“I got what I wanted. You will find the mail sack in that wedge of rocks, where I stopped you and the driver, I piled stones over the crevice to protect it.”
“I got what I wanted. You will find the mail sack in that wedge of rocks, where I stopped you and the driver, I piled stones over the crevice to protect it.”
The room was silent. After a time: “What did you take from the sack?” Hardy asked.
“A letter. I had no interest in the mail, otherwise. I intended placing it where it eventually would be recovered. Of course my gun threat was only a bluff. I would not have shot—”
“Whose letter was it you ran such risks to secure?” Hardy asked swiftly.
“The factor’s, McAndrews. Ihadto have it.”
“Explain, Morely.”
“I will explain at headquarters,” he said slowly.
Father du Bois laid a trembling hand on Hardy’s arm.
“Sergeant, I beg of you, do not take this man. You can free heem if you would. You are not onlee an exponent of ze law. You are ze law itself. You who are clad with ze authority of courts, can make your own court here, try, an’ release this man.”
Hardy was silent, his troubled gaze on the priest’s pleading eyes.
“There ees so much sickness. Ze people need ze doctor. Of a certainty he ees needed. Do not take heem away.”
“Father, this is not a case wherein I could act as judge.” Hardy’s voice was low. “I realize all you say. And I also realize my own obligation to my prisoner. Yet, father, you, who would not betray a confession, cannot ask me to violate the code of the Mounted? I cannot possibly consider my personal wishes.”
Keith Morely came to his feet.
“I am ready, sergeant. And by the way, your uniform is at my cabin. No doubt you want to wear it? It has been fumigated and aired. We shall stop at the store and get a pair of very dark goggles for your eyes. You must be careful.”
Hardy glowed with admiration. Dammit but he liked this man. No cringing, no begging for quarter. Voice cool and steady.
Morely turned. Silently the hands of the priest gripped his.
“When you are shut away between dark walls, have courage, my son. Always my prayers are with you an’ I shall be waiting for your return.” The gentle voice faltered.
The two men walked to the door. With misty eyes the priest listened to the retreating crunch of their webs.
“It seems you overstep in pleading this man’s case, sergeant.”
Inspector McKenzie looked narrowly at Hardy’s earnest face.
“I have but given you a detailed report, sir. Only adding that the prisoner saved my life. I believe, twice. I have also reported what I have heard concerning him. I made inquiries at every Post on the way here. I questioned people who know him. He is honored by all.
“He has given three years of his life to the North without reward. His services are invaluable, for you know, sir, we cannot get half the physicians we need up here. He stamped out the pest at Nichikun. In other Posts, it is still raging. And Jim King, the driver, is dead, too.”
The inspector sat silent. “Bring in your prisoner,” he said finally.
Hardy saluted, left the inspector’s court. Morely raised haggard eyes, questioning.
“He is ready for you. And Dr. Morely, I want to tell you, I’m sorry. Dammit, I’m sorry. I wish I could have—”
“I understand, sergeant.” The voice was low, strained.
Inspector McKenzie looked sharply at the man before him.
“What have you got to say?” he snapped.
“I had to have that letter.”
“Why?” the inspector barked.
“Haven’t you read it? I gave it to the sergeant.”
“I want your story first. Then I’ll read it.”
“McAndrews and I had quarreled bitterly. He accused me of too friendly relations with a half-breed girl at the Post. The accusation was false. The girl was only grateful for my pulling her through a siege of pneumonia. Some one aroused McAndrews’s suspicions and he was stubborn. Wouldn’t listen to me, or believe me.
“His daughter Alice and I are engaged. She is spending the winter in Quebec, and we were to be married on her return.
“He wrote her, telling her the sort of man he thought I was, and told her to break our engagement immediately.
“She is a type of girl who believes absolutely in her father. Thinks he can do no wrong, that he’s never mistaken. She is loyal and devoted to him. He insisted on my reading his letter, doubtless to convince me that Alice was lost to me, irrevocably. And she would have been. She would never have listened to me.” Morely paused a moment.
“I knew the letter went out on that mail. I determined to get it. And I did.”
Involuntarily McKenzie nodded. Did a memory of his own hot-blooded youth return to him? Youth that will dare much for the loved one?
“I intended returning immediately to the Post. My short absence would not have been noticed, for I often go in the woods where sickness has been reported. Within a week or so, I intended going to Quebec, and urge Alice to marry me there. I think she would have—for we love each other. Then we would have returned to the Post. For my work is here, in the North, that I love.”
Morely fell silent.
“Seems to me it was an act of—er—Providence that Alice McAndrews never received that letter. Her father and mother dead, the poor girl needs the man she loves,” Hardy ventured. He kept a wary eye on the inspector as he spoke.
McKenzie stared at his sergeant fixedly, then picked up McAndrews’s letter. He read it thoughtfully, his heavy brows drawn together, his face grave.
Morely’s hopes died. There was no softness, no sympathy in that rock-like face.
To be locked in prison, while the pest still raged! When he was so badly needed! And Alice, alone in her bereavement—he groaned aloud.
Hardy’s face was moody as he watched McKenzie.
“The law recognizes extenuating circumstances.” McKenzie was speaking. “I feel that I am justified in dismissing this case. You are free, Dr. Morely.”
He rose, held out his hand. Inspector McKenzie’s eyes twinkled as he looked at his sergeant.
THE END
This story appeared in the October 20, 1928 issue ofArgosy All-StoryWeekly magazine.
This story appeared in the October 20, 1928 issue ofArgosy All-StoryWeekly magazine.