“This is the North Star Lodge, then?” he inquired.
“Yes!” was the reply. “Will you go in now and attend to your team afterwards, or—”
“In my service,” laughed Bracknell, “the dogs come first.”
“Very well,” answered the other. “I will wait for you!”
He lit a cigarette and watched the corporal whilst he loosed the dogs from the traces, and fed them with frozen fish. The light from the window fell on his face and showed that he was less interested in the operation than in the man engaged upon it, for never for a moment did his eyes leave the officer, and there was a ruminative look in them, as if he were speculating what manner of man the policeman was. The corporal was quite conscious of the stare, but gave no sign of it, though once or twice as he moved about, he flashed a glance at the stranger, endeavouring in his turn to take the other’s measure. When he had finished his task he turned to him.
“I am ready now.”
“So am I,” laughed the man; “it is cold waiting about.”
He threw his cigarette away, and moved towards the door of the house. Corporal Bracknell followed him, and as the door opened his guide stumbled over something which fell with a clatter on the pinewood floor.
The man stooped and picked it up.