valley. There
was no smoke, but Daly would put out his fire when it
got light. Crossing the wet snow noiselessly, he made
for the shack and when he reached it beckoned to Pete.
“Stay here for about ten minutes, and then if I'm
not back, you had better come in,” he said. “If any-
body runs out, don't let him pass.”
Pete's nod showed he understood and Foster, mov-
ing forward quietly, stopped again for a moment at the
mouth of the adit. Pete had vanished, but could be
trusted to watch the mine as a terrier watches a rat-
hole, and Foster knew that if he were attacked and
overcome his assailant would not escape. A gray sky
hung over the black tops of the firs and the wet snow
threw up a curious livid light. It was an unpleasant
raw morning, and Foster felt half daunted.
The adit was dark; he was embarking on a rash
adventure, and wondered with some misgivings what


THE MINE
281
would happen before he came out again. He heard
nothing, and it was rather curious that he could not
smell smoke, but bracing himself he stooped and crept
into the dark hole.
The floor sloped, following the inclination of the
strata, and seemed to be strewn with fallen stones,
but he had put on rubber shoes and made very little
noise. He did not want to warn Daly that his hiding-
place had been discovered, until he was near enough
to explain that he had nothing to do with the police.
There would not be much danger when the fellow
knew who he was and that the mine was watched,
but he wanted to get as close as possible before alarm-
ing him. Daly, no doubt, carried a pistol.
Stopping for a moment, he raised his head incau-
tiously and smothered an exclamation when he struck
it against the roof. He could hear water dripping
somewhere below and the slope felt steep. It was
nervous work creeping down hill in the dark, and there
was, perhaps, a risk of his falling into a pit. When he
dislodged a stone that rattled he held his breath as he
listened. He heard nothing, and set his lips as he
overcame an impulse to turn back. If Daly had heard
the stone, he was probably waiting for him with his
finger on the trigger.
For all that, Foster went on, feeling for the rough
wall, until he struck his foot against a big stone and
losing his balance staggered and fell. He made a
noise that echoed through the adit and, worse than
all, the pistol shot out of his hand. He felt for but
could not find it, and for a few moments lay still with
tingling nerves. Daly must have heard him and was,
no doubt, crouching in the dark, ready to shoot. He


282
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
tried again to find the pistol, and then with an effort
pulled himself together. The next move might draw
a shot, but he must risk that and not lie there helpless.
Besides, if the fellow missed, he might grapple with
and disarm him, and he sprang to his feet.
“Daly!” he called in a voice that he meant to be
careless but was rather hoarse. “It's Foster. I want
to talk about Featherstone."
There was no reply. He heard water falling into a
pool, but except for this the mine was strangely silent,
and after waiting for a moment he drew back against
the rock.
"Pete!” he shouted.
His voice sounded muffled and he wondered whether
Pete could hear, but tried to fix his attention on the
dark in front. It was there that danger might lurk.
Then he heard Pete stumbling among the stones, and
presently the man came up, panting with haste.
"Where's the lamp?” Foster asked.
He knew he was going to do a dangerous thing if
Daly was hiding near, but something must be risked
and he struck a match. It sputtered, throwing an il-
lusive gleam on the wet rock a yard or two in front,
and then went out. Foster struck another with a
hoarse exclamation and touched the wick of a small,
flat, metal lamp, such as Western miners hook on their
hats. Candles are not common in Canadian towns
where water-power makes electric lighting cheap.
The lamp gave a dim smoky light, and when Foster
picked up his pistol they waited a few moments, look-
ing eagerly in front.
A trickle of water fell from a crack in the roof and
running down the floor of the adit vanished into the


THE MINE
283
gloom. Here and there a ragged projection caught
the light, but the rest of the tunnel was hidden in
impenetrable darkness. They went on cautiously,
though Foster now felt anxious because there was no
sign of Daly. After a minute or two, the light fell on
a wall of dry rock with a pool at the bottom, and he
knew they had reached the end of the adit. Next
moment he saw there was an opening to one side where
some ore had been taken out. If Daly was in the
mine, he was there, and warning Pete with a sign, he
turned the corner.
The light showed a small, dry chamber, strewn with
sharp stones, some of which had been put together
to make a hearth. Between these lay the ashes of a
fire; bits of food were scattered about, and a blue
Hudson's Bay blanket lay in a corner. Except for this,
the chamber was empty. Foster savagely clenched his
fist while Pete stirred the ashes and felt the blanket.
“It's dry an' the reek o' a cigar is fresh on it,” he
said. "Yon fire's no' been oot lang. I'm thinking it's
a pity we didna' come last night.”
Foster sat down and looked about. He was getting
calm, but felt dull with disappointment. For all that,
he saw why the mine had been abandoned. There
was a fault in the strata, where the vein had slipped
down, but the subsidence had cracked the rock above
and he imagined that the fissure reached the surface.
The air was fresh and not very cold; there was water
close by, and Foster saw no reason why Daly should
not have found the chamber a comfortable hiding-
place. Yet he had left it.
: “Can you see the basket you talked about?” he
asked, giving Pete the lamp.


THE MINE
285
Then they searched about the foot of the rocks and
presently found marks that showed where somebody
had climbed. Getting up, they followed the marks to
a beaten trail that ran along the hillside from the town
to a neighboring mine. There was nothing to be learned
here and Foster went back dejectedly to the hotel.
Dinner was being served when he arrived, but he did
not see Walters and felt annoyed when Telford stopped
him as he was coming out.
"I haven't seen you since last night and thought
we might have had a game," he said. “Where have
you been all morning ?”
"I didn't come here to play pool,” Foster replied.
“There was something I had to see about."
“Then I hope you found business pretty good,"
Telford remarked with a quiet smile that Foster found
disturbing.
He thought the fellow would see him if he went to
the clerk's office, and beckoning the bell-boy into a pas-
sage gave him a coin.
“Do you know if the lame gentleman with the dark
hair is out?” he asked.
"He's certainly out. Left on the Montreal express
this morning.”
“You're quite sure of that?"
“Yep," said the lad. "I put his baggage in the
transfer wagon for the depôt.”
Foster went to the rotunda and sat down to smoke.
He felt savage, for there was no doubt that he had
muddled things. Daly had again escaped him, but he
thought he saw what Walters' visit meant. Three of
the gang had met to make some plot, which might
threaten Lawrence, whom they no doubt thought dan-


286
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
gerous. It was ominous that Walters had gone east.
Daly was obviously afraid of arrest, but the others
seemed to think themselves safe and Telford was stop
ping at the hotel, although it looked as if he were being
watched. Foster wondered whether the fellow sus-
pected this.
Another matter demanded consideration. News of
what he had done in Newcastle had probably reached
the gang, and he had a check belonging to a member of
it in his wallet. If they knew this, which was pos-
sible, he might be in some danger, and taking it for
granted that the watcher was a detective or acting for
Hulton, it would simplify things and free him from a
grave responsibility if he told what he knew. For all
that, he did not mean to do so. His object was to save
his comrade's name.
In the afternoon he played pool with Telford, who
carelessly asked him a few clever questions, which
Foster answered with a misleading frankness that he
hoped would put the other off the track. In the eve-
ning he read the newspapers and tried to overcome a
growing anxiety about Lawrence. He ought to follow
Daly, but did not know where he had gone, and thought.
that if he waited Telford might give him a clew.
There were no letters for him next morning, but
soon after breakfast the bell-boy brought him a tele-
gram and he tore open the envelope. The message
was from Lucy Stephen and read:
"Mountaineering friend just arrived. Snow dan-
gerous now. Would feel safer if you could join us.
Come if possible.”
For a moment or two Foster sat still, with his face
set. Lucy was guarded, but the mountaineering friend


THE LOG BRIDGE
289
The lad wore a smart uniform and was called a page,
but he had the pertness that generally marks the bell-
boy in Western hotels.
"Certainly, miss. But I reckon I'll be wanted when
the stranger who's coming up the road gets here.
Guess it will be all right if I take your message when
he's fixed.”
Lucy, who scarcely heard, sent the page away. Wal-
ters would arrive in a minute or two, and now she had
warned Foster she thought she had better not avoid
him. If she hid her distrust, she might find out some-
thing, and she would sooner he saw her before he met
Lawrence. There was nobody else in the veranda just
then. Walters came in with a smile that somehow in-
tensified her antagonism, but she waited calmly, al-
though she did not give him her hand.
"It looks as if you were rather surprised to see me,"
he remarked.
"I am,” said Lucy. · "Perhaps that's not unnat-
ural!”
He laughed and since she did not suggest his sitting
down, remained standing in a rather graceful pose.
She meant to hide her real feelings if she could, but as
she had been angry when he left it was better that he
should think her angry now. A marked change in her
attitude would be illogical and might excite suspicion.
"I suppose that means you blame me for Lawrence's
illness and haven't forgiven me yet?” he suggested.
"I do blame you. You let the guide get drunk and
left Lawrence on the couloir. Then you were a long
time coming back, when you knew the danger he was
in"
"Well,” said Walters in an apologetic tone, “I sup-


290
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
pose all this is true, but I must point out that when we
slipped down the gully it was impossible to get up
again. Then there were some big crevasses in the gla-
cier and I had a half-drunk man to help across; I
really didn't know he would drink too much when I
gave him the flask. However, although perhaps I was
rather careless, I hope you won't forbid my seeing
Lawrence.”
"I couldn't forbid your seeing him, as you must
know."
"You couldn't, in a sense,” Walters agreed. “Still,
of course, your wishes go a long way with him, and I
imagine he is what one might call amenable."
"I don't understand that.”
Walters smiled. “I always found Lawrence good-
humored and it would surprise me if he did anything
you didn't like. I don't know that I can go farther
without venturing on an open compliment. But I'm
anxious to know how he is.”
"He is getting better, but must be kept quiet for
some time. But why did you come here?"
"It ought to be obvious," Walters replied in a tone
of mild protest. “You blame me for my friend's
illness, and though I don't know what I left undone, I
am, in a sense, responsible; anyway, I was with him.
Well, I found I had to go east, and determined to put
off my business for a day or two so I could stop over
and see how he is getting on.”
“You may see him. But you must remember that
he isn't strong and needs quietness.”
"I'll be very careful,” Walters said with a grateful
look. “May I take it that your consent is a sign that
you'll try to forgive me for my share in the accident?”


THE LOG BRIDGE
291
Lucy forced a smile. "We'll see how you keep your
promise."
She sat down, feeling rather limp, when he left her.
He had, on the surface, taken a very proper line, and
his excuse for coming was plausible, but she knew that
it was false. The man had meant to leave her lover
to freeze among the rocks and was horribly clever.
It was hard to preserve her calm when she hated and
feared him, and although she thought she had not
acted badly, the interview had been trying. Besides,
Lawrence was generous and not very discriminating.
Walters might find a way of disarming the suspicions
Foster had roused.
When the page showed Walters to his room, he said
to the lad, “I want somebody to go to the station for
my bag. Have they a telegraph office?"
“Yep; I'm going down to send a wire. Office isn't
open long. Agent quits as soon as the east-bound
freight comes through.”
"I suppose the wire's from Miss Stephen?”.
The page nodded and Walters gave him twenty-five
cents. “Well, if you can wait a little, I'll have a
message to send; it will save you a journey."
The boy hesitated; but the money banished his
doubts. “All right; you'd better get it written. The
freight's nearly due."
Walters went to Lawrence's room before he wrote
the telegram, and met Lucy again at dinner. There
were only two tables in use in the large dining-room,
and the waiter sent him to Mrs. Stephen's. Lucy won-
dered whether Walters had arranged this with the man
beforehand, but it gave her an opportunity of watch-
ing him and she did not object. She admitted that he


292
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
had nerve and tact, for although she feared him and
her mother shared her distrust, he was able to banish
the constraint both felt and amuse the party. Lucy
could not tell what Lawrence thought, but he laughed
at the other's stories and now and then bantered him.
After dinner Walters left them and when they went
to Mrs. Stephen's sitting-room Lucy remarked rather
sharply: “You seemed to find Walters amusing!"
“He is amusing," Lawrence answered. “In fact,
the fellow puzzles me.”
"You mean he couldn't talk in that good-humored,
witty way if he had plotted to leave you on the cou-
loiros
“Well,” said Lawrence, “I suppose I did feel some-
thing of the kind."
"I don't know that it's very logical,” Lucy rejoined,
hiding her alarm. “You agreed with Foster's conclu-
sions when he was here."
“I did, to some extent. The way Jake argued out
the matter made things look pretty bad.”
"But they look better now? Walters was talking
to you in your room?”
"He didn't say much about our climb; just a word
or two of regret for his carelessness in not seeing what
had happened to the guide.”
“Words that were very carefully chosen, no doubt!")
"Well," said Lawrence, “I'm frankly puzzled; the
more I think about our adventure, the harder it is to
decide how much one could hold Walters accountable
for. It was difficult to throw me up the rope without
slipping, and there was only a small, projecting rock,
on which he might have broken his bones, to prevent


THE LOG BRIDGE
293
his tobogganing to the bottom. If he had slid past it,
he would have been killed.”
“Walters wouldn't hesitate about a risk. It might
have looked like an accident if you hadn't heard Fos-
ter's story."
Lawrence knitted his brows, rather impatiently.
“After all, Jake's a romantic fellow, and his explana-
tion's theatrical.”
"You don't like theatrical things,” Mrs. Stephen
interposed. “You must admit that they happen, but
you feel it's ridiculous that they should happen to
you."
"I imagine I do feel that,” Lawrence agreed with a
smile. "When they happen to somebody else they're
not so unnatural.”
Lucy tried to preserve her self-control, but her tone
was sharp as she said, “Then you feel inclined to for-
give Walters the pain and illness he caused you."
“It would be harder to forgive him your anxiety,"
Lawrence rejoined, and his face set hard. “In fact,
if I knew he really had plotted the thing ” He
paused and resumed: "One would be justified in kill-
ing a brute who could do what you imagine, but there's
a difference between hating a crime and punishing the
man accused of it before you have proved his guilt.
In the meantime, I'm trying to keep an open mind.”
"But you will be careful and not trust him far,"
Lucy urged.
"I'll run no risks; I've some ground for being cau-
tious.”
Lucy said no more. Lawrence was not well yet and
sometimes got obstinate if one argued with him. She
thought he would be prudent, but it was comforting


THE LOG BRIDGE
295
Lucy kept close to Lawrence and was glad to see Wal-
ters talking to one of the others some distance be-
hind. She felt jaded, for she had not relaxed her
watchfulness since the man arrived. By and by Law-
rence gave her a grateful smile.
"You look tired; I expect I'm something of a re-
sponsibility. If you like, I'll make an excuse for
stopping in until Walters goes.”
"No," she said with an effort, "that would be cow-
ardly and not good for you. After all, I may be giving
my imagination rein; but I wish he hadn't come.”
"He won't be here long. Anyhow, we'll keep out
of his way as much as we can for the rest of the
time.”
"That's a relief. Still, I expect you really think
you are indulging me.”
"I don't know what to think,” Lawrence replied.
“You're clever, and Jake, who takes your view, is not
a fool. But it doesn't look as if Walters meant to do
me much harm.”
"He can't, so long as you don't give him an oppor-
tunity.”
Lawrence's eyes twinkled. “And you'll take care
that I don't? Well, it's rather nice to be protected."
Lucy blushed. “If you would take things seriously
sometimes-
"If I did, you'd find me dull. Now I like you exactly
as you are, except that, in one way, I'd sooner you were
not so anxious about me. That's partly why I'm not
so serious as you expect. I'm afraid you'd get worse
if I played up to you.”.
“Never mind me," said Lucy. “Only take care!"
By and by the slope grew gentler, and tall forest


THE LOG BRIDGE
297
weakness sometimes affects one's nerve. Walters could
not harm him, because he was not near enough.
When the first two had gone over, Lawrence walked
out upon the log. Lucy was not afraid, but she
watched and remarked that he seemed unusually care-
ful. After a few paces, he moved slowly, and when
near the middle stopped. She saw him clench his
hands as he tried to brace himself.
"Go on, Lawrence," she said, as quietly as she
could.
He moved another pace or two uncertainly, and then
stopped again, and Lucy struggled with her terror as
she tried to think. If he were well, it would not be
difficult to turn and come back, or sit upon the log, but
either would be dangerous if his nerve had gone. She
had failed to rouse him and durst not try again. If
he slipped or stumbled, he would plunge into the
cañon. It was horrible to reflect that she had allowed
him to make the venture. Then, throwing off the
numbing fear, she sprang to her feet.
“Stand quite still; I'm coming to help you," she
said in a strained voice and went towards the log.
Next moment she was seized from behind, and
Walters ran past. She struggled fiercely, biting her
lips as she stopped the scream that might startle her
lover, and heard the man who held her breathing hard.
But he held her firmly and she stopped struggling,
with a paralyzing horror that made her muscles limp.
Still, she could see and think, and the scene fixed itself
upon her brain like a photograph; long afterwards she
could remember each minute detail.
The log occupied the foreground of the picture, run-


298
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
ning boldly across the gap in the pines, with a shadowy
gulf beneath. Near the middle, Lawrence stood
slackly, with his back to her, and behind him Walters
walked across the trunk. His step was firm and agile,
his figure well-proportioned and athletic, and it was
somehow obvious that he relished the opportunity of
showing his powers. Afterwards, she hated him for
his vanity.
It was plain that little physical help could be given.
All that was possible was moral support; a firm, guid-
ing grasp that would restore the shaken man's confi-
dence, and the comfort of feeling there was somebody
near who was not afraid. But a very slight push the
wrong way, or even an unsteadiness in the hand that
should have guided, might be fatal. Lawrence was at
the mercy of a man who had plotted to destroy him
and could do so now without risk. Lucy could not
warn him, because if he were startled, he would fall.
Waiting in an agony of suspense, she saw Walters
grasp his shoulder.
“Steady, partner; we'll soon be across,” he said in
a quiet, reassuring voice, and Lawrence's slack pose
stiffened, as if he had gathered confidence.
Lucy thought he did not know who had spoken, but
the horrible tension did not slacken yet, though Law-
rence began to move forward. Walters came close
behind, rather guiding than supporting him, and in a
few moments they stepped down on the other side.
Then Lucy gasped and logs and pines got blurred and
indistinct. She conquered the faintness and went reso-
lutely towards the log.
"Wait and let me help you," somebody said.


THE LOG BRIDGE
299
"No," she answered in a strained voice; "I'm quite
steady."
She crossed the log without a tremor and running
to where Lawrence sat put her arm round him. Law-
rence said nothing, but took and held her hand.


FOSTER ARRIVES
301
“Was it you who held me back?” she asked, and
when the man nodded, resumed: "Of course, you
were right. I might have startled him and we would
both have fallen.”
"That's what I was afraid of. Anyhow, Mr. Wal-
ters deserves your thanks most. He saw what was
needed and did it smartly."
Then Lawrence got up, with some color in his face,
and gave Walters his hand. “I expect I would have
fallen if you hadn't come along,” he said and turned
to the rest. "I feel I must apologize for frightening
you. My best excuse is that I wasn't as fit as I
thought.”
They urged him to rest and one offered to run to
the hotel for brandy, but he declared he was able to
go on, and they tactfully began to talk about some-
thing else and after a few minutes let him drop behind.
He was grateful and went slowly, with his hand on
Lucy's arm. Sometimes he pressed it gently and she
gave him a tender look, but said nothing. She could
not talk; her relief was too great. When they reached
the hotel Lawrence went to his room, and soon after-
wards Lucy met Walters on the veranda.
“I hope Lawrence is not much the worse," he said.
Lucy remembered the part she had taken and re-
solved to play it out.
“I expect he will be as well as usual after a rest.
You took a very generous revenge.”
Walters laughed. “After all, I was only a little
quicker than the rest and really ran no risk. I was
behind him and he couldn't get hold of me. In fact,
I don't know that I'd have had grit enough to stick
to him if he had slipped.”


302
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
He left her and Lucy could find no fault with his
reply, which she admitted was frank and modest. For
all that, her distrust had not been banished, and when,
after a time, Lawrence came down, she said, “I sup-
pose you're now satisfied that it wasn't Walters' fault
you were left on the couloir ?”
"Aren't you?” Lawrence asked with some surprise.
"No," said Lucy firmly. "I'm not quite satisfied.
You see, there were a number of accidents, all leading
to one result. Coincidences of that kind don't happen
unless somebody arranges them.”
Lawrence laughed. “Then they're not coincidences.
Do you still hold Walters accountable for the acci-
dents?"
"If he was accountable, they wouldn't be accidents,"
Lucy rejoined with some color in her face.
“A fair retort! But let's be serious. I'm not sure
I'd have fallen off the log if I'd been left alone, but
it's very possible. Walters' help was useful, whether
he saved my life or not, and you can't deny that he
meant to save it."
"No; I think he meant to save you. Did you know
who it was when he touched you?”.
"I did. Remembering Jake's theory, I saw it was
possible he had come to push me off, but I knew he
hadn't. That's why I gave him my hand afterwards."
"Ah!” said Lucy. “I was sorry when you did
that, because I knew what it meant.”
Lawrence looked at her deprecatingly. "I don't
like you to be prejudiced, dear, even on my account.
I can do nothing that might injure Walters now and
can't treat him with suspicion; but he's going soon
and, if it's any comfort, I won't leave the hotel grounds


FOSTER ARRIVES
303
for the next day or two. Anyhow I've rather overdone
things lately."
"Thank you for the promise,” Lucy said, and was
glad when her mother joined them, for she felt baffled
and wanted to think.
She hated Walters with a half-instinctive hatred that
reflection showed her was justified; but beyond the
concession he had made Lawrence would not be moved.
On the surface, so to speak, he was logical and she was
not. She was sure Walters had plotted to leave him
on the couloir, although she admitted that he had
meant to save his life when he turned dizzy upon the
trunk. It was possible that he had yielded to sudden
generous emotion, but she did not accept the explana-
tion. The fellow was cold-blooded and calculating; she
thought he had deliberately let his opportunity pass,
because, after this, nobody would believe him guilty
if he found another. But he must not find an oppor-
tunity, and it was a keen relief to know that Foster
would soon arrive. She had not told Lawrence yet;
it might be better to let Foster make an excuse for
his visit.
When it began to get dark, she stood near the glass
front of the veranda and glanced at her watch. She
could see for some distance down the valley and knew
that the smoke of a locomotive would spread in a dark
cloud across the tops of the pines. The train was late,
but there was no smoke yet. It was a long climb
from sea-level at Vancouver Inlet and in winter the
line was sometimes blocked. There was no obvious
'ground for alarm, but somehow she was worse afraid
of Walters than before.
The massed pines gradually faded to a formless


FOSTER ARRIVES
305
ing because the view was good and it got the sun early
in the morning, but now and then walked up the stairs
to see how fast he was recovering his strength. After
a minute or two, Lucy heard the elevator start and its
harsh rumble jarred her nerves. The electric lifts they
use in Canada seldom run silently, and the elevator
had not been working well. Lucy was annoyed that
the sound disturbed her, and imagined she had not
recovered from the shock she got during their walk.
She was nervous and admitted that she did not like
Lawrence to be out of her sight when Walters was with
him. She tried to persuade herself that this was fool-
ish, but could not banish her uneasiness. Then Mrs.
Stephen looked up.
“There's the train; I didn't hear it stop.".
Lucy listened. She had forgotten the train for the
last few minutes, and it seemed to be going fast. The
sharp snorting of the mountain engine and rhythmic
clang of wheels seemed to indicate that its long climb
had not been interrupted. The Montreal express did
not stop at the flag station unless the conductor was
warned. She felt daunted as she realized that Foster
might not have come, and she had not told her mother
she had telegraphed for him.
A few minutes later she heard steps outside; then
the door opened, and she felt a thrill of satisfaction as
Foster came in with Pete. He looked grave and rather
hot, as if he had been walking fast, but it was strangely
comforting to see him. Besides, she liked his big
companion, who waited with Scottish calm.
Foster bowed to Mrs. Stephen and then turned to
Lucy.
"Is Lawrence all right?”


306
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
“Yes. He overtired himself this morning, but is
better now."
Foster looked relieved. “Is Walters here?”
"He goes to-morrow.”
"Ah!” said Foster, as if he thought this important.
"I should have arrived yesterday if your message had
come earlier. I got it just after the train started in
the morning.”
Mrs. Stephen looked at her daughter, but Lucy of-
fered no explanation. Foster's abruptness disturbed
her. He obviously wanted to understand the situation,
but seemed to think he had no time to lose.
“I sent the telegram half an hour before the office
closed and as the agent goes early you ought to have
got it in the evening,” she said.
“Then it must have been kept back. Where's Law-
rence now ?”
“He went to his room with Walters about ten min-
utes since."
Foster beckoned Pete. “Then I'll go straight up;
I know the number.”
They went out and Lucy sat down, feeling disturbed
but somewhat comforted. It was plain that Foster
shared her fears and knew more than she did, but in
another minute or two he would join his comrade, and
Lawrence would be safe when he was there.
In the meantime, Walters lighted a cigarette Law-
rence gave him in his room and sat down to examine
the photographs. There were a number of views of
the mountains and a group of figures occupied the fore-
ground of several. A guest at the hotel with some
talent for photography had taken the pictures, and


308
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
throw, Walt at ran
with one foot on the edge and his hand on an iron bar,
and looked at the black hole with horror as he braced
himself for the effort to swing his body back. There
was some strain upon his right arm, because his right
knee was bent and his other leg dangled over the shaft.
His hold on the ironwork had saved him and he must
use it to regain the passage.
Next moment a hand fastened on his wrist and he
thought Walters had come to his help. But the fel-
low was stupid; he ought to have seized his shoulder.
Then the sweat ran down his face as he guessed the
truth. Walters had not come to help; he meant to
throw him down the shaft.
He set his teeth and felt the veins on his forehead
swell with the effort he made. He was in horrible
danger and must fight for his life. Walters was try-
ing to pull his hand off the bar, but he resolved that if
the fellow succeeded, he should go down the shaft with
him. But although his situation was desperate, he did
not mean to fall.
Then Walters' fingers slipped away, and something
jarred Lawrence's knuckles as he got a firmer hold.
The brute had struck him with a pistol butt and the
pain was sharp, but he did not let go. Though his
muscles were hadly strained and his brain struggled
with numbing horror, he could think. Walters could
have made him loose his grasp had he used his knife,
but the thing must look like an accident and there
must be no cut to show. The fellow had set a cunning
trap for him, but he might escape yet.
Then he thought he heard steps, but his hearing was
dull, for there was a sound like bells in his ears and the
hand fastened on his wrist again. He arched his back


310
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
"I don't know," said Foster coolly. "It will save
the police some trouble if he is."
"But I want to know what's happened."
Foster indicated a pistol lying on the steps. “That's
his; he tried to use it. I'll tell you about the thing
later. In the meantime, you can take him to his room
and telegraph for the police.” He paused and beck-
oned Pete. “Go with them and don't lose sight of him
until I come. He'll probably come round soon.”
“Weel,” said Pete dryly, “I'm thinking he'll no'
be verra sensible for a while yet, but I'll see he doesna'
get away."
He and the waiter picked up Walters, and Foster
turned to Lawrence.
"Now I'd better wash and straighten myself up.
Perhaps you can lend me a jacket.”
Lawrence laughed, a rather strained laugh. “Cer-
tainly; come along. You're a curious combination,
partner. I've called you romantic, but you're not a
sentimentalist when you get into action."


XXX
RUN DOWN
TOSTER did not know what Lawrence told Lucy,
because he was occupied for some time in his
room. His lip was cut, his face was bruised, and
there was a lump on his head where he had struck the
steps. After he had attended to the injuries and
frowned at his reflection in the glass, he rang the bell,
and asking for some paper took out his fountain pen.
It was not easy to write, but there was something to be
done that had better not be put off. He knew now
what the gang was capable of, and meant to leave a
record, in case an accident of the kind to which his
comrade had nearly fallen a victim happened to him.
Moreover, it might be a safeguard to let his antagonists
know that they could not destroy his evidence if they
took his life.
He related his adventures in Scotland, his pursuit
of Daly, and his surmises about the gang, and then
going down, asked the hotel clerk to witness his signa-
ture and put the document in the safe. After this, he
went to the veranda, where Lucy came to meet him
with shining eyes.
“Jake," she said with emotion, “I felt we would be
safe as soon as you arrived. If you knew how I
listened for the train and longed for your step! But
the wretch has hurt you; your face is bruised and cut.”
311


RUN DOWN
313
he undertakes a thing he puts it over. For example,
there was the sawmill-
Lucy stopped him with a gesture. "We are not go-
ing to talk about the sawmill. It was your-I mean
our—troubles Jake plunged into, and pluck that can't
be daunted is better than genius. But you're an Eng-
lish Borderer and therefore half a Scot; you hate to
let people guess your feelings."
"Jake kens," said Lawrence, smiling. “Before very
long you'll be a Borderer, too."
Lucy's eyes were very soft as she turned to Foster.
“Then I must adopt their customs. I think they
have a motto, 'Dinna' forget.'”
To Foster's relief, the hotel manager came in and
looked at the two ladies hesitatingly. Neither took
the hint and Lucy said, rather sharply, "Well?”
"Mr. Walters has come round and demands to be
let out of his room. Your man's there, Mr. Foster,
and won't let him move."
"Pete's splendid !” said Lucy. "I haven't thanked
him yet. Perhaps you had better go, Lawrence, but
take Jake.”
Foster beckoned the manager and when they were
outside asked: “When do you expect the police?"
"Some time to-morrow.”
“Then we must watch the fellow closely until they
come.”
They stopped at a room on the second floor, and
the manager frowned when he turned the handle of
the door, which would not open.
“Wha's there the noo?" a sharp voice demanded.
Foster laughed as he answered, the door was opened,
and they saw Walters, who looked much the worse for


314
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
the struggle, lying on a couch, while Pete stood grimly
on guard. Walters glanced at Foster.
i “You're something of a surprise," he said. “We
didn't expect much from you."
“That's a mistake other people have made and re-
gretted,” Lawrence remarked.
"Well,” said Walters, “I demand to be let out."
Foster shook his head. “I think not. The room is
comfortable, and you won't be here long."
"What are you going to do with me?”
“Hand you to the police."
"On what ground?”
"Attempted murder, to begin with,” said Foster
dryly.
Walters turned to the manager. "A man can't be
arrested without a warrant. I guess you understand
you're making trouble for yourself by permitting these
fellows to lock me in."
"I don't know if it's quite legal or not,” Foster ad-
mitted, addressing the manager, who looked irreso
lute. “Anyhow, you're not responsible, because we're
going to take the matter out of your hands. Besides,
you haven't much of a staff just now and couldn't in-
terfere."
"In a way, that's so," the manager doubtfully
agreed. “I don't want a disturbance in my hotel; I've
had enough.”
"Very well,” said Walters, seeing he could expect
no help from him. “But I'm not going to have this
wooden-faced Scotchman in my room. The fool won't
let me move. If you don't take him away, I'll break
the furniture. I can do that, although I'm not able to
throw the big brute out.”


RUN DOWN
315
Foster walked to the window, which he opened. It
was some distance from the ground and there was
nothing that would be a help in climbing down. Be-
sides, Walters did not look capable of trying to escape.
"We'll take him away,” he said, and beckoning
Pete and the manager, went out. He locked the door
on the other side and resumed: “Send up a com-
fortable chair, a blanket, and a packet of tobacco.
If there's any trouble, you can state that you acted
on compulsion and we'll support you, but I rather
think you can seize and hold a criminal when you
catch him in the act. Stop here until I relieve you,
Pete."
Pete nodded and the others went to the dining-room.
After dinner, Foster took his turn on watch, but by
and by Pete reappeared, holding the page by the arm.
He signed to Foster, who went down the passage to
meet him.
"I thought I'd maybe better tak’ a look roon the
back o' the hoose and found the laddie aneath the
window. He had a bit paper in his hand.”
Foster told him to watch Walters' door, and frowned
at the lad.
"I reckon you'd sooner keep out of jail."
· "Sure," said the lad, with an effort at carelessness;
"I'm not going to get in.”
"Well,” said Foster grimly, "you're taking steep
chances just now. The police will be here to-morrow
and there'll be trouble if they know you tried to help
their prisoner escape. Where's the telegram he threw
you down?”
"It wasn't a telegram."


316
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
"A letter's just as bad. The wisest thing you can do
is to give it me."
The lad hesitated, but let him have the crumpled
envelope. “I was to give it one of the train hands
when the next freight stops for water."
Foster opened the envelope, which was addressed to
Telford at the mining town. The letter was written
guardedly, but after studying it with knitted brows he
thought he understood its purport.
“How much were you to get for sending this?” he
asked.
"Mr. Walters threw me three dollars. I allow I'd
have to give something to the brakesman."
"After all, I don't see why you shouldn't deliver the
thing," Foster said thoughtfully. “That means you
can keep the money, but as the brakesman's not allowed
to carry letters, he'll probably want a dollar. Wait
until I get a new envelope."
The boy went off, looking relieved, and Foster re-
turned to his chair at Walters' door. On the whole, he
thought he would hear something of the gang on the
morrow, and if his suspicions were correct, looked
forward to an interesting meeting. Telford had been
bound freight had not passed yet, and if it came soon,
should reach the mining town early in the morning.
Foster lighted his pipe, wrapped the blanket round his
legs, and opened a book he had brought.
Next day two policemen arrived in a light wagon
and took Walters away. Lawrence was compelled to
go with them, and although but little disturbance was
made, Foster imagined all the occupants of the hotel
knew about the matter. He had ground for regretting


318
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
into the was dark hen he cotlan, takin. Object
message would bring Daly to his rescue, but it looked
as if it had not done so. Then, as he stood nearly
breast-high among dry brush and withered fern, he
heard a faint noise. Not far off, a narrow trail led
through the trees to the back of the hotel. Standing
quite still, he searched the wood with narrowed eyes.
į It was shadowy all around him, but where the trees
grew farther apart their tall straight trunks cut against
the glimmer of the snow. The noise had stopped, but
he could see anybody who crossed the nearest opening,
and waited, tense and highly-strung. Then he heard
steps coming from the hotel, and an indistinct object
emerged from the gloom. It was a man, taking some
care to move quietly. When he got nearer, Foster,
knowing there was dark brush behind him, thrust
his arm into the fern and made it rustle as a gust of
wind swept the wood.
The man, who wore an old skin coat, stopped and
looked round, and Foster saw his face. It was Daly,
and he seemed uncertain if the wind had made the
noise or not. After standing motionless for a few
moments, he took out his watch, and then moved on
again as softly as he could.
The meaning of this was plain. Daly had learned
that Walters had been taken away by the police and
had concluded that Lawrence meant to fight. As it
,was too late to interfere, he meant to make his escape.
Foster resolved to prevent this if he could, but Daly
had the advantage of an open trail, while he was en-
tangled in the brush. He crept out and pushed through
the wood as fast and silently as possible, but when
looking for a way round a thicket caught his foot and
fell among some rotten branches with a crash. He


320
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
in. He heard the wind among the pines and the hum-
ming of the telegraph wires, but for a time this was all.
Then a faint throbbing came up the valley and got
louder until he could distinguish the snorting of a
locomotive.
The snorting stopped, a bell began to toll, and with
lights flashing the cars rolled past the shack. Foster
waited a moment or two, standing at the window,
and then as the conductor called "All aboard” saw a
man run along the line and jump on to the step of
the end car. Then, beckoning Pete, he dashed out and
got on board as the train began to move.
It was with a thrill of triumph he sat down in a
corner as the cars gathered speed. They would not
stop for some time and the game was in his hands at
last. The long chase was ended; he had run Daly
down.


XXXI
DALY SOLVES THE PUZZLE
THE train was speeding along the hillside when
1. Foster took Pete with him and walked through
the rocking cars. As he crossed the platforms between
them he met an icy wind and saw the dark pines
stream by. It was obvious that the track was nearly
level and the train running fast, for dusky woods and
snowy banks flung back a rapid snorting and a con-
fused roll of wheels. There were not many passengers
and nobody seemed to notice Foster, until as they en-
tered a car near the end a man raised a newspaper he
was reading so that it hid his face. As they left the
car Foster thought he heard a rustle, as if the paper
had been lowered, but did not look round. The thing
might have no meaning and he did not want to hint
that he was suspicious.
He felt anxious but cool. Daly was the cleverer
man and the game they must play was intricate, but
Foster thought he had the better cards. The last
car was empty except for two women, and leaving
Pete there, he went through to the smoking compart-
ment at its end. It had only one occupant, who looked
up as he came in, and he calmly met Daly's gaze. The
fellow had his hand in his pocket and his face was
rather hard, but he did not show surprise or alarm.
"Well," he said, "we have been looking for one
another for a long time and at last have met."
321


322 CARMEN'S MESSENGER
Foster sat down opposite. “That's so. 7 When we
began, you were looking for me, but since then things
have, so to speak, been reversed. I've followed you
across England and much of Canada.”
“I've wondered what accounted for your boldness."
"It looked as if you knew, but if you don't, I'm
going to tell you,". Foster replied.* "But I'd sooner
you took your hand out of your pocket. It would be
dangerous to use a pistol, because my man's in the
car. Then I left a plain statement of all I know and
surmise about you, with instructions for it to be
handed to the police if I don't come back."
Daly removed his hand and took out a cigarette.
"You're not such a fool as some of my friends thought.
I suspected this for some time.”
“We'll get to business," Foster rejoined. "I want
to get it finished, although I don't think we'll be dis-
turbed.”
Daly gave him a keen glance, which Foster did not
understand then, and the latter resumed: "How did
you find out enough about Featherstone to enable you
to blackmail him?"
: “I was secretary to the man he robbed; as a matter
of fact, I stole one or two of his private papers. I
don't know that I meant to use them then, but was
afterwards in need of money and saw how it could be
got. The documents prove your partner's offense.”
“You began by extorting money, but your last ob-
ject was to suppress the evidence my partner could
give about the cause of Fred Hulton's death."
"Ah!” said Daly. "I wonder how much you or
Featherstone know about that. As there are no lis-
teners, we can be frank.”


DALY SOLVES THE PUZZLE
323
“Very well. You claim to have documents that
give you some power over Featherstone; I have others
that give me power over you. Have you got yours
here?”
Daly smiled. "I have not. They're kept where
nobody but myself could find them."
"I see," said Foster. “Any money you could ex-
tort from Featherstone was to be your private per-
quisite and not shared with the gang! Well, I've
brought my documents for you to examine. This is
a traveler's circular check for yourself, and this is an
ordinary bank check for another man. Taken alone,
they don't prove very much, but I'll try to show how
they link up with other matters.”
He related how Carmen had given him the packet
and his adventures in Newcastle, and when he finished
Daly nodded.
“On the whole, you don't argue badly.”
"I expect a lawyer prosecuting for the Crown would
argue it better, particularly if I was ready to go into
the witness-box. Then, of course, there's Feather-
'stone's evidence.”
| For a moment Daly looked alarmed, but recovered
his tranquillity without much effort, and Foster saw
he had to face his first serious difficulty, though there
was another. If Daly knew how little Lawrence could
really tell, it would be hard to deal with him.
. "Something depends on the importance of Feather-
stone's evidence."
“Your accomplice thought it important, since he
tried to throw him down the elevator shaft,” Foster
rejoined. “Anyhow, Featherstone saw the man who
killed Fred Hulton."


DALY SOLVES THE PUZZLE
325
"It doesn't matter if you disbelieve me; this is what
happened,” Daly rejoined. “My friend—we'll call
him the man—went to the office late in the evening
and after some talk, covered Hulton with his pistol.
The lad had had some trouble about his debts, because
the old man would have fired him out of the business if
he'd heard of them, and his nerve wasn't good. He
opened the safe when he was told and the man took
the bonds and went out of the office, leaving Hulton
in his chair. We don't know what the lad thought,
but perhaps he saw he would be suspected or was
ashamed of not showing more grit. Anyhow, when
the man was on the stairs Hulton came up behind and
told him to stop. He had a pistol, but looked strained
and nervous, and the other, who had put his away,
made a rush at him. Hulton slipped on the steps, his
pistol went off, and when he rolled to the bottom the
other saw he was dead."
! Foster was silent for a time. The story was, on the
whole, plausible, and although he did not see why
Daly had told it him, he thought he spoke the truth.
So far he had been clearing the ground and had not
reached his object yet, but Daly showed no inclination
to hurry him. They were not likely to be disturbed,
and although the rocking of the car and throb of
wheels indicated that the train was running fast, the
next station was some distance ahead. There was
moonlight outside and he saw towering rocks and
masses of dark trees roll past.
“Well," he remarked, "you have had a strange ca-
reer. Leading a gang of swindlers must have been a
change from helping a philanthropist."
Daly smiled rather grimly. “For a long time I


DALY SOLVES THE PUZZLE 327
"I don't know that I need make an offer. I think
I'm able to dictate terms."
“Are you?" Daly asked with an ironical smile.
"Well, suppose you had me arrested? My defense
would be to discredit your partner's evidence. My
lawyer would prove that Featherstone was my enemy
and had a motive for revenge, by admitting that I had
demanded money from him and would tell the court on
what grounds. You must see the danger in which
you'd put your friend."
! Foster saw it; indeed, he had seen it since he began
the chase. He must silence Daly, but the fellow was a
criminal and he could not bring himself to promise him
immunity from the punishment he deserved. Yet
nothing less would satisfy the man. It looked as if
he must deny his duty as a citizen if he meant to save
his friend. This was the problem, and there was ap
parently no solution. Daly, who understood it,
watched him with dry amusement.
· "Well," resumed the latter, “I'll make a proposi-
tion. To begin with, we'll exchange documents; the
checks against the papers that compromise Feather-
stone."
"Which you haven't brought!”
"Just so,” said Daly. "If we both engage to make
no use of the documents we hold, they can be ex-
changed at some convenient time."
“That means I must put the police off your track
and meet you again.”
"Exactly; you have no choice. Besides, Feather-
stone must promise to keep back anything he knows
and you to say nothing about your meeting with
Graham."


332
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
Foster noted that he did not ask his name. “Per-
haps the Hulton Manufacturing Company, Gardner's
Crossing, would be best. I'm going there now.”
The man nodded meaningly. “That will satisfy me.
On the whole, it's lucky the fellow shot at you and
Hulton told us how you stood. He didn't miss by
much; there's burnt powder sticking to your cheek."


334
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
haven't taken these chances on my account. There's
something behind all this that concerns you—or your
partner-alone. Well, I guess that's not my business.”
He paused and resumed in a curt, businesslike man-
ner: "Daly's tale is plausible and may be true, but I
have my doubts. Anyhow, I'm not going to believe it
because that doesn't suit my plans. We'll have Walters
tried for murder."
"Although you admit he may be innocent !” ex-
claimed Foster. "It ought to be enough to charge him
with trying to kill Featherstone and stealing your
bonds. You have no evidence to convict him of the
other crime."
| Hulton smiled. "I don't care two bits if he's con-
victed or not. I want to clear my boy's name and put
you into the witness-box."
“But you can't make me adapt my story to fit your
charge, and the defending lawyer would object to
Daly's account as hearsay and not evidence. The
judge would rule it out."
; "I guess so," Hulton agreed. "For all that, it
would have some effect, and the judge couldn't rule
it out before it was heard.” He knitted his brows and
looked hard at Foster. "I'm going to prove that Fred
was robbed and was not the thief, and though I don't
think Walters will be convicted, he must take his
chance. He was one of the gang that caused my son's
death, and when he tried to kill your partner knew
what he was up against.”
Foster thought this was frontier justice and urged
another objection.
"After all, the matter's in the hands of the police.
You can't dictate the line they ought to take.”
would guess so," it out."ay and not


FEATHERSTONE APOLOGIZES 335
Percival, the treasurer, smiled, and Hulton answered
with some dryness: "That's true, in a way. But I
have some influence, which will be used for all it's
worth. Anyhow, I've got to be consulted. If it
hadn't been for my agents, the police wouldn't have
made much progress yet. However, we'll let this go.
It may interest you to know that Daly's gone for good.
Read him the night letter, Percival.”
It is usual in Canada to allow lengthy telegrams,
called night letters, to be sent at a very moderate
charge when the lines are disengaged after business
hours, and the treasurer picked up a form. The mes-
sage related the careful search for Daly's body, which
had not been found. The snow for some distance on
both sides of the river was undisturbed; there was no
sign that an injured man had crawled away, and if
this were not enough, no stranger had reached any of
the scattered ranches where he must have gone for
food. Daly would not be found until the ice broke up.
i “I expect you're glad the fellow can't be brought to
trial,” Hulton remarked, looking hard at Foster.
"I am,” said Foster quietly.
Hulton made a sign of understanding and there was
faint amusement in his eyes.
i “Well, you have a good partner. I like Feather-
stone; he's a live, straight man, and if he had trouble
in England, has made good here. But he has his lim-
its; I reckon you'll go further than he will."
"No," said Foster. "I don't think you're right, but
if you are, I'll take my partner along with me, or stay
behind with him.”
"What are you going to do now?” Percival asked.


336 CARMEN'S MESSENGER
“Stop at the Crossing and see about starting the
mill."
Hulton nodded. “I guess that's the best thing.
When you have got her started, come and see what we
want. I think that's all in the meantime.”
į Foster left them and began work next day. He
wrote to Lawrence telling him of his plans, but got no
answer for a week, when a telegram arrived.
! “Come out if you can leave the mill. You're wanted
here," it ran.
| Foster was puzzled, because he thought the summons
would have come from Lucy if Lawrence was ill. Yet
the latter knew he was occupied and ought not have
sent for him unless he was needed. On the whole, he
felt annoyed. Lawrence, who was sometimes careless,
should have told him why he was required, and he
could not conveniently leave the mill.
i Since he had found his partner, he had realized how
wide, in a social sense, was the difference between
Alice Featherstone and a small Canadian lumber dealer,
and had, with characteristic determination, resolved
to bridge the gap. This meant bold planning and
strenuous effort, but he shrank from neither and
meant his partner to help. Lawrence, although reso-
lute enough when things went against them, sometimes
got slack when they were going well, and Foster un-
derstood that Lucy Stephen had money. For all that,
if Lawrence was unwilling to keep pace with him, he
must be dragged. Foster frowned as he put off mat-
ters that needed prompt attention until his return, and
then sent a telegram and caught the next west-bound
train.
When he got down at the flag station his annoyance


FEATHERSTONE APOLOGIZES 337
returned. If there was any ground for his being sent
for, he ought to have been told, and if there was not,
he had been caused a loss of time that could have been
well employed. He resolved to tell Lawrence his
views upon this as he took the road to the hotel, but
stopped with a beating heart when he entered the
veranda.
! Lawrence lounged negligently in a big chair and
greeted him with a smile, but his father, Mrs. Feather-
stone, and Alice sat close by, with Mrs. Stephen and
Lucy in the background. It cost Foster something
of an effort to preserve his calm, but he advanced to
Mrs. Featherstone, who gave him a look of quiet
gratitude that repaid him for much. Featherstone
welcomed him heartily, but with a touch of embarrass-
ment, and then Foster thrilled as Alice gave him her
hand. There was a curious quiet confidence in her
level glance, as if she meant that she had known his
promise would be kept. He did not remember what
he said to Mrs. Stephen and Lucy, but was grateful to
Lawrence, who laughed.
"I imagined you'd get something of a surprise,
Jake. In fact, when the train stopped I pictured you
coming up the road as fast as you could, divided be-
tween anxiety and a determination to tell me what you
thought. Before that, when I got your curt telegram,
I told Alice I could see you frowning as you filled up
the form."
"I didn't know Miss Featherstone was here,” Fos-
ter replied awkwardly.
"That's obvious,” Lawrence said, chuckling. "Can-
dor's one of your virtues. But what about the rest
of us?"


338
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
Foster wished he had been more tactful and thought
his comrade's amusement might better have been re-
strained; but Lawrence resumed: “It must have been
annoying to leave the mill when you had much to do.
The curious thing is that when you set off from the
Crossing with me you declared you were tired of
working for dollars."
! "Mr. Foster's tiredness didn't prevent him from
working for his friends,” Alice interposed.
"He must work, anyhow; that's the kind of man
he is, and I don't suppose he was much disappointed
when he got a strenuous holiday.”
· Then Featherstone turned to Foster. “I imagine
we both dislike formal speeches and Lawrence, know-
ing this, means to smooth over our meeting. For all
that, there's something to be said, and now, when the
others are here, is the proper time. When we got your
telegram in England I was overwhelmed by gratitude
and regret. I saw, in fact, what a fool I had been."
He paused with a gleam of amusement in his embar-
rassment. "Indeed, I'm not sure that the recognition
of my folly wasn't the stronger feeling. Now I'm
half-ashamed to apologize for my ridiculous suspicions
and must ask you to forget all about them if you
can."
“They were very natural suspicions, sir. I couldn't
logically blame you and honestly don't think I did."
: "Well," said Featherstone, “it's some comfort to
reflect that my wife and daughter knew you better.
I'm glad to think you're generous, because there is no
amend I can make commensurate with the service you
have done us."
"In one sense, it was an excellent joke," Lawrence


FEATHERSTONE APOLOGIZES 341
not have given him such a hint unless she thought it
was justified. Still, she might be mistaken and he
feared to risk too much; then there were other diffi-
culties—he was not rich. He went to the writing-
room, knitting his brows, and stopped abruptly when
he found Alice there alone. She put aside a half-
finished letter, as if she did not want him to go away,
and he advanced to the table and stood looking down
at her.
"I did not send the telegram stating that I had found
Lawrence."
"No," she said, smiling, "I know you didn't. But
why do you wish to explain this?”
| Foster hesitated. “To begin with, it must have
looked as if I wanted to boast about keeping my prom-
ise and hint that you owed me something."
“But you were glad you were able to keep your
promise?"
"I was," said Foster; "very glad, indeed.”
| Alice gave him a quick glance that thrilled him
strangely. “So Lawrence said for you what you
would have liked to say yourself? One would imagine
he knew your feelings."
“Yes," said Foster steadily, “I didn't tell him, but
I think he did know."
1 He stopped and Alice looked down at the table for a
moment. Then she looked up again and met his fixed
gaze.
"After all, you would have liked to have my grati-
tude?"
There was something in her face that stirred his
blood, and forgetting his drawbacks he made a reckless
plunge.


342
CARMEN'S MESSENGER
"I wanted it tremendously, but it wasn't enough."
"Not enough! Aren't you rather hard to satisfy ?"
she asked with a hint of pride that deceived but did
not stop him.
"I'm afraid I'm very rash,” he answered quietly.
"You see, I wanted your love; I wanted you. But I
was afraid to ask.”
She looked at him in a way he did not understand,
although her manner enforced a curious restraint.
"Now I wonder why?"
"You're so beautiful! I durstn't hope you'd come
down to my level. I'd nothing to offer."
"You have unselfishness, loyalty, and unflinching
steadfastness. Are these nothing?"
i Foster felt embarrassed, but the sense of restraint
was stronger. Alice had somehow imposed it and he
must wait until she took it away. He thought she
wanted him to finish.
i “Then I knew my disadvantages. In many ways,
Canada is a hard country, and I'm poor."
"Did you think that would count for very much?
We are not rich at the Garth.”
“I seemed to know that if by any chance you loved
me, you would not flinch. But there were other things;
your upbringing and traditions. I couldn't hope your
parents would agree."
Then Alice got up with a quiet grace he thought
stately and stood facing him. There was a strange
new softness in her eyes that had yet a hint of pride.
· "I don't think I am undutiful, but it is my right
to choose my husband for myself.” She paused and his
heart beat fast as he waited until she resumed: "The
evening I came to the orchard I had chosen you.”