“It’s possible,” the officer agreed.
Jernyngham’s nerves had given way beneath the strain he had borne, and he now stood up, trembling with anger.
“Am I to understand that you intend to leave the fellow alone? Now, when he is within your reach, you will not arrest him? The scoundrel killed my son!”
“Might I suggest your sitting down again?” said the officer calmly. “Let me try to put the matter before you as we look at it. To begin with, we can’t very well press the charge you make against Prescott without some proof of the victim’s death, which has not been discovered yet. The muskeg, I must remind you, was drained and nothing found. The handsome reward you offered led to no result, though every man in the district who had any time to spare spent it in searching the bluffs. Corporal Curtis has made systematic investigations, but they have been fruitless.”
“Corporal Curtis is a man of whose intelligence I have a very poor opinion!” said Jernyngham hotly.
His companion smiled.
“That’s a point upon which I don’t altogether share your views.”
“In short, you intend to let the matter drop! I must protest against such a scandalous failure of justice! But you shall not let it drop; I warn you that I shall apply to Ottawa, where there are people who can put upon you the pressure that seems to be needed!”
A look of weariness crept into the officer’s face.
“You have my sympathy, Mr. Jernyngham, but you can’t be allowed to interfere with the Northwest Police.”