XXV
FOSTER SETS OFF AGAIN
After dinner the party returned to the veranda, which was warm and well lighted. Mrs. Stephen 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, Lawrence, but you took unusual trouble to make us understand 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."
Lucy's smile hinted that Foster must be firm. "That wasn't quite enough. You had another motive."
"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 coincidences."
"Suppose you enumerate them," Lawrence suggested.
"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 rope—at 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 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."
"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 Lawrence 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 afterwards 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 marrying."
The girl's color deepened. "Are you very frank, or only tactless?"
"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 marries 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 careful 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 ingenuous, 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, warned off Daly, and made Lawrence's father think I had murdered him. Now I'd much rather look a simpleton 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 all, and afterwards the silence was awful. It seemed as if the men would never come. I couldn't go to meet them because of the crevasse; I dream about the horrible black opening yet. Lawrence was on the other side, out of my reach; he might be slowly freezing on the couloir, and I couldn't help. But I knew he was suffering for Walters' negligence or perhaps his treachery."
Foster made a sign of sympathetic comprehension. "You hate him for this?"
"Yes," said Lucy frankly; "but not altogether because I'm vindictive. The man who could make people suffer as Lawrence and I did ought to be punished."
"He ought. Well, I'm going to warn Lawrence, and no doubt the proper thing would be to be satisfied with this, but somehow I'm not. You see, Walters probably doesn't know we suspect him."
The girl's eyes narrowed and Foster knew she was afraid, but did not think fear was her strongest emotion.
"You mean he may try again?"
"That is what I mean. If he comes back, you must watch him, but keep him here until I arrive. If it's impossible for me to come, send for the police."
"Yes," said Lucy quietly, "I'll try."
"There's another risk," said Foster. "He may send an accomplice; they're a well-organized gang. In this matter, I'd sooner trust you than Lawrence." He stopped for a moment and gave her an apologetic glance. "Perhaps I've done wrong to alarm and put this heavy load on you."
"No," she said resolutely. "I have promised to marry Lawrence and must help him."
Then she rose and gave Foster her hand. "I must thank you for your confidence. If the need comes, I don't think I'll fail you."
Foster felt satisfied when she left him. Lucy was clever and had pluck. He had given her a hard part, but she would not shrink. One could trust a woman who was fighting for her lover.
After breakfast next morning, Mrs. Stephen showed Foster some photographs of the mountains, in one or two of which Lucy and Lawrence had a place, and he asked: "Have you a portrait of Walters?"
"No; the man who took these was staying here, and one day asked Walters to join the group he was posing, but he refused."
"How did he get out of it?"
Lawrence, who had come in with Lucy, laughed. "Rather neatly. Said he was a modest sentimentalist and would sooner leave his memory printed on our hearts!"
"One must admit that he did something of the kind," Lucy remarked.
"Will you or Mrs. Stephen describe his looks?" Foster asked.
The girl did so and then inquired: "Why didn't you ask Lawrence?"
"If you want an accurate description of a man, it's better to ask a women. Our classifications are rather vague; we say he's all right, a good sport, or perhaps an outsider. You note all his idiosyncrasies, the way he talks, the color of his hair——"
"I suppose we do," Mrs. Stephen agreed with a smile. "You are rather shrewd."
"I don't see why that should surprise my friends, but it sometimes does," Foster rejoined and went to the flag station to ask about the train.
It stopped for him an hour later and he set off again on his search for Daly, which was complicated by the need for being on his guard against a man he did not know. It looked as if Walters had told Daly that Lawrence was in British Columbia, and he had come out to join his accomplice; but, after all, if Foster did not know Walters, the man did not know him. Another thought gave him some comfort: Walters had plotted against Lawrence because his evidence might be dangerous, but probably knew nothing about Daly's blackmailing plan. The latter would, no doubt, consider any money he could extort was his private perquisite, and might try to protect his victim for a time.
As the train sped through the mountains Foster felt very much at a loss. Indeed, unless luck favored him, he thought he might as well give up the search, and by and by got off at a mining town. He had no particular reason for doing so, but felt that to go on to Vancouver would be to leave the place where his last clew broke off too far away.
The town, for the most part, was built of wood, and some of the smaller and older houses of logs, with ugly square fronts that hid the roof. A high, plank sidewalk ran down the main street, so that foot passengers might avoid the mud, but the ruts and holes were now hidden by beaten snow. At one end stood a big smelter, which filled the place with acrid fumes, and the scream of saws rose from sheds beside the river, where rusty iron smoke-stacks towered above sawdust dumps. The green torrent was partly covered by cakes of grinding ice. All round, in marked contrast 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 horrible 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 rotunda, 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."
"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 farther on the forest rose in a shadowy wall. It was quiet 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 coincidence," 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 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 remarked. "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 appeared, 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.