Jack set about to fill his anxious day as full as possible with small
tasks. Along the shore toward the mouth of the canyon he found another
dugout sticking out from among the bushes, and he pulled it out to put
it in repair in case a second boat should be required. It needed new
cross-pieces to hold the sides from spreading.
While he was seated on a boulder whittling his little braces out of
snowy poplar, Garrod came shambling over the stones toward him. Jack,
seeing the high-powered rifle he carried, turned a little grim, and
while apparently going on with his work, watched the other man
narrowly. His ideas covering Garrod had taken a new direction since he
had talked with Mary.
Garrod came slowly, pausing, starting jerkily, fluctuating from side to
side. When he thought Jack's eyes were upon him he turned his back
like a child, and made believe to look off up the river. His eyes were
blank and lustreless, but close-hid under the thickened lids glimmered
a mean furtive sentence. There was no striking change in him; the
canvas suit was still in fair condition; he shaved every morning from
force of habit; and when he was spoken to he could still answer with
sufficient intelligence. But any one experienced in diseased mental
states would have recognized at once that this man was in no condition
to be trusted at large with a gun.
Among the members of Sir Bryson's party there existed an entire absence
of formality together with an entire absence of intimacy. They were
not curious about each other, consequently Garrod's state excited no
remark. True, Mrs. Worsley wondered a little, but she had always felt
an antipathy to Garrod; as for the others, they merely said, "Queerer
than ever," and dismissed him with a shrug.
Jack, watching the wavering figure approaching him now, thought of the
reckless, hawk-eyed youth of five years before, and was made thoughtful
by the change. "Gad! Life has had him on the toaster," he thought.
When Garrod came close enough to be heard he stammered, avoiding Jack's
eyes: "I--I want to talk to you, Malcolm."
"Put down the gun," said Jack coolly. "Out of reach."
Garrod immediately laid it on the stones. "You don't think that I----"
he mumbled.
"I don't think anything," said Jack, "but I'm taking no chances."
Garrod's eyes strayed everywhere, and his voice maundered. "I suppose
you think I'm an utter cur. I know it looks bad. But not that----
Maybe you think that I--your horse--on the cliff----"
"I'm not accusing you," said Jack.
Garrod sat down near him. "I--want to talk to you," he said,
forgetting that he had said it before.
"All that you and I have to say to each other can be put in one
question and answer," said Jack. "Are you going to square me?"
"I--I'd like to," stammered Garrod.
Jack looked up surprised. There was more in the answer than he had
expected. "You will?" he cried, bright-eyed. "You've come to tell me
that! By Gad! that would be a plucky thing to do after all these
years. I didn't think you had it in you!"
"I--I'd like to," murmured Garrod, as before.
"Easy enough if you want to," said Jack. "You only have to speak the
truth."
"That wouldn't do you any good," said Garrod.
"What do you mean?" Jack demanded.
"It's not what you think," said Garrod. "I didn't take the money."
"Who did then?"
"The bank was robbed," said Garrod. "The morning after you went away.
Three men broke in during the night, and hid until morning. When
Rokeby and I opened the safe, they overpowered us and got away with the
money. We had no business to open up until the others came, and we
were afraid to tell. I thought it wouldn't do you any harm as long as
you were away. If you had come back I would have told."
There was a glib tone in all this that caused Jack's lip to curl.
"Well, what's to prevent your telling now?" he asked.
"They wouldn't believe me," said Garrod. "They'd think I was just
trying to shield you, my old friend."
"But there's Rokeby to back you up!"
"He's dead," muttered Garrod.
A harsh note of laughter broke from Jack.
"I suppose you don't believe me," said Garrod.
"Hardly," said Jack. "It fits in a bit too well."
Garrod's voice rose shaky and shrill: "It's true! I swear it! Three
men; French, they were. I can see them now! One was young; he had a
scar across his forehead----'
"Oh, cut out the fine touches," said Jack contemptuously. "Any fool
could see you were lying." He went on whittling his brace.