The dust was rolling about the cars and the gaunt poles whirled past before I could recover breath to answer the astonished conductor. Then it was with a gasp I said: "Won't you get me a little water?"
The man vanished, and I sat still vacantly noticing how the prairie reeled behind me until the door slid open and he returned with a tin vessel and a group of curious passengers behind him. A piece of ice floated in the former, and a man held out a flask. "I guess it won't hurt him, adulterated some," he said.
Never before had I tasted so delicious a draught. Hours of anxiety and effort under a blazing sun had parched and fouled my lips, and my throat was dry as unslaked lime. The tin vessel was empty when I handed it back, and the railroad official looked astonished as he turned it upside down for the spectators' information. "I guess a locomotive tank would hardly quench that thirst of yours," he said.
"Thanks. I'll get up. It was not for amusement I boarded your train as I did," I said, and the rest opened a passage for me into the long Colonist car. There was a mirror above the basins in the vestibule, and a glance into it explained their curiosity. The white shirt had burst in places; the grime of alkali had caked on my face, leaving only paler circles about the eyes. Hardened mire crusted the rest of my apparel, and each movement made it evident to me that portions of the epidermis had been abraded from me.
"It's not my business how passengers board these cars, so long as they're tolerably decent, and can pay their fare," observed the conductor. "Still, although we're not particular, we've got to dress you a little between us; and it mightn't be too much to ask what brought you here in such an outfit?"
It was evident that the others were waiting to ask the same question, and I answered diplomatically: "I have money enough to take me to Empress at Colonist fare, and was half way to the depot to catch the cars on the old schedule before I discovered you had commenced the accelerated service. Then I flung off every ounce of weight that might lose me the race."
"You must have had mighty important business," somebody said; and the door at the opposite end opened as I answered dryly: "I certainly had."
"Hallo! Great Columbus! Is that you, Ormesby?" a voice which seemed familiar said; and, turning angrily, I saw a storekeeper with whom I had dealt staring at me in bewilderment.
"Ormesby!" the name was repeated by several passengers, and I read sudden suspicion in some of the faces, and sympathy in the rest, while one of them, with Western frankness, asked: "You're the Rancher Ormesby we've been reading about?"
"Yes," I answered, making a virtue of necessity. "I am on my way to surrender for trial, and redeem my bail. Now you can understand my hurry."
Several of the passengers nodded, and the dealer said: "It's tolerably plain you can't go like that; they're that proud of themselves in Empress they'd lock you up. So I'll try to find you something in my gripsack. Still, while I concluded you never done the thing, I'd like to hear you say straight off you know nothing about the burning of Gaspard's Trail."
"Then listen a second," I answered. "You have my word for it, that I know no more what caused the fire than you do. You will be able to read my defense in the papers, and I need not go into it here."
"That's enough for me," was the answer. "Now, gentlemen, if you have got anything you can lend my friend here in your valises, I'll guarantee they're either replaced or returned. Some of you know me, and here's my business card."
It may be curious, but I saw that most of those present, and they were all apparently from parts of the prairie, fully credited my statement, and one voiced the sentiments of the rest when he said: "I'll do the best I can. If Mr. Ormesby had played the fire-bug, he wouldn't be so mighty anxious to get back to court again."
The position was humiliating, but no choice was left me. I must either accept the willing offers or enter Empress half naked, and accordingly I made a hasty selection among the garments thrust upon me. Twenty minutes spent in the lavatory, with the colored porter's assistance, produced a comforting change, and when I returned to the car, one of the most generous lenders surveyed me with pride as well as approval.
"You do us credit, Rancher, and you needn't worry about the thanks. We've no use for them," he said. "Hope you'll get off; but if you are sent up for burning down that place, I'll be proud of having helped to outfit a famous man."
Perhaps my face was ludicrous with its mingled expressions of gratitude and disgust at this naïve announcement, for a general laugh went up which I finally joined in, and that hoarse merriment gave me the freedom of the Colonist car. Rude burlesque is interspersed amid many a tragedy, and I had seen much worse situations saved by the grace of even coarse humor. Thereafter no personal questions were asked, and most of my fellow-travelers treated me with a delicacy of consideration which is much less uncommon than one might suppose among the plain, hard-handed men who wrest a living out of the prairie.
Night had closed in some time earlier when I strolled out across the platform of the car and leaned upon the rails of the first-class before it. Tired physically as I was, the nervous restlessness which followed the mental strain would, I think, have held me wakeful, even if there had been anything more than a bare shelf of polished maple, which finds out every aching bone, to sleep on. This, however, was not the case, for thosewho travel Colonist must bring their own bedding, or do without it. It was a glorious summer night, still and soft and effulgent with the radiance of the full moon which hung low above the prairie, while the sensation of the swift travel was bracing.
There was no doubt that the Accelerated was making up lost time; and the lurching, clanking, pounding, roar of flying wheels, and panting of mammoth engines both soothed and exhilarated me. They were in one sense prosaic and commonplace sounds, but—so it seemed to me that night—in another a testimony to man's dominion over not only plant and beast upon the face of the earth, but also the primeval forces which move the universe. Further, the diapason of the great drivers and Titanic snorting, rising and falling rhythmically amid the pulsating din, broke through the prairie's silence as it were a triumphant hymn of struggle and effort, and toil all-conquering, as dropping the leagues behind it the long train roared on. I knew something of the cost, paid in the sweat of tremendous effort, and part in blood and agony, of the smooth road along which the great machines raced across the continent.
Perhaps I was overstrung, and accordingly fanciful; but I gathered fresh courage, which was, indeed, badly needed, and I had grown partly reassured and tranquil, when the door creaked behind me and there was a light step on the platform. Then, turning suddenly, I found myself within a foot of Lucille Haldane. She was bareheaded. The moon shone on her face, which, as I had dreamed of it, looked at once ethereal and very human under the silvery light. This, at least, was not a fancy born of overtaxed nerves, for while given to heartsome merriment, daring, and occasionally imperious, there was a large share of the spiritual in the character of the girl. Shrewd, she certainly was, yet wholly fresh and innocent, and at times I had seen depths of pity and sympathy which it seemed were not wholly earthly in her eyes. When one can name and number all the mysterious forces that rule the heart or brain of man, it may be possible to tell why, when Beatrice Haldane'sidealized image was ever before me, I would have done more for her sister than for any living woman.
We were both a little surprised at the encounter, and I fancied I had seen a momentary shrinking from me in the eyes of the girl. This at once furnished cause for wonder, and hurt me. She had shown no shrinking at our last meeting.
"I did not expect to meet you when I came out for the sake of coolness. Are you going East?" I said.
Lucille Haldane was usually frank in speech, but she now appeared to be perplexed by, and almost to resent, the question. "Yes. I have some business which cannot be neglected in that direction," she said.
"Is Miss Haldane or your father on board the train?" I asked, and Lucille seemed to hesitate before she answered:
"No. My father is in Winnipeg, and Beatrice has gone to Montreal; but Mrs. Hansen, our housekeeper, is here with me."
I was partly, but not altogether, relieved by this information. It was no doubt foolish, but I had been at first afraid that every one of my friends from Bonaventure had seen in what manner I boarded the train. I would have given a good deal to discover whether Lucille had witnessed the spectacle, but I did not quite see how to acquire the knowledge.
"It must be important business which takes you East alone," I said idly—to gain time in which to frame a more leading question; but the words had a somewhat startling effect. A trace of indignation or confusion became visible in the girl's face as she answered: "I have already told you it is business which cannot be neglected; and if you desire any further information I fear I cannot give it to you. Now, suppose we reverse the positions. What has made you so unusually inquisitive to-night, Mr. Ormesby?"
The positions were reversed with a vengeance, somewhat to my disgust. I had neither right nor desire to pry into Lucille Haldane's affairs, and yet felt feverishly anxious to discover how much or how little shehad seen at the station. It was no use to reason with myself that this was of no importance, for the fact remained.
"I must apologize if I seemed inquisitive," I said. "It would have been impertinence, but I will make a bargain with you. If you will tell me whether you boarded the cars immediately the train came in, and what seat you took, I will tell you the cause of it."
This struck me as a clever maneuver, for if, as I hoped, she had seen nothing, the story would certainly reach Bonaventure, and it seemed much better that she should hear it first, and carefully toned down, from my own lips. Lucille Haldane's face cleared instantaneously, and there was a note of relief in her laugh.
"Must you always make a bargain? You remember the last," but here she broke off suddenly and favored me with a wholly sympathetic glance. "I did not mean to recall that unfortunate night. You should come to the point always, for you are not brilliant in diplomacy, and shall have without a price the information you so evidently desire. I was standing on the car platform when you rode up to the station."
We are only mortal, and I fear I ground one heel, perhaps audibly, but certainly viciously, into the boards beneath me. Still, I am certain that my lips did not open. Nevertheless, I was puzzled by the sparkle in Lucille Haldane's eyes which the radiant moonlight emphasized. There was more than mischief in it, but what the more consisted of I could not tell. "Have you forgotten the virtues of civilized self-restraint?" she asked demurely.
I could see no cause for these swift changes, which would probably have bewildered any ordinary man, and I made answer: "It may be so; but on this occasion, at least, I said nothing."
Lucille Haldane laughed, and laid her hand lightly on my arm as the cars jolted. "Then you certainly looked it; but I am not blaming you. I saw you ride into the station, and I hardly grasp the reason for so much modesty. I do not know what delayed you, but I know youwere trying to redeem the trust your neighbors placed in you."
I was apparently a prey to all disordered fancies that night, for it seemed a desecration that the little white hand should even bear the touch of another man's jacket, and I lifted it gently into my own hard palm. Also, I think I came desperately near stooping and touching it with my lips. Be that as it may, in another second the opportunity was lacking, for Lucille grasped the rails with it some distance away from me, and leaned out over them to watch the sliding prairie, her light dress streaming about her in the whistling draught.
"The cars were very stuffy, and I am glad I came out. It is a perfectly glorious night," she said.
The remark seemed very disconnected, but she was right. The prairie there was dead-level, a vast, rippling silver sea overhung by a spangled vault of softest indigo. In spite of the rattling ballast and puffs of whirled-up dust the lash of cool wind was grateful, and the rush of the clanking cars stirred one's blood. Still, in contrast to their bulk and speed, the slight figure in the fluttering white dress seemed very frail and insecure as it leaned forth from the rails, and I set my teeth when, with a sudden swing and a giddy slanting, we roared across a curving bridge. Before the dark creek whirled behind us I had flung my arm partly around the girl's waist and clenched the rails in front of her.
"I am quite safe," she said calmly, after a curious glance at me. "You look positively startled."
"I was so," I answered, speaking no more than the truth, for the fright had turned me cold; and she once more looked down at the whirling prairie.
"That was very unreasonable. You are not responsible for me."
Perhaps the fright had rendered me temporarily light-headed, for I answered, on impulse: "No; on the other hand, you are responsible for me."
"I?" the girl said quietly, with a demureness which was not all mockery. "How could that be? Such a responsibility would be too onerous for me."
"Why it should be I cannot tell you; but it is thetruth," I said. "Twice, when a crisis had to be faced, it was your opinions that turned the scale for me; and I think that, growing hopeless, I should have allowed Lane to rob me and gone elsewhere in search of better fortune had it not been for the courage you infused into me. Once or twice also you pointed the way out of a difficulty, and the clearness of your views was almost startling. The most curious thing is that you are so much younger than I."
I had spoken no more than the truth, and was conscious of a passing annoyance when Lucille Haldane laughed. "There is no overcoming masculine vanity; and I once heard my father say you were in some respects very young for your age," she said. "I am afraid it was presumption, but I don't mind admitting I am glad if any chance word of mine nerved you to continue your resistance." Her voice changed a little as she added: "Of course, that is because your enemy's work is evil, and I think you will triumph yet."
Neither of us spoke again for a time, and I remember reflecting that whoever won Lucille Haldane would have a helpmate to be proud of in this world and perhaps, by virtue of what she could teach him, follow into the next. I could think so the more dispassionately because now both she and her sister were far above me, though, knowing my own kind, I wondered where either could find any man worthy.
So the minutes slipped by while the great express raced on, and blue heavens and silver prairie unrolled themselves before us in an apparently unending panorama. There had been times when I considered such a prospect dreary enough, but it appeared surcharged with a strange glamour that moonlit night.
"Will Miss Haldane return to Bonaventure?" I asked, at length.
"I hardly think so," said the girl. "We have very different tastes, you know; and as father will not keep more than one of us with him, we can both gratify them. Beatrice will leave for England soon, and in all probability will not visit Bonaventure again."
She looked at me with a strange expression as shespoke, and when her meaning dawned on me I was conscious of a heavy shock. I had braced myself to face the inevitable already, but the knowledge was painful nevertheless, and my voice was not quite steady when I said: "You imply that Miss Haldane is to be married shortly?"
"It is not an impossible contingency."
Lucille spoke gravely, and I wondered whether she had guessed the full significance of the intimation. Perhaps my face had grown a little harder, or the tightening of my fingers on the rail betrayed me, for she looked up very sympathetically. "I thought it would be better that you should know."
There was such kindness stamped on her face that my heart went out to her, and it was almost huskily I said: "I thank you. You have keen perceptions."
Lucille smiled gravely. "One could see that you thought much of Beatrice—and I was sorry that it should be so."
Her tone seemed to challenge further speech, and presently I found words again: "It was an impossible dream, almost from the beginning; but I awakened to the reality long ago. Still, nothing can rob me of the satisfaction of having known your sister and you, and your influence has been good for me. One can at least cherish the memory; and even a wholly impossible fancy has its benefits."
The girl colored, and said quietly: "It is not our fault that you overrate us, and one finds the standard others set up for one irksome. And yet you cannot be easily influenced, from what I know."
"Heaven knows how weak and unstable I have been at times, but I learned much that was good for me at Bonaventure, and should, whatever happens, desire to keep your good opinion," I said.
"I think you will always do that," said the girl, moving towards the door. "It is growing late, but before I go I want to ask you to go to your trial to-morrow with a good courage, and not to be astonished at anything you hear or see. If you are, you must try to remember that we Canadians actually are, as our orators tell us, a free people, and that the prairie farmers do not monopolize all our love of justice."
She brushed lightly past me, and the prairie grew dim and desolate as the door clicked to. I had long dreaded the news just given me, but such expectations do not greatly lessen one's sense of loss. Still, it may have been that my senses were too dulled to feel the worst pain, and I sat down on the top step of the platform with my arm through the railing in a state of utter weariness and dejection, which mercifully acted as an anesthetic. How long I watched the moonlit waste sweep past the humming wheels I do not know; but tired nature must have had her way, for it was early morning when a brakeman fell over me, and by the time the resultant altercation was concluded, the clustered roofs of Empress rose out of the prairie.
Sleep had brought me a brief forgetfulness, but the awakening was not pleasant when I painfully straightened my limbs on the jolting platform, while the twin whistles shrieked ahead. Every joint ached from the previous day's exertions, my borrowed garments were clammy with dew, and I shivered in the cold draught that swept past the slowing cars. The sun had not cleared the grayness which veiled the east, and, frowned down upon by huge elevators which rose higher and higher against a lowering sky, the straggling town loomed up depressingly out of the surrounding desolation. The pace grew slower, a thicket of willows choked with empty cans and garbage slid by, then the rails of the stockyards closed in on each hand, and we jolted over the switches into the station, which was built, as usual, not in, but facing, the prairie town.
There was no sign of life in its ill-paved streets, down which the dust wisps danced; bare squares of wooden buildings, devoid of all ornamentation, save for glaring advertisements which emphasized their ugliness, walled them in, and the whole place seemed stamped with the dreariness which characterizes most prairie towns when seen early on a gloomy morning by anybody not in the best of spirits. My fellow-passengers were apparently asleep, but I was the better pleased, having no desire for speech, and I dropped from the platform as soon as the locomotive stopped. Hurrying out of the station, I did not turn around until a row of empty farm wagons hid the track, which action was not without results.
One hotel door stood open, but knowing that its tariffwas not in accordance with my finances, I passed it by and patrolled the empty streets until the others, or a dry goods store, should make ready for business. One of the latter did so first, and when I entered a mirror showed that the decision was not unnecessary. The borrowed jacket was far too small, the vest as much too large, while somebody's collar cut chokingly into my sunburnt neck. Still, the prices the sleepy clerk mentioned were prohibitive, and after wasting a little time in somewhat pointed argument—of which he had the better—I strode out of the store, struggling with an inclination to assault him. Western storekeepers are seldom characterized by superfluous civility, and there are disadvantages attached to a life in a country so free that, according to one of its sayings, any man who cannot purchase boots may always walk barefooted.
"I don't know what the outfit you've got on cost you, and shouldn't wonder, by the way it fits, if you got it cheap," he said. "We don't turn out our customers like scarecrows, anyway, and if you'd had the money we would have tried to make a decent show of you."
I was nevertheless able, after almost emptying my purse, to replace at least the vest and jacket at a rival establishment, whose proprietor promised to forward the borrowed articles to their legitimate owners. I afterwards discovered that they never received them.
"You look smart as a city drummer, the top half of you, but it makes the rest look kind of mean. You want to live up to that coat," he said, after a critical survey.
"I can't do it at the price, unless you will take your chances of getting paid when the stock go East," I said; and the dealer shook his head sorrowfully.
"We don't trade that way with strangers, and I don't know you."
I was in a reckless mood, and some puerile impulse prompted me to astonish him. "My name is Henry Ormesby!"
The man positively gasped, and then, with Western keenness, prepared to profit by the opportunity. "I'llfit you out all for nothing if you'll walk round to the photographer's and give me your picture with a notice to stick in the window that you think my things the best in town," he said. "It would be worth money every time the prairie boys come in, and I don't mind throwing a little of it into the bargain."
This was exasperating, but I could not restrain a mirthless laugh; and, leaving the enterprising dealer astonished that any man should refuse such an offer, I hurried out of the store; but by the time the breakfast hour arrived all trace of even sardonic humor had left me. It was with difficulty I had raised sufficient ready money for the journey, and there now remained but two or three silver coins in my pocket, while, remembering that the dealer had been justified in pointing out the desirability of a complete renovation, I reflected gloomily that it would be useless, because, in all probability, the nation would shortly feed and clothe me. I also remembered how I had seen men with heavy chains on their ankles road-making before the public gaze in a British Columbian town.
Meanwhile I was very hungry, and presently sat down to a simple breakfast in a crowded room. While waiting a few minutes my eyes fell on a commercial article in a newspaper, which, while noting a revival of trade, deplored the probable abandonment of much needed railroad extension. The writer appeared well posted, and mentioned the road we hoped so much from as one of the works which would not be undertaken. I laid down the journal with a sigh, and noticed that the men about me were discussing the coming trial.
"I expect they'll send Ormesby up," said one man, between his rapid gulps. "Don't know whether he done it, but he threatened the other fellow, and said he'd see him roasted before he helped; while that match-box would fix most anybody up."
"Well, I don't know," observed a neighbor. "The match-box looks bad; but I guess if I'd been burning a place up I shouldn't have forgotten it. Still, it might be fatal unless he could disown it. As to the other thing,I don't count much on what he said. A real fire-bug would have kept his mouth shut and helped all he was worth instead of saying anything."
"I'm offering five to one he goes up. Any takers?" said the first speaker; and it was significant that, although most Westerners are keen at a bet, nobody offered.
"I'd do it for less, 'cept for the match-box," said one.
I managed to finish my breakfast, feeling thankful that—because (so their appearance suggested) those who sat at meat had driven in from the prairie to enjoy the spectacle—none of them recognized me. The odds, in their opinion, were more than five to one against me, and I agreed with them. Slipping out I found Dixon, and reported my presence to the police; and, after what seemed an endless waiting at the court, it was early afternoon when Dixon said to me: "They'll be ready in five minutes, and I want you to keep a tight rein on your temper, Ormesby. I can do all the fancy talking that is necessary. You can keep your heart up, too. There are going to be surprises for everyone to-day."
I was called in a few minutes, and if the court had been thronged on previous occasions, it was packed to suffocation now. It was a bare, ugly, wood-built room, even dirtier than it was dingy. Neither is there anything impressive, save, perhaps, to the culprit, about the administration of Western justice, and I was thankful for a lethargy which helped me to bear the suspense with outward indifference. Nothing striking marked the first part of the proceedings, and I sat listening to the drawl of voices like one in a dream. Some of the spectators yawned, and some fidgeted, until there was a sudden stir of interest as the name "Thomas Wilkins" rang through the court.
"I guess that's the prosecution's trump ace," said a man beneath me.
I became suddenly intent as this witness took his stand. He was of the usual type of Canadian-born farm hand, bronzed and wiry, but not heavily built, and hazardedwhat I fancied was a meaning glance at me. I could not understand it, for he seemed at once ashamed and exultant.
"I was hired by Rancher Niven to help him at Gaspard's Trail, and remember the night of the fire well. Guess anybody who'd been trod on by a horse and left with broken bones to roast would," he said; and proceeded to confirm Niven's testimony. This was nothing new, and the interest slackened, but revived again when the witness approached the essential part of his story, and I could hear my own heart thumping more plainly than the slow drawling voice.
"I was round at the wreck of the homestead some time after the fire. Don't know the date, but Niven made a note of it. Kind of precise man he was. The place wasn't all burnt to the ground, and Niven he crawls in under some fallen logs into what had been the kitchen. The door opened right on to the prairie, and anybody could slip in if they wanted to. Niven grabbed at something on the floor. 'Come along and take a look at this,' says he; and I saw it was a silver match-box he held up. There was 'H. Ormesby' not quite worn off it. Niven he prospects some more, and finds a flattened coal-oil tin. Yes, sir, those you are holding up are the very things. 'We don't use that brand of oil, and buy ours in bigger cans,' says he."
I could see by the spectators' faces it was damaging testimony, and Dixon's serene appearance was incomprehensible, while, for the benefit of those ignorant of Western customs, it may be explained that kerosene is sold in large square tins for the settler's convenience in several parts of the Dominion.
"I went over to the store with Niven next day," continued the witness. "The man who kept it allowed that Rancher Ormesby was about the only man he sold that brand to in small cans."
There were signs of subdued sensation, and Wilkins continued: "We gave them both to Sergeant Mackay, and by-and-by I was summoned to come here and testify. I came right along; then it struck me it was mean tohelp in sending up the man who'd saved my life. So I just lit out and hid myself until the police trailed me."
It was news to hear that Lane had no hand in the witness's disappearance; and again he flashed an apparently wholly unwarranted, reassuring glance in my direction. Then, while I wondered hopelessly whether Dixon could shake his testimony, the latter stood up.
"I purpose to ask Thomas Wilkins a few questions later, and will not trouble him about the match-box, being perfectly satisfied as to the accuracy of the facts he states," he said.
I could see the spectators stare at him in surprise, and, wondering if he had lost his senses, settled myself to listen as the storekeeper deposed to selling me oil of the description mentioned, adding reluctantly that very few others took the same size of can. This, and a lengthy speech, closed the prosecutor's case, and it seemed, when he had finished, that nothing short of a miracle could save me. The audience was also evidently of the same opinion.
Dixon commenced feebly by submitting evidence as to my uprightness of character, which his opponent allowed to pass unchallenged with a somewhat contemptuous indifference. Then he said: "It will be remembered that in his evidence Sergeant Mackay deposed that the witness Niven told him the burning homestead was not insured, and I will call the Western agent of a famous fire office."
The evidence of the gentleman in question was brief and to the point. "I have heard the statement that Gaspard's Trail was not insured, and can't understand it. The witness Niven took out a policy three months before the fire, and sent in his claim straight off to me. The company declined to meet it until this case was settled. Am I quite certain, or can I offer any explanation? Well, here's our premium receipt foil and record of the policy. Can't suggest any explanation, except that somebody is lying."
This was received with some sensation, and Dixon smiled at me as if there were more in store. "You will observe that the witness Niven cannot be considered avery truthful person. I will recall Thomas Wilkins," he said.
Wilkins had lost his shamefacedness when he reappeared. "I said the prisoner saved my life, and meant just that," he said, answering a question. "It was he who took me out of the fire, and I had sense enough to see he was leading the boys who saved all Niven's horses. It's my opinion—you don't want opinions? Well, I'll try to pitch in the solid facts."
"Your master went East for a few days before the fire and brought a case of groceries home with him," said Dixon. "Will you tell us if you opened that case?"
"I did," was the answer. "He sent me into the station for it with the check. Said our storekeeper was a robber, and he'd saved money by buying down East. It was a blame heavy case, so I started to open it in the wagon, and had just pulled the top off when Niven came along."
"Did you see anything except groceries in it?" asked Dixon; and there was a stirring in the court when Wilkins answered: "I did. I had lit on to the top of three coal-oil tins when the boss came in."
"Did he look pleased at your diligence?"
"No, sir. He looked real mad. 'If you'll do what you're asked to without mixing up my private things it will be good enough for me. Get your horses fixed right now,' he said."
"You are sure about the oil tins? Were they large or small—and did you ever see them or the groceries again?"
"Dead sure," was the answer. "I stowed the groceries in the kitchen, but never saw the oil. It was a smaller size than we used, any way. Didn't think much about it until I read a paper about this trial not long ago. Begin to think a good deal now."
I drew in a deep breath, and the movements of expectant listeners grew more audible when, reminded that his impressions were not asked for, Wilkins stepped down. Hope was beginning to dawn, for I could see that Dixon was on the trail of a conspiracy. Everybodyseemed eager, the prosecutor as much so as the rest, and there was a deep silence when Dixon folded up the paper on which he had been making notes.
"My next witness is Miss Lucille Haldane, of Bonaventure," he said.
There was a low murmur, every head was turned in the same direction, and I grew hot with shame and indignation when Haldane's younger daughter walked into the witness stand. It seemed to me a desecration that she should be dragged forward into an atmosphere of crime as part of the spectacle before a sea of curious faces, and I had never felt the enforced restraint so horribly oppressive as when I read admiration in some of them. Had it been possible to wither up Dixon with a glance it is hardly likely that he would ever have handled a case again. The girl looked very young and pretty as, with a patch of almost hectic color in each cheek, and a brightness in her eyes, she took her place. She wore no veil, and held herself proudly as, without sign of weakness, she looked down at the assembly. While she did so there was, without articulate sound, something that suggested wonder and approval in the universal movement, and I heard a man beneath me say: "She's a daisy. Now we're coming right into the business end of the play."
"You know the prisoner, Ormesby?" asked Dixon; and though her voice was low, its clear distinctness seemed to permeate the building as she answered: "I do. He is a friend of my father's, and visited us at Bonaventure occasionally."
"Did you ever see a silver match-box in his possession, and, if so, could you describe it?"
"I did, on several occasions. He wore it hooked on to his watch-chain, and once handed it to me to light a lamp with. It had an oak-leaf engraving with a partly obliterated inscription—'From —— to H. Ormesby.'"
"I think that is an accurate description," said Dixon; and when the judge, who held up a little silver object and passed it on to the jury, signified assent, I glanced in savage bewilderment at the speaker. It had appearedshameful cruelty to hale that delicate girl into a crowded court; now it also appeared sheer madness. She never once glanced in my direction, but stood with head erect, one hand resting on the rails, where the pitiless sunlight beat full upon her, with eyes fixed only on the judge; but in spite of her courage I could see that her lips trembled, while the little gloved fingers tightened spasmodically on the rails. Then I hung my head for very shame that I had been the unwitting cause of such an ordeal, feeling that I would prefer to suffer ten convictions rather than that she should become a subject for discussion in every saloon, and the free commentary of the Western press, even if she could have saved me.
"When did you last see the match-box?" asked Dixon.
"On the morning of the Wednesday in the third week after the fire. I am sure of the day, because the visit of some friends from Montreal impressed it on my memory. Henry Ormesby had stayed all night at Bonaventure and left early in the morning. A maid brought me the match-box, which she had found on the bureau, with one or two articles of clothing; and as he did not return I told her to slip the match-box inside the packet and forward them. I forgot the incident until the trial recalled it."
As Lucille ceased it flashed upon me that I had wondered how the match-box had made its way into a pocket in which I never carried it. Then I was borne down by a great wave of gratitude to the girl who, it seemed, had saved me. She was rigorously cross-examined, and, while I do not know whether the prosecutor exceeded due limits in his efforts to shake her evidence, I grew murderously inclined towards him as I noticed how his victim's color came and went, and the effort it cost her not to shrink under the questions. But her courage rose with the emergency, and when the indignation crept into her eyes there was several times subdued applause as her answer to some innuendo carried a rebuke with it.
At last the approbation was no more subdued, but swelled into a hoarse murmur which filled all the court when she drew herself up at the question: "And it was because you were a firm friend of the prisoner's you recollected all this so opportunely, and, in spite of the diffidence any lady in your position would feel, volunteered to give evidence?"
The damask patch had spread to Lucille Haldane's forehead, but instead of being downcast her eyes were filled with light. "No," she said; and the vibration in her voice had a steely ring. "It was because I am a Canadian, and accordingly desired to see justice done to an innocent man. Can you consider such a desire either uncommon or surprising?"
A full minute had elapsed before the case proceeded, during which an excitable juryman rose and seemed on the point of haranguing the assembly until a comrade dragged him down. Then laughter broke through the murmurs as he gesticulated wildly amid shouts of "Order."
A Scandinavian domestic quaintly corroborated her mistress's statement, and there was no doubt that the scale was turned; but Dixon did not leave his work half-completed, and the next witness confirmed this evidence.
"I keep the Railroad Hotel. It's not a saloon, but a hotel, with a big H," he said. "Know Harry Ormesby well. Saw him about three weeks after the fire lighting a cigar I gave him from a silver match-box. Oh, yes, I'm quite sure about the box; had several times seen the thing before. Was pretty busy when the boys started smoking round the stove after supper, and forgot to pick up something bright beneath Ormesby's chair. Was going to tell him he'd dropped his box, when somebody called me. The boys cleared out when the cars came in, and I saw Niven among them. Knew him as a customer—don't want to as a friend. Got too much of the coyote about him. My Chinaman was turning out the lights when I saw somebody slip back quietly. He grabbed at something by the chair, and went out by the other door. There was only a light in the passage left, and I didn't quite recognize him. Could swear it wasn't Ormesby, and think he was more like Niven. Asked Niven about it afterwards, and he said it wasn't he; didn't see Ormesby, but wired his lawyer when I'd read the papers.Don't believe Ormesby had enough malice in him to burn up a hen-house."
There were further signs of sensation, and Sergeant Mackay was called again. He had ridden over to Gaspard's Trail the day following the fire, and decided to clear out the refuse dump, he said. Then the whole audience grinned, when, being asked why he did so, he glanced at the jury as if for sympathy, answering: "I was thinking I might find something inside it. A man must do his duty, but it was a sairly distressful operation." He found two unopened coal-oil tins resembling the flattened one, and was certain by the appearance of the dump they had been placed there some time before the fire.
There was no further evidence. Dixon said very little, but that little told. The jury had scarcely retired before one of them reappeared, and, with a rush of blood to my forehead and a singing in my ears, I caught the words—"Not guilty!"
Then, when the judge, and even the prosecuting counsel, said he fully concurred, the murmurs swelled until they filled the court again; and presently I was standing outside, a free man, in the center of an excited crowd, for Western citizens are desperately fond of any sensation. How many cigars and offers of liquid refreshment were thrust upon me I do not remember, but they were overwhelmingly numerous, and I was grateful when Dixon came to the rescue.
"Mr. Ormesby is much obliged to you, gentlemen, but it's quiet he wants just now," he said; while we had hardly reached the leading hotel where Dixon led me than there was a clamor in the direction of the court, and I looked at him inquiringly.
"I expect they've issued a warrant for Niven on a charge of conspiracy or arson, and the boys have heard of it," he said. "However, I have had sufficient professional occupation for to-day, and we're going to get supper and afterwards enjoy ourselves as we can."
I had, nevertheless, determined to thank my benefactress first, and, ignoring Dixon's advice, sent up my name. I was informed that Miss Haldane would receive nobody, and the lawyer smiled dryly when I returned crestfallen. "I don't think you need feel either hurt or surprised," he said.
The inhabitants of the prairie towns differ from the taciturn plainsmen in being vociferously enthusiastic and mercurial, and to my disgust the citizens came in groups to interview me, while one, who shoved his way into our quarters by main force, said the rest would take it kindly if I made a speech to them.
"You can tell them I feel honored, but nobody can charge me with ever having done such a thing in my life," I said; and the representatives of the populace retired, to find another outlet for their energies, as we presently discovered.
"I owe my escape solely to a lady's courage and your skill, Dixon; but why didn't you try to implicate Lane?" I said; and the lawyer laughed.
"Any reasonable man ought to be satisfied with the verdict and demonstration. It would have been difficult, if not useless, while I fancy that if Lane is allowed a little more rope his time will shortly come," he said. "Hallo! Here are more enthusiastic citizens desirous of interviewing you."
"Keep them out for heaven's sake," I said; but before Dixon could secure the door Sergeant Mackay strode in.
"I have come to congratulate ye. It will be a lesson til ye, Ormesby," he announced.
I did not see the hand he held out. "I'm in no mood for sermons, and can't appreciate your recent actions as they perhaps deserve," I said; and the sergeant's eyes twinkled mischievously.
"It should not be that difficult; and ye have the consolation that we served the State," he said. "It was in the interests of justice we—well—we made use of ye to stalk the other man."
"There's no use pretending I'm grateful," I commenced; but Dixon broke into a boisterous laugh, and the sergeant's face grew so humorous that my own relaxed and we made friends again. The reunion had not long been consummated when a rattle of wheels, followedby the tramp of many feet and the wheezy strains of a cornet, rose from below, and, striding to the window, I said with dismay: "Lock the door. They're coming with a band and torches now."
"I'm thinking ye need not," said Mackay dryly. "It's a farewell to Miss Haldane they're giving."
We gathered at the opened window, looking down at a striking spectacle. A vehicle stood waiting, and behind it, lighted by the glow of kerosene torches, a mass of faces filled the street. The heads were uncovered almost simultaneously, and Lucille Haldane appeared upon the hotel steps, with her attendants behind her. At first she shrank back a little from the gaze of the admiring crowd, to whom her spirit and beauty had doubtless appealed; but when one of them urged something very respectfully, with his hat in his hand, she moved forward a pace and stood very erect, a slight but queenly figure, looking down at them.
"I am honored, gentlemen," she said falteringly, though her voice gained strength. "It was merely a duty I did, but I am gratified that it pleased you, just because it shows that all of us are proud of our country and eager, for its credit, to crush oppression and see justice done to the downtrodden."
The street rang with the cheer that followed, and when Dixon seized his hat the action was infectious. The next minute we were moving forward amid the ranks of the enthusiastic crowd behind the vehicle, which jolted slowly towards the station; and I discovered later that the uncomfortable sensation at the back of my neck was caused by the hot oil from a torch, which dripped upon it. In the meantime I noticed nothing but the sea of faces, the tramp of feet, and the final burst of cheering at the station, in which Mackay, holding aloft his forage cap, joined vociferously.
"It's only fit and proper. She's as good and brave as she's bonny," he said.
Some little time had elapsed since my acquittal, when, one pleasant summer morning, I rode out from the railroad settlement bound for Bonaventure. The air was soft and balmy, the sunshine brilliant, and the prairie sod, which, by that time, had in most years grown parched and dry, formed a springy green carpet beneath the horse's feet. There had but once before been such a season within my memory, and my spirits were almost as buoyant as the wallet in my pocket was heavy. The lean years had passed and left us, perhaps a little more grave in face and quiet in speech, to look forward to a brightening future, while the receipts I had brought back from the nearest town meant freedom at least.
I was also unwearied in body, for the roll of paper money in the wallet had made a vast difference to me, and instead of riding all night after a long railroad journey, I had slept and breakfasted well at the wooden hotel. Indeed, I almost wondered whether I were the same man who had previously ridden that way in a state of sullen desperation, spurred on by hatred and dogged obstinacy instead of hope. Now I was, however, rather thankful than jubilant, for my satisfaction was tempered by a perhaps unusual humility. Steel, Thorn, and I had, in our own blundering fashion, made the best fight we could, but it was the generosity of others and the winds of heaven which had brought us the victory.
Distance counts for little in these days, when the steel track and the modern cargo steamer together girdle the face of the globe; and the loss of others had been our gain. There had been scarcity in Argentina, and Australian grass was shriveling for want of rain. Famine had smitten India, and the great cattle-barons beyond ourfrontier had been overbusily engaged, attempting the extermination of the smaller settlers, to attend their legitimate business; so buyers in Europe were looking to Canada for wheat and cattle. Our own beasts had flourished, and before the usual season we had driven every salable head in to the railroad, riding in force behind them. That drive and the events which followed it were worth remembering.
I sold the cattle in Winnipeg for excellent prices, and deducting my own share of the proceeds, took the first train westward to visit Lane, and paid him down three-fourths of the balance of the loan. Having bought wisdom dearly, I took a lawyer with me. Lane showed neither surprise nor chagrin, though he must have felt both, and I could almost admire the way he bore defeat. He was less a man than a money-making machine, and the more to be dreaded for his absence of passion. Rage was apparently as unknown to him as pity, and, though he knew he had lost Crane Valley, and with it the completion of a well-laid scheme, he actually pushed a cigar-box towards me as he signed the receipt. I drew a deep breath of relief as I passed the papers to the lawyer, for the harvest would more than cover what remained of the debt, and then I laid down certain sums on behalf of others. Lane smiled almost affably as he tossed the quittances upon the table.
"They're all in order, Rancher. A capable man don't need to use second-rate trickery, and I'm open to allow that the bull-frog was hard to squash," he said.
I pocketed the documents and went out in silence. Speech would have been useless, because the man had no sensibilities that could be wounded; but the interview struck me as a grotesquely commonplace termination of a struggle which had cost me months of misery. Indeed, I found it hard to convince myself that what had happened was real, and the heavy burden flung off at last. Being by no means a mere passionless money-making machine, I had, nevertheless, not finished with Lane.
It was evening the next day when I reached Bonaventure, and was shown into the presence of its owner,who had lately returned there from the East. He looked haggard, and did not rise out of the chair he lounged in, though his voice was cordial. "You have been successful, Ormesby. I can see it by your face," he said.
"I have, sir," I answered. "More so than I dared to hope, and I fancy you will be astonished when you count these bills. The Bonaventure draft played a leading part in my release, and now I find it difficult to realize that the luck has changed at last."
It was not quite dark outside, but the curtains were drawn, and Haldane sat beside a table littered with papers under a silver reading-lamp. His face looked curiously ascetic and thin, but the smile in his keen eyes was genial. Boone sat opposite him smoking, and nodded good-humoredly to me.
"You will soon get used to prosperity, and there is no occasion for gratitude," Haldane said, tossing the roll of paper money across the table, but taking up the account I laid beside it. "I notice that you have earned me a profit of twenty per cent. You have tolerable business talents in your own direction, Ormesby, and I shall expect your good counsel in the practical management of Bonaventure which I have undertaken."
"The management of Bonaventure?" I said, and Haldane's forehead grew wrinkled as he nodded.
"Exactly. The verdict has been given. No more exciting corners or supposititious heaping up of unearned increments for me. I am sentenced by the specialists to a dormant life and open-air exercise, and have accordingly chosen the rearing of cattle on the salubrious prairie."
I guessed what that sentence meant to a man of his energies; but he had accepted it gracefully, and I was almost startled when he said: "Do you know that I envied you, Ormesby, even when things looked worst for you?"
I could only murmur a few not overappropriate words of sympathy, though I fancied that had Haldane been under the same grip he might have envied me less.
"It takes time to grow used to idleness, which is whyI sent for you to-night," he said, with a swift resumption of his usual tone. "I purpose to teach Lane that he is not altogether so omnipotent as he believes himself—partly by way of amusement and to forward certain views of my own, and partly because my younger daughter insists that he is a menace to every honest man on the prairie. Boone appears inclined to agree with her."
"I might even go a little further, sir," said Boone.
Haldane ignored the comment, and pointed to the papers, of which there appeared to be a bushel. "I have been posting myself in my new profession, and conclude that the prospects for grain and live stock are encouraging," he said. "News from Chile, California, and the Austral, all confirm this view; and, remembering it, we will consider Lane's position. Boone has taken considerable pains to discover that, as I expected, his resources are far from inexhaustible, and circumstances point to the fact that he has set his teeth in too big a morsel. At present neither the speculative public nor would-be emigrants have grasped the position, and therefore Lane would get little if he realized on his stolen lands just now."
"That is plain; but what results from it?" I said.
"Prosperity to poor men, according to my daughter;" and Haldane's smile was not wholly cynical. "We purpose that he should realize as soon as possible. Boone discovered that he is raising money to carry on by quietly selling out his stock in the Investment Company which has consistently backed him, and I feel inclined for a speculation in that direction, especially as the public will shortly be invited to increase the company's capital. Lastly, I am in possession of accurate information, while Lane is not. Contrary to general opinion, the railroad will be hurried through very shortly."
It was great news, and the possible downfall of my enemy perhaps the least of it. It implied swift prosperity for all that district, and while I stared at the speaker the blood surged to my forehead. Though fate had robbed me of the best, part of what I had toiled, and fought, andsuffered for was to come about at last; and the calmness of the others appeared unnatural. Haldane's eyes were keen, but he showed no sign of unusual interest; Boone's face was merely grim, and I guessed that the man whose heel had been on my neck would fare ill between them.
"If he had used legitimate weapons one could almost be sorry for him," I said. "It will try even his nerve to lose all he has plotted for when the prize is actually, if he knew it, within his grasp."
"He deserves no mercy," Boone broke in. "This is justice, Ormesby, neither more nor less; and unless we cripple him once for all he will take hold again with the first bad season. What you will shortly hear should demonstrate the necessity for decisive measures; but our host forgot to mention that he declines to profit individually by this opportunity."
"If anyone wishes to learn my virtues he can apply to certain company promoters in Montreal," said Haldane languidly. "Boone will remember that I came here to farm for my health, and have been coerced into assisting at this Vehmgericht. Those wheels, however, give warning that the first sitting will commence."
A minute or two later I started wrathfully to my feet as Niven was ushered into the room. He on his part seemed equally astonished, and, I think, would have backed out again, but that Boone adroitly slammed the door behind him. It may be mentioned that he had been tried in my place, and, to the disgust of Sergeant Mackay, just escaped conviction.
"I need not introduce Mr. Ormesby, who will kindly resume his place," said Haldane pleasantly. "Sit down and choose a cigar if you feel like it. You sent word you wanted to talk to me?"
"I didn't want to talk to that man;" and Niven scowled at me, while Haldane shrugged his shoulders.
"I can't turn him out, you see. Now hadn't you better explain what you want with me?"
There was a languid contempt beneath the speaker's surface good-humor which was not lost on the fidgetingman; but he lighted a cigar with an air of bravado, and commenced:
"Thinking over things, I figured both you and Adams had your knife in Lane;" and Haldane's mild surprise was excellently assumed. "Well, I've got my own knife in him, too. It's this way. Lane put up the money for me to buy out Ormesby, and made a mighty close bargain, thinking I daren't kick. It would have been inconvenient, and I didn't mean to; but when those blame police ran me in for a thing I never done, he just turns his back, and wouldn't put up a dollar to defend me! 'I've no use for blunderers of your kind,' says he."
"One could understand that it is necessary for him to make sure of his subordinates' abilities," said Haldane reflectively; and Niven, who stared hard at him, appeared to gulp down something before he proceeded.
"Well, he can't fool with me, and it comes to this. I'm recorded owner of Gaspard's Trail; paid for it with my own check—Lane fixed that up. Now, what I want to ask you is, how's Lane going to turn me out if I hold on to the place? Strikes me he can't do it."
In spite of this assurance the speaker looked distinctly eager until Haldane answered: "We need not discuss the moral aspect of the case, because it apparently hasn't one, and you might not understand it if it had. Speaking from a purely business point of view, I feel tolerably certain that, in the circumstances, he would not take legal proceedings against you, though I have no doubt he might arrange the affair in some other way."
"Feel quite sure?" asked Niven. And Haldane answered: "I may say I do."
Niven's grin of triumph would have sickened any honest man, but I was not sorry for his employer. "I guess I'll take my chances of the other way, and I'm coming straight to business. Will you stand behind me? It's not going to be a charity. There is money in Gaspard's Trail, and I'm open to make a fair deal with the man who sees me through."
I saw Haldane's lips set tightly for a moment, and my hand itched for a good hold of Niven's collar; but themaster of Bonaventure next regarded him with a quiet amusement which appeared disconcerting.
"I fancy your worthy master was correct when he described you as a blunderer," he said. "It would be quite impossible for me to make a bargain of that—or any other—kind with you. You might also have added that he inspired you to more than the buying of Gaspard's Trail."
There was pluck in Niven, for he laughed offensively. "I got my verdict, and if you won't deal I may as well be going. Anyhow, you've told me what I most wanted to know."
He departed without further parley, and Haldane smiled at me. "It would have been a pity to detain him, and Lane was wrong in choosing an understudy he could not scare into submission. That rascal will hold on to Gaspard's Trail, and the loss of it will further hamper his master."
Some little time passed, and Boone, who appeared impatient, said at last: "She is late; but Gordon may have been too busy to drive her over earlier, and she promised me faithfully that she would come."
Haldane said nothing, though he seemed dubious until there was another sound of wheels, and I had a second surprise when a lady was ushered into the room, for I could scarcely believe my eyes when I saw that it was Redmond's daughter. She had changed greatly from the girl who called down vengeance on the oppressor when we brought her father home, although the glitter in her eyes and the intentness of her face showed the strain of emotional nature in her. Still, she was handsomely and tastefully dressed, and carried herself with dignity.
"This is Mr. Haldane, Miss Redmond, and I am sure he will be grateful to you for coming," said Boone, who I noticed appeared relieved when the new arrival laid a packet on the table. "I may explain for Ormesby's benefit that Miss Redmond, who is winning fame as a singer, has something of importance to show him," he added.
The girl's hand was very cold when it touched my own, and her movements nervous as she drew a book in tattered binding out of its wrappings.
"I hope Mrs. Gordon will spare you as long as possible, and that your visit to the prairie will do you good," said Haldane, placing a chair for her.
"Once I fancied I could never look at the prairie without a shudder, but of late I have been longing for sunshine and air, and shall perhaps be happier when this is over," said the girl. "It is a very hard thing I have to do, and I must tell you the whole painful story."
"We can understand that it must be," said Haldane gently.
"When I left home for Winnipeg I joined a second-rate variety company. I had inherited a gift for singing, and those who heard me were pleased with the old Irish ballads my mother taught me. So there was soon no fear of poverty, and I was trying to bury the past, when, the night I first sang to a packed audience in Winnipeg, it was once more dragged up before me. I came home from what the newspapers said was a triumph, and because one critic had questioned a verse of an old song I looked for a book of my mother's among the relics I had brought from the prairie. I found—this—instead."
Ailin Redmond ceased with a little gasp. And glancing at the dilapidated account book she touched, I wondered what power it could have had to change her triumph into an agony.
"I sat all that night beside the stove trying to force myself to burn the book, and yet afraid," she continued. "Perhaps we are superstitious; but I felt that I dare not, and its secret has been a very burden ever since. Sometimes I thought of the revenge it would give me, and yet I could not take it without blackening my father's memory. So I kept silence until my health commenced to fail under the strain, and meeting Mr. Boone at Brandan, where I sang at the time Mr. Ormesby's trial filled the papers, I felt I must tell him part of my discovery. Had the trial not ended as it did he would have consulted with Lawyer Dixon. Afterwards, though I hated Lane the more, I pledged Mr. Boone to secrecy,and kept silent until, when I could bear the load no longer, I told my trouble to Père Louis. 'If you only desire vengeance it would be better to burn the book; but if you can save innocent men from persecution and prevent the triumph of the wicked, silence would be a sin,' he said. Then I wrote to Mr. Boone and told him I would show the papers to Mr. Ormesby."
I opened the battered volume handed me with a strong sense of anticipation, and, as I did so, the girl shrank back shivering. Redmond's writing was recognizable, and I thrilled alternately with pity and indignation against another person as I read his testimony. Omitting other details, the dated entries, arranged in debit and credit fashion, told the whole story.
"Deep snow and stock very poor," the first I glanced at ran. "Received from Ormesby three loads of hay. Sure 'tis a decent neighbor, for he wouldn't take no pay. Entered so, if I ever have the luck, to send it back to him.
"Plow-oxen sick; horse-team sore-backed; seven days' plowing done by Ormesby, say—money at harvest, or to be returned in help stock driving.
"Fifty dollars loan from Ormesby; see entry overdue grocery bill."
"Is it necessary for me to read any more of these?" I asked.
"No. If you are satisfied that he at least recognized the debt, pass on to the other marked pages," answered the writer's daughter.
I set my lips as I did so, for there was only one inference to be drawn from the following entries, which ran dated in a series: "Demand for fifteen hundred dollars from Lane. No credit, ten dollars in the house. Lane came over, and part renewed the loan in return for services to be rendered. Black curses on the pitiless devil! Took twenty head of prime stock, to be driven to the hollow with Ormesby's. Started out with the stock for Gaspard's Trail."
There were no further entries, and Miss Redmond, who had been watching me, said, with a perceptible effort:
"You will remember all those dates well. Now readwhat is written on the loose leaf. When I came in one night the book lay on the table with that leaf projecting; but as my father was always fretting over the accounts, I did not glance at it as I replaced the book."
The writing was blurred and scrawling—the work of an unstable man in a moment of agony; and some of the half-coherent sentences ran: "It was Lane and his master the devil who drove me. I did not mean to do what I did; but when the fire came down, remembered he said 'any convenient accident.' I knew it was murder when I saw Ormesby with the blood on his face." Further lines were almost unintelligible, but I made out, "Judas. No room on earth. Lane says he is dying fast. You will hate the man who drove me for ever and ever."
I folded up the paper, and, not having read the whole of it, handed it to the girl. "I am almost sorry you were brave enough to show me this; but I can only try to forget it," I said.
Miss Redmond's eyes were dry; but she moved as if in physical pain, and clenched one hand as she said: "That secret has worn me down for weary months, and I dare not change my mind again. I shall never rest until it is certain that wicked man shall drive no one else to destruction. You must show Mr. Haldane all you have read."
Haldane laid down the book, and sat silent for at least a minute. "Will you please tell us, Miss Redmond, how far you can allow us to make use of this?" he said.
The girl shuddered before she answered: "It must not be made public; but if in any other way you can strike Lane down, I will leave it you. You can hardly guess what all this has cost me; but, God forgive me, the hate I feel is stronger than shame—and his last words are burned into my brain."
Ailin Redmond rose as she spoke, and I saw that part of Père Louis's admonition had fallen upon stony ground. Her face and pose were what they had been when she had bidden us bring the dead man in. She came of a passionate race; but there had also been a signal lack of balance in her father's temperament, andperhaps it was this very strain of wildness which had made her singing a success.
Haldane, with expressions of sympathy, led her to the door, and returning, sat staring straight before him with a curious expression. "I don't know that the stolid, emotionless person is not far the happiest," he said at last. "She must have suffered a good deal—poor soul; and, even allowing that you had not seen those pitiful papers, I'm doubtful if you acted quite wisely, Boone. However, the question now is: how are we going to use them?"
"Nobody but ourselves must see them," I managed to answer, savage as I was.
"I would make one exception," said the owner of Bonaventure. "That one is the man responsible. It can be no enlightenment to him, and the fact that he would not suspect us of any reluctance to make the most of our power, strengthens our ability to deal with him."
Our conference ended shortly, and when we joined the others I saw that Lucille Haldane had taken Redmond's daughter under her wing. How she had managed it, of course I do not know; but the latter appeared comforted already, and there was a gentle dimness instead of the former hard glitter in her eyes. Then, and it was not for the first time, I felt that I could have bowed down and worshiped the Mistress of Bonaventure.
It was evident that Boone had also been observant, for he afterwards said, with unusual gravity: "Women resembling Miss Lucille Haldane are the salt of this sorrowful world. There was only one I ever knew to compare with her, and she, being too good for it, was translated to what, if only because she was called there, must be a better."
I agreed with his first statement entirely, and took his word for the rest; but made no answer. Boone did not appear to desire one, and again a strange longing filled his eyes while the shadow crept into his face. I remembered it was written that the heart knows its own bitterness.