Alec, his slim, powerful young body clad in the orthodox garb of this northern city, swung along down the slush-laden street, his thoughts busy preparing his argument for the persuading of the woman who had become the sun and centre of his life. He knew his difficulties, he knew his own regrets. But the advantages both to her, and to him, which Kars had cleverly pointed out, outweighed both. His mind was set on persuading her. Nor did he question for a moment that for her, as for him, the bond between them was an enduring love that would always be theirs, and would adapt itself to their mutual advantage. The northern wilderness was deeply bred in him.
His way took him past Adler's Hotel, and, in a lucid moment, he remembered that Murray was stopping there. An impulse made him pause and look at his watch. It yet wanted half an hour to his appointment. Yes, he would see if Murray were in. He must tell him of his purpose to leave the city a while. It would be necessary to send word to his mother, too.
Murray was in. He was just contemplating food when he received Alec's message. He sent down word for him to come up to his room, and waited.
Murray McTavish was very much the same man of methodical business here in Leaping Horse as the Fort knew him. The attractions of the city left him quite untouched. His method of life seemed to undergo no variation. A single purpose dominated him at all times. But that purpose, whatever it might be, was his own.
His room was by no means extravagant, such as was the room Alec occupied at the Gridiron. Adler's Hotel boasted nothing of the extravagance of either of the two leading hotels. But it was ample for Murray's requirements. The usual bedroom furnishing was augmented by a capacious writing desk, which was more or less usual throughout the hotel.
He was at his desk now, and his bulk filled the armchair to the limits of its capacity. He pushed aside the work he had been engaged upon, turned away from the desk, and awaited the arrival of his visitor.
There was no smile in his eyes now, nor, which was more unusual, was there any smile upon his gross features. His whole pose was contemplative, and his dark, burning eyes shone deeply.
But it was a different man who greeted the youth as the door was thrust open. The smiling face was beaming welcome, and Murray gripped the outstretched hand with a cordiality that was not intended to be mistaken.
"Sit right down, boy," he said. "You're around in time to eat with me. But I'll chase up a cocktail."
But Alec stayed him.