The effect of the woman’s noisy amazement was comparatively instant. First came the remainder of her own household, in assorted garments; a small man who seemed out of all proportion to the size and extent of his family of six children of progressive ages. They debauched like ants from an ant heap, shivering in the morning cold, gawking over at the police quarters. And in ten minutes or so the township was transformed into a sort of arena with a sparse audience spellbound by the spectacle set out before it.
Sergeant Fyles saw and understood the sensation his presence in Buffalo Coulee had created. And while it amused him he accepted its significance. The stir of it warned him. So he completed his survey of the scene of his operations, and just went back into his quarters to prepare a frugal breakfast over the stove in his office.
He consumed his meal and methodically cleared up the resulting litter. Then he pulled on his fur coat, adjusted his mitts, and set out for the business of the day.
Fyles’ business was of a nature prompted by hard common sense. There was nothing subtle in his methods, nothing showy. The police records of Buffalo Coulee had given him a sound foundation of general information. And now, with a whole day before him in which to improve his knowledge of the people, he set about it in the practical fashion which years of experience had taught him was the simplest and best.
But his early morning experience had warned him of the extreme importance of establishing confidence in a general sort of way. He must contrive to allay suspicion, general suspicion of himself. Those who had reason would, of course, remain suspicious. That was inevitable. But he must strive for a general impression that Sinclair’s absence from the township possessed no sinister significance. In fact, the general run of the citizens must be taught to believe that the man was absent on duty with official cognizance, and that he, Fyles, was there replacing him as a temporary relief.
Fyles’ first objective was the house of Doc Fraser.
He found the youthful doctor up. He was dressed, and had eaten, when the policeman bulked in his doorway. And furthermore he found himself greeted in a manner that displayed real satisfaction and something else.
“Say, Sergeant,” the doctor exclaimed with a hand of cordiality outheld. “You’re as good, and better to me than a swell birthday gift. I hadn’t dared to hope for such a quick comeback to my word to Sturt.”
The policeman’s thoughtful eyes beheld all that for which he was looking in the other’s earnest face.
“If it’s as bad as that, Doc,” he said quietly, “it’s just as well I got around.”