THE ALARM.
That sleepless night—I shudder as I recall it. For hours I tossed on the bed, rent by conflicting emotions, ashamed one minute of my ignoble thoughts, plunged the next into a black abyss of doubt. At the first flush of wintry dawn I dozed off into slumber; the sun was shining when I awoke, and the moonlight encounter seemed more a dream than a reality.
As I dressed I considered the matter as calmly as possible, and I made two resolves—that I would hold fast to my faith in Flora, and would patiently wait her own time for explaining the mystery. But the demon of mistrust still lurked within me; I was as miserable as only a jealous lover can be, and I dreaded unspeakably the ordeal of hiding my feelings through the day.
What a memorable day it was to be! Its every incident is etched on the curtain of the past with sharp and unfaded lines. The beginning was commonplace enough. I was too late for breakfast, and I sat quite alone over my coffee and fried fish. Flora I did not see. I exchanged a few words with Captain Rudstone and Christopher Burley and then went off to the clerks’ quarters, where I assisted with the work until dinner time.
At that meal I was forced to pretend to be in good spirits, and I found it a hard task. Captain Rudstone, whose identity was known to but the four of us, told a laughable story of one of his experiences in the States. But I observed, to my discomfiture, that he kept a close watch on Flora. She sat opposite to me, joining in the conversation with a ring of merriment that I detected as false, and as much as possible she avoided meeting my eyes.
After dinner she left the room with Mrs. Macdonald, but first she found an opportunity to slip a scrap of paper into my hand.
I walked to the window and opened it, and the few words that it contained made my heart beat rapidly:
“If you love me, Denzil, trust me. All will, come right in the end.”
As I thrust the paper into my pocket, feeling both comforted and puzzled by the message, the factor called me.
“I am going to the settlement,” he said, “on a matter of business. Do you care to ride along with me, Carew?”
Any occupation promised to be a relief, and I gladly accepted the invitation. Half an hour later we were off, mounted on good horses. The object of our visit was to examine several secret agents—spies, to speak plainly—who had come in with reports concerning the Northwest Company. For obvious reasons, Macdonald did not wish them to be seen entering the fort.
It proved to be a lengthy business, and we were detained all afternoon and part of the evening. As to what we learned, that may be dismissed in a few words: but the news was more satisfactory than it had been for a long time. The half-breeds were comparatively quiet, presumably because of a warning hint from headquarters. And the truculent officials of the rival company had taken no steps to call our people to account for the attack on Lagarde’s store, nor did they appear to have any intention of demanding the person of Captain Rudstone. Doubtless they thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie. Of course this altered situation caused the factor and myself no little relief.
We had supper at the settlement, and rode back by moonlight. We put our horses away, and entered the house. It was then half-past ten o’clock, and we found Christopher Burley in solitary possession of the sitting room, hugging the stove closely and reading an old newspaper. Every one else, he informed us, had turned in for the night, Captain Rudstone having left only a few minutes before.
“I’m not sleepy,” Macdonald said to me. “Are you?”
“Not a bit,” I replied. “Then we’ll have a sociable hour, Carew. I’m just in the humor for it.”
He took tobacco and whisky from a closet, and after filling our glasses and lighting our pipes, we joined the law clerk round the stove.
“It has been a tiresome afternoon,” the factor said finally, “but the prospect looks bright—very bright. You will be glad to hear, Mr. Burley, that his lordship—ahem! I mean your client—need not remain at Fort Garry any longer than he wishes. At least that is my opinion.”
“I am indeed relieved, sir,” the law clerk replied. “I feared grave complications. I admit that I am anxious—if I may say so without putting any slight upon your gracious hospitality—to start for England as soon as possible. There is much to be done—many legal matters to be attended to—and it is important that the new Earl of Heathermere should lose no time in claiming his title and property.”
“Lucky fellow!” said Macdonald. “And in what a cool, matter-of-fact way he takes his good fortune!”
“He is a man of the world—that accounts for it,” said I.
“It is purely a matter of breeding,” Christopher Burley replied stiffly. “Blood tells always. His lordship is a worthy descendant of an ancient family.”
“Then you won’t admit that I, or Carew here, would be as well fitted to fill the position?” Macdonald asked laughingly.
What reply the law clerk would have made will never be known, for just then from the upper part of the house rang a woman’s shrill scream.
“My God, that is Flora’s voice!” I cried.
“Come with me, gentlemen!” shouted the factor.
He led the way, with Burley and I at his heels. In a trice we were upstairs, and dashing along the hall.
“Help—help! Be quick!”
The summons guided us straight to Captain Rudstone’s room, from the open door of which streamed a yellow light. I was the first to pass the threshold, and I shall never forget the sight that greeted me—Flora holding a twisted paper in one hand and with the other pointing a pistol at Captain Rudstone, who stood six feet from her, with his back to a glowing stove; his face was very white, but his bearing was defiant.
“Seize him!” Flora cried, when she saw us.
Macdonald and Burley grabbed the captain, who did not resist. I caught hold of Flora, and she thrust the paper into my hand.
“Take it, Denzil,” she said faintly. “I saved it—”