“It would be useless—my son is dead! The police have proved that beyond a doubt, and I cannot understand why you should persist in denying it!” His eyes grew hard with sudden suspicion. “It looks as if you had some motive.”
“I’m afraid you’re hardly just,” Gertrude broke in. “Mr. Prescott only wishes to lessen your anxiety, but he’s convinced of what he says.”
It was a rare thing for her to oppose him, but Jernyngham was too preoccupied to be surprised at her boldness, and he made a gesture of deprecation.
“You must forgive me, Mr. Prescott—my daughter’s right. But to offer me assurances that must prove false is rank cruelty. I have faced the worst; I’m not strong enough to bear a second blow, which is what must follow if I listen to you. As it is, the strain is merciless.”
His voice and bearing showed it. Indeed, one could have imagined that it would have been better had he yielded a little more, but his eyes expressed a grim, vengeful determination. He was not the man to weaken, he would hold out until he broke down; but his daughter and Prescott were filled with fears for him.
“I’m sorry,” said the rancher. “Has Curtis thought of anything new?”
“No,” Jernyngham answered harshly. “The police can entertain only one idea at a time; they can read the meaning of footprints and there their ability ends. They have no power of organization; I can’t force them to make investigations on a proper scale, and I’m helpless until harvest’s over. Then, when men can be hired, I’ll have every bluff and ravine in the country searched. If I spend the rest of my life here, I’ll find the guilty man!”
He said nothing further, and there was a strained silence while he sat, leaning forward limply, with bent head, and a thin hand clenched hard upon the table. Rousing himself by and by, he took the cup of tea Gertrude passed to him, and set it down without drinking. It made a sharp clatter, but he left it setting near him as if he had forgotten it. Unable to bear the sight of his distress, Prescott went quietly out, and when he was leaving the house Gertrude joined him.
“Perhaps I should have stayed with him, but I was afraid to speak,” she said. “Besides, there was nothing to be said.”
“This can’t go on,” Prescott declared. “It’s too much for him. I can’t leave here until the harvest’s over, and then the grain ought to be hauled in, but I’ve thought of making a tour of inquiry along the new railroad and round the Alberta ranches and the mines in British Columbia.”