“Anyhow, I found you a photograph of Prescott, and you were glad to send it along to Regina. What do you think our bosses are doing about it?”
“Lying low, like sensible men; the more we find out about this case, the more puzzling it gets. You think you have pretty good eyes, don’t you?”
“They’re as good as anybody’s I’ve come across yet.”
“Well, you searched the bluff several times in daylight and didn’t see those clothes. Jernyngham comes along when it is getting dark and finds them. How do you account for that?”
“I’ve quit guessing; I’ll leave the thing to you. Anyhow, I’ve had about enough of Jernyngham; talked to me like a sergeant instructor last time I met him, and you’d have felt proud if you’d seen the way he smiled when I told him he had better go to you.”
“We’ll leave it at that,” said Curtis. “The man’s making me tired, and he’s worse than he was a month ago. Where’s that Brandon paper?”
While Stanton looked for it there was a sound of wheels and a hail outside, and a stinging draught swept in when the trooper opened the door. A fur-wrapped man sat in a wagon holding up an envelope.
“For Curtis; come for it,” he said. “Operator asked me to bring it along. I’m ’most too cold to get down and I can’t let the team stand.”
The envelope slipped from his numbed fingers as Stanton tried to take it.
“Dropped near the wheel. My hand’s ’most frozen, though I’ve good thick mittens on. It’s about the coldest night I’ve been out in.”