“I’ve seen three or four of those dolls and golliwog things in his house,” the man added. “Used to guy him about keeping them, as he had no kids.”
“We can fix the thing by inquiring at the dry goods store,” Curtis rejoined.
“Can’t see whose it was, if it wasn’t Jernyngham’s,” another broke in. “There’s no homestead anywhere near the creek and mighty few people come up here!”
The policeman took from his pocket a wet envelope, upon which the blurred writing was still legible.
“Well,” he said coolly, “there’s no doubt about whose this is.” He handed it to Prescott. “Ever see it in Jernyngham’s possession?”
“Yes,” answered Prescott with some hesitation. “I recognize the address, though the English stamp has gone. It was lying near when he was talking to me on the night of the trouble in Sebastian.”
He was filled with uneasiness. The police would certainly attempt to read the letter, which was the one Colston had written announcing his arrival. If they succeeded, they would no doubt wonder why the Englishman had not stayed with Jernyngham, and investigation might lead to a discovery of the part Prescott had played.
“We’ve begun quite satisfactorily,” said the corporal, “and there’s nothing more to be done to-night. I guess you can quit and have supper, boys.”
In a little while trails of gray smoke floated across the ravine, and after a meal with one of his neighbors Prescott rode back to his homestead, feeling much disturbed. For all that, and in spite of the letter, he did not think Jernyngham would be found in the swamp.
On the following evening a commissioned officer of the police, who had made the journey from headquarters at Regina and spent an hour or two examining the scene of the supposititious tragedy, sat with Curtis in a very hot private room of the hotel at Sebastian. Its raw board walls gave out a resinous smell; the opening in the window was filled with mosquito-netting, so that little air crept in. On the table lay a carefully made diagram; a boot, and one or two paper patterns representing footprints were on the floor. The officer’s hair was turning gray and he had a quiet brown face with a look of command in it.