THE ALARM IN THE NIGHT.
It was about eleven o’clock of the forenoon when Captain Rudstone departed. I smoked a quiet pipe, and then sought out Baptiste; he had a little box of a room over the hotel kitchen. I found the rascal but half-sobered, so heavily had he liquored on the previous night, and I angrily bade him stay in bed for the rest of the day. Miss Hatherton did not come down to dinner, and I had for company in the coffee room Mr. Christopher Burley; there were no other guests in the house at the time.
Neither of us was in a talkative mood, and very brief speech passed between us. But shortly after the meal I met him again at the bar, where he was paying his account. He looked ready for a journey, having his hat on and a portmanteau in his hand.
“You are leaving, sir?” I asked politely.
“I return to Montreal to-day,” he replied, “and later I go West. You, I believe, are bound shortly for the North?”
I nodded assent.
“We may meet in the future,” he went on; “and meanwhile I trust you will remember that name—Osmund Maiden.”
“I will bear it in mind,” I promised, “and I wish you every success in your errand.”
With that we parted, the law clerk thanking me warmly and giving me his hand. That I should ever see him again, or run across the man of whom he was in search, were things so utterly improbable that I gave them no second thought. But I was to learn in later days how small a place the world really was.
I spent the afternoon in the hotel, for I was satisfied that Captain Rudstone’s caution against venturing in the streets was not to be despised. He had gone up several degrees in my estimation since the little cloud of mutual suspicion had cleared away. I did not doubt that he was as zealous for the interests of the company as myself, and, moreover, I felt that he would prove a trusty friend should Mr. Cuthbert Mackenzie try to give me any trouble. That the captain was to sail on the same ship to the Bay was a matter less to my liking, though I hardly knew why. He was of a type that a youngster like myself usually looks up to, and he had flattered me by giving me his full confidence: but he never seemed quite at ease in my presence, or inclined to stare me straight in the eyes, which I could not account for.
The time passed listlessly. I chatted for awhile with Monsieur Ragoul, and watched the customers who came in to drink. I could not put Miss Hatherton out of my mind. As often as I remembered that she was to share the long sea voyage with me, the joy of it was marred by the picture of old Griffith Hawke waiting at Fort York for his bride. I was angry at myself for taking the thing so much to heart—uneasy because a woman could thus interest me.
I had hoped to see her that afternoon, but she did not make her appearance until the late supper-time. We sat down to table together, and it gave me a strange thrill to see her sitting opposite. She looked more lovely than ever without her bonnet, and in a black gown relieved by some touches of creamy lace. I fear I stared at her stupidly, and was dull of conversation; but she chatted freely of the wonderful things to be seen in London, and I was sorry when the meal was over. Miss Hatherton then offered me a dainty hand and bade me good-night, saying that she had not been able to sleep all day, and intended to retire early.
I finished my bottle of wine, and went upstairs to my room on the third and top floor of the hotel—a meager little hole where I, used to a blanket and fir boughs, had always felt cramped and stifled. But now I wished to be alone, and for some hours I sat there without a light, smoking and thinking. A distant clock had just pealed eleven when I heard the unbolting of a door downstairs—the house had been closed for the night. A little later, after the stir and sound of voices had died away, light footsteps fell on my ear, and there was a rap at the door. I hurriedly lit a candle.
“Come in!” I cried, thinking I knew what it meant.
Captain Rudstone entered, closing the door softly behind him. With a nod he threw himself into a chair, helped himself to a pipeful of my tobacco, and looked inscrutably at me through a cloud of smoke.
“So you are still up?” he began. “I expected to find you in bed. Have you been away from the hotel?”
“Not outside of the door,” I replied.
“I have left my old lodging,” he went on, “and Monsieur Ragoul has given me a room next to yours.”
“I rejoice to hear it,” I said politely. “And have you learned anything to-day?”
“Mr. Mackenzie will demand satisfaction for that blow,” the captain answered coolly.
“He shall have it,” said I.
“He is a skilled swordsman and a deadly shot, Mr. Carew.”
“I will meet him with either weapon,” I declared hotly.
“There must be no fighting, if it can be avoided,” replied the captain.
“That is a matter which rests with me,” said I. “But how do you know all this?”
“I put a man on the track,” was the reply. “He overheard Mackenzie talking with two boon companions who are as deep in the plotting of the Northwest Company as himself. Unfortunately, he learned no more than I have told you, and he lost the trail at an early hour this evening in the upper town.”
“I shall depend on you to see me through the affair,” said I.
“I fear there is mischief brewing in another quarter,” the captain replied. “To be frank, Mr. Carew, you and I, and Miss Hatherton are in a decidedly unpleasant situation. Or, to leave the girl out of it, you and I must decide a very delicate question. Shall we stand by our honor, or shall we choose the best interests of the company we serve?”
“Make your meaning plainer,” said I. “As yet I am in the dark.”
“The point is this,” the captain answered gravely. “If we wait for the company’s ship, which sails in a week, serious things may happen—not to speak of the duel. I happen to know that a trading-vessel leaves the river to-morrow morning for the Bay. The captain is a friend of mine, and he will give the three of us a passage.”
“This is the last proposition I should have looked for from you, Captain Rudstone,” I replied indignantly. “Would you have me slink away like a thief in the night, giving Cuthbert Mackenzie the pleasure of branding me far and wide as a coward? It is not to be thought of, sir.”
The captain shrugged his shoulders, and meditatively blew a cloud of smoke ceilingward.
“I admire your spirit,” he said, “but not your discretion. Am I to understand, then, Mr. Carew, that you choose honor before duty?”
I looked at him speechlessly. He had a cutting way of putting things, and it dawned on me that there was indeed two sides to the question. But before I could find words to reply, the silence of the June night was broken by a shrill scream directly below us. It was followed by a cry for help, and I was sure I recognized Miss Hatherton’s voice.
With one impulse Captain Rudstone and I drew our pistols and sprang to our feet. In a trice we were out in the hall, and plunging recklessly down the stairs. We heard distant calls of alarm from the lower part of the house, and a woman’s voice, ringing loudly and close at hand, guided us to Miss Hatherton’s room. Captain Rudstone burst the door from its fastenings by a single effort, and I followed him over the threshold. The moon was shining through an open window, and by its pale light the girl darted toward us, her snowy night dress trailing behind her, and her disheveled hair flowing about her shoulders.
“Save me!” she cried hysterically. “Save me from Cuthbert Mackenzie!”