II
It was more than an hour before they were out on the lake, pushing towards Sicamous.
They did not go straight to that place. They had reasoned it out that Neuburg dare not go there. He would know that Sicamous was warned, and that only arrest awaited him.
They cut through the lake at their best speed, searching the shore on either side, swinging into little inlets and out again, in their search for the motor boat that had carried Neuburg.
A man in the bow shouted and pointed. They turned their eyes to the lakeside below a clearing. Piled high, with the boats she towed knocking at her rudder post, was the motor boat. Above the motor boat in the clearing was a shack. As they drove towards it, Gatineau rapped.
“Heck! See the reason? He landed here. There’s a telephone.”
They made the shore; three of them piled out of their boat; two sat with guns ready for anything.
They ran to the shack, calling out, but nobody came to meet them. They hammered at the door post; there was no answer. They went in through the door into a living-room. It was empty.
Here they saw the trail of Neuburg. A cupboard had been forced and food taken from it, hurriedly, so that other food was scattered. On the table were two empty cartridge boxes, and several of the shells had fallen on the floor as the big man had emptied the cartons in a hurry. The telephone receiver dangled helplessly, and the wire had been snipped off short.
They pushed into the two bedrooms, one was stark empty, one seemed so, but Gatineau heard a whimper. Bending swiftly, he jerked a boy of ten from under the bed. Even as the little detective yanked the boy to his feet the kid pulled a gun, and only Gatineau’s agility saved him from a bullet in the stomach.
Clement grabbed the gun and shouted: “Here, stow that, sonny! You aren’t Buffalo Bill, you know.”
“I ain’t a bit afraid of you,” said the kid, pretending that what they thought crying was merely dust in his eye.
“No need, kiddo,” grinned Gatineau. “We ain’t the bad men; we’re just plain policemen.”
“Ho,” said the kid, visibly disappointed. Then he brightened. “That other feller wuz bad as bad.”
“Worse!” chuckled Clement. “He was a robber and a murderer, and everything.”
Young Canada swelled visibly with pride.
“Golly—an’ he might have gunned me any time, ’cos I was here, see? I didn’t run away.”
There was an uproar from the front of the shack, men shouting at each other, threatening. Clement and Gatineau went out. In the clearing was a wild-eyed homesteader, brandishing a club and threatening to brain the man they had put on guard. Again Clement played a soothing part.
“Easy on him, old son!” he shouted. “We don’t mean harm. We’re the police.”
“That’s right, pop,” said young Canada, leaning over the porch rail. “You stop being mad; there ain’t no call for it. I’m just putting things straight with these fellers here. Put up your gun, pard.”
The manly tone was smothered in a flutter of skirts. A woman ran in from the scrub, yelling: “Jimmy! My Jimmy!” And Jimmy, the gunman, was in his mother’s embrace. A little girl and a smaller boy followed timidly.
Neuburg, they found, had run his boat ashore in the creek under the homestead while the man was back in the woods working. He had walked into the living room and held up the woman and her two youngest children.
“I was in the bedroom,” said Jimmy, the daring. “I saw what was what, so I nipped under the bed.”
Neuburg had stolen the food, packing it in his pockets, found the revolver, and stolen it and cartridges. Then he had ordered them out of the house while he spoke on the telephone. They had run straight to the husband.
“Then you didn’t hear who he called up on the ’phone?” said Gatineau.
“I was under the bed——” began Jimmy.
The father interrupted angrily. “How could she hear? That’s why he drove my wife out.”
“Damn!” muttered Clement. “I’d give a hundred dollars to know who he called up on that ’phone, and what he said.”
“Give ’em to me, then,” said Jimmy.
“What’s that?” gasped everybody.
“I keep on telling yer I was under that bed, an’ heard,” said Jimmy in contempt.
“Magnificent!” shouted Clement. “Who did he ring up?”
“A Revelstoke number. Ast fer a feller named Locust.”
“Lucas!” shouted Clement. “What did he say?”
“Said something about things was all gone bust, and that he, this Lucas feller, must meet him at the Three Pins with all he could get hold of. Then he got out.”
“To the mountains,” said Gatineau.
“Why?”
“Three Pins is a difficult and little known pass. I know it. A hard journey, but it can be reached from here-and Revelstoke.”
“Can we get there quicker than by following Neuburg’s trail?”
“Sure! But why worry? We can put a cordon round him. We’ve got him.”
“I’ve got to see him taken with my own eyes before I believe that. Also I want to do some of the taking myself. I owe Neuburg something. And then there’s Lucas ‘with all he can get hold of.’”
“Well, what about it? What do you think that means?”
“I think it means £145,000 of easily negotiable securities and cash,” said Clement. “Remember The Chief’s wire. I’m going to see with my own eyes that Miss Heloise Reys does not lose it.”