Carmen's Messenger Part 41

Pete nodded and the others went to the dining-room. After dinner, Foster took his turn on watch, but by and by Pete reappeared, holding the page by the arm. He signed to Foster, who went down the pa.s.sage to meet him.

"I thought I'd maybe better tak' a look roon the back o' the hoose and found the laddie aneath the window. He had a bit paper in his hand."

Foster told him to watch Walters' door, and frowned at the lad.

"I reckon you'd sooner keep out of jail."

"Sure," said the lad, with an effort at carelessness; "I'm not going to get in."

"Well," said Foster grimly, "you're taking steep chances just now. The police will be here to-morrow and there'll be trouble if they know you tried to help their prisoner escape. Where's the telegram he threw you down?"

"It wasn't a telegram."

"A letter's just as bad. The wisest thing you can do is to give it me."

The lad hesitated, but let him have the crumpled envelope. "I was to give it one of the train hands when the next freight stops for water."

Foster opened the envelope, which was addressed to Telford at the mining town. The letter was written guardedly, but after studying it with knitted brows he thought he understood its purport.

"How much were you to get for sending this?" he asked.

"Mr. Walters threw me three dollars. I allow I'd have to give something to the brakesman."

"After all, I don't see why you shouldn't deliver the thing," Foster said thoughtfully. "That means you can keep the money, but as the brakesman's not allowed to carry letters, he'll probably want a dollar.

Wait until I get a new envelope."

The boy went off, looking relieved, and Foster returned to his chair at Walters' door. On the whole, he thought he would hear something of the gang on the morrow, and if his suspicions were correct, looked forward to an interesting meeting. Telford had been asked for help, which he would try to send. The west-bound freight had not pa.s.sed yet, and if it came soon, should reach the mining town early in the morning.

Foster lighted his pipe, wrapped the blanket round his legs, and opened a book he had brought.

Next day two policemen arrived in a light wagon and took Walters away.

Lawrence was compelled to go with them, and although but little disturbance was made, Foster imagined all the occupants of the hotel knew about the matter. He had ground for regretting this, and kept a close watch on the page whose duties were light just then, which enabled him to wander about the building and see what was going on. He expected to hear something when the train from the coast arrived, but took care to be about when the express from Montreal was due. He had a suspicion that Daly had gone up the line.

The west-bound train came first, and Foster, who had sent Pete to the station, sat in the veranda, where he could see anybody who entered the hotel. The train stopped and went on again, but n.o.body came up the road, and after a time Pete returned. Three pa.s.sengers had got down, but they looked like bush ranchers and had taken the trail to a settlement some distance off. Pete, however, did not know Daly, and Foster was not satisfied. He thought the fellow might have bought a cheap skin coat such as the bush ranchers wore. Going out, he walked through the wood that grew close up to the back of the building. After all, Daly might try to find out something from one of the servants before coming to the front entrance.

The sun had sunk behind the range and the light was dim among the pines. The air was keen and a bitter wind that came down the valley in gusts rustled the ma.s.ses of heavy needles, while the roar of the river throbbed among the stately trunks. This was in Foster's favor, because he had to make his way between fallen branches and through thick undergrowth, and wanted to do so without being heard. He was a good hunter and bushman, and did not think there was much risk of his being seen.

For a time he heard nothing suspicious and began to feel keen disappointment. He had hoped that Walters' message would bring Daly to his rescue, but it looked as if it had not done so. Then, as he stood nearly breast-high among dry brush and withered fern, he heard a faint noise. Not far off, a narrow trail led through the trees to the back of the hotel. Standing quite still, he searched the wood with narrowed eyes.

It was shadowy all around him, but where the trees grew farther apart their tall straight trunks cut against the glimmer of the snow. The noise had stopped, but he could see anybody who crossed the nearest opening, and waited, tense and highly-strung. Then he heard steps coming from the hotel, and an indistinct object emerged from the gloom.

It was a man, taking some care to move quietly. When he got nearer, Foster, knowing there was dark brush behind him, thrust his arm into the fern and made it rustle as a gust of wind swept the wood.

The man, who wore an old skin coat, stopped and looked round, and Foster saw his face. It was Daly, and he seemed uncertain if the wind had made the noise or not. After standing motionless for a few moments, he took out his watch, and then moved on again as softly as he could.

The meaning of this was plain. Daly had learned that Walters had been taken away by the police and had concluded that Lawrence meant to fight. As it was too late to interfere, he meant to make his escape.

Foster resolved to prevent this if he could, but Daly had the advantage of an open trail, while he was entangled in the brush. He crept out and pushed through the wood as fast and silently as possible, but when looking for a way round a thicket caught his foot and fell among some rotten branches with a crash. He got up, growling at the accident, for there was no use in following the other after this, although he did not feel beaten yet. Daly no doubt hoped to get away by the Montreal express, but would hide in the bush until the last moment.

Foster went back to the hotel for Pete, and leaving a note for Lawrence, dressed for a journey and took the road to the station. On reaching a bend, however, he plunged into the wood and made his way to the line, beside which he and Pete crept in the gloom of the trees, and only came into the open for a few yards near the agent's shack. Here they sat down behind a big water tank and Foster felt satisfied. If they had reached the station without being noticed, they would find Daly when he got on board the train, and if he had seen them, they had cut off his best chance of escape.

It was nearly dark and very cold, but Foster was glad the train was late. By and by he got up and lighted his pipe, though he was careful how he held the match. If Daly was hiding near, he did not want the fellow to see his face, but the latter would not expect anybody who might be on his track to smoke. Strolling carelessly round to the front of the shack, Foster opened the door and asked the agent: "Are you going to stop the east-bound?"

"I am," said the other. "Got a wire to hold her up."

"Ah," said Foster. "I expect we can get tickets on board, but if you don't mind, we'll wait in here. It's freezing pretty fierce."

He imagined that Telford or another of the gang had sent the telegram, and sat down when Pete came in. He heard the wind among the pines and the humming of the telegraph wires, but for a time this was all. Then a faint throbbing came up the valley and got louder until he could distinguish the snorting of a locomotive.

The snorting stopped, a bell began to toll, and with lights flas.h.i.+ng the cars rolled past the shack. Foster waited a moment or two, standing at the window, and then as the conductor called "All aboard"

saw a man run along the line and jump on to the step of the end car.

Then, beckoning Pete, he dashed out and got on board as the train began to move.

It was with a thrill of triumph he sat down in a corner as the cars gathered speed. They would not stop for some time and the game was in his hands at last. The long chase was ended; he had run Daly down.

x.x.xI

DALY SOLVES THE PUZZLE

The train was speeding along the hillside when Foster took Pete with him and walked through the rocking cars. As he crossed the platforms between them he met an icy wind and saw the dark pines stream by. It was obvious that the track was nearly level and the train running fast, for dusky woods and snowy banks flung back a rapid snorting and a confused roll of wheels. There were not many pa.s.sengers and n.o.body seemed to notice Foster, until as they entered a car near the end a man raised a newspaper he was reading so that it hid his face. As they left the car Foster thought he heard a rustle, as if the paper had been lowered, but did not look round. The thing might have no meaning and he did not want to hint that he was suspicious.

He felt anxious but cool. Daly was the cleverer man and the game they must play was intricate, but Foster thought he had the better cards.

The last car was empty except for two women, and leaving Pete there, he went through to the smoking compartment at its end. It had only one occupant, who looked up as he came in, and he calmly met Daly's gaze.

The fellow had his hand in his pocket and his face was rather hard, but he did not show surprise or alarm.

"Well," he said, "we have been looking for one another for a long time and at last have met."

Foster sat down opposite. "That's so. When we began, you were looking for me, but since then things have, so to speak, been reversed. I've followed you across England and much of Canada."

"I've wondered what accounted for your boldness."

"It looked as if you knew, but if you don't, I'm going to tell you,"

Foster replied. "But I'd sooner you took your hand out of your pocket.

It would be dangerous to use a pistol, because my man's in the car.

Then I left a plain statement of all I know and surmise about you, with instructions for it to be handed to the police if I don't come back."

Daly removed his hand and took out a cigarette. "You're not such a fool as some of my friends thought, I suspected this for some time."

"We'll get to business," Foster rejoined. "I want to get it finished, although I don't think we'll be disturbed."

Daly gave him a keen glance, which Foster did not understand then, and the latter resumed: "How did you find out enough about Featherstone to enable you to blackmail him?"

"I was secretary to the man he robbed; as a matter of fact, I stole one or two of his private papers. I don't know that I meant to use them then, but was afterwards in need of money and saw how it could be got.

The doc.u.ments prove your partner's offense."

"You began by extorting money, but your last object was to suppress the evidence my partner could give about the cause of Fred Hulton's death."

"Ah!" said Daly. "I wonder how much you or Featherstone know about that. As there are no listeners, we can be frank."