MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS.
From a distance a man had been watching us steadily—I had observed him before—and now he came quickly and with an air of bravado to where we stood. He was about my own age, but a little shorter and slighter, clean-shaven, with dark eyes and thick, black hair. Though handsome in a way, the stamp of an evil and unscrupulous nature was on his bronzed features. His dress was that of a gentleman.
“Can I be of any service to you, Miss Hatherton?” the fellow began, darting an impertinent glance at the captain and myself.
The girl shrank from him with aversion in her eyes.
“I need no assistance,” she replied. “And I thought we had spoken the last word on the ship, Mr. Mackenzie.”
“I was no party to that agreement, you will remember,” the man answered, looking at her with fierce admiration. “I have been searching for you, and when I caught sight of you but a moment ago, I judged that these gentlemen were paying you unwelcome attentions. Certainly they were on the point of an altercation.”
I looked to Captain Rudstone to take the matter up, but to my amazement he bowed and walked away, whispering at my ear as he passed me:
“Be prudent. I will join you at the Silver Lily.”
To put his desertion down to cowardice was the only construction open.
I held my ground, wondering what strange thing would happen next. The dark man eyed me insolently for a moment, evidently expecting and hoping that I would follow my companion. Then he bent closer to Miss Hatherton.
“Why will you persist in this folly?” he asked. “You are alone in a strange land—in a strange town. I urge you to accept the shelter of my sister’s house. It is but a short distance from here.”
“And I refuse!” the girl cried indignantly. “I wish no further speech with you, Mr. Mackenzie. I am not friendless, as you think. I am going with this gentleman.”
“It’s a devilish bad choice!” the man exclaimed angrily.
“What do you mean by that?” I cried, ruffling up.
“Miss Hatherton, I beg you to listen to me,” he went on, ignoring my demand. “It is for your own good—”
“Not another word, sir,” she interrupted, edging nervously toward me as she spoke.
“You shall hear me!” he insisted; and with that he caught her brutally by one arm.
The girl struggled in his grasp and gazed at me with such mute and earnest pleading, with such fear and distress in her lovely eyes, that I must have been more than human to resist taking her part. I was in a hot rage, as it was, and I did not hesitate an instant. I shot out with my right arm—a straight, hard blow from the shoulder that took the ruffian between the eyes. He reeled and fell like a log.
The deed was no sooner done than I regretted—for Miss Hatherton’s sake—that I had gone to such extremities. But I made the best of it by quickly leading the girl away, and she clung tightly to my arm as we hurried through the curious group of people on the quay. To my relief, no one stopped us, and indeed the incident had attracted little attention. Looking back, I saw that Mr. Mackenzie was on his feet, the center of a small crowd who were bent on preventing him from following us.
It was not long before we were off the quay, and in the shelter of the quiet streets of the town. By a few words Miss Hatherton gave me to understand that she was aware of the arrangements made for her, and that the trunk was to be sent to the Silver Lily. Then she looked into my face with a sad and grateful smile that set my heart to fluttering.
“I am glad to have found such a friend and protector,” she said. “You have done me a great service, and one that I will not forget, Mr. Carew—I think that is your name. But I fear you have not seen the last of Mr. Mackenzie.”
“He will be wise to let the affair drop,” I replied. “I count it an honor and a pleasure, Miss Hatherton, that I had the opportunity of helping you. If the man seeks satisfaction, he shall have it.”
She glanced at me with some surprise, and with a tinge of amusement, I fancied.
“Are you a Canadian?” she asked.
“A native-born child of My Lady of the Snows,” said I.
“And you have never been in England?”
“No nearer than Quebec,” I answered.
“I should not have believed it,” she replied. Then, after a pause: “I met Cuthbert Mackenzie on board the Good Hope. He sailed with me from London, and from the first I disliked him. He constantly forced his attentions upon me, though he saw that they were hateful to me; and when I refused to have anything to do with him, he even went so far as to threaten. I hope I have seen the last of him.”
“He shall not annoy you again,” said I.
She was silent for a moment.
“Shall we find Captain Rudstone at the hotel?” she asked.
“I believe so,” I answered, hiding my annoyance at the question. “He made an abrupt departure, Miss Hatherton.”
“Perhaps he had good reasons,” she replied; and with that the matter dropped.
The rest of the distance was all too short for me. It was a novel thing that I, who had scarce spoken ten words to a woman before in my life, should be playing the gallant to as pretty a girl as could be found in Quebec. But she had put me quite at my ease, and mightily proud I felt when I gave her into the care of Madame Ragoul, though the thought that she was the promised bride of old Griffith Hawke seemed to bring a lump to my throat. I bade her good-by for the present in the upper hall of the house, and going downstairs, I sauntered into the room behind the bar. There sat Captain Rudstone, a glass of wine before him.
“You have just come?” said I.
“But a moment ago,” he answered coldly, and with a sour look. “What is the meaning of this strange affair, Mr. Carew?”
“I had to knock the impertinent rascal down,” I replied.
“I do not refer to that,” said he, with a grim smile. “I witnessed the whole trouble.”
“From a distance?” I ventured.
His eyes flashed.
“Have a care,” he muttered. “I am not in a trifling mood. Tell me, what took you to the quay this morning to meet Miss Hatherton?”
“I might ask you the same question,” I replied.
“Will you answer me, sir?”
“There is no reason why I should not,” said I. “Miss Hatherton was sent over to become the wife of the factor of Fort Royal. I met her in accordance with my instructions, and we are to take the first ship that sails for Hudson’s Bay.”
Captain Rudstone’s hard expression softened; he looked astonished and relieved.
“I am glad the matter is cleared up,” he said. “It is plainly a case of killing two birds with one stone. I will be equally frank, Mr. Carew. I was directed by the governor of the company to await the arrival of the Good Hope, and to receive from Miss Hatherton a packet of important dispatches secretly intrusted to her in London by Lord Selkirk.”
It was my turn to be amazed. I saw that each of us had suspected the other without cause.
“I also sail on the first ship for the Bay,” the captain went on. “I am charged with the duty of delivering Lord Selkirk’s letters of instructions to the northern forts. This is a serious matter, Mr. Carew. There is trouble brewing, and it may break out at any time. So the head office is zealously preparing for it. By the bye, do you know who this Mr. Mackenzie is?”
I shook my head.
“He is an official and a spy of the Northwest Company,” said Captain Rudstone, “and he has been in London working for the interests of his people. I was aware of this when he approached us on the quay, and I hurried away so that he might be the less suspicious as to my dealings with the young lady.”
“I did you an injustice,” said I. What I had just heard caused me much uneasiness, and I foresaw possible unpleasant complications.
“It was a natural mistake,” replied Captain Rudstone. “I overlook it. But speaking of Mackenzie—the letters would be of the utmost value to him if he could get hold of them. I don’t believe he suspected the girl during the voyage, or he would have robbed her; but I am afraid he saw her withdraw the packet from her bosom. I made her put it back at once.”
“He was standing near us on the quay for some time,” said I, “does he know who you are?”
“It is quite likely! Hang it all, Mr. Carew, I don’t like the look of things! I’m going to do a little spying about the town on my own account; but, first it is important that I should see Miss Hatherton.”
I did not relish the idea of disturbing the girl so soon after her arrival, and I was about to say as much. But just then appeared Madame Ragoul with a request that my companion would accord an interview to Miss Hatherton. He departed with alacrity, and I took it with an ill grace that I should be left out of the matter. I waited for a long time, seeking consolation in the thought that I alone would be the girl’s protector in future, and at length Captain Rudstone returned.
“I have the dispatches,” he announced, tapping his breast.
“You were an hour about it,” said I petulantly.
“Oh, ho!” he laughed; “so the wind blows from that quarter! But I am no lady’s man, Mr. Carew. And Miss Hatherton is not for either of us, rare beauty though she is—ay, and a girl of pluck and spirit. She is bound by a sacred promise—a promise to the dead—to marry that old fossil, Griffith Hawke. I knew him seven years ago. A fine husband indeed for such a maid!”
The captain’s foolish insinuation angered me, and I felt myself blushing furiously, but I said nothing.
“It is a sad story,” he went on. “I persuaded the girl to give me her confidence. It seems that her father, a gentleman of good family, was a friend of Lord Selkirk. Some months ago he lost every shilling he had in the world through unwise speculation, and the shock killed him. On his deathbed he sent for Selkirk, and begged him to care for his daughter, who would be left quite alone in the world. The old rascal persuaded the father that the girl could not do better than go out to the Canadas and marry the factor of Fort Royal—he had received Hawke’s application for a wife at about this time. The result was that Flora yielded and consented—I daresay there was no way out of it—and Selkirk took advantage of the opportunity to send these important letters with her; he knew she was the last person that would be suspected of having them. This much may be put in Selkirk’s favor: he visited Canada some years ago, and took a fancy to Hawke.”
“The factor is a gentleman born,” said I, “but he is past fifty. And think of the life! It is a sad pity for the girl.”
“She knows what is before her,” replied the captain, “and she seems to be resigned. To tell the truth, though, I half-believe there is something at the back of it all—that some deeper cause drove her out here. Nothing to her discredit, I mean.”
“What makes you think so?” I asked.
“A chance remark that she let fall,” he answered.
I would have questioned Captain Rudstone more closely, but just then he drained his glass and rose with an air of sudden determination.
“I have work to do,” he said gravely, as he put on his hat. “I must keep track of Cuthbert Mackenzie. Miss Hatherton knew nothing of his real character, and I am satisfied that he knew as little of her while they were at sea. But what he may have learned since landing is a different matter. I will come back here this evening, and meanwhile I would advise you to remain in the hotel. There is a ship sailing for the Bay in a week as you probably know, and I shall be heartily glad when we are at sea. Cuthbert Mackenzie is a serpent that stings in the dark.”
He bade me good morning and was gone.