A taxi, its wheels wearing chains with which to grip the snowy streets, hustled them to the Mount Royal Hotel, where he had reserved a room for her. In less time than most men would have believed possible, she had rejoined him in the lobby, a vision fit to snow-blind the gods, gowned in shimmering silver with a black fringe setting it off.
Evenings with Moira were too precious to leave anything to chance and Seymour's program had been carefully prearranged. Again they took a taxi and the taxi took them out St. Catherine Street to a brilliant electric fairyland—the Venetian Gardens. What mattered it that snow never lies in the streets of Venice? Well might they have been in sunny Italy once they had climbed a flight of stairs to pleasure's rendezvous above.
As they entered the huge dancing room, the lights went low and the orchestra that doesn't "jazz" began the soft measures of a waltz. They did not wait to find their table, but swung away with the music—for their first dance together.
And when they were seated, she asked across the narrow board: "Do they teach dancing, as well as riding and straight-shooting, at the Regina depot, Sergeant Scarlet?"
"You're forgetting, you big beau'ful Irisher, that I've been to France since I left the Mounted's riding academy."
After they had danced again: "It's hard to wait, Russell. Sometimes I wonder if it's worth while. Will you ever get your man?"
On the frozen trail, after he had spoken the three magic words and she had returned them to him with equal fervor, they had agreed that marriage was not to be thought of until Harry Karmack had been brought to book.
It was a long moment before he answered.
"I've got to get him, Moira. There'd not be complete happiness for us with that business unfinished. You wouldn't want to change a fine old County Mayo name like O'Malley for that of a quitter would you, now? But know this, girl o' mine——"
He did not finish, his interest claimed by a large red-headed man, a bit the worse for liquor. This chap's attention had been attracted by a pair of police constables, resplendent in their brilliant uniforms, handsome young fellows attached to the Montreal detachment, which has a reputation for "swank."