Fyles turned to the man behind the desk.
“I reckon you’re going to send me along to look into things, sir, and this is by way of a conference?”
Croisette inclined his head.
“Then I can speak plainly, sir?” Fyles went on. He turned at once to his sergeant-major, who was also his friend. “It’s my work to learn all I can about the merits or demerits of men, who may, at some time, have to carry out my orders. But the things I learn of our boys, unless they are detrimental to discipline and efficiency, are solely for my information. They’re just a guide for me, something that may help me in real emergency. In keeping them that way, Sergeant-major, I’m sure you’ll be the first to admit my right. If I’d learned anything of Sinclair detrimental to our work you would have been the first to hear it. The man was a sound officer, as you say. But he wasn’t to be trusted when women cut across him. I think that’s the meaning of that unsigned letter.”
“You think it’s nothing to do with the gang of rum-runners?” Croisette questioned sharply.
Sergeant Fyles considered.
“I wouldn’t say that, sir. I just don’t know yet. It’s bad making a definite conclusion without sound evidence. But the thing I do make out is sufficiently clear to me. Something in the way of violence has happened to Sinclair. As Doc Fraser’s letter says, he’s ‘missing.’ Has been missing two weeks. A woman, who hasn’t a word to say against him, but, on the contrary, inadvertently conveys a sense of pity for him, and who clearly has no love for the police, is impelled to write asking help. As a jumping-off mark it suggests as I said, she’s a friend of Sinclair’s. She’s to do with those from whom he ‘got it.’ She knows all that’s happened and is out to make someone pay. I’ll have to find that woman. May I have that letter when you’ve had it copied, sir. It might be very useful.”
Superintendent Croisette sat up. He folded his arms on the desk before him, and his keen eyes fixed themselves steadily on the face of Sergeant Fyles.
“Certainly you can have it,” he said. “I’ll get it photographed right away. It may serve you for identification. I like your argument, Sergeant. Your jumping-off mark looks good to me. You’ll proceed at once to Buffalo Coulee, and take the post over temporarily. But you’re not going there to police the place, or to concern yourself with the rum-running especially. Your work is to find out what’s happened to Sinclair. And, if he’s been killed, it’s up to you to bring his murderer to justice. I think it might help you to leave the place without proper police supervision other than simply your presence there. As the sergeant-major says, it’s a township of toughs. And they may make your work easier. They may, I mean, give things away inadvertently if they are not too closely watched. I think single-handed for you will be best. You can take with you full authority for any arrest. And any help you may ultimately need will be sent on the ‘rush’ at word from you over the ’phone. When you’re through I mean to clean that place up so it isn’t possible for a crook to find shelter in it. That will do.”