Broom’s face was hidden by the newspaper, in the reading of which he was apparently absorbed. Taking advantage of the other’s abstraction, Roy hastily pressed the photograph to his lips.
A crisp, crackling sound peculiar to paper brought a blush to Roy’s cheek, and with guilty haste he laid the cardboard on the table, then he looked up with what nonchalance he could muster. His companion’s attention was still absorbed in his reading, and Roy concluded with a feeling of relief that his late proceedings had passed unobserved. For although the act of kissing a photograph was in no way a grave offence, yet it was not an act he cared to commit before witnesses.
But Roy was wrong in his conjectures. By a skilful manipulation of the newspaper, Broom had seen Roy’s every act, and now sat behind the paper with a supercilious smile upon his face.
Opening the first letter, Roy scanned it eagerly. “Well, my dear boy,” it ran, “you will be pleased to hear that Papa has at last received his commission as Inspecting Chief Factor. The letter that he received from the directors in London acquainting him with the appointment was eulogistic in the extreme. The following extracts will give you some idea of the nice things they said:
“It is a satisfaction to know that you are still in the sphere of activity. . . . We all feel that in you we shall have an Inspecting Chief Factor who will exercise his influence to instil new life into the Company which needs just now a master mind to resuscitate—to some extent, at least—its ancient prestige . . . That you will set yourself to work to inaugurate changes which are much needed . . .”
“There, now, what do you think of that? And dare you aspire to the daughter of such a man? But I have kept my greatest bit of news until the last. Papa is so elated with his new commission, and determined to inaugurate the changes spoken of in the letter, that he has decided to make a long trip of inspection during the coming summer, and, prepare to be astonished, ‘Fort Future’ is to be visited. Think of that, my boy, and tremble.”
Roy read this letter through twice before laying it down to take up another, which was written in a different key.
“A terrible calamity has happened here. Young Mr. College got into a quarrel with a native and shot him dead. Papa declares that he was quite justified, as it was in self-defence, but I think it was horrible. I shall never look on the young fellow without a shudder. It would be impossible for me to take his hand; in my imagination it is covered with blood. For in my opinion it is murder for a man to take another man’s life, no matter what the circumstances that seem to extenuate it.”
For perhaps five minutes Roy pondered over this letter and when he laid it down it was with a very solemn face. The words stirred him strangely, and he sat absent-mindedly fingering the next letter for some moments before cutting the envelope, but when he did so and his eye caught the opening lines, he started erect in his seat and a slight exclamation of surprise escaped him. Broom glanced at him inquiringly, but Roy was absorbed in his occupation and quite oblivious of Broom’s presence.
“My dear boy,” the letter ran, “you must not be frightened when I tell you that I have been ill. Not seriously ill, dear, but what we Canadians call ‘under the weather,’ and papa, after eager solicitations from myself, has promised to allow me to accompany him on his visit to Fort Future. Is not that most beautiful? I am sure I shall never get another good night’s sleep till the time comes for us to start. It is three years since we saw each other. I wonder if I shall find you changed in appearance? If you will think that I have grown old-looking or ugly? . . . You may rest assured that, if I am alive and well, at the earliest possible chance after open navigation you will have the life plagued out of you by