“Bad?” The man of medicine looked past the other in the direction of the township. “It’s mighty difficult to find a right adjective for anything in Buffalo Coulee. But there’s things doing, or done, and I’m darn glad to see you.”
In a few moments they were closeted in the little room that was the doctor’s living-room and surgery combined. And Fyles noted the plain, business-like aspect of it. They sat down together, Fyles in an old, creaking, wicker rocker-chair, and his host in the swing chair before his roll-top desk that looked almost painfully new.
And so they sat and talked for upwards of an hour.
For Fyles it was a well spent time, and he was more than appreciative. Question and carefully considered reply flowed in an easy, steady stream throughout the interview. And the policeman revelled in the exactness of the information he received. It was the sort of intimate information that could only have been supplied by a local doctor, a schoolmaster, or a parson.
In the time at his disposal Fyles learned all that was known of the lives of those in whom he was most interested and had been treated to a searching analysis of them as a result of the doctor’s own observation.
When he left the pleasant warmth of the man’s bachelor quarters he felt himself to have set a finger firmly on the uncertain pulse of Buffalo Coulee.
Fyles next headed for the long, low building of Pideau’s store. For it was here he must sow those first seeds of confidence and hope for an adequate harvest. After that he intended to spend the rest of the day moving casually about amongst the citizens, gleaning, probing, searching.
He knew just what to expect at the store. Nor was he disappointed. The place was the centre of the township’s life. It was the foregathering point for gossip and tattle. He knew that for that one day, at least, every movement of his would be a subject of the intensest common interest. So, when he entered the building, he had no astonishment at finding his visit had been well anticipated.
There was a gathering of men about the stove, rough, fur-clad creatures who seemed to hush their talk at sight of him. There were women present, too, and one or two men stood with them at the long counter.
Two people, a man and a woman, in whom Fyles recognized Pideau Estevan, and his daughter Annette, of the night before, were behind the counter making trade with their customers. And then, farther down, in the back part of the store, was the most interesting personality of the whole gathering.